imagine the life of the Gruber family, their surroundings, their opportunities and limitations.
On the Internet and in various sources, you can find many conflicting reports about the exact location of the farm. Some claim that it was in the immediate vicinity of the town of Schrobenhausen, others – that it was lost in a remote forest, far from settlements. Some even indicate incorrect coordinates, misleading those who are trying to find the site of the tragedy on their own.
Despite the fact that the Hinterkaifeck farm has long ceased to exist (it was demolished shortly after the murder), the exact place where it once stood is of great importance for understanding the story. Knowing where the farm was located, you can imagine how difficult it was to live in such an isolated place, how vulnerable its inhabitants were in the face of danger, and how difficult it was for them to seek help if necessary.
In addition, knowing the exact location allows you to see the surroundings, which may have played an important role in the tragedy. The forest, the field, the road, the neighboring farms – all these details can provide a clue to the mystery of Hinterkaifeck, help us understand how and why this terrible atrocity happened.
The Hinterkaifeck farm (translated from Bavarian, the language of the local residents, as «the back part of Kaifeck»), as if cursed, stood in the backwoods of the Bavarian countryside, on the very edge of the forest, not far from the village of Groben. This place, as if deliberately chosen for solitude and isolation, was shrouded in silence and tranquility, but this silence, as it turned out, concealed something sinister.
Hinterkaifeck was a small isolated farming community. Families often lived on the same land for generations.
Despite its seemingly advantageous location in the heart of Bavaria, surrounded by fertile fields and picturesque forests, it was extremely difficult to call this place a lively corner. It was located approximately seven kilometers from the small town of Schrobenhausen, in the Weilheim-Schongau district, a picturesque but sparsely populated part of Bavaria. The nearest neighbors were quite far away, and the road to the farm was bumpy and difficult to pass, especially in winter.
The exact address, if it matters to those who are trying to find its trace: Hinterkaifeck, 86520, Germany. But at this address you will find only forest and emptiness, because the farm has long been demolished, and its territory has become overgrown with trees and shrubs. Only an attentive observer will be able to notice the barely noticeable traces of the foundation, reminiscent of the tragedy that unfolded here almost a century ago.
At the time of the tragic events of 1922, the farm belonged to the church parish of Waldau. And it was the priest from Waldau, Father Huber, who was one of the first to sound the alarm when the residents of Hinterkaifeck stopped appearing at Sunday services. This place, Hinterkaifeck, has become a curse for many, a symbol of evil that can hide in the most remote and quiet corners of the world.
The village of Groben, immersed in greenery and silence, was then, in the distant year of 1922, part of the larger town of Wangen. The administrative boundaries drawn on maps meant little to the residents of these places; their lives were centered around the fields, forests, and small farms. Subsequently, on October 1, 1971, Wangen, along with quiet Groben, became part of the larger community of Weilheim-in-Oberbayern, which was part of the process of reorganizing the administrative division of Bavaria. But in those years, when the Hinterkaifeck tragedy unfolded, this had no meaning. None of the residents of Groben cared about these administrative rearrangements; their concerns were completely different.
For the residents of Groben, and for the Gruber family living on the remote Hinterkaifeck farm, it was just a place, their world, limited by the horizon, separated from the rest of the world by fields and forest. A world where time flowed slowly and steadily, where centuries-old traditions intertwined with harsh peasant labor, where joys were simple, and worries were urgent. A world where everyone knew each other, where helping one’s neighbor was not just a duty but a necessity.
But beneath this apparent idyll lay a dark side. Isolation, superstitions, old grievances, and unresolved conflicts – all this accumulated over the years, creating a breeding ground for evil. The forest surrounding Groben and Hinterkaifeck did not just separate them from the rest of the world; it became a symbol of secrets and fears, a place where dark secrets lurked, ready to burst out and destroy the fragile world of the inhabitants of these places. And the Hinterkaifeck tragedy became a terrible confirmation of these fears.
If you now, in 2025, possessing knowledge of the impending tragedy, could travel back to Groben in the spring of 1922, to the very time when clouds were gathering over the Hinterkaifeck farm, and set out to go to this ill-fated homestead, your path would be challenging, but quite surmountable. You would start your journey from Eibergstrasse, the main street of Groben, passing through the center of the village.
Leaving the village, you would feel the asphalt you are used to walking on end, and under your feet would be a narrow, dusty dirt road, winding among the fields and copses. This road, like a snake, snaked towards the horizon, beckoning and at the same time frightening with its unknown. You would have to turn off Eibergstrasse onto this dirt road, leaving behind quiet and cozy Groben, plunging into the world of the rural backwoods.
Continuing along this dusty road, you would notice how the landscape gradually changes. The fields were replaced by sparse copses, the air filled with the smell of earth and wild herbs. And about half a kilometer from the road, rising above the surrounding landscape, you would see a solitary «windy spruce». This was an unusual spruce, with a curved trunk and branches, as if turned inside out by the wind. It served as a landmark for the locals, indicating the way to Hinterkaifeck.
Ahead, as far as the eye could see, stretched an endless panorama of the Bavarian countryside. Golden fields of wheat, already ready for harvest, alternated with emerald meadows, where cows grazed. Far on the horizon, dark forest massifs could be seen, like impregnable walls surrounding this quiet and peaceful world. But your attention would be riveted to one landmark, towering over this idyllic scene.
Your path lay to the lonely «windy spruce», visible from afar. This huge, ancient spruce seemed to have grown here since time immemorial, surviving generations of people and witnessing many historical events. It stood out from other trees, not only in its size, but also in its unusual appearance. Its mighty trunk was severely curved, as if in a perpetual struggle against the strong winds blowing from the mountains.
Passing the last houses of Groben, immersed in the greenery of gardens and orchards, you would feel the road, like a living being, begin to wind among the fields, leading you further and further into the Bavarian countryside. The world around you seemed to narrow, the horizon became closer, and darkness, even in the daytime, began to thicken, as if foreshadowing something sinister.
To the left of the road, as far as the eye could see, were carefully cultivated plots of land, neatly sown with grain. The even rows of ears, swaying under gusts of wind, created an impression of peace and prosperity.
On the right stretched the forest, gloomy and silent, like a living creature lying in wait for its prey. Its dense crowns, shielding the sun, cast long, sinister shadows on the ground. It seemed that invisible eyes were hidden in the depths of the forest, watching your every step. The silence of the forest was deceptive; it only emphasized its sinister character.
The wind, piercing and cold, blew from the fields, penetrating under your clothes and making you shiver. It whistled in your ears, drowning out all other sounds, but at times, through this whistle, strange, frightening sounds came from the forest. Either the howl of wild animals, or the whisper of ancient trees, or the moans of lost souls. These sounds filled you with anxiety and a premonition of trouble, making you look around for danger. Every step you took along this road brought you closer to the Hinterkaifeck farm, to a place where horror and despair awaited you.
It was there, to that windy spruce, three hundred and fifty meters after the turn from Eibergstrasse, that you should direct your gaze. There, in the shadow of the spruce, was the point where the world