Where the Inn leaves its native gorges and flows over the rocky threshold of Tyrol into Bavaria, a wide sunny valley unfolds, which flows northward into a monotonous, boundless plain, bordered on the farthest horizon by a fringe of forest, and is enclosed to the south, east, and west by a mighty mountain range. Bare, craggy cliffs, sharp peaks, snow-covered cones, icy ridges, and gently sloping, softly forested hills push in, over, and behind one another, irregularly like the facets of a crystal. The cliffs, the Sulzberg, the Aasen, and Kranzhorn, covered with fir trees as if with a flexible hood, are intersected here and there by sparkling streams and straight wooden paths, extending their slopes down to the meadows and fields of the valley.