Wales and Wuppertal - 1997

Originally written for the Tracks Ahead Website.

The Little Trains of Wales, the Rhine Valley and Wuppertal, Germany, for a look at flying.

September 2

Well, this is the trip which is the culmination of the entire  year of Tracks Ahead trips.  Yes, you guessed right: This is the LAST trip.  We hopped on a United flight to Chicago, where we cooled our heels waiting for the 5 PM departure of what turned out to be a jammed flight to Duesseldorf, Germany.  There was no chance of sleeping on the flight, even though it was a new 767 and at first blush appeared to have a touch more leg room.  I want to fly the Concorde.  Or just drug myself into oblivion so that when I wake up, I’m there.  This sitting on a plane for eight hours pales pretty quickly. 

But here we are, back in Germany, where the weather has cooled, and the skies were sunny, although a touch humid.  This area is the most heavily settled in all of Europe, being the Ruhr Valley with its history of heavy industry.

We hooked up with our European Producer, Greg Hahn, hit the meitwagen office, and settled on an Opel station wagon, which may be a little cramped, but does 180 on the highway quite nicely.  And as usual, you have to be very alert for the fast movers in the left lane.  Left lane hugging Milwaukee drivers would be simply rammed off the road (as well they should be). 

We checked in at the motel, hit a couple of stores looking for Pez dispensers, and then I took a nap.  Single rooms - or any rooms for that matter - were very hard to come by.  After napping and trying to kill Mr. Jet Lag, we headed back to the airport, and did an early check-in for the morning flight.  It’s too bad we couldn’t do it before we left the airport, but early check-in was only allowed after 18:00. 

Then back to Essen, Chinese food, expenses, and my blog.  Tomorrow is an early day with a 7 AM flight to Birmingham, England, and the first of two of the Great Little Trains of Wales.  Germany looks like the last time I was here.  Orderly, and compact, and they certainly do know how to make sexy looking cars here.  Harley’s are very big, as are roller blades.  Traffic is as bad as I remembered.

September 4

Up at 5 AM and off to the airport for about an hour-and-a-half flight to Birmingham.  It was uneventful, and Lufthansa serves good food.  On real plates.  With silverware.  And it’s edible.  We landed to very nice weather in Birmingham, and I had my credit card freeze up at the Hertz counter.  I hope it isn’t the “But someone is using your card in Europe” routine again.  Security is nice, but what value is it that you have to notify the card company each time you leave the country?

Anyway.  I rented a Fiat Ulysse van.  And I go on record here for all four of us when I say that we have finally discovered a van that is worse than the Chrysler Minivans.  And not just a little worse.  This thing is off the scale.  It has one gauge we have no clue what it does.  The horn is on the turn signal, the lights have a couple of split rings on the turn signal lever to turn on various sets, which we haven’t figured out, it is way underpowered, it’s cramped, and worst of all for an American driver -- it has NO cup holders.  And just what am I supposed to do with my morning coffee?  It displays an attempt to trick it out -- exterior temperature displayed right in the middle of the instrument cluster, courtesy lights, etc.  The side mirrors have a power fold feature, and opens doors are displayed.  But it has no room front or rear, and is just plain a pain to drive.  And it’s not just the driving on the left.  Which is a hoot, but requires constant attention.  But I digress. 

We trundled our way up to Welshpool, in Wales, and it turns out to be hilly, beautiful country.  They used hedgerows rather than fences as property markers, and the result is a spectacular patchwork of greens and golds.  The light appears to be subtly different, and gives everything a glow, almost as if it were lighted from within.  True to Tracks form, it was sunny until we started to shoot, and then it started to rain.  Fortunately, it was a short shower, and the rest of the day was pleasant and sunny.  We shot the interviews, passing trains, and then chased down narrow lanes of one car width to get to some overlook positions.  This railway, the Welshpool and Llanfair Railway, originally was a short line and hauled coal and agricultural products from the countryside to the Montgomery Canal, still in place in Welshpool. 

Everyone was very helpful, and we received great help from several of the locals. One was Mervyn Davis, who owned a farm and let us onto his property to shoot the train on an old stone viaduct.  The other who deserves mention is J C Rowlands, who owned a home overlooking a lovely shallow valley through which the train passed.  Also mentioned is Euron Jones, a local bartender who invited us, on camera, to come around and visit Wales. The railway is narrow gauge (2’6”) and everything is scaled down. It was a volunteer operation, and well worth a look if you are in England. The countryside was delightful.  But people say it gets better as we go north, so we shall have more to report tomorrow night. We are all tired. Time to go to bed.  Everyone has their own rooms tonight, so all will be happy in the morning.

September 5

I slept like a rock.  This bed was so comfortable.  And despite some drunks yelling in the streets, it was a pleasant night.  I had the traditional Welsh breakfast: Ham, leek/pork sausage, an egg, and toast, which was good. Then it was off to the north, and Ffestiniog.  We stopped for a little while and shot a few items at the Llanfair station yards, and then were on our way.  In the rain.  Big surprise. 

Driving on the left requires a lot more attention and a new set of muscles.  You don’t dare let your attention drift for even a moment.  The roads are narrow, curvy, and people drive fast.  It’s easy to see why the cars are small.  And we don’t like this Fiat any better.  It’s cramped, and why I need to see the outside temperature displayed so prominently is beyond me.  But we left the verdant green hills of Llanfair, and climbed into the Cambrian Mountains.  And soon it was rocky, craggy, and somewhat bleak. 

We arrived in Ffestiniog and checked into what appears to be the only hotel in town, and discovered a bleak, gray town, much like a stage set from How Green Was My Valley.  It is spectacular in a stark way.  Color would help, as would flowers, but the sheep eat the flowers.  But is is pretty gray, set under rough crags from which they still hew slate.  While the people are friendly, the only entertainment appears to be to watch TV, get drunk, or fight.  It is such a gray place.  I can think of only two courses of action for a child here -- work in the slate mines, or leave.  This must have been just brutal in the 1800s.  Wow! 

Then down to a cheerier place at the coast -- the other end of the railroad at Porthmadog.  The marketing manager is Eamonn Seddon, a very personable chap, who did a good on-camera standup, and stayed with us all day.  The locos are the forerunners of the Garrats, and a Fairlie design, which was two boilers back to back, with a center cab, and swiveling trucks with steam cylinders at both ends.  In fact, the swiveling truck is the forerunner of all modern diesel trucks.  The train was nice, and we did some shