The hills are alive. .

With families. Out walking - except for the jolly post-church hoolie which was getting under way, complete with band, as we drove out this morning and was still going strong as we returned at 5.30pm. It would seem that here in Dachstein walking is very much in, as is schnapps with honey and bread with ham served on a wooden platter with a lethally sharp knife with which to cut, spear and transfer to mouth without cutting out the tongue. I am amused by the German vocabulary which I seem to be unearthing - even if I do have a tendency to lapse into French. Amused too by the sight of bishop and organist halted on a path among glorious mountains, deep in conversation about the art of improvisation or whatever. But best of all was to walk all day, with no rain and with a Jausenstation just where it was required. And for my regulars: yes, it is Autumn, but there is still some sun;no, there will be no lederhosen worn by any of this group. You better believe it!