Hartmannswillerkopf

WWI trenches and infrastructure. This is all from the German side because the French wasn’t as good. Not that I’m biased… The last two photos are the wheel from the cable car and the compressor for the pneumatic all drilling tools. No sign of a current pressure vessel inspection certificate(!).

The next day we drove back to France. This time much further.

Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf is a war memorial but was a place of fierce fighting during World War One. It sits on top of a mountain which provides a sweeping view of the plain below. And this strategic point was worth fighting over.

The fighting was all trench warfare and the terrain began as woodland. It has now returned to woods but the trenches and remnants of war remain as they were left. All of the German infrastructure was superior to the French but it didn’t matter much as the battles won and lost the same ground, back and forth without gain. Both sides even built cable cars to transport soldiers (able and wounded) and supplies. All told the losses were 30,000 each side. It was a truly amazing place to visit. The walking, landscape and views were pleasant and beautiful, it was hard to see it as a place rendered ugly, desolate and futile by war but the trenches and war machine scraps remained as proof. It seems so strange to fight and fight only to walk away four years later without anything achieved.

We spent the morning, lunch and into the afternoon there.

In complete contrast, our next stop was Colmar. From afar all you can see of Colmar are about a dozen ugly high rises, but the old part of the city is filled with cobbled pedestrian walkways, 1700s buildings and canals. We arrived at about 5pm and walked in and out and around: delicious smells of French food, colourful buildings with exposed wooden beams crooked from standing for an age and the gentle murmur of a crowd of satisfied people. It seemed like a place that would make a good weekend trip to explore.

Back home again to our first home-cooked meal in a while and finishing the night with a pear and a cherry schnapps. Wunderbar!

It’s Sunday today, we had an extra hour of sleep last night as we end (or start?) daylight saving. We’re on the train from Freiburg to Cologne, right now stopped in Mannheim. We change at Cologne for Amsterdam and we meet back up with Kerrie and Wayne. We’ll spend 4 nights in Amsterdam before flying to Iceland.

I’ll do some tourist reading for the rest of the train trip, or maybe I’ll sleep and we can begin our visit just getting some bikes and riding about without a particular direction…both seem fine to me.

Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf War Memorial
Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf
Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: looking at old photos, this whole place was ruined by the fighting and it has taken much of the last century to recover.
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Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: the German trenches were designed with numerous right angles, this was to provide protection to soldiers by preventing sound and force from explosions to travel the length of a trench. It also meant they could build defensive position just around each corner.
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Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: the German trenches were designed with numerous right angles, this was to provide protection to soldiers by preventing sound and force from explosions to travel the length of a trench. It also meant they could build defensive position just around each corner. This is looking out from a defensive positions.
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Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: to assist with transport the Germans built a cable car, this is the main wheel at the top.
Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: the Germans lauched a major attack by underming the French position and killing them from behind. This is the air reciever for the pnuematic tools they used while mining.
Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf with Aunty Flicka, Uncle John and Anna.
Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: the trenches were left in tact at the end of the war and have stood like this for 100 years. This is a French trench.
Gedenkstätte Hartmannswillerkopf: a French trench.

Fessenheim

The lightning god at the nuclear power plant, the Roman bath house (and its shed – the real attraction) and the walk to the bath house.

Nuef-Brisach

Shots from around the fortress at Nuef-Brisach, including Anna walking through the gate (note the width of the main walls!) and the four of us re-entering the town at another gate.

Nuef-Brisach is a town established in the middle of an old fortress. The fortress has two dry moats around it, huge thick walls and its design means that at each entry point there are a series of right turns which all give the defending forces opportunities to cross-fire on the attacking forces. None of these were ever needed.

We entered peacefully into the town, parked and took and walk through the moats. The scale, effort and workmanship were impressive but it’s funny to think that they were never needed.

The moats remain connected to diversions from the Rhine which allow for the moats to be flooded. I suppose we should have had a confined space permit to enter.

We drive back into Germany via a different route to avoid some roadworks. Next to the bridge is the feeder for cooling water to a nearby nuclear power station (the photo of the statue/relief of the god with lightning in his palm).

On the way back we stop off at an unassuming shed in a farmers field. It covers the foundation remains of a Roman bath house. Apparently the bogs in between the towns here are all protected because they all contain historically significant items.

We ate a hearty meal at the town’s guesthouse and after a cup of tea back at home we retired to a comfortable sleep.

First impressions of Wasenweiler

First views from outside Freiburg: walking among the vineyards, through the woods, overlooking the village and following a donkey home.

We caught an overnight sleeper train from Copenhagen to Freiburg. Because the train carriages weren’t in number order I distressed Anna by taking Anna to our seats on a seated only carriage. I checked whether it was the right carriage with he conductor who (thankfully) corrected our mistake, Anna admitting that she’d “actually kill” me if these were in fact he correct seats. Other highlights from the trip included the same conductor trying to force me to buy new tickets because I didn’t print our tickets and she had to put a piece of paper in her clip board. I asked whether she had a printer on board, she said she didn’t so pointed out that me buying a new ticket (€200, by the way) wouldn’t give her paper for her clip board anyway. She decided she could scan the barcode off my phone and hand write the two details that she needed to have with her.

After all that the showers didn’t work either.

None of these things really mattered, but they are amusing all the same. We slept and arrived in Freiburg just after 9am.

Flicka is the middle child of mum’s family, number four of seven. Flicka and her husband John met as at the station and drive us about half an hour back to their place where we will be for the next two nights.

They live in Wasenweiler, north-west of Freiburg near the border with France. The town is built up against the Kaiserstuhl hills. 

Our first stop was to wash the growing pile of laundry. While that was on the four of us walk up the hill behind their house, winding through the freshly harvested vineyards and into the bush. It is dewy under foot, but sunny and warm all around.

There are views at each turn, plains of countryside all green and yellow with autumn. Ridge lines of mountains are in the distance all misty behind fog and low cloud. Under the tree cover in the woods is much cooler and turns the glare of the sun into warm dappled light.

Conversation is pleasant and easy and John has the same rye humour and cheeky eye-twinkle that dad and uncle Kees have. Isn’t it funny how the in-law uncles seem to have a similar humour and intelligence?

After quite a long walk we follow a donkey back down the hill, have some lunch (sans donkey) and head out for a drive to France(!). So easily crossing borders continues to amuse me, particularly when you ‘go to France for petrol because it’s cheaper there’.

The Rhine!
Roman bath house