Rossatchbach camping

Jonas is 26 months into an 8000 km pilgrimage to Jerusalem with his dog, Pipo, and his portable piano. He is a baker by trade, but his true passion is music. At 10:30 pm I was awakened by what sounded like a grand piano right outside our tent. Ordinarily when people are inconsiderate in shared spaces like campsites or hostels, I get irritated, but the music Jonas made was so sweet, so full of emotion, that each time he paused, I felt a wave of sadness that the music might be done. Clearly the rest of the campers felt the same way because he was allowed to play loudly for another 45 minutes. The next day we learned much more about him. He makes sure his dog always has food, but he had run out himself. He didn't ask, we just had a feeling. We gave him bread, cheese, sausage, an orange, cookies, and potato sticks and a little money. He is walking for a little girl who has uterine cancer and he prays at all the holy places for her. It's the people you meet who really make trips special.

Scotty did the grocery shopping this time and came back with these mega chocolate bars, which were actually quite good.

Garlicky meat and mushrooms over steamed zucchini. We are eating very well here and it makes me wonder if the funk I sometimes get into on the ice in January has to do with eating badly. I also feel better than we did on the Camino in Spain last year, when our staple was white bread.

I love that you tap a big bell when you want the ferryman to come back across for you.

Standing on the ruins of the castle where Richard the Lion-hearted was held captive.

Surveying he kingdom

This was another favorite spot, partly because we got to know some other people in the campground and partly because it was just lovely. Met a young couple, Alexander and Lara, who gave us some good advice on Vienna, and taught me a new German word, "gansehaut" to describe the feelings Jonas's music created.

So enjoying this trip

The weather is much nicer now. I liked the breezes even though it was hard to pedal into the headwind.

I've been reading a bit of Victor Frankl's stuff, after hearing one of his quotes on the audio at the concentration camp. He was a prisoner for 3 years and lost his mother, wife, father, and brother, I believe, at other camps. Thinking about this quote:

"We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."