(From Rob) The Hills are Alive with the Sound of McFarlands

Today was a drizzly, cool day in Dorfgastein, and for a moment I panicked this morning. What do do with the kids? They, of course, had a full schedule planned. They headed off to Schlecker, the village drug store, and bought candy (the first of three visits today). They also wanted to watch TV. I asked if they would like to take "a little bike ride and a hike" that would end with a Krapfen, their favorite Austrian piece of deep-fried love slathered in home-made berry jam and dusted with powdered sugar for good measure. They new that the best Krapfen can be found at the Almoser Alm, a little old hut on a steep, green mountinside several kilometers away from Dorfgastein. They love the place, but they have only ever been up there in a car. I had them. BUA HA HA HA. It was still not raining, so off we went... We pedaled down the valley to the next dorf. Despite some bickering (Will always has to be first) and some tears at not being able to make it up a steep stretch of road, we got into a good rhythm and had a great bike ride on our Haus Tirol bikes.

After finally making it to the village of Unterberg, we ditched our bikes in a barn. I was not sure how the kids would take the news of a steep hike after a long bike ride, but they headed up the trail. I bit my lip and looked at the darkening sky. This is what it takes to get kids away from the tube?

We were immediately taken in by the cool, damp, green scenery, and enjoyed the view during our frequent panting rest stops. After a grassy rise, we headed off into a pine forest that turned out to be the best part of the trip.

There, poking up among the fallen branches and mossy pine needles were the quintessential mushrooms out of a fairy tale: red with white polka dots. Maddie immediately began telling stories of the wee folk who lived there.

Will took a stick and obliterated the first mushroom he saw. Then he was penitent and joined in the search for the fairy houses. It made the steep climb into a big game, and it hadn't really started raining, so we just ran from one toadstool to the next. As we got higher, we reached some of the pastures belonging to the Alm. Maddie and Will, of course, laughed every time they passed by a cow pattie. I hope that turning 10 tomorrow inspires Maddie to rise to a new level of humor. There were a few drops of rain, and the cow bells went dong-dong-thunk.

Things got a little steep at the end, but by now the kids were laughing and enjoying each others' company. I hung back and let them entertain themselves. How often does that happen?

Finally, we were there. Believe it or not, this is the place where we spent our afternoon. This is the Farm Hut at the Amoser Alm. It is Shangri-La except for the flies (the cows share a roof with the farmers). As you come to the door, damp and exhausted, a cheerful woman whisks you in, gives you warm things to drink and stokes the fire. Her family has owned this place as long as there have been records kept. We wiped off our feet and--no exaggeration--the clouds emptied all of the rain they had in them. We sat next to the wood fire in an old stove and stuffed our faces, as the heavy rain continued for nearly two hours.

We were a bit damp, so I dried the kids jackets by the fire. When I returned, the Alm-Goddess had given the kids fly swatters. They hunted down and smaked flies for 45 minutes or so, squealing with glee. Tonight, Will thanked the dear Lord for letting him swat flies at the Alm. That is what he took away from all of this. Well, whatever milks your goat...

We sat and played "Uno" and had a milk tasting: Like a wine tasting but with big white mustaches afterwards. Their milk tasted just like the wet grass and flowers we had passed on the way up the hill. This place makes its own cured pork, its own cheese and its own bread.

When the rain started to let up, the kids went out and chased the rabbits, pigs, goats and sheep. We made it back off of the mountain, and rode our bikes home with nothing more than a few drops of rain. When we had put our bikes back, I somehow knew what the kids wanted. I handed them each an Euro and sent them off to Schlecker. They came home with their treats, wiped off their feet, and we sat on our balcony and watched the rain pour down again.

That is what I thanked the dear Lord for in my prayers tonight. And for the fact that no one hit a car with their bike or needed to be hunted down by an Alpine search party with a St. Bernard with a cask of Brandy on his neck.