After the disappearance of the Western Roman Empire and its associated administrative structures, Germanic tribes took control of the territory of what is now Innsbruck. In North Tyrol, between the rule of the Imperium Romanum and that of Emperor Charles (748–814)—that is, during the period known as the Migration Period, Late Antiquity, or the Early Middle Ages—a whole range of different peoples were active. Alongside the Romanised Breones, Goths, Lombards, Bavarians (Bajuwarians), Suebi, and Slavs settled in the regions north of the Brenner Pass, living alongside, behind, and intermingled with one another. In the central Inn Valley, the Bavarians were able to establish themselves as the dominant regional power. Although the Roman fort of Veldidena was destroyed during the process of settlement, the transition for the Breonic‑Romanised population was probably less sudden and violent than gradual and fluid. The Bavarians were not barbaric destroyers; rather, they had been in contact with the Roman world for centuries in one form or another. Armed conflict was likely the exception. Over time, the cultures merged during a period in which political authority was relatively loose in nature. The everyday spoken language was a form of Germanic, while Latin had already established itself early on as the written language. The most important legacy of Rome—and soon a unifying element—was Christianity. From the 8th century onward, the Bavarians were Christianised. Under Emperor Charles, the “barbarian” Bavarians became Christian dukes of Bavaria, and with them the Inn Valley became part of the Holy Roman Empire, which extended over large parts of Central Europe and northern Italy. In administration, they relied on the church structures inherited from the Romans, as clerics were often the only literate members of society. Instead of the regional magistrates of the Roman emperors, an armoured aristocracy now ruled as feudal lords of the Frankish king Charles, anointed by the Pope, governing in God’s name over subjects who continued—largely undisturbed—to toil in agriculture. The Christian Church Father Paul had laid the theological foundation for this system in his Letter to the Romans:

Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, whoever rebels against authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. For rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong. Do you want to be free from fear of the authority? Then do what is right and you will be commended. For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also as a matter of conscience. This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing.

Culturally, Christianity in the Alpine region proved adaptable to existing traditions and customs. Christian martyrs and saints replaced pagan polytheism. Ancient festivals such as the winter solstice, harvest celebrations, or the beginning of spring were integrated into the Christian calendar and replaced by Christmas, All Saints’ Day, and Easter. Popular legends surrounding miraculous plants, ominous mountain peaks, magical beings such as the Salige Fräulein, enchanted kings, and other mythical figures could continue to be revered alongside Christianity without difficulty.

Two of the most popular legendary figures in Innsbruck to this day play the central roles in the foundation myth of Wilten Abbey. An extraordinarily strong knight, known as the giant Haymon, travelled to Tyrol at some point between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. There he encountered the long‑established giant Thyrsus of Seefeld. While the Germanic Haymon was equipped in modern fashion with sword and shield, Thyrsus—who bore a Romanised name but is portrayed in legend as a wild Alpine inhabitant—had only a tree trunk as his weapon. As fate would have it, the sword struck down the wooden club, and Thyrsus lay slain on the ground in his own blood. Filled with remorse over his deed, Haymon converted to Christianity and was baptised by the Bishop of Chur. Instead of constructing a military fortress as originally planned, the repentant warrior built a monastery on the ruins of the Roman fort of Veldidena. Despite his newfound piety, his time of heroic deeds was not yet over. In the nearby Sill Gorge there dwelled a fearsome dragon that not only devastated the new construction every night but also made meaningful settlement of the region impossible. Haymon slew the monster, cut out its tongue, and bequeathed it to his own foundation. After his career as a dragon slayer, Haymon handed the monastery over to the Benedictine monks from Tegernsee and himself entered the order as a lay brother. The people of the region were so grateful to the giant for liberating them from the dragon that they willingly placed themselves under the tithe‑paying protection of Wilten Abbey, cultivating the formerly wild land as farmers. And the moral of the story? Haymon represents the initially violent but later noble and benevolent Germanic settlers; Thyrsus stands for the brave and wild, yet ultimately defeated inhabitants of the region between the Seefeld Plateau and the Brenner Pass. The dragon symbolises the evil, destructive, and unchristian paganism that is eradicated by the converted German. The monastery brothers—richly endowed by the valiant knight—are the organising force without which nothing would function. Over the centuries, the Haymon legend and its moral proved just as flexible as Christianity itself during its introduction in Late Antiquity. At times, Haymon was portrayed as a nobleman from the Rhine who came to Tyrol after the death of Charlemagne; at other times, he appeared as a follower of the Ostrogothic king Theoderic—better known as Dietrich of Bern—travelling between Ravenna and Germany. From the Middle Ages until the 19th century, the focus lay on Haymon’s conversion, the protection of the peasant subjects by Christian knighthood, and the foundation of the monastery, all serving to legitimise the benevolent feudal system. In an article in the Innsbrucker Nachrichten of 2 October, however, the author Dr Franz Wöß almost entirely set aside the Catholic aspect of the monastery’s construction and instead emphasised the heroic German element, before turning to the healing properties of Thyrsus oil, which the farmers of Seefeld had extracted from oil‑bearing shale stones since the Middle Ages. In this version of the legend, after his heroic deeds Haymon withdrew into the wilderness of Seefeld as a hermit rather than ending his life as a cleric at Wilten Abbey. After the Second World War, there was once again a desire to distance oneself as much as possible from Germanic identity. The mural created in 1956 on the façade of the “Gasthaus zum Riesen Haymon” depicts the defeated Thyrsus, bearing the Austrian coat of arms—entirely in keeping with the post‑war victim narrative.

What most visitors to Innsbruck notice first are the mountains, which seem to encircle the city. The mountain landscape is not only beautiful to behold, but has always influenced many aspects of life in the city. This begins with seemingly minor things such as the weather, as the perspective of the theologian, writer, and politician Beda Weber from earlier times demonstrates:

"“A phenomenon of its own is the warm wind, or Scirocco. It comes from the south, strikes the northern mountains, and then plunges violently into the valley. It often causes headaches, but quickly melts the winter snow masses and greatly promotes fertility. This makes the cultivation of maize possible in Innsbruck.”"

This weather phenomenon may have changed its name from Scirocco to Föhn, and traffic was not yet a major problem in 1851. Yet just as Innsbruck’s motorists complain today, the horseshoer in the old town in 1450 and the legionary dispatched from central Italy to the Alps in the year 350 certainly lamented the warm downslope wind that seems to drive everyone mad several times a month. While people in the past were grateful for the warm air that melted snow on the fields, today tourism officials complain about snow-free ski slopes on the Seegrube.

The location between the Wipptal Valley in the south and the Nordkette range influences not only the frequency of migraines, but also the leisure activities of Innsbruck’s residents, as Weber also observed. “The inhabitants are distinguished by their sociability and benevolence; they particularly enjoy excursions into the countryside during the fine season.” One may debate the sociability and benevolence of Innsbruck’s residents, but countryside outings in the form of hiking, ski touring, or cycling remain very popular today. No wonder—Innsbruck is surrounded by mountains. Within minutes, one can be standing in the middle of a forest from almost anywhere in the city. Young people from across Europe spend at least part of their studies at the University of Innsbruck, not only because of its excellent professors and facilities, but also to enjoy their free time on ski slopes, mountain bike trails, and hiking paths without having to forgo urban flair. This is both a blessing and a curse. The university, as a major employer and educational institution, boosts the economy, while at the same time the influx of students from elsewhere drives up the cost of living in a city that, hemmed in by mountains, cannot expand further.

