Our new bumper sticker

Thank crap it doesn't say "We are Village People"

Blasmusik

Rural Austrian life is tradition personified. During summer, rituals, customs and festivals take place almost on a weekly basis and it's easy to become immune to them. However, occasionally you are reminded how cool these things are and can really appreciate their meaning: a community coming together for a party.

Sunday August 1, was the annual Blasmusik festival in the village, which basically means a day long oompah and boozing session in celebration of the village brass band.

It's a dry affair to begin with, but as the day progresses becomes more and more raucous. Since our flat overlooks the square where it's all happening, it's highly entertaining to watch the steady digression into full-on beer fest.

6.30am
Yes, 6.30am. The 50-strong band marches down the high street playing a march of some sort. The noise rises straight up from the road below into our bedroom which is kind of like having someone bashing symbols next to your ear. This year our baby, Angus, has woken us up already, so we don't mind so much and he was quite fascinated by the racket.

After waking up the entire village at this ungodly hour, the band ends up having breakfast down at the Schützenhof hotel by the lake.

9.30am
A leisurely breakfast consumed, a service begins in the square in front of the church. The band play the music for the hymns, while the priest churns out the usual catholic monologues. It's all very civilised and respectful.

10.30am
The band relocate to the bandstand on the Dorfplatz main village square. The conductor, a jolly looking chap, gets things going with a spot of banter before they lurch into a few polkas. The beer taps open and sausages go on the grill.

Midday
Things are pretty much in full swing now. The tables and benches set up in the square are full with villagers and the booze is flowing. The band continue to pump out the tunes, sticking to mainly traditional folk music, polkas and marches. In between numbers the conductor's banter gets longer and the musicians sink a few drinks. There are an increasing amount of toasts to various causes and people with each one followed by the obligatory "Ein Prosit" song that is ingrained into Austrian culture like mountains, snow and singing nuns.

2.30pm
The sun is out and it's starting to get messy. There's a schnapps toast between each song where a plank with shot glasses fixed to at regular spacing is brought out. Five bods are hauled up to the stage and stand in a row with their hands behind their backs. They must drink the schnapps from the shot glasses on the plank as it is tilted by enthusiastic folk at each end. Hilarity ensues when a shorter lady can barely reach the shot glass and most of the schnapps goes down her top.

5pm
The band are looking a bit sozzled and have pretty much stopped playing for the day except for one older member who dons a fedora and starts belting out Frank Sinatra songs. To give him his dues, he really isn't bad and the audience love it.

7pm
Twelve hours of music and drinking complete, there are just a few hardy souls still knocking back the beer. An occasional trumpet parp and chorus of Ein Prosit is heard well into the night, but most have staggered home to sleep it off.

Check the video from Pension Huber:

Rubbish

Realising you are not as fit as you used to be is a slightly depressing feeling. While in my case it's for all the right reasons - we have a new baby and time is limited - it's still a bit irritating when you can't do what you used to.

I headed out for a training ride last Sunday, aiming for a hill I hadn't been over in a while. The weather was blustery and overcast but it felt great to be out. After two hours I had crested the 850m high Großalm which climbs 450m from Altmunster on the Traunsee.

I felt good, over 60km were behind me and it was now just 50-odd kilometres home with a nice big descent to enjoy first.

Ahh, but how I forgot the two nuggetty climbs that pop up in the final 12km. A head wind had drained the legs a bit but now I had these two buggers to get over. By the last hill, a 12% rise out of St. Gilgen that I must have done dozens of times, I had blown. This wasn't right. A ride of this length used to be no problem, but now I had bonked, creeping over the top and freewheeling the last 2km down the other side to our village.

It sucked. I was never a great rider, but this was a fairly lame performance. The reasons? Well, despite regular jogs, running never replaces hours of bike riding. I'm not saying I want to change how things are right now, but sometimes I do miss being kick-ass fit on a bicycle.

Gerlos Pass

Another ride post. This time the Gerlos pass past the gorgeous Krimml falls. A nice climb, not overly steep, just long. Main issue was a raging headwind on the early slopes.

Began the ride in Bruck with Mum, ending up in Jenbach where I took the train to Verona to meet the wife and baby.

Good times indeed.

Bella Italia

It's worth traveling to Italy for the coffee alone. It still amazes me how a crappy service station on the Austostrada serves a better espresso than every cafe in Salzburg.

But in addition to kick-ass coffee, the country has some great roads for cycling especially the Chianti region of Tuscany where I enjoyed a few days of riding with my friend Mark in between baby duties, eating amazing food and lying by the pool.






Without wishing to gush to much, the cycling was some of the most pleasant I have ever experienced. Smooth roads, winding hills with steady gradients and plenty of views made the rides extremely memorable.

Feeling inspired by stage seven of this year's Giro d'Italia when the peloton blasted across filthy dirt tracks - known locally as Strade Bianche - we included some of these back roads in our routes. To be honest, they weren't that bad. A bit rutted in places it was tricky going up steeper hills when the back wheel occasionally slipped, and dodgy on the descents where skinny tyres offer minimal grip.


And obviously the coffee stops were perfect - you just can't beat an Italian 1€ espresso.



Here are the routes we took: