Wolfsklamm

It's the last day of October, and from what I remember winter comes pretty quickly once November hits, so I had to take advantage of the sunny weather and hike. Actually, today was also the last day that the Wolfsklamm (the wolves' gorge) is open to hikers until next May. A lot of outdoor attractions close during or after October.
This was at the beginning of the gorge — still a little sunshine, but not for long.
Yes, that's a bridge there, clinging to the rock face. Sturdy shoes and surefootedness are a must, although kids can manage it — I passed a few families along the way with kids under 10.
Then the path winds higher, out of the gorge and into the hills. There are over 350 steps to climb in this trail, and a lot of them are slick with icy water from the falls.
Upon exiting the gorge, the Benedictine cloister Sankt Georgenberg. There's a nice restaurant up there with a sun terrace. I had the best Käsespätzle I have ever eaten, and studied my hiking map in the sunshine. After lunch, the path continued to Schoss Tratzberg, which has public tours of some of the rooms (a count and countess live there for real, and those sides of the castle are of course off limits. We did see their dog through the glass door to the sunroom, though.)

Long Before It Was Tirol, It Was Raetia

This unassuming, wooded hill hides the remains of a group of Raetian houses from around 400 B.C.
The Raetians were a people who moved into the lands between Lake Garda and the Karwendel Mountains by the 6th century B.C. They are somehow associated with the Etruscans (their exact relationship is disputed, but there are similarities in their alphabets and a possible genetic link has come to light); Pliny the Elder wrote that they were an Etruscan clan driven out of the Po Valley by other tribes.
A technically and spiritually advanced society, they had a high level of technical, architectural and artisanal skills. Raetian wine from the area around Verona was Caesar Augustus' preferred drink. They raised crops and farm animals such as cattle, sheep, goats and pigs. They kept dogs and horses. They handled in raisins, tree resin, lumber, wax, honey and cheese. They made their own artistically distinct ceramics.
What's left of their houses are these stone cellars with narrow stair corridors. The entire group was in encircled by a sort of fort wall of sharpened logs, about one meter high (more picket fence than fortress)
Archaeologists have found much metalwork: chisels, axes, blades, iron rings, keys, door and chest handles, hooks. They families that lived here apparently did so in relative comfort, security and prosperity, able to make, trade for, or buy anything they needed.
And, all around, they had quite a view to enjoy —
Also found nearby (but no longer existent) was a temple area with sacrificial altars. In better times the Raetians sacrificed animals and crops to their god(s), and used the fire altars to sanctify bronze jewelry and weapons.
In 15 B.C. the Romans decided to push northward, subjugating the Raetians and burning their villages. The survivors took to sacrificing coins, as everything else was too valuable to burn. And once the Romans forced their culture and language on everybody else, traces of the Raetians dried up.
The cellars are now preserved as a free open-air museum with signs posted giving information about the Raetians and about the archaeological finds, now on permanent exhibit at the Tiroler Landesmuseum in Innsbruck.

A hike to the Lanser Kopf Flakstellungen

A hike around the Paschberg, at the southern end Innsbruck. Looking back towards town, the Igler Bahn streetcar winds it way up through the forest to the villages on the plateau on the other side of the hill.
One of the cutest houses around, the Tantegert stop. It's a little fairy tale cottage along the tram line, and (I believe) inhabited by someone who works for the railroad. It's nestled in the woods but not very private, with several hiking trails crossing right behind it.
Not a grave, but a little shrine to someone who died at this spot on the hill. You see crosses and plaques like this, as well as tiny chapels, often in the mountains. What makes this one especially interesting is the painting which depicts the manner of the man's death — it seems he fell, and his sled filled with firewood fell on top of him. I guess. Here's a close up:

These concrete circles are at the very top of the Lanser Kopf, a rocky outcropping and the highest point on the hill. Remains from the Second World War, they were spots for anti-aircraft guns, or Flak. Did you know "Flak" stands for Fliegerabwehrkanone? As a child of peacetime, I never realized that talking about "getting flak for something" was of military origin, and German at that.

Fact checking, because it matters.

Found on the site DIYExpat:

Some people joke that the Austrians must be the smartest people in the world because they are the only ones who can make Mozart to be Austrian and Hitler to be German. (It’s the opposite, in fact.)

Wrong! Mozart was Austrian. It's Beethoven who's the German*, not Mozart. Mozart's father was from Augsburg, true, but he became an official citizen of Salzburg, and Mozart's mother was from Sankt Gilgen, in the Salzkammergut.

Yeah, I know, most people will think, "Beethoven, Mozart, what's the difference? Oh yeah, one wrote that symphony that goes 'dat dat dat daaaaa', and the other one was in that movie."
But if you're going to make a little dig at the Austrians, at least don't screw it up. I would have liked to have commented on the site or sent an e-mail, but the site didn't give me those options. I hope somebody over there reads this and fixes the quote, please.

*Born in Bonn. Actually Bonn was part of the Holy Roman Empire at the time of his birth. Unified Germany came later, in 1871. And to be fair, so was Salzburg where Mozart was born. And Vienna, where they both died.

Concern-journalism

So, what are the Economist editors trying to convey here? Why are they acting so concerned and all? From an August 6th editorial:

Using corpses for greenery may be a step too far

AS COPENHAGEN gears up to host the UN climate-change jamboree in December, Denmark is keen to parade its green credentials. They include grants for energy-saving home improvements such as triple-glazing, solar energy and insulation. Business is pitching in with seminars and sustainability reports. Even job ads bear a green tinge. And consumers are paying for such green goodies as organic vegetables or loft-cladding.

But in one area, greenery might be taken to excess. Denmark’s crematorium association has revealed its profitable sideline in recycling metal parts salvaged from the dead. Burnt bodies leave knee or hip replacements that can be recycled as scrap metal, says Allan Vest, the association’s chairman. Since 2006 the country’s 31 crematoriums have earned DKr 77,762 ($15,000) from 4,810kg of salvaged metal sold to a Dutch recycler.

The article then goes on to discuss a suggestion by a British environmentalist that we use grave plots to grow vegetables (an interesting sort of victory garden!) instead of flowers and shrubs, hence the title. He has a point there; cemeteries, especially in the US, are acres and acres of virtually unused lawn.

But back to the recycling bit, which seems to make the editors cringe. Think for just a moment, please, about that cremation. You may have, afterward, metal from artificial joints. If you don't recycle them, what will you do with them? Throw them in the garbage? How is that any more respectful to the dead or to the world, for that matter? The article also takes issue that the deceased's family will not be informed. Why? No one is going to want to take Grandpa's hip home and put it on the mantel.