The summer was good
Wreaths, bells, mirrors and ribbons. All animals return healthy.
Wreaths, bells, half a village at the roadside. What looks like folklore is first of all a necessity – and the adornment on it is a message you can read.
Up top it gets cold, and the grass stops regrowing. On a high pasture above 2,000 metres there are fewer than 75 grazing days a year, then it's over – not because someone set a date, but because the growing season ends. Whoever stays up too long risks weather breaks, injured animals and an overgrazed area that starts worse the next spring.
So the drive down is first of all a relocation: the animals come back to the valley, into the barn or onto the autumn pasture, to where the winter fodder brought in over summer is stored. At the same time, the cheese and butter production up top ends. What the alpine dairyman or dairywoman made over the summer comes down too.
And then the Alm is locked up: water turned off, pipes drained, fences taken down, the hut winterised. The drive down is the last working day of a season, not its opening.
This is the core of the whole thing, and it is rarely told at the roadside. The headdress of flowers, branches, mirrors and ribbons is not decor for spectators, but a statement: the alpine summer has passed without accident and without loss, all animals return healthy. Putting on the wreaths is an expression of gratitude for that.
If an animal has fallen, died of illness, or something has happened to someone on the Alm, no wreaths are put on. What exactly that looks like varies by region: some herds come down entirely unadorned, elsewhere the animals wear mourning colours, elsewhere again only the lead cow stays plain. All variants share the same thing – you can tell from afar what kind of summer a herd had.
Wreaths, bells, mirrors and ribbons. All animals return healthy.
No wreath, no music, no celebration. If you witness this: be quiet, don't ask why nothing is going on today.
In fog and rough terrain, you find a herd fastest by ear. The big bells are added for the drive down.
The drive down is a wave that runs over six to eight weeks. On high pastures, some drives happen from mid-August, quietly and without an audience, because the fodder runs out. The drives announced as events mostly lie between early September and early October – in Tyrol often on the Saturdays around 12, 19 and 26 September, some into October.
There is no fixed date, because there can't be one. An early cold snap brings the date forward, a mild September pushes it back. If you travel for the Almabtrieb, don't book for a date but for a weekend – and check the dates shortly beforehand with the tourism association or directly with your host.
The difference hardly anyone knows: The quiet drive down from a high pasture in mid-August and the announced celebration in late September are both real. One is work without spectators, the other work with them. No farm puts on wreaths to attract guests. That guests come is a consequence, not a purpose.
You often read year figures for this, and we deliberately write none here. The adorned homeward drive is old, no question – but a clean first record cannot be pinned down as clearly as many texts make it sound. And the form in which you experience it today, with market, music and crowd barriers, is considerably younger than the custom itself.
That doesn't make it inauthentic. A custom that doesn't change is a museum. The core – put on wreaths if the summer was good, and leave them off if it wasn't – has held, even though hundreds watch today. That is exactly how you can tell it is no show: a show would put on the wreaths in every case.
We also say what it has additionally become: an economic factor. For many municipalities, the drive down is one of the strongest days of autumn, and the stall revenues help finance what would otherwise be hard to finance. Both at once is possible.
A herd coming down to the valley after four months on the Alm is excited. It walks through villages, past cars, between people. The people walking alongside are working right now – this is the most strenuous part of the day, not the cosiest.
It is loveliest away from the big dates anyway. If you stay with a farm that drives its own animals up, you experience the drive down from the other side: no crowd barriers, no brass band, but with the people who do it. Ask your host whether and when they drive down.
And plan for the days after. September and October are the clearest time of the year up top; from about 1,700 metres the larches turn golden within two weeks.
On high pastures sometimes from mid-August; the announced celebrations mostly between early September and early October. In Tyrol many fall on the Saturdays around 12, 19 and 26 September. There is no fixed date – the weather decides.
Because something happened during the alpine summer – an animal fell, died, or a misfortune occurred on the Alm. Then the wreath stays off. Depending on the region, the herd comes down entirely unadorned or wears mourning colours. If you see this: don't ask why nothing is going on today.
On the Alm, the bell is working equipment – without it you can hardly find a herd in fog. The big bells for the drive down are festive adornment and hang only on this one day. Good practice is to take them off when not needed; this is also debated within farming.
The drive itself is work and also happens where nobody watches. The festival form with market and music is younger and has a touristic share, no question. The core is still real: wreaths go on only after a good summer – a show would never keep that up.
Four very different years in one – depending on when you come.
The most demanding way of keeping animals – and the only one where the land gets something back.
What happens at the farm and when it is actually quiet up top – month by month.
Then you know that the loveliest day of the year is also the longest. We tell your guests in advance how to behave – so nobody runs into your herd.