Egg Hunt in Styria

I’ve never thought of the Oldies as eggheads, but they certainly have eggs on the brain at the moment. With Easter just round the corner, they’ve started an egg hunt with a difference. They’ve been seeking out places with egg in the name. It’s not the most egg-citing activity I can think of (sorry, couldn’t help that one), but I don’t mind. At least it gets me out and about again, even if it is a bit of a wild goose chase – or even a wild goose egg chase. And sure, it’s a bit of craic.

To be honest, I was not expecting very much of these eggs. I mean, going somewhere purely because of its name… they could be complete dumps for all we knew. But it turned out that our eggs were well worth searching for. I’m no eggspert, but I assume that Egg is derived from Eck, meaning corner or edge, and I suppose it does in a sense. Many of our eggs were on or along ridges which you can call a type of edge in the landscape, especially when you look at them from a bird’s eye view. As such, most of these places were in quite dramatic locations with stunning views all round.

So over the past few weeks, we’ve been traipsing from one egg to the other. Our local hero, His Lordship, has been astounded at just how many eggs there are, and he admits he’s now been to places he never knew existed, many of them just a few kilometres from home.

Breitegg, for eggsample – oh dear, I’ll stop that now, I promise – for example, is just up the road. So too is Wollsdorferegg.

Rossegg isn’t a million miles away either. We stopped off there for a picnic, complete with hardboiled eggs, of course.

We found a Langegg, a Hohenegg, a Dornegg, a Krumegg and even a Kocheregg, with an Achtung Kinder! sign. That was a bit of a surprise. Then there was Mitteregg, Rohregg, Rosegg, Steinegg, Glaueregg, Götzauegg…

Just outside Perlegg, we found a marvellous panoramic viewing point called Europaberg. Don’t ask me why they put this rowing boat up there, but it was nice to feel all at sea again. I was intrigued to learn that Lisbon is a mere 720 hour walk from here. Gosh, I can’t wait to get back to Lisbon. I might have to get the Oldies to pack a couple of sandwiches though before we set out.

All these places with eggs in them were all well and good, but not quite das Gelbe vom Ei, literally ‘not the yolk of the egg’, meaning not the best they could do. Her Ladyship egged Himself on (ooops!) to see if they could find any place simply called Egg.

Our intrepid Map Man thought he’d hit the jackpot when he spotted an Egg on a local hiking map. It was apparently not far from St. Kathrein am Offenegg where we had gone on that lovely Vogelbeer Panoramaweg nature walk last autumn. Unfortunately, the cartographer’s spelling in this case did not match reality, and His Lordship’s Egg was not all it was cracked up to be. It turned out to be an Eck rather than an Egg. It certainly lived up to its name as it was located right in the middle of a hairpin bend, but the whole incident left Himself with egg on his face. (Sorry, I’ve done it again, haven’t I?)

Not to be deterred, the Oldies pressed on with the egg hunt and would you believe, they found not one, but three real Eggs!

The first, which was marked as Egg on the map, had no place name sign at all. But as it consists of a single farm, and the farm has Egg in the house name, the Oldies chalked that up as a win. For me, the real win was when we drove further up the hill and stopped off to look back at Egg from above. What a little gem, especially with that ridge of snow-capped mountains in the background! Definitely the ‘yolk of the egg’!

Egg number two turned out to be even closer to home, but even Map Man was on the verge of admitting defeat here. It took him no fewer than three attempts to find it. I have to admit that this Egg is well hidden away, and it consists solely of a crucifix and a derelict farm. There is no village name here either, but Mr Google assured us that we were in the right place.

This Egg isn’t really on a ridge, but it is definitely on an edge – the edge of a forest to be exact – and what a tranquil place it is! It was so hard to believe that we were only a stone’s throw from a busy town with a population of over 10,000 people.

In France, the Oldies had what they called their ‘thoughtful spot’. This was a clearing in a field behind their house where you couldn’t see as much as a telegraph pole, let alone a house. I remember they used to go out there regularly to watch the sunsets and enjoy the unspoilt nature. I have a feeling that this Egg might well become their Austrian ‘thoughtful spot’.

We had to travel a little further afield to find the last Egg, but there was no doubt about this one. Not only did it have a village sign, but each house was numbered along with the village name. Bingo!

I met some pretty bantam hens in Egg. Gosh, they must lay tiny eggs! I was getting on famously with one little cutie, but the cockerel looked far from pleased. So I beat a hasty retreat.

Un oeuf said!