2009-09-22 48 8

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Tue 22 Sep 2009 in 48,8:
48.5011038, 8.9968687

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In a private house at Tübingen-Hirschau.



This was a totally pointless expedition. I knew the hash was inside of a house, and I knew that I wouldn't even ask to get in if I met the owners. Actually, for some reason I'm not going to explain in public (and is basically not my fault), I prefer not to be seen in that village at all. However, it was the rare occasion of a hash in my home town (Hirschau is an incorporated part of Tübingen) in the Pforzheim graticule, actually the first one since I started to observe geohashes almost one year ago. Most of the town is in the Stuttgart graticule, less than 20 km² fall into the Pforzheim graticule.

I went there by bike, which was uneventful, got off the main road at the right place, and stopped in front of hash house. Tried not to be seen by an old woman observing that quiet side street, half-circled the house to check how close I can get, and found that 14 m was the closest. The dog the owners warned of wasn't there, or it was sleeping, at least it wasn't barking. Left.

The most important sight of Hirschau doesn't actually belong to Hirschau itself, but is located just a few metres behind the border to Wurmlingen: The Wurmlingen chapel, which already turned up as far view on several earlier photos. Located very exposedly on the top of a high hill, surrounded by the village cemetary, it doesn't only provide a great viewpoint into both the Neckar and Ammer valleys, but is itself also worth a short visit. The chapel was built in 1685 on the remains of an predecessor from the 12th century, of which the crypt is still intact. But what makes the chapel really famous, is actually a poem by local poet Ludwig Uhland, written in 1805. You'll find that one cited everywhere, and up to a few years before my time, almost all children in Württemberg had to learn and memorize it.

And since the way there leads through the wine yards, here's a little bit more of local history.

Until the 19th and early 20th century, there was quite a lot of wine farming around here. There is even a specific old dialect word for the wine farmers of Tübingen - which survived in a specific kind of traditional jokes, but not as an occupation. There is a saying that the wine of Tübingen is so sour that it rips holes into the belly. While the one from the neighbouring town of Reutlingen is even more sour, so that it pulls the holes close again. So when transport got cheaper, and wine from other regions widely available, the local wine farming rapidly declined and almost died out.

However, during the past decades many wine yards have been reactivated, and people say the wines grown there nowadays aren't bad. I can't judge, as I don't drink wine, no matter which kind.

When I finally reached the peak and the chapel, it was closed, but the view is always worth the climb. I took photos, then chose a rather uncommon route home through the forest. And finally had turned what was supposed to be a short trip to a nearby boring location into a nice afternoon expedition, although mostly to places I had visited before.