The hermitage and chapel. Photo: ORF 
 
 The Austrian town of Saalfelden in the state of Salzburg is looking for someone to live in a nearby hermitage which was built more than 350 years ago in steep, rocky cliffs. 
 
 However, it’s advisable that applicants have a private income or a second job, as the parish website says the position is unpaid. As the hermitage is unheated and without running water, it’s only inhabitable between April and November. 
 
 State broadcaster ORF quoted local cleric Alois Moser as saying the search is on for "a self-sufficient person who is at peace with their self, and willing to talk to people, but not to impose”. 
 
 The successful candidate should have a Christian outlook and be ready to greet visiting pilgrims and locals. Many people visit the hermitage to enjoy the view, to pray, and to talk about issues that affect or trouble them. 
 
 Moser, along with Saalfelden's mayor Erich Rohrmoser, will select the new hermit. The winning candidate will be chosen more on the basis of personality than training and professional experience. 
 
 The deadline for applications is March 15th, 2017. Anyone interested in becoming a hermit should send their CV, along with a letter explaining why they want the position, and an up-to-date photo, to Pfarramt Saalfelden, zH. Herrn Dechant Alois Moser, Lofererstraße 11, 5760 Saalfelden. 
 
 The hermitage - one of the few such places in Central Europe to still be in use - has been uninhabited since a Viennese pastor and psychotherapist left last autumn, to return to his normal life in the capital after a year. Before him, a Benedictine monk lived there for 12 years. 
 
 In 1970 a man fired a shotgun at the hermitage doors, but luckily the resident hermit was uninjured. However, he was so frightened that he went back to his home in Styria. The motive turned out to be jealously - the gunman was a local who had unsuccessfully applied for the job himself. 
 
 However, since then the hermitage has been without incident and is reputedly very peaceful. It is built into a natural cave above Lichtenberg castle, and a chapel was built next to it in the 17th century. 
 
 The resident hermit will live without a computer or television, and will have plenty of time for prayer and quiet contemplation. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ||||| Saalfelden am Steinernen Meer 
 
 Saalfelden is a city in the Pinzgau area of Salzburg and has a population of 16,000. This makes Saalfelden the biggest city in the region, a fair chunk bigger than the neighbouring county town Zell am See. Saalfelden is situated centrally in the Saalachtal Valley and surrounded by several significant mountain ranges: The Steinernes Meer in the north, the Hochkönig massif in the east and the Leoganger Steinberge in the west. The closest skiing area is the region of Hinterreit, which targets primarily families. Saalfelden has joined Leogang in advertising the "Skicircus" area. 
 
 In terms of sightseeing, Saalfelden has several smaller attractions to offer. Note the four castles or chateaux of the area: Schloss Dorfheim, Schloss Farmach, Schloss Lichtenberg and Schloss Ritzen. The parish church of Saalfelden is based on a Romanesque building from the Middle Ages, but it was strongly altered repeatedly and became increasingly Gothic. 
 
 The last major renovation and alteration took place in the late 19th century. The smaller church in Gerling was first mentioned in 1500, then as the heart of an independent parish. It was renovated in 2005. A third church of Saalfelden can be found in Lenzing. It is a modern church by Georg Aigner and was built until 1973. There is also a Lutheran church in Saalfelden; some 30 percent of the population in the area was expelled from Salzburg in 1729, as they were Protestants. 
 
 More Religious Sights of Saalfelden 
 
 The Thorer chapel of Saalfelden was built by a woman to commemorate her emigrated husband. There is also an unusual religious site that is not quite an attraction in the strict sense of the word: Saalfelden has an active hermitage. The first hermit to live there was a Franciscan monk that moved to Saalfelden in 1664. The hermitage is still populated by a single hermit, who is exchanged once every couple of years. 
 
 On the cultural front, the Nexus art venue is host to Jazz concerts. Until 2004, the Jazzherbst Saalfelden was one of Austria′s finest jazz festivals. After 2004, financial problems of the organisers prevented to continue the 20-year-old tradition. Since 2006, a series of Jazz concerts tries to keep jazz in Saalfelden, at least at a lower rate than before. 
 
 Historically, Saalfelden was populated since Neolithic times. Celtic people used to mine copper ore in the region; later, Romans arrived and even later Bavarian tribes mixed with the Romano-Celtic people. Saalfelden was first mentioned in a written document dating back to the 8th century - very early, even for this region. Back then, it was part of Bavaria. In 1228, Prince Archbishop Eberhard II acquired the Pinzgau for Salzburg, including Saalfelden. 
 