What today may be perceived as a limitation to spatial growth was once a reason for growth. Innsbruck was fortunate to have access to fresh drinking water thanks to the nearby mountains. In the 15th century, the Nordkette was tapped to supply the city with drinking water. In 1485, the city council had a pipeline laid from a spring in Gramart, near today’s Katzenbründlweg east of Hungerburg, into the city. Using larch-wood pipes up to four meters long, clean water was conducted down into the valley floor. At the Inn Bridge, the pipeline branched left and right toward Mariahilf and St. Nikolaus, and across the Inn into the old town and the Neustadt. Until this small technical masterpiece was constructed, Innsbruck—like other cities—had relied on groundwater from wells. This water was often stagnant and full of pathogens. Beer and wine were not considered safer everyday beverages than water without reason. While the plague could not be kept at bay permanently, typhus and cholera were less widespread than in other cities. Not only because of its drinking water did Innsbruck rise in the 15th century from a small trading outpost to the residence city of the Tyrolean sovereigns. The Brenner Pass is very low and allows the Alpine belt winding along Italy’s northern border to be crossed relatively easily. In times before railways transported goods and people effortlessly from A to B, crossing the Alps was hard labor, and the Brenner was a welcome relief. Between 1239 and 1303, Innsbruck was the only city between “Mellach and Ziller” in the central Inn Valley to hold the princely staple right. Within the regulated carting system, goods had to be transferred from one wagon to another here—an enormous advantage for Innsbruck’s economy. Innsbruck was not as wealthy as Bolzano and had no political significance until the early 15th century, but it became one of the most important transport and trading hubs in the Alpine region. The former provincial capital Merano had no long-term chance against the city on the Inn between the Brenner, Scharnitz, and Achen passes due to its isolation. The Alpine location also favored tourism, which gained a foothold by the 1860s at the latest. Travelers appreciated the combination of easy accessibility, urban infrastructure, and alpine flair. With the opening up of the mountainous region by rail, visitors could travel comfortably, spend their leisure time in the mountains or in one of the spa resorts, and still enjoy the comforts of city life. Once tamed by the rails, the Alps had transformed from a source of problems into an economic asset. The era shaped by difficult agricultural conditions was over; yesterday’s enemy had become a savior.

Alongside the mountains, rivers and springs played a crucial role in Innsbruck’s development. Although the city’s drinking water came from the Nordkette via a pipeline, the Inn and the Sill were responsible for sanitation. Livestock were led to the Inn to drink, laundry was washed there, and all kinds of waste—including human and animal excrement—were disposed of in the river. As the city began to grow during industrialization, a first landfill was created at the Sillspitz in the east of the city, later supplemented by another in the west at today’s Sieglanger. More than a thousand years after Roman settlement, the Inn Valley was still a marshy landscape crisscrossed by riparian forests. Settlements such as Wilten, castles like the fortress above Amras, and roads were built some distance from the river on alluvial fans or at mid-altitude elevations. Around Innsbruck, the floodplains were used as communal land by the villages. Depending on the water level, pastureland and firewood were available, and the river could—or could not—be used as a transport route. Field names such as Am Gießen in the Hötting floodplain still recall the fact that the Inn, within today’s city limits, remained an untamed and only poorly cultivated wilderness until the early modern period. Flooding was a recurring consequence of the unregulated river. Between 1749 and 1789, several floods in Innsbruck claimed many lives, and the economic damage was immense. The Inn Bridge brought customs revenues into the city treasury and was the reason the settlement could develop into a city.

