We got up at the crack of dawn... i’m not sure why people say that: There was no crack, the sun lazily pulled itself up over the horizon and, in the process, painted the morning sky with a palette of reds, yellows, and blues. I suppose the only cracks to be heard were my joints doing their first work of the day - getting me out of my sleeping bag.
After packing our rucksacks, we made our way out of the village of Haunshofen. The dawn chorus was already in full swing. Yes, the trees were packed full of birds going absolutely berserk, but there were other sounds which added to the mix: The cows hidden from view in the milking parlour, lowing contentedly and jostling for position, the occasional clang of a cowbell, the milking machine buzzing busily, but no farmer in sight; a young mother – an early riser – closing the car door behind her with great care so as not to waken the sleeping household; the creaking of my rucksack straps as they strained under the weight of my belongings, and the clicking sound my left shoe has the habit of making when walking on tarmac.
Peaceful, but by no means quiet was the early start in Haunshofen.