 Fall & Recovery of Saalfelden 
 
 Since the 14th century, Saalfelden is a market town. Later centuries saw the shift of trade routes to the Pongau and Lungau areas - to the disadvantage of Saalfelden. The local court of justice lost influence after a similar court was opened in Mittersill. Saalfelden hit the bottom in 1811, when a major fire destroyed much of the town. 
 
 The recovery progressed slowly, as much of Salzburg fell into a recession after it lost its independence. Only in the late 19th century, Saalfelden finally prospered again - a turning point in its history was 1875, when it was equipped with its own railway link. In 2000, Saalfelden became a city. 
 
 Municipalities of the Pinzgau 
 
 Links 
 
 Hotels in Saalfelden 
 
 Short Information on Saalfelden 
 
 http://www.saalfelden.at/ 
 
 Official Website of Saalfelden 
 
 http://www.leogang-saalfelden.at/ 
 
 Website of the tourism region Saalfelden - Leogang 
 
 http://www.jazzsaalfelden.com/ 
 
 Website of the Jazz concerts in Saalfelden 
 
 http://www.salzburgerland.com/eng/ 
 
 Official Website of the Salzburg province 
 
 back to "pinzgau" ||||| On the side of a hill, a lonely cabin is being prepared. Made from cheap timber, it will provide a small chamber for sleeping and praying, an alcove for washing, plus an area big enough for a stove, a sink, a table – and little else. From a bench outside, you can gaze over the fields and hedgerows of Shropshire. On a clear day like this, the Malvern Hills are visible some 50 miles away. Yet in all this panorama there is scarcely any other sign of human habitation. 
 
 With a smile of contentment, Stafford Whiteaker surveys what will soon be his home – or more correctly, his cell. “I shall be in solitary,” he says, “and it is lovely.” On a sunny afternoon in the 21st century, this softly spoken figure, in simple attire – smock and bifocals rather than beard and loincloth – announces himself as a hermit. 
 
 “It’s called the hidden life,” he says. “No wonder you weren’t aware of it. But it is alive and well and living here in England, Scotland and Wales.” It is hard to be precise about numbers. Hermits, after all, tend not to be over keen on announcing themselves. But one recent report suggested there may be around 200 hermits in Britain today. 
 
 Some, like Whiteaker, will be enjoying the monastic life, but alone, rather than in a community of monks or nuns. As they would in a monastery, they will follow a fixed “rule of life”, sticking to a timetable (horarium) that can trace its roots to early Christianity. Hermits such as these will often describe themselves as following the eremitic life, distinguishing themselves from “solitaries”, who follow a less regulated path, and who might not necessarily subscribe to any defined religion. Solitaries will, however, invariably be seeking the spiritual, although as one put it, “It’s rather more experimental. I make it up as I go along. I don’t know what will happen next.” 
 
 Not every hermit enjoys the bucolic surroundings of Whiteaker’s “cell”. As I explored the anonymous prayer circles that pass for a hermit network (communications are by post), I discovered the existence of “slum hermiting, in dreadful bedsits, in dreadful cities”, as one source put it. A kinder term is “urban monasticism”: living in the city but alone, in a flat from which one emerges as rarely as possible. Some of these “urban hermits” even have blogs. “Yes,” begins the latest entry of one, “I do try to post once every three years or so…” The second most recent entry is indeed from 2009. The profile picture shows what looks like a medieval nun. But the writer is a laywoman-turned-hermit in her late fifties, living in an apartment in New York City. She works for a living, but from home, which enables her “to stay ‘in cell’” nearly all the time. “I have groceries and pretty much everything else delivered. I rarely leave my apartment except for church or choir.” She became a hermit in 2007, nine years after experiencing “a devastating event in my life”. “I began to notice that time I spent alone was balm for my injured soul. Worldly ties began to unravel.” In her most recent posting, from April 2012 (“Current mood: contemplative”), she writes, “I am happy. And no, I’m not lonely :-)”. 
 
 In our Facebook and Twitter-obsessed age, such withdrawal may seem odd; suspicious, even. Which is why Whiteaker has, after some hesitation, decided to let me visit. “Many people moving to the more solitary life need to know that it is OK – that they aren’t bad, they aren’t mad. These traditions are thousands of years old.” 
 
 In Eastern cultures, the hermit tradition has endured for millennia. Christianity, once it got going, followed suit. The ascetic Anthony the Great followed Jesus’s lead by going into the wilderness in about AD 270. By the time he died in 356, so many hermits had emulated him that the desert around Alexandria had, according to his biographer, “become a city”. Hermits continue to pique the curiosity, and exude an aura of wisdom. “Sit in thy cell and thy cell will teach thee all,” as the Desert Father Abba Moses put it. 
 
 Today the New York hermit is thanked for her “words of wisdom and experience” – but by virtual visitors to her blog. In fact, the internet has provided a great boost to seekers of the solitary life, allowing them to work from their cells, to shop for their daily bread, and have it delivered. And those looking for enlightenment don’t have to seek a bearded man on a mountain top. They can send an email. 
 
 You could be forgiven, however, for thinking that the hermit’s eremitic tradition belongs in the Middle Ages. Yet here is Whiteaker, showing me his garden. In a warm voice with slight traces of an American accent, he greets the bumblebees as they buzz around the flowers. “Hi guys!” 
 
 The “hidden life”, he insists, is not dying. It is growing. 
 
 “More and more people are turning to this way of life. We don’t become solitary because we’re afraid of the world, but because we want to step aside from that busyness and chaos. We want some silence, to be reflective.” Religious hermits focus on their relationship with God. But, says Whiteaker, you don’t have to be religious to develop your spiritual side, to concentrate on the things “that really count”. Whiteaker grew up in California and began as a hermit in 1998, in the High Pyrenees of France. At 80, his face is weathered, but he is lean and healthy enough to pass for 60. As he outlines what really counts, I can’t help thinking of other gurus who advised us, more hedonistically and hippyishly, to turn on, tune in, drop out. “When was the last time you just did nothing? It’s no sin. There is nothing written in the great holy books that says you have to be constantly busy. Life is short. Why not be happy?” 
 
 In an old shepherd’s cottage, on the high moor above Stranraer, western Scotland, Sara Maitland agrees. “I was saying my prayers yesterday, and suddenly I had this fabulous sense of the enormousness of God. So no, I am not the sulking presence on the moor.” The cottage has just two rooms. She has no mobile phone (although she is speaking to me via her landline). No social media, no radio, no television. “My TV is sewing.” Maitland, 62, is convinced others want to emulate her. In 2008 she wrote A Book Of Silence, documenting her quest for the solitary life. 
 
 “I’m still getting an awful lot of letters, which makes me think there is a real hunger out there – for the transcendent.” The letter-writers ask if they are conducting their solitary lives correctly. “I get a lot of letters from women my age who have been widowed, plunged into silence, and who feel they could do something better with their silence. I like those.” Although she is a believer, she is not, like some eremitic hermits, “in obedience to a bishop. I am not a consecrated virgin.” In fact, she had a long marriage and two children. She shared a student house with Bill Clinton in the Sixties and was ejected from the public gallery of the House of Commons in 1973, for heckling in support of women’s lib. 
 
 She is not, she stresses, “as hard core as the Desert Fathers. I sleep on a proper bed. I do not whip myself. There’s no extreme penitential stuff.” Whiteaker, too, laughs when I express mild disappointment that he is not in a cave. “Too wet! I don’t want rheumatism.” Modernity, however, has its drawbacks. Money and taxes, it seems, are unavoidable, even for hermits. Maitland has to pay council tax, and shop occasionally (in a supermarket, which she prefers to a local shop, because there’s less obligation to chat). 
 
 She supplements her writing income by working, “silently”, as a creative writing teacher for Lancaster University. She communicates with students by email, on a computer that, she says proudly, has no sound equipment. 
 
 Whiteaker, the editor of The Good Retreat Guide, now in its sixth edition, tells me about his latest book: Good Living in Hard Times: the Art of Contentment. Almost entirely, this is from the hermit’s heartfelt desire to pass on the lessons he has learnt. But yes, he also needs to pay for his new cell. 
 
 Whiteaker began his working life in South America, writing scripts for what sounds like a Mexican forerunner of Casualty. In “the roaring Sixties”, he worked in advertising, in London. 
 
 By the Eighties he was in PR, for clients like Unilever. 
 
 “I enjoyed it. It was right for me at the time.” Now, he wakes every morning between five and six. He immediately thanks God he is alive, and proceeds to saying some Psalms. There is a Bible reading, another reading (anything from the Desert Fathers to more modern writers), and then breakfast: coffee and a piece of toast. And so it continues, with morning prayer, contemplative hour, noon prayer, meditation walk, and evening prayer. At night, after a supper of soup and bread, he might read detective novels. He has raised children. He had a wife – although they separated when he was 30. Now he is in Shropshire, he will probably see his six grandchildren three or four times a year. The move to Shropshire, he tells me – contentedly – was “so I can die in my own language”. 
 
 It is prurient to ask about other matters, but I am afraid I do. There is a long pause. Of course there are temptations. “In 2007 I lost three people who were close to me in four months. It shook me. I wanted normalcy. I had a serious affair when I was living in solitary.” 
 
 “With the solitary life,” he says, “no matter how satisfied you are, what is missing is human intimacy – not really the sex part of it, but that sense of intimacy, being with someone close to you.” The relationship, however, ended. The calling to the solitary life proved strongest. “There was a large part of myself that I wasn’t making available to the other person. I wasn’t in a position to make someone else happy.” It is, perhaps, asking a lot to expect a London-based journalist to understand. 
 
 When Maitland talks of superficial modern life providing a mass of “thin relationships”, I can see what she means. I certainly sympathise when she calls airports “hell”, and mobile phones “inventions of the devil”. 
 
 I can even see the sense of going on retreat, or at least for a long walk. It is the urge to make solitude permanent that defeats me – especially when both Maitland and Whiteaker suggest it is a good idea to consult an experienced “spiritual director” occasionally. “The voices I hear on the wind are quite fun,” says Maitland, “but I would advise having a spiritual director: to help distinguish whether it is just the way the brain processes sound, whether God is talking to you, or you are going bonkers.” Maitland and Whiteaker are two of the most talkative people you could encounter – and neither seems bonkers. And yet, says Whiteaker, when the visitor leaves and the talking stops, “It is like diving into a huge sea, silence surrounding me like water, incredibly welcoming. I feel absolutely right.” When I ask for more explanation, he shakes his head. “You are touching on something I don’t know how to explain.” He insists on going into the garden and digging up some produce for me. I take his gift. He brings his hands together as if in prayer. “Bless you.” With a bag of potatoes, some fresh mint, and maybe some imparted wisdom, I return to the city. 
 
 Sarah Maitland’s new book ‘Gossip from the Forest: a Search for the Hidden Roots of our Fairytales’ is out in November. 
 
 This article also appeared in SEVEN magazine, free with the Sunday Telegraph. Follow SEVEN on Twitter @TelegraphSeven ||||| An extremely rare job opportunity has opened for a hermit in a stunningly beautiful cloister perched on a cliff in Austria. 
 
 But the successful applicant for the unpaid position must be prepared to live without electricity, running water, or the internet, and must be able to cope with the possibility of being shot by a jealous local. 
 
 Municipal and Catholic officials in the Austrian town of Saalfelden are looking for someone to live in a nearby hermitage built into steep cliffs characteristic of the Salzburg region that borders on Germany. 
 
 Applicants should be independently wealthy or have another job as the parish website says the position does not come with a salary.
– If you're looking for some time alone, this job opening in Austria may be for you. A clifftop cloister in the state of Salzberg is seeking a part-time hermit, the Local reports. It helps to be hearty since the 350-year-old hermitage has no running water, heat, or internet. And it doesn't hurt to be independently wealthy since the April-November post is unpaid. "There is no classic job description for a hermit," the parish website says, per the Telegraph. In lieu of previous experience, the would-be loner ought to have a Christian outlook and be "a self-sufficient person at peace with himself," says local priest Alois Moser. And contrary to expected hermit demeanor, the this one should be game for chatting up the occasional passing pilgrim. The first occupant took up residence in the bird's-eye perch in the town of Saalfelden in 1664, per Visit-Salzberg.net. The winner will be selected more for personality than native skills, per the Local, and may have to contend with the occasional disgruntled competitor for the job. In 1970, someone who lost out opened fire with a shotgun, though the occupying hermit wasn't hurt. Remote by any standard, the hermitage is built into a natural cave perched above Lichtenberg castle, with a 17th century chapel next door, per the Local. It has been empty since last fall when the last occupant went back home to his life as a pastor in Vienna. Before him, a Benedictine monk held the job for a dozen years. Applications are due by March 15. (A "dead" doctor was found living as a hermit in Italy.)