Until the road network was improved in the 16th century, heavy river traffic prevailed between Telfs, Innsbruck, and Hall. The rafts used to transport goods were flat platforms measuring up to 35 by 10 meters. Several of these vessels formed a convoy that carried all kinds of goods down the Inn to its confluence with the Danube in Passau and onward to the east. Silver, building materials, timber, salt, wheat, meat—the upstream-bound convoys, hauled by horses along towpaths beside the riverbed, were the fastest way to transport large quantities of goods through the Inn Valley. The military also used the Inn for logistical support. For centuries, timber from the Upper Tyrol was floated downstream as log drives. In Hall, a timber rake at the Inn Bridge caught the valuable driftwood. Innsbruck, and especially the salt and silver mines in Hall and Schwaz, depended on this material and energy source. Near settlements and cities, fortified river engineering structures were built to tame the river at least somewhat and reduce the effects of flooding and drought. In the 18th century, the economization and scientification that affected all areas of life also promoted the cultivation of the landscape. Inspired by the spirit of the Enlightenment, efforts were undertaken to optimize the Inn as a transport route and increase the productivity of available land. The communal lands along the Inn were increasingly placed under the stewardship of individual landowners who advanced the reclamation of this alluvial terrain. The Theresian state apparatus sought to connect the vast Habsburg Empire not only by roads, but also via its major rivers. Responsibility for regulating and engineering the Inn shifted from the municipalities and the Hall saltworks to the state. Innsbruck’s first chief river engineer, Franz Anton Rangger, began mapping the Inn in 1739 in order to make the river course more predictable and faster through straightening and construction works. The project of taming the river would take more than 100 years. The Napoleonic Wars delayed construction, and only after the economic hardship of the early 19th century was the state able to continue the project. Stone block dikes gradually replaced the earlier wooden structures. By the time the Inn was finally tamed, railways had replaced river shipping as the main transport route. The next major phase of river engineering came in the second half of the 20th century. The Olympic Village, the motorway, and settlements such as Sieglanger required space that had previously been reserved for the river in order to enable the postwar economic miracle.

Almost as important as the Inn was the smaller river that runs through Innsbruck. Where the Sill emerges from the Sill Gorge today, the Sill Canal originated, supplying the city with water. When the Counts of Andechs founded their market at the Inn Bridge in 1180, the canal already existed, as the mill of Wilten Abbey in St. Bartlmä was already in operation. From there, it ran along what are now Karmelitergasse, Adamgasse, Salurnerstraße, Meinhardstraße, Sillgasse, and Ingenieur-Etzel-Straße to the Pradl Bridge, where it rejoined the Sill before flowing into the Inn. During construction work, sections of this walled channel are repeatedly uncovered. Initially intended primarily for fire protection, many businesses soon made use of the water flowing through this artificial canal for energy generation. The last remnants disappeared in the 1970s after bomb damage during the Second World War.

Innsbruck’s residents were blessed not only with drinking water, the Inn as a transport route, and the energy-providing Sill Canal—many springs were also said to have healing properties. As early as the Middle Ages, water from the Nordkette was used to treat various ailments. The oldest bathhouse was the Ofenloch Bath, also known as the Weinstock Bath, in the old town, where since the 13th century Innsbruck residents could relieve themselves of numerous complaints under the expert hands of the bath attendant, thanks to the miracle water of the Weinstock Spring in Hötting. The Kaiserkronen Bath in Innsbruck’s Badgasse was based on this institution and used water from this spring until it closed in the 20th century. Bad Egerdach near Innsbruck has been documented as a healing spring since 1620. The spring was said to cure gout, skin diseases, anemia, and even the nervous disorder known in the 19th century as neurasthenia, considered a precursor to burnout. The bathhouse chapel still exists today opposite the SOS Children’s Village. In the 18th century, a bathhouse for wounded soldiers existed in the hospital next to the Mariahilf Church, supplied with water from the Hötting Cherry Valley. The Neckelbrünnl in Mühlau was also a well-known healing spring. At the Kratzerbrünnl on Brennerstraße, halfway between Innsbruck and the Stefansbrücke, people followed the popular 19th-century drinking cure to detoxify the body. Innsbruck’s rise as a stronghold of early alpine tourism is also due to these healing springs, which enabled an early form of wellness.

The final geographical ingredient in the city’s success story is the broad valley basin that favored Innsbruck’s development. As the city grew and its population increased, so did the demand for food. While farmers in the higher side valleys faced harsh conditions, the Inn Valley offered fertile soil and ample space for livestock farming and agriculture. Until the High Middle Ages, the Inn Valley was far more heavily forested. In the 13th century, as in many parts of Europe, the area around Innsbruck experienced early large-scale and long-term human interventions in nature for economic purposes. Contrary to common portrayals, the Middle Ages were not a primitive period of stagnation. From the 12th century onward, people no longer relied solely on prayers and divine grace to escape the effects of recurring crop failures. Innovations such as the three-field system made it possible to feed the agriculturally unproductive urban population—what would be called “overhead” in modern terms. The reclamation of the surrounding countryside allowed the city to grow. On the slopes of the Nordkette, Innsbruck even had its own vineyards until the early 16th century, albeit with modest yields. Cities such as Schwaz, Hall, and Innsbruck could not feed themselves, and especially during the early modern mining boom, substantial food imports were necessary—meat and wine in particular came from neighboring regions. Without the surrounding farmers, however, Innsbruck would not have been viable. The maize that Beda Weber already found noteworthy in Innsbruck’s cityscape in 1851 is still growing vigorously today and continues to give large areas on the city’s outskirts an agricultural character.

In the 1990s, an Austrian television series caused a scandal. The Piefke Saga written by the Tyrolean author Felix Mitterer, describes the relationship between the German holidaymaker family Sattmann and their hosts in a fictitious Tyrolean holiday resort in four bizarrely amusing episodes. Despite all the scepticism about tourism in its current, sometimes extreme, excesses, it should not be forgotten that tourism was an important factor in Innsbruck and the surrounding area in the 19th century, driving the region's development in the long term, and not just economically.

The first travellers to Innsbruck were pilgrims and business people. Traders, journeymen on the road, civil servants, soldiers, entourages of aristocratic guests at court, skilled workers from various trades, miners, clerics, pilgrims and scientists were the first tourists to be drawn to the city between Italy and Germany. Travelling was expensive, dangerous and arduous. In addition, a large proportion of the subjects were not allowed to leave their own land without the permission of their landlord or abbot. Those who travelled usually did so on the cobbler's pony. Although Innsbruck's inns and innkeepers were already earning money from travellers in the Middle Ages and early modern times, there was no question of tourism as we understand it today. It began when a few crazy travellers were drawn to the mountain peaks for the first time. In addition to a growing middle class, this also required a new attitude towards the Alps. For a long time, the mountains had been a pure threat to people. It was mainly the British who set out to conquer the world's mountains after the oceans. From the late 18th century, the era of Romanticism, news of the natural beauty of the Alps spread through travelogues. The first foreign-language travel guide to Tyrol, Travells through the Rhaetian Alps by Jean Francois Beaumont was published in 1796.

In addition to the alpine attraction, it was the wild and exotic Natives Tirols, die international für Aufsehen sorgten. Der bärtige Revoluzzer namens Andreas Hofer, der es mit seinem Bauernheer geschafft hatte, Napoleons Armee in die Knie zu zwingen, erzeugte bei den Briten, den notorischen Erzfeinden der Franzosen, ebenso großes Interesse wie bei deutschen Nationalisten nördlich der Alpen, die in ihm einen frühen Protodeutschen sahen. Die Tiroler galten als unbeugsamer Menschenschlag, archetypisch und ungezähmt, ähnlich den Germanen unter Arminius, die das Imperium Romanum herausgefordert hatten. Die Beschreibungen Innsbrucks aus der Feder des Autors Beda Weber (1798 – 1858) und andere Reiseberichte in der boomenden Presselandschaft dieser Zeit trugen dazu bei, ein attraktives Bild Innsbrucks zu prägen.

