In 2003 I  took a 27-day bicycling holiday in Germany and Austria, starting all by myself and later meeting up with good friends. The ride began a few miles from Frankfurt, following various cycling routes to Vienna, roughly a 500-mile trip.

A majority of the paths were dedicated to bicycles alone, and most of them followed alongside waterways: the Main River path from Frankfurt led to the Tauber River path, then a few clicks cross-country to the Altmühl River watershed, later flowing into the Danube, and on from Kelheim (where Schneider Weisse is brewed) all the way to Vienna.

There were side excursions, and then from Vienna I stowed the bike on a train to Munich, reversing course to Bamberg for yet more beercycling with old pals, along with a Schlenkerla brewery tour.

Total bike mileage came to around 625 miles. All but a few of those summer days were sunny and dry. It was absolutely glorious, and probably incapable of being topped, ever again. But never say never. Have I waited too long? Let’s hope not.

Roughly halfway through the Danube portion of the journey, Craig, Bob and I rolled into Linz, Austria and loaded our bicycles on a train bound for the beautiful mountain city of Salzburg. The weather was gorgeous, the Alps were in full view, and there was ample time for short bike trips and sightseeing.

The photos that follow have nothing whatever to do with bicycles. What you’ll be seeing are views pertaining to beer, which will come as no great surprise to anyone who knows me.

That’s because it was such a pleasure to return in 2003 to the Augustiner Bräustübel, home of Müllner Bräu. It’s a venerable brewery and tavern founded by Augustiner monks in 1621, later absorbed by the Benedictines, and the first real German-style beer garden I ever experienced during my inaugural European adventure in 1985.

As it turned out my last photo on the roll of color film was the church complex and brewery ahead of us (today’s featured view). I changed to a roll of black and white and tried to capture the scene at Augustiner, inside and out. In a moment, those photos.

Inside the Augustiner are various public rooms with heavy tables, excessive woodwork, tile stoves and stained glass windows. The Schmankerlgang is a food court where local vendors rent space and vend all sorts of edibles, from pretzels and sausages to full meals with schnitzel and all the trimmings. Note the Steckerlfisch, grilled fish on a stick, with a choice of either trout or salmon on the day we visited.

We entered the brewery from the smaller backstreet entrance. In 1985, in a state of excitement and youthful muddle, my first choice of entry doors from the narrow lane was utterly mistaken. I heard people singing, stepped across a threshold through a partly ajar door, and found a choir practicing. One of them saw me and affably gestured: go out, to the left, then down the stairs.

In terms of the main gate on the other side of the brewery, there’s a bus stop and also a parking area; typically, you’ll see far more bicycles than cars.

On a summer’s midday in 2003 the glorious beer garden was the same as it had been in 1985. I fell in love all over again with this relaxed Central European way of life. Hundreds of beer lovers were seated at tables, shaded by those towering chestnut trees, surrounded by stone walls and stucco, virtually all of them drinking the malty house-brewed Märzenbier.

It was mostly self-service, although there may have been a full-service section outside with servers. We joined the line for beer. A cashier accepted payment and handed back a receipt. Upon choosing a liter (33.8 ounces) ceramic mug from the freshly washed public stack, one must ritualistically rinse it in a fountain of cold water, hand both mug and receipt to one of the aproned men pouring the deep golden beer from a tap embedded in a wooden barrel, and prepare for nirvana. My friend Bob shows you how, below.

Teens drank alongside elderly men. There were people playing cards, songs for singing, chicken bones and carts filled with emptied mugs. Strangers shared tables and bought rounds. Worldwide languages were spoken. I thought back to my initial visit almost two decades before, when I ate, drank, used the WC, drank some more, and returned the following nights to do it all over again, each time walking 25 minutes back to my hostel lodging, feeling perfectly contented and wishing we could do the same at home with automobiles only a distant afterthought.

The photos are arranged in approximate chronological order.

In the decades since, I’ve visited dozens of similar beer gardens in Central Europe. Some may have proved superior to the Augustiner, but it’s the first time you’ll always remember, isn’t it?

Previously at Hip Hops:

Hip Hops: Wernesgrüner Pils, a fine beer on a budget (at Aldi)


Roger Baylor is an entrepreneur, educator, and innovator with 43 years of beer business experience in metropolitan Louisville as a bartender, package store clerk, brewery owner, restaurateur, writer, traveler, polemicist, homebrewing club founder, tour operator and all-purpose contrarian.
As a co-owner (1990 – 2018) of New Albanian Brewing Company Pizzeria & Public House in New Albany, Indiana – founded in 1987, 1992, 2002 and 2009 – Roger played a seminal role in metro Louisville’s contemporary beer renaissance. He was beer director at Pints&union in New Albany from 2018 through 2023.
Roger’s “Hip Hops” columns on beer-related subjects have been a fixture since 2005 in Food & Dining Magazine, where he currently serves as associate editor and contributor. He is a former columnist at both the New Albany Tribune and LEO Weekly, and founder of the NA Confidential blog (2004 – 2020). Visit RogerBaylor.com for more.