MY thoughts ...

I hear statements like these—or similar ones—time and time again from our guests.
For example, from guests who recently left us to head home: Let’s call them Rainer and Astrid; let’s say they’re from the Franconian region and are successful entrepreneurs, for example, in the construction industry.

There’s no sign of a recession at her company; the order books are full through the end of 2026. Every new request for a project is carefully reviewed to determine which client is behind it, and often—depending on gut feeling and the nature of the challenge—the request is accepted, rejected, or forwarded to a colleague who is a friend or acquaintance.

They drive a sleek, stylish car—naturally, because they’re loyal to the Free State and want to support Ms. Quandt—a Bavarian car. Not the one with the four rings in the logo, but the one in the colors of the Bavarian sky: white and blue.

I also own a model from this brand, though it’s a two-wheeler and a slightly older model: an R 600, built in ’64. It’s powered by a 600-cubic-centimeter engine and has a disc brake—the kind where, when it kicks in, you’d better quickly say an “Our Father” if a farmer with a cartload of hay happens to cross the road. The blue light that used to adorn this vehicle originally came from the cantonal police in St. Gallen. But after the Bavarian TÜV ruled that it didn’t meet regulations, my mechanic, Toni Ücker from the Ostrachtal, had to remove it....

It’s certainly an eye-catcher and a gem, but I only ride this thing with pleasure once, twice—maybe even three times—a year. Although I have to admit that, in the meantime, those two-wheeled speed demons with their zigPS of power are really getting on my nerves. The “Motorcycle Generation 2.0,” which races recklessly up and down the Riedberg Pass every day. And which has nothing to do with my passion or my beloved classic bike.

When I visit my sweetheart in his shelter—an old barn—and my heart starts racing in the light of the old dim lamp, and I rediscover my love all over again, then I know it’s high time: to slip into my old knee-length leather pants , put on my hiking boots, throw on my iconic leather smock, pull on my nostalgic half-shell helmet, and cover my face and my freshly laser-treated eyelids with my Schorsch Maier goggles.

Hoping that after two taps and pulling the choke, the two-cylinder boxer will start up and the engine’s rattling will sound like music to my ears.
If not even a faint stutter is heard, I’d love nothing more than to strip down again right away. Knowing full well that the old clunker will only start now if I push it. And even I, with all my enthusiasm, break out in a sweat at the thought.

What does my long digression actually have to do with Rainer and Astrid?

Well: Because Rainer is probably the epitome of serenity and bliss , and maybe a sort of “couldn’t-care-less” attitude comes over him—along the lines of “I don’t care about anything”—when he walks into the lobby.
Maybe that’s exactly why he stops by here in our cow village (where our cows actually still have horns!) several times a year to soak up that “zest for life” feeling of happiness.

And once he’s there, he might well spend hours hiking up and down the hills in the border region between the Bregenzer Forest and the Allgäu, only to “come home” blissfully in the late afternoon to the HUBERTUS.

I hardly saw a soul all day because I was way off the beaten path. Germany’s 80 million residents were simply out and about somewhere else entirely.
Rainer’s doing it right: He’s enjoying the peace and quiet. It doesn’t matter whether he’s indoors or outdoors. Sometimes he’s so far removed from everyday life that he forgets to bring any spending money to pay for a snack and a “thirst-quenching” light beer or a glass of wine—from the region, of course—at some mountain hut. But the name HUBERTUS guarantees credit at one or another stop, naturally with the challenge of retracing the same route the very next day.

Then perhaps even accompanied by his wife, who, on the previous day of her husband’s hike, first relaxed at the spa, treated herself to a facial with Dr. Tweten emulsions, and—because it was simply so tempting—added a 90-minute Ayurvedic treatment to the mix. Just in time to give her hiking husband a proper welcome as he returned from his excursion through the Balderschwang mountains. Both completely relaxed and at ease, each in their own way...

Come to think of it: I really should finally take my old BMW out for a spin again. Out into our gorgeous natural surroundings.
To feel this bliss.
If not now, then when?

True to the motto:
“Four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul.”

With that in mind!
Yours, Karl