Nun mussten die wilden Alpen nur noch der Masse an Touristen zugänglich gemacht werden, die zwar gerne den frühen Abenteurern auf ihren Expeditionen nacheifern wollten, deren Risikobereitschaft und Fitness mit den Wünschen nicht schritthalten konnten. Der German Alpine Club eröffnete 1869 eine Sektion Innsbruck, nachdem der 1862 Österreichische Alpenverein was not very successful. Driven by the Greater German idea of many members, the two institutions merged in 1873. Alpine Club is still bourgeois to this day, while its social democratic counterpart is the Naturfreunde. The network of paths grew as a result of its development, as did the number of huts that could accommodate guests. The transit country of Tyrol had countless mule tracks and footpaths that had existed for centuries and served as the basis for alpinism. Small inns, farms and stations along the postal routes served as accommodation. The Tyrolean theologian Franz Senn (1831 - 1884) and the writer Adolf Pichler (1819 - 1900) were instrumental in the surveying of Tyrol and the creation of maps. Contrary to popular belief, the Tyroleans were not born mountaineers, but had to be taught the skills to conquer the mountains. Until then, mountains had been one thing above all: dangerous and arduous in everyday agricultural life. Climbing them had hardly occurred to anyone before. The Alpine clubs also trained mountain guides. From the turn of the century, skiing came into fashion alongside hiking and mountaineering. There were no lifts yet, and to get up the mountains you had to use the skins that are still glued to touring skis today. It was not until the 1920s, following the construction of the cable cars on the Nordkette and Patscherkofel mountains, that a wealthy clientele was able to enjoy the modern luxury of mountain lifts while skiing.

New hotels, cafés, inns, shops and means of transport were needed to meet the needs of guests. Anyone who had running water and a telephone connection at home in London or Paris did not want to make do with an outhouse in the corridor or in front of the house when on holiday. The so-called first and second class inns were suitable for transit traffic, but they were not equipped to receive upscale tourists. Until the 19th century, innkeepers in the city and in the villages around Innsbruck belonged to the upper middle class in terms of income. They were often farmers who ran a pub on the side and sold food. As the example of Andreas Hofer shows, they also had a good reputation and influence within local society. As meeting places for the locals and hubs for postal and goods traffic, they were often well informed about what was happening in the wider world. However, as they were neither members of a guild nor counted among the middle classes, the profession of innkeeper was not one of the most honourable professions. This changed with the professionalisation of the tourism industry. Entrepreneurs such as Robert Nißl, who took over Büchsenhausen Castle in 1865 and converted it into a brewery, invested in the infrastructure. Former aristocratic residences such as Weiherburg Castle became inns and hotels. The revolution in Innsbruck did not take place on the barricades in 1848, but in tourism a few decades later, when resourceful citizens replaced the aristocracy as owners of castles such as Büchsenhausen and Weiherburg.

Opened in 1849, the Österreichischer Hof was long regarded as the top dog of the modern hotel industry, but was officially just a copy of a grand hotel. Only with the Grand Hotel Europa had opened a first-class establishment in Innsbruck in 1869. The heyday of the inns in the old town was over. In 1892, the zeitgeisty Reformhotel Habsburger Hof a second large business. Where the Metropolkino cinema stands today, the Kaiserhof was built as a new building. The Habsburg Court already offered its guests electric light, an absolute sensation. Also on the previously unused area in front of the railway station was the Arlberger Hof settled. What would be seen as a competitive disadvantage today was a selling point at the time. Railway stations were the centres of modern cities. Station squares were not overcrowded transport hubs as they are today, but sophisticated and well-kept places in front of the architecturally sophisticated halls where the trains arrived.

