Traveling on a highway that no longer exists: In a Jeep Wrangler on the trail of Route 46

One would assume that such a motorway is actually too large and too conspicuous to be simply forgotten. It can still happen, though. In the middle of Germany. Although it's certainly quite lonely in the forest between the Rhön and Spessart mountains. A nearly completed motorway could easily disappear into the undergrowth.

Somewhere behind us, among the trees, lies the highway. It's only visible if you know it's there. Here, a clearing between the deciduous trees, there, a low wall over a small stream. Or, more strikingly, an underpass clad in red sandstone, where it seems unclear why it's underpassed at all. You can't hear the highway, no trucks thunder over the bridges, no diesel engines of field workers speed along the left-hand lanes. And at the rest area further north, there are no gas pumps, just young spruce trees.

In our parking space, the Jeep Wrangler Rubicon crunches coolly, its red paintwork blending well with the autumn colors. Otherwise, there's no sound—one of those days so cold and sunny that it's unclear whether they're still autumn or already winter. Dieter Stockmann arrives a few minutes later. He knows more about the forgotten highway than the many information boards along the route suggest, has written a book about it, and offers guided highway tours during the season for hikers interested in transportation history. Initially, it wasn't entirely voluntary.

His main job is as a department head at the Main-Spessart District Office, responsible for nature conservation, hunting and fishing, agriculture and forestry, consumer protection law, and funeral services. "When people first became interested in this highway over 20 years ago, I was the youngest colleague in the office, so the task fell to me," he recalls.

What was once a chore became a hobby. Over the years, Dieter Stockmann collected thousands of photos and documents on motorway construction, spoke with contemporary witnesses from surrounding villages about the construction process, and traversed the route between Gemünden in the south and Bad Brückenau in the north countless times. Route 46, as it was known, was intended to be the middle of three north-south connections in the planned Reichsautobahn network. It was to run from Hanover to Würzburg, and as Route 40, via Stuttgart to Lake Constance. Things turned out differently. During the war, there were soon more important things to do than complete a motorway that was not required for military purposes.

Much of what people think they know today about the Reichsautobahnen has little to nothing to do with historical facts, says the knowledgeable state official. Roads of the Führer? Deployment routes for war preparation? Pure legends or propaganda inventions. Proposals for the construction of a Germany-wide highway network had already been made during the Weimar Republic, including quite detailed plans. Only in this way was it possible for autobahn construction to begin in the year the Nazis seized power, Stockmann knows.

This particular motorway wasn't planned as a fast road connection, he explains. Due to its many tight curves and steep downhill sections, Route 46 would be only partially suitable for long-distance and heavy goods traffic anyway. "If you've been coming from the south, you might have seen it." We did: the planned motorway route passes directly by the ruins of Homburg Castle. This is no coincidence. Like other points in the Reichsautobahn network, such as the Irschenberg in Bavaria and the Lahn crossing near Limburg in Hesse, the route was chosen to pass points of tourist interest, even if it was expensive or inconvenient for traffic. This is easy to understand today; online map programs clearly show the route. The beginning near Gössenheim at the castle ruins is quickly found, thanks to the Wrangler's navigation system. With standard differential locks, all-wheel drive with reduction, decoupleable stabilizer, chunky tires, and 277 diesel horsepower, it is also clearly over-talented for this journey in terms of driving technique.

An inconspicuous plaque at a parking lot on the B 27 opposite the castle ruins commemorates the forgotten motorway. Here, the route curves north from the main road across the fields. We followed the route as closely as possible, following legal paths through the forest to the meeting point at structure 91. District road 17 dips beneath the green, overgrown motorway. The underpass, elaborately clad in red sandstone, is one of the most striking structures on route 46. We hike through the undergrowth to the structure; viewed from the forest, it appears considerably more unfinished and dilapidated than from the road. And it tells the story of the construction of this motorway. Or rather, Dieter Stockmann tells the story. A field path was supposed to cross under the motorway here; the construction was almost completed, including the 80-year-old sandstone cladding, which today still looks as if the construction crews had left only a few weeks ago.

