Annual Andechs trek

In late June, E and I walked through fields and forest from Steinebach to Andechs--a hike of almost 15 kilometers, which took us about three hours. E and I did the same walk last year, and with S and friends the year before starting from Herrsching. E and I thought we had correctly modified last year's route to avoid a pitfall--but alas, once again, we missed some turn and ended up, approaching Andechs, above a creek on a wooded path that narrowed into a trail-less mess of roots and leaves and fallen trees where folks obviously go to get drunk in the woods and smash beer bottles. Maybe we'll finally get it right next year. Nonetheless, it's a great walk to do with a charming teen who becomes delightfully conversational while walking.

Looking back over this blog, I'm shocked to discover that I've never really blogged about Andechs. Going there is such a part of our annual routine that I didn't even bother taking photos this time. This is all I got, from a field just outside of Steinebach:

But here's some evidence of how long it's been our habit: some photos of E's first walk up (starting from Herrsching) back in 2002:

And some photos from August 2016; squint a little and imagine the tyke another inch and a half taller, and you pretty much have this year's hike.

Our destination

Our destination, without the zoom, with kidlet for scale

Schloss Seefeld; one hour down, two to go

Widdersberg

Widdersberg

Forest road above Herrsching

After climbing out of the get-drunk-and-smash-glass dead-end trail

Almost there...

The Brauerei

How to tell you're in Bavaria

Imagine you are abducted by aliens from outer space. They bring you aboard their ship, decide you aren't a particularly interesting specimen, and throw you back onto the planet they fished you off of. But they don't pay a whole lot of attention to where they toss you, because all of the planet looks pretty much the same to them. What top three key pieces of evidence convince you that you've landed in Bavaria?

1. Biergarten signs. Every village you wander through in your dazed state has a Biergarten, and as you approach, you see signs advertising it. The signs include sky-blue and white--diamonds perhaps, or stripes. In the text, you notice the diminutive suffix -rl and consequent umlaut: you are approaching a Bräustüberl (Bairisch), not a Bräustube (Hochdeutsch). You know you are not in Baden-Wuerttemberg, because the signs there would be for Straussenwirtschaften, where people would drink wine.

2. Maibäume. 30-40 meter high blue-and-white maypoles reach up to the sky, decorated with symbols representing village life and vocations. If the aliens abduct you shortly before the first of May, you might also observe thieves trying to steal maypoles from neighboring towns.

3. Kasspatzen mit gerösteten Zwiebeln und Blattsalat. As a vegetarian, you notice a bizarre and startling constancy between menus across the state. Pretty much every Bavarian restaurant with a "warm kitchen" is guaranteed to offer these pervasive small boiled dumplings, sauteed with cheese and served with fried onions and a side salad.