The number of guests increased slowly but steadily. Shortly before the outbreak of the First World War, Innsbruck had 200,000 guests. In June 1896, the Innsbrucker Nachrichten:

„Der Fremdenverkehr in Innsbruck bezifferte sich im Monat Mai auf 5647 Personen. Darunter befanden sich (außer 2763 Reisenden aus Oesterreich-Ungarn) 1974 Reichsdeutsche, 282 Engländer, 65 Italiener, 68 Franzosen, 53 Amerikaner, 51 Russen und 388 Personen aus verschiedenen anderen Ländern.“

In addition to the number of travellers who had an impact on life in the small town of Innsbruck, it was also the internationality of the visitors who gradually gave Innsbruck a new look. In addition to the purely touristic infrastructure, the development of general innovations was also accelerated. The wealthy guests could hardly socialise in pubs with cesspits behind their houses. Of course, a sewerage system would have been on the agenda anyway, but the economic factor of tourism made it possible and accelerated the release of funds for the major projects at the turn of the century. This not only changed the appearance of the town, but also people's everyday and working lives. Resourceful entrepreneurs such as Heinrich Menardi managed to expand the value chain to include paid holiday pleasures in addition to board and lodging. In 1880, he opened the Lohnkutscherei und Autovermietung Heinrich Menardi for excursions in the Alpine surroundings. Initially with carriages, and after the First World War with coaches and cars, wealthy tourists were chauffeured as far as Venice. The company still exists today and is now based in the Menardihaus at Wilhelm-Greil-Strasse 17 opposite Landhausplatz, even though over time the transport and trading industry shifted to the more lucrative property sector. Local trade also benefited from the wealthy clientele from abroad. In 1909, there were already three dedicated Tourist equipment shops next to the fashionable department stores that had just opened a few years earlier.

Innsbruck and the surrounding towns were also known for spa holidays, the predecessor of today's wellness, where well-heeled clients recovered from a wide variety of illnesses in an Alpine environment. The Igler Hof, back then Grandhotel Igler Hof and the Sporthotel Igls, still partly exude the chic of that time. Michael Obexer, the founder of the spa town of Igls and owner of the Grand Hotel, was a tourism pioneer. There were two spas in Egerdach near Amras and in Mühlau. The facilities were not as well-known as the hotspots of the time in Bad Ischl, Marienbad or Baden near Vienna, as can be seen on old photos and postcards, but the treatments with brine, steam, gymnastics and even magnetism were in line with the standards of the time, some of which are still popular with spa and wellness holidaymakers today. Bad Egerdach near Innsbruck had been known as a healing spring since the 17th century. The spring was said to cure gout, skin diseases, anaemia and even the nervous disorder known in the 19th century as neurasthenia, the predecessor of burnout. The institution's chapel still exists today opposite the SOS Children's Village. The bathing establishment in Mühlau has existed since 1768 and was converted into an inn and spa in the style of the time in the course of the 19th century. The former bathing establishment is now a residential building worth seeing in Anton-Rauch-Straße. However, the most spectacular tourist project that Innsbruck ever experienced was probably Hoch Innsbruck, today's Hungerburg. Not only the Hungerburg railway and hotels, but even its own lake was created here after the turn of the century to attract guests.

One of the former owners of the land of the Hungerburg and Innsbruck tourism pioneer, Richard von Attlmayr, was significantly involved in the predecessor of today's tourism association. Since 1881, the Innsbruck Beautification Association to satisfy the increasing needs of guests. The association took care of the construction of hiking and walking trails, the installation of benches and the development of impassable areas such as the Mühlauer Klamm or the Sillschlucht gorge. The striking green benches along many paths are a reminder of the still existing association. 1888 years later, the profiteers of tourism in Innsbruck founded the Commission for the promotion of tourismthe predecessor of today's tourism association. By joining forces in advertising and quality assurance at the accommodation establishments, the individual businesses hoped to further boost tourism.

