AUSTRAVAGANZA
Austria/Slovenia
12-15 Sep 2019
THE NO TREPIDATION TOUR
We meet in a bar. In the airport. Where else? And so it starts, like most manventures. JFDI’s first foreign foray. A book club on the razzle. Or two book clubs, actually, except one is a book club that reads no books. Okay. If truth be known this trip is James’ creation as a newly-minted 50 year old, a impresario’s dream to celebrate his half century and share his old haunts with his mates, of which JFDI is a subset. His other book club are long-standing drinking (and other things) buddies. We are thirteen strong.
Stansted is the embarkation point, Ljublana the waypoint, and a hotel in Austria the final destination. But details are sketchy, and we are beholden to the not-inconsiderable talents of James (see below) plus WhatsApp for comms, Splitwise for finance, and Google Maps for guidance and comic relief.
Taken on trust then.
GLOBAL WARMING REQUIRES A COOL HEAD
Introductions over beer, a libation to be used again and again......and again over the next three days.
Two casualties already. Bob. Commitments. Russell. Traffic.
No matter. A painless 2hrs later and we are in Ljublana, setting off in two vans, heading to Maria Wörth, a town on a peninsula on the Wörthersee, an inland lake in the south of Austria. Get used to the umlauts, by the way, they are endemic in these parts.
We arrive just after midnight at the Hotel Linde, from whom we have rented two villas for three nights. Luckily, James knows the numbers of the villas which are ours, a fact which shall become apparent.
The hotel is dark. Silent. The front glass doors are locked. There is no one at the desk. We ring the bell. Nothing. We call the hotel number and then another number next to the bell. Nothing.
Now what? There is a theory of mine called percussive maintenance, referring to the most basic of differences between males and females, illustrated by the example of a vending machine. A person puts money in a machine. Nothing comes out. A woman will generally push the buttons again, the coin return,and failing that, will look for a service number or a technician. A male, on the other hand, may make a cursory attempt at the first two, but his first inclination and most likely his actual plan of action, will be to kick the shit out of the machine.
Otherwise put, men are extremely impatient, and when faced with a conundrum, will jettison the rules quicker than you can say grand larceny.
I wander down the side of the hotel, trying other doors. Bingo. Whaddya know? Not breaking and entering, just entering, as it happens.
I walk back to the front desk and the glass doors open. Everything is open. The office. The drawers. The bar. We begin what can charitably be described as self check-in, otherwise known as rummaging through everything to find out where we can kip for the night. We make jokes, Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Here’s Johnny!
We continue to call out gently for the non-existent staff, mindful that the guests are all tucked up asleep. Woebetide that we should wake them.
Strictly speaking, we should not be there. Strictly speaking however, a hotel should at least have a concierge.
Boggie (Mark) rifles through the key drawers and emerges triumphantly with random keys (different each one) marked 1, 3 and 4. I take 1 and 4. He takes 3. James meanwhile has located the villas a couple of hundred yards down the lake. We all wander down the silent streets to the villas. I take my purloined key, try it in the front door of Number 4, and voilá!, we have entered. Ditto Boggie into Number 3.
On the principle that possession is nine tenths of the law, we now have digs. We also discover that aside from one foldaway in Number 4, we are sharing rooms (and beds). Luckily Europeans have separate duvets. Tom and I commandeer a bedroom with an added feature of sliding panels which open onto the bathtub (uh-huh) for that odd occasion you want tumble out if the double bed into the bath, or vice versa, if you catch my drift.
Don’t get any ideas, I warn Tom.
Both Boggie and I have separately bluetoothed the Marshall speakers, and I briefly put on Thunder Road and then Edelweiss (what else?) in number 4 to mark the occasion.
People pair off randomly with people they have just met, and there you have it. Not smooth, but a splendid start to an adventure.
FIRST CLASS ACCOMMODATION
Now at this point you maybe wondering: Jeez, how long is he going to ramble on for about this boy’s weekend?
You’re right. This account needs some structure. So how about PEOPLE, ACTIVITIES & PLACES, and FOOD. No need for a separate heading on DRINK. Other than to mention that there was ample.
PEOPLE
So here we are, a motly crew. Eclectic.
James Pollock- the Fearless Leader- Birthday Boy. Austria aficionado. Organiser par excellence. Already pictured once, but hey ho, it was his idea! This one might show a slightly different side.
OUR FEARLESS LEADER
and the whole Cast(minus Russell, a late arriver):
THE CREW
From right (Phil took the picture) to left.
Philip Maton- The youngest. The Quizmaster. The most newly married. The most up to date on Splitwise. A designated driver.
Eckart Löffler- A doctor. The wardrobe consultant as long as you like a white shirt and black trousers....no matter what the occasion (think Amish or Mormon). Boundless enthusiasm. Skips down mountains. A bona-fide German. Luddite without a smartphone (see Amish reference....and why not?)