The earth fill is missing, allowing you to walk into the structure from the side. Stockmann points out further details that would otherwise escape the uninitiated. Such as the feedthroughs for the cables of a planned route telephone for emergency communications. This idea, incidentally, wasn't revived on the Federal Republic's autobahns until 1971. Anchorages for guardrails were also planned, which was also a novelty at the time. And there's even more to discover if you know where to look. "You see," explains Stockmann, "if you look at the bridge from the side, you'll notice that the western carriageway was supposed to be slightly lower than the eastern one." And he immediately explains why: so that motorists could have an unobstructed view from both lanes over the Southern Rhön to the Spessart. This, too, speaks to the rather touristic and propaganda aspect of this autobahn construction.

We walk the few meters back along the country road to the parking lot. A large information board points to the motorway ruins; they're of recent construction. Until a few years ago, amateur historian Stockmann recalls that not everyone in the district was enthusiastic about them. There were fears that they would become pilgrimage sites for right-wing radicals. However, that didn't happen. Hikers and geocachers have rediscovered the remains of the motorway. We continue walking south along the route. A narrow gravel road runs west along the route. It's perfectly legal, a normal local road through the forest.

There's something he still has to show us, says Stockmann before saying goodbye, and trudges through the undergrowth. The line runs in a depression here, young conifers mark the planned route. Here, too, are a few small walls, overgrown and barely recognizable. Our tour guide pulls a black tuber out of a hiding place. "I always show them when I give tours on Route 46," he explains. It's coke, so-called Grudekoks, made from coal residues that accrue during the processing of lignite. Because it burns particularly slowly, it was used to keep the embers under the steam boilers of the narrow-gauge railway locomotives burning overnight. Presumably, this was a maintenance and storage area for the locomotives, he says. The water tank up on the slope also supports this.

We climb up to the concrete structure, which also tells a story. The water pipe used to fill the steam locomotive tenders still protrudes from the concrete wall today. When American soldiers reached the construction site 75 years ago, they probably mistook the water tank and pipe for a bunker with an artillery. They opened fire on it; the impacts in the walls are still clearly visible.

Then Stockmann has to move on to his next appointment. We climb into the Jeep and stay to the left of the highway. Only a few walkers with properly leashed dogs pass by, then the district forester in his old Defender. No one is surprised by the red, now mud-splattered Wrangler.

We let the drone take off again, and it looks along the route over fields and mountains; here the route is particularly clear. This should be where Bad Brückenau is located, with the Dreistelz volcanic cone peeking into the picture behind it. It's not for nothing that the area is called the Kuppenrhön.

It's quiet after the drone has landed. To the left and right of the bushes that mark the roadway here, fields smell of fresh, moist earth. It would probably be less quiet if the A7 had followed the old route, through the forest, over the Franconian Saale near Gräfendorf, and on to the Main River in adventurous curves.

Soon the off-road tires are rolling over asphalt, and darkness is falling in the Rhön Mountains. One more underpass, structure 26, as we now know: the Rupboden-Weißenbach underpass. There's still much to tell, about the workers' quarters in Wolfsmünster or the beer cellars along the almost forgotten highway. We're silent in the jeep as we drive south on the A7.

Route 46 was intended to connect Bad Hersfeld and Würzburg; today, the A7 federal motorway, running further east, fulfills this purpose. Construction began in 1937, and the planned route crossed the mountains and valleys of the Rhön and Spessart. The tourism aspect was as important to the planners of the Reichsautobahn routes as the transport aspect. Bridges, underpasses, drainage systems, and other structures were largely complete when construction was halted in 1940 due to the war. After the war, the unfinished motorway fell into disrepair. The route has been a listed historic monument since 2003. Further information can be found at: www.strecke46.de