„Alljährlich mehrt sich die Zahl der überseeischen Pilger, die unser Land und dessen gletscherbekrönte Berge zum Verdrusse unserer freundnachbarlichen Schweizer besuchen und manch klingenden Dollar zurücklassen. Die Engländer fangen an Tirol ebenso interessant zu finden wie die Schweiz, die Zahl der Franzosen und Niederländer, die den Sommer bei uns zubringen, mehrt sich von Jahr zu Jahr.“

Postkarten waren die ersten massentauglichen Influencer der Tourismusgeschichte. Viele Betriebe ließen ihre eigenen Postkarten drucken. Verlage produzierten unzählige Sujets der beliebtesten Sehenswürdigkeiten der Stadt. Es ist interessant zu sehen, was damals als sehenswert galt und auf den Karten abgebildet wurde. Anders als heute waren es vor allem die zeitgenössisch modernen Errungenschaften der Stadt: der Leopoldbrunnen, das Stadtcafé beim Theater, die Kettenbrücke, die Zahnradbahn auf die Hungerburg oder die 1845 eröffnete Stefansbrücke an der Brennerstraße, die als Steinbogen aus Quadern die Sill überquerte, waren die Attraktionen. Auch Andreas Hofer war ein gut funktionierendes Testimonial auf den Postkarten: Der Gasthof Schupfen in dem Andreas Hofer sein Hauptquartier hatte und der Berg Isel mit dem großen Andreas-Hofer-Denkmal waren gerne abgebildete Motive.

1914 gab es in Innsbruck 17 Hotels, die Gäste anlockten. Dazu kamen die Sommer- und Winterfrischler in Igls und dem Stubaital. Der Erste Weltkrieg ließ die erste touristische Welle mit einem Streich versanden. Gerade als sich der Fremdenverkehr Ende der 1920er Jahre langsam wieder erholt hatte, kamen mit der Wirtschaftskrise und Hitlers 1000 Mark blockThe next setback came in 1933, when he tried to put pressure on the Austrian government to end the ban on the NSDAP.

It required the Economic miracle in the 1950s and 1960s to revitalise tourism in Innsbruck after the destruction. Between 1955 and 1972, the number of overnight stays in Tyrol increased fivefold. After the arduous war years and the reconstruction of the European economy, Tyrol and Innsbruck were able to slowly but steadily establish tourism as a stable source of income, even away from the official hotels and guesthouses. Many Innsbruck families moved together in their already cramped flats to supplement their household budgets by renting out beds to guests from abroad. Tourism not only brought in foreign currency, but also enabled the locals to create a new image of themselves both internally and externally. At the same time, the economic upturn made it possible for more and more Innsbruck residents to go on holiday abroad. The beaches of Italy were particularly popular. The wartime enemies of previous decades became guests and hosts.

Published: Innsbrucker Nachrichten / 10 May 1907

For some time now, a relief modelled and coloured by the teacher Karl Hausleitner has been on display in the window of Wagner's bookshop for general viewing, clearly illustrating the layout of the Innsbruck Beautification Association on the southern and south-western slopes of the Innsbruck Abbey, the Bieler Weg, as well as its continuation to the eastern slopes and up to Sonnenburgerhofstraße, especially the path dedicated to Dr. Richard Wirth. The mountain slope at the Sonnenburgerhof in particular, like a serpentine, descends at such a gradient along the Schloßhof and Fürstenweg that it will be a marvellous forest promenade in summer and a road for tobogganing in winter. The work will be carried out in accordance with the subscriptions received and under the direction of Mr Riehl, an engineer interested in the construction, and this name vouches for the practicality and good workmanship. In the future, the path is to be extended over the Isel mountain to the Sill gorge. The Wagner'sche Universitäts-Buchhandlung has already made a number of donations towards this path. Walkers who are among the best supporters of these charitable endeavours of the Verschönerungsverein will be pleased to sponsor the work.

Published: Innsbrucker Nachrichten / 8 May 1879

It can now be assumed with complete certainty that Rossa Peer von Igls was not the victim of any crime, but that she had an accident; in order to shorten the route as much as possible, she seems to have taken the path that has become dangerous as a result of uninterrupted deforestation, which leads up to the quarry at the entrance to the Sill gorge, and to have fallen; for above the place where the body was found, the path is such that it must always be passed with the greatest care, and remains dangerous at all times, especially in twilight. It would be very desirable if this footpath were made completely impracticable.