As the world is jumping through hoops to analyse the sick mind of a country that can produce someone like Josef Fritzl (this is in German), I am falling in love with this place and with my Austrian friends. Sure, it’s easy to generalise. To say that Austrians are all mad for having brought forth such evil as Hitler and Fritzl. To call them all rude if you’re used to British people who apply 5 minutes of small talk as a rule before they get to the point and then insert so many pleases and thankyous and woulds and mays it’s hard to see a point at all. Or if you’re used to queuing which seems to be an ancient art form now only intermittently practised in long-forgotten villages in England and Australia. Or if you’re used to apologising when someone elbows you in the eye.
But I’m beginning to get used to the straight-to-the-pointness of Austrians which surely must hark back to my Viking ancestry of raping and pillaging. Isn’t it remarkable how such horrid crimes acquire an aura of romance after a millennium and a bit? I hereby apologise on behalf of Norway (oh, and Sweden and Denmark) for all those heinous crimes committed by the Vikings all over Europe. You may now eat your mushrooms in peace because we have learned better behaviour and have become the world’s foremost peace negotiators and are now ready to teach everybody else how to turn the other cheek (I may personally opt out of this one).
But let me get back to loving Austria. It’s very close to my heart and vivid in my memory right now, so I thought I’d share yesterday’s fairy tale. I’m using that expression rather than adventure simply for the sheer beauty of the trip, and the wonderful company. I got to borrow Thomas off his wife the whole day, and my knight appeared on his shiny stallion first thing in the morning to whisk me off my feet and treat me to a day of riding around some of the breathtaking Austrian countryside.
I can’t explain why, but I enjoy being a pillion as much as I enjoy being on my own bike. Perhaps I just haven’t had the right bike yet.
I can barely tell you where we went; the only name that lodged itself in my mind as we sped towards higher ground was Fahrafeld, because it made me think of ‘far afield’ which kind of sums it up. At the end of the trip Thomas informed me that we had covered 390 km (242 miles). And I’d fallen asleep once. Yes, I am so comfortable as a pillion, and Thomas so skilled as a rider, I can fall asleep perched on the back of a speeding motorbike without falling off. When I asked him how the extra weight of me influenced the handling of the bike he replied: ‘I can’t see you, I can’t hear you, I can’t feel you.’ In the world of pillions, that’s a compliment.
I know that biking is not the safest pastime in the world. And we did come past a group where one of them had simply not made it around a bend and had ended up down the steep drop on the side of the road. The rest of the group was busy hauling bike and rider back up, so there was no loss of life or injury. I never cease to be amazed by the matter-of-fact way bikers always pick themselves back up and carry on after a mishap. But as we cruised around bendy mountain roads my worries evaporated and I found myself admiring the snow capped mountains, the stunningly clear streams and lakes, the luscious green of the forests, the beautifully groomed villages. Each time we hit higher altitudes the temperature dropped considerably and I was glad I hadn’t listened to Kevin’s ‘are you going to wear all THAT?? You’ll boil over!’. But I saw Edelweiss on the side of the road. Not a flower that can boast great beauty, but I have yet to meet someone who couldn’t hum the tune from the musical so I thought I’d mention it.
We had three stops. One where the pub dog, an extremely territorial pub dog, attacked a visiting dog; the pub dog was a very large, slim and impressive Alsatian and I would not have gone near it with a barge-pole. The attack was not a pretty sight and I have once again had all my prejudices against Alsatians as a breed confirmed. [Kalte Kuchl, very nice place, highly recommended and as T. informed; he has never seen the Alsatian aggressive before and it may have been attacked by the visiting dog rather than the other way around. I stand corrected. Ed.]
Our next stop was here:
Erlaufsee near Mariazell, a stunningly clear lake fed by a river running through it and where people go diving; there is apparently also a large WWII rocket at the bottom of the lake that the divers can cuddle if they feel so inclined (not live, I have been assured).
And our last stop was at a lower and less heady altitude [Kirchberg and der Pielach -- Ed.] where, out of the crash helmet and with my enormous, intelligent forehead exposed to the sun, I got a bit of a one-sided scorch with the result that I now have a lot of freckles on the right side of my face. Thomas doesn’t scorch that easily and still looks normal. I am left with a crash helmet mullet on my head and a white and red face. Biking life doesn’t get much better. Not designed to bring out one’s natural beauty.
And here’s a map of our journey because I know mum and dad want to see it (thanks to Thomas for all factual information!):
The route. Click on the image to get a bigger version where it might be possible to read the names.
Next I want to see Austria from the air. Any hanggliders out there?
