The Bachs of Garching

Our “Senior Nomadic” life made a start when we moved to Garching bei Munchen on March 1, 2020. We’d barely settled in when Covid hit. 

The year we spent in that wonderful hamlet in the outskirts of Munich, Cosimo, Irene and I bonded with the woods, fields and rivers of Germany. Circumstance made us a tight knit unit. I read “Successful Aging”, forming my thoughts on my senior years. The time normally spent with other people was devoted to the woods.

 

Four years later we are back in Germany. Currently visiting our old haunts for a few days, with the addition of Caramia (now 3). I’ll leave it to Cosimo to give you a sensory tour. A Bach is a creek … there are myriad Bachs in the area feeding the River Isar. Cosimo knows the Bachs like the back of his paw! Clearly, he likes this area more than Schwartzwald!!

 

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I know we’re moving when he brings out suitcases and they get busy. I don’t mind the long drive – the treats at every stop are generous!

 

When we arrive and they settle in, there is something in the air that excites me. I sniff the ground and wait impatiently.

 

I jump out of the trunk after a short drive and breathe the scent of the damp earth, the rotting fall leaves mixed in soil, the unmistakable smell of horse dung … and I know! We’re back!

 

I look at him and he gestures - I am free to explore. I run. Memories flood back and I know the bridge around the corner of the trail is where the bach forms a pool. The Bachs of Garching!!! A network of creeks leading to the Isar. I know each bridge, every trail.

 

They are on either side of the bridge taking pictures while I swim. We walk the trails, and I slip away to swim at each pool.

 

The strong smell of stables tells me what’s coming next: we enter the rustic old restaurant and are greeted by the owner who remembers us from 2020. I am salivating from the smell in the oven even before the Pizzabrot arrives!

 

The next morning, after a short drive, the trunk swings open and I smell the Isar and know exactly where we parked. A race down the familiar path to the wide river, over the stony beach … and I am in the current, paddling furiously.

Our morning walk takes us into the corn fields. We come to the soccer field where I roll in the grass, absorbing the familial musk while he waits patiently.

 

I sense the happiness in his heart. Coming back here, after all these years feels so good to both of us. We bonded with each other, and the forest. The joy of the woods and the water has stayed with us, as it will forever.

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