Cow Bells

Yesterday has already blurred into a haze of forests and winding roads, picturesque villages and dodgy corners. We only travelled 200 miles but took in views at 2000 metres over sea level, and negotiated some precarious twists and windy roads. Apparently this is biker heaven!

The day started with the gentle awakening of cow bells – it’s not just a Heidi fairy tale! They really do put bells on the animals here and I think it’s a fabulous initiative of the Austrian tourist board which allows us to waken with such charm and gentility. That led us to slowly draw back the curtains on the most spectacular of views. As the day slowly unveiled itself, we tried to find new words to describe the landscape but we’d run out before midday! Stunning. Fabulous. Beautiful. Fantastic. Gorgeous. Fairy tale. Idyllic. Then we moved to the adverbs: jaw dropping; awe inspiring; breathtaking; heart stopping….. You get the picture! Just incredible scene after scene which the photos will never do justice to, but which have had us wondering why it took us so long to come here!

Half-way up the Sella mountain pass, we stop to chat to a cyclist. Yea, a cyclist! As in, on a push bike!! Half-way up a mountain and with every intention of getting to the top. And (I assume) back down again!  I’m wrecked just from sitting on the back of a bike so we reckon the guy deserves our company. He’s from Germany but has been to Ireland fifteen times. Fifteen. Exactly. He’s still counting. He’s never gone beyond Dublin, and I’m ashamed to report (or rather he should be), beyond Temple Bar. I explain there’s a lot more to Dublin (and Ireland) than Temple Bar and am just about to add that no right minded Dub would lower themselves to drinking in the slums of Temple Bar when he informs me that it’s ‘the best place for Guinness, the craic and girls’.  Fair enough, I think. I then take a moment to try and equate the scrawny, health freak before me with the pint swilling party animal he’s just described but I give up. Life’s too short.

Crossing into Italy from Austria there are immediate signs of change once we come down from the mountains. Whilst the housing is still Tyrolean in style, the fields are no longer quite as immaculate; there are signs of overgrown hedges and fading buildings; there are still flowers and colour, but it’s just not as pristine and perfect. In short, it feels lived in.  And the vinyards became omnipresent – every terraced acre, foot and inch has been utilised to grow grapes and we have the good fortune to see several small tractors chugging along with trailers full of the wonderful ingredients which will surely bring us all joy in times to come! We observe two teams of young people leaving the fields after their days’ work harvesting. I want to stop and shake their hands and tell them how grateful I and my friends are for their hard work and let them know the wonder their toil produces. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!