After Work Chores

Up to now we didn't pay much attention to our piece of the community garden as the area is shared with six other residents. Every party does their best to make the whole look pretty, and kindly jumps in when others are too busy.

Now after our move is over, we (that would in fact be Roland) also want do contribute to the beauty of the garden, by mowing the lawn, picking the weed and attending to the hedges.

We haven't had a garden before so there is much to learn and even more to do, and Roland finds it indeed very relaxing.

The Fire Head Loop

The sun came out, then it rained, then it didn't. Finally I lost patience with the weather, geared up and went out for a little spin up and around the Brandenkopf (translated: Fire Head), one of the higher mountains (945m) in the Black Forest.

The mountain was renamed Brandenkopf after a devastating forest fire in the early 18th century.

The roads were slippery from the rain but I wouldn't want to go fast anyway.

On top of the mountain one will find one of the most efficient wind turbines in Germany. The wind up here blows steady, and with the rotors in motion 24/7, so far 22.7 million kWh of sustainable energy has been produced since installation in 2002.

A must do is the ascent of hundred something steps up the Brandenkopf watch tower. I climb the tower every time because the vistas are well worth the exercise.

While the western skies looked bright and friendly, the east side got increasingly overclouded. It was time for me to move on.

Single file lanes, usually a bit tricky to negotiate with oncoming traffic, were not an issue today. So far I have not encountered one car or tractor on my route.

The track followed a small creek that matured with every other twist and turn downwards fed by other brooks and rivulets.

A wooden bridge piqued my curiosity, and I made an unplanned detour. I found a little Mary's chapel at the end of the road.

Meanwhile the creek had turned into a stream.

I knew it, the weather gods were against me today. I got to get going again although I would have loved to dwell a bit longer.

Wait a minute! A covered bridge. Once again I had to stop for a photo op.

Twenty klicks from home the skies were promising weather of apocalyptic dimensions. It was high time, when I donned my rain gear!

The rain came down with full force, and at one point I had to seek shelter at a post office, to wait out the downpour.

When the worst was over, I continued to venture home. Not without stopping, though.

The air smelled fresh after the rain, and all was well when the clouds gave way to blue skies again.

The final trek was pretty plashy. But Alonzo liked playing in the puddles.

The rain gear and my boots kept me reasonably dry, except for some droplets that found their way down my neck. My gloves however were completely soaked.

***

Rund um den Brandenkopf.

Der Brandenkopf mit fast 1,000m Höhe ist unser Hausberg. Von unserer Wohnung aus kann man ihn in der Ferne sogar sehen. Da sich das Wetter heute als sehr unzuverlässig erwies, wollte ich nur eine kleine Runde drehen. Also, 'rauf auf den Brandenkopf, und auf der Ostseite wieder 'runter. Auf der gesamten Strecke gab es nur kleinste einspurige Wege. Kein Problem, denn außer ein paar Treckern gab es keinen Verkehr. Nach einem Fotostop an einer Marienkapelle nahe Wolfach wurde der Himmel richtig schwarz. Ich drehte am Gasgriff und ließ die Vespa fliegen, aber dem Regen konnte ich nicht entkommen. Also zog ich meine Regenkleidung und die Warnweste über. Dann ging die Welt unter und die Straßen verwandelten sich in Seen. An einem Postamt nutzte ich deren Vordach, um den schlimmsten Guss abzuwarten. Die Weiterfahrt wurde einfach zu gefährlich. Nach zehn Minuten tropfte es nur noch und ich konnte weiter ziehen. Jetzt machte das Pfützenspringen Spaß! Die Wolken verzogen sich, als wenn es sie nie gegeben hätte. Es hatte sich aber merklich abgekühlt, und so behielt ich die Regensachen bis zum Schluss an. Zu Hause angekommen musste ich erst einmal die Handschuhe auswringen. Sie waren das einzige, was auf der Fahrt nicht trocken geblieben war.

Vineyards on Vespa

There are no specific origins about wine-making but archeologists suggest that humans started cultivating vineyards around 4000BC or even sooner. Again, it were the Romans (of course!) on their European conquest, who brought along plants and seedlings, and planted vineyards in this region.

Although grapes might have primarily been used to provide a healthy and tasty food source in the early days of mankind, the human mind quickly became very creative to explore its alcoholic properties.

One got the idea to ferment the grapes, and the liquid turned into wine and champagne. Another distilled it, and the results were brandy, cognac, raki or grappa.

Alcoholic beverages are rooted in many cultures. One of the first words I learned in another language settled around the ritual toasting to hosts and friends: Cheers, Prost, Santé, Skål, Salute, Salud, Gan bei, Kanpai, Kippis, Jamas, Salam ati, Na zdrowie!

Oops! I must have been drinking with people from the English speaking world, from Germany, France, Scandinavia, Italy, Spain, China, Japan, Finland, Greece, Iran and Poland.

Alcohol while riding is an absolute no-go, but one won't get drunk in the Black Forest just by driving through vineyards.

Just in case one should refrain from stopping at wine tasting rooms and distilleries, though. It is tempting, there are plenty.

However, the fruity scented air, the twisty roads and the picturesque scenery might intoxicate one just the same.

***

Durch die Weinfelder.

Den Anbau von Reben gibt es ja schon seit Jahrtausenden. Wahrscheinlich haben die Asiaten damit angefangen, aber in den Schwarzwald importiert wurden die Trauben (wie so viele andere Errungenschaften) von den Römern auf ihrem Eroberungszug durch Europa. Die Menschen haben es schon immer verstanden, aus allen möglichen landwirtschaftlichen Erzeugnissen Alkohol zu gewinnen. Da wird gebrannt, destilliert, gegärt was das Zeug hält, Hauptsache die Dröhnung stimmt. Wenn ich mir so darüber Gedanken mache, in wie vielen Sprachen ich das Wort "Prost!" kann, wird mir ganz schwummerig. Cheers, Prost, Santé, Skål, Salute, Salud, Gan bei, Kanpai, Kippis, Jamas, Salam ati, Na zdrowie... das heisst, ich habe schon mit Deutschen, Holländern, Franzosen, Dänen, Norwegern, Schweden, Italienern, Spaniern, Chinesen, Japanern, Finnen, Griechen, Persern und Polen einen gekippt. Alkohol bleibt auf der Vespa jedoch tabu, auch wenn die vielen Weingüter zur Probe von Wein und Schnäpsen einladen. Allein die Fahrt durch die Landschaft berauscht zur Genüge.