Tom Wells- A curmudgeonly gruffalo and all around great guy. Sardonic wit. Californian to a fault. Prodigious memory. Great low maintenance roomie. And definitely not into the bathtub/bed combo. Whew!
Eric Pettigrew(me)-The undisputed lightweight in the drinking sweepstakes. Likes to fast, especially when there is delicious Braai chicken as an alternative (not).
Malcolm Clarke-A former banker with a ready smile and a twinkle in his eye. Apparently has not weighed himself since 1979, by his own admission.
ERIC,TOM & MALCOLM
JOE & ECKART
Alex Felthouse-HR man. Able to resolve an office situation whilst hiking up a mountain. Steady as she goes, by this brief sample.
Joe Igoe-New Yorker and Yankee fan. Deutsche mensch in disguise. A Pilatus guru who says RELAX!!!!! Sourcer of single malt devilwater.
James Morris (Moz or Mozz or Mozzer) Along with Boggie, James’ oldest friends I believe. Moz and Boggie....
Mark Bailey (Boggie) ...Boggie and Moz. The terrible twins. A good laugh. Full of tales and partners in crime ( or at least filching keys which were rightfully ours).
MOZ, BOGGIE & ME
Alastair Hall-Comrade in arms. Always the voice of reason. Saves us a half hour on our return journey due to his local knowledge of Bled.
Ritz Steytler-The Saffa braai man. Software guru. Incipient WimHoffer maybe. The only man who could handle the sofabed. Prolific snapper of pics.
ALASTAIR &TOM
Russell Barker-A late arrival. Never met a body of water he wouldn’t jump into and start swimming. Pentathlete. Interesting driving habits... hard on the rental car. Maybe a future Austrian boy racer...
CREATURE FROM THE LAGOON-BLED
THE JFDI CREW
ACTIVITIES AND PLACES
Crikey. James didn’t half have us organised on the activity front: Swimming. Hiking. Stair climbing. Sliding. Biking. Climbing. More climbing. Art exhibition. Castle and Museum.
Whew. Don’t take my word for it. Look at a screenprint of my Fitbit:
That’s almost 60,000 steps over three days or app.45km. And a high of 199 floors (the World Trade Center had 110 for comparison).
DAY ONE
We start by climbing the mountain behind the hotel to the Pyramidenkogel, a tower with a spectacular panoramic view.
PYRAMIDENKOGEL
And the a slide down. 22 seconds or thereabouts.
SLIP SLIDING
Then after a quick stop for a beer, another 3k or so hike to a restaurant (see FOOD). And then another post-lunch and scrumpy 6k hike back to the villas.
LUNCH AT THE FARM
Then dinner outside. Nighthawks, like the Edward Hopper painting. A braai by Ritz. Ribs. Scrumptious. Day 1 in the hopper, no pun intended.
DAY TWO
Haven’t climbed enough? Try this castle on for size.
ARMAMENTS TURNED LIGHT FIXTURE
Each gatehouse has a bas relief of the Stations of the Cross. Apparently no invader made it past the fourth gatehouse since the 1600s. And if they did, this is what would await them.
BURG HOCHOSTERWITZ
Who knew?
Our next visit on Saturday was to one of Austria’s premier medieval castles, Hochosterwitz. Visible from 30km, it is perched on top of 179m hill (we walked up). As such, it made an inviting, though challenging, target for invaders. Apparently its garrison convinced one set of besiegers to give up by slaughtering its very last ox, filling it with corn and throwing it over the wall, pretending they still had so many provisions in stock that spares could be used as projectiles. Now that is confidence in a strategy...
The current family (Khevenhüller) bought the castle in 1571. To deter invaders they built an armory and 14 gates replete with numerous obstacles: drawbridges that fall away, iron gates, spikes, cannon etc. This put a stop to any further incursion. Now there are just tourists.
The nobles look suitably severe, even compared to their ancestors.
WHAT IS DON’T MESS WITH US IN GERMAN?
ARMAMENTS TURNED LIGHT FIXTURE
SOME OF THE STATIONS OF THE CROSS
Each gatehouse has a bas relief of the Stations of the Cross. Apparently no invader made it past the fourth gatehouse since the 1600s. And if they did, this is what would await them.
TOM PLAYS INVADER
HILLTOP CHURCH
Meanwhile, at the top there is a self-contained community with church, museum, quarters, courtyards, and latterly, a restaurant.
Do you know what the difference between beer and piss is? Five minutes.
THE UNENDING ATTRACTION OF NATURE COMES TO LIFE
A SALUTARY WARNING TO CLIMATE CHANGE
ALL FROM THE SAME FARM
And if the meat was not enough, how about some cheese.
And for variety this was for breakfast….the sausage on the right is a meat cheese combo…yep, you read it right…a meat cheese combo.
A VERITABLE SCHLAGFEST
TRANSLATION:MEN HAVE FEELINGS TOO. THIRST, FOR EXAMPLE
THANKS, JAMES, FOR A TRULY MEMORABLE THREE DAYS!
Not for us, we were off to a microbrewery.
Do you know what the difference between beer and piss is? Five minutes.
Food and beer terrific(see FOOD) and a trip to the loo amusing.
A couple of James’ Austrian mates met us at the restaurant/brewery and gave him his very own hat, quickly modelled by Ritz and Malcolm.
FOR FOREST: AN EXHIBITION
Next we were off to a live art exhibit. FOR FOREST, a living description of a 1971 painting called The Attraction of Nature by the Austrian artist Max Peintner, highlighting (even back then) a dystopia where a forest is something only to view in a post-industrial world. His collection of works was called Contributions to the Future. Critics of Technology and Civilisation under the Guise of Utopia.
Located in the football stadium of FC Austria Klagenfurt, the exhibition will be on for a month and contained 300 fully-grown trees, some weighing up to 6 tonnes.
Frankly, the most impressive work of art I have ever seen, especially given that is it temporary.
Amazing and all the more relevant in a country where climate change is melting all the glaciers.
THE UNENDING ATTRACTION OF NATURE COMES TO LIFE
A SALUTARY WARNING TO CLIMATE CHANGE
The night finished with a splendid braai by all accounts (me inadvertantly not partaking of the feast whilst upstairs watching my son’s med school white coat ceremony on my iPhone via live streaming in Maine), a vicious pub quiz brilliantly conceived and flawlessly executed by Phil, and then whiskey-fuelled impromptu concerts by Tom and Joe lasting well into the night.
DAY THREE
My day started early, unlike the rest who were sleeping off the late night revelries. I was starving, and showed up as the first person at the hotel breakfast buffet, helping myself to a half of their entire portion of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on their hard rye toast. Mmmmm.. Then I was off for a 20km bike ride around Worthersee. I hung out on a bench “talking” with my two weeks of university german with an elderly gentleman while waiting for the ferry to take me back across the lake. I managed to garner from him that a) his father was in the Wehrmacht and died in Stalingrad, and b) he had been to the States as a student where he rode Greyhound buses with black people. So much for not discussing the war (he brought it up).
Upon my return, everyone was busy checking out.
We then were off in a three car caravan, this time to have another climb up a mountain to Tscheppaschlucht falls.
This amble was strenuous, up stairs fashioned into the rock. Not for the faint of heart or sore of joint. Think the Stairmaster from hell.
The air was as clean as it gets, and in spite of the cool water a whole lot more than a sheen was raised. Eventually after an hour and a half we got to the falls, and boy was it worth it! Some intrepid rock climbers were schussing down from one pool to the next, secured by a rope. And a good thing too. That 15ft drop would have been followed by an 80ft plunge. Maniacs....(see below video).
And then to lunch at Deutscher Peter, a Schnitzel place, in its infinite variety. Which brings us to food.
FOOD
My shit German (scheisse deutsche or some such) notwithstanding, I would have to describe the food as Fleisch mit Schlag of the highest quality. Meat with whipped cream. A good thing there are mountains to climb, lakes to swim, blue skies and clean air, because otherwise the place would be a huge cardiologist’s waiting room. Vegetables hardly get a look in. Vegans should go elsewhere.
But my oh my was it good!
ALL FROM THE SAME FARM
The stuff in the middle of the platter above (see the mug for scale) was congealed pig drippings with crackling in the middle. Oh dear! Might as well get a line with some builder’s cement on a drip…one bite and my arteries were saying what the hell so you think you are doing? But hey…..in for a penny, in for a pound. Not one morsel of food was left behind. These pigs did NOT give their lives in vain.
And if the meat was not enough, how about some cheese.
And for variety this was for breakfast….the sausage on the right is a meat cheese combo…yep, you read it right…a meat cheese combo.
And then the schnitzel…veal…pork…veal and pork…kiev…wrapped and fried in potatoes...
Or the mixed grill at the microbrewery.
And then the strudel mit Shlag, the custard mit Schlag, the Cream cake mit die more Schlag.
And all of this washed down with beer…or scrumpy.
A VERITABLE SCHLAGFEST
Well, you get the drift.
TRANSLATION:MEN HAVE FEELINGS TOO. THIRST, FOR EXAMPLE
But all delicious. and if you are going to walk 44km, bike 20k, and swim to offset this, Austria is your place, and Carinthia, this part of Austria is the perfect place to have an Austravaganza.
THANKS, JAMES, FOR A TRULY MEMORABLE THREE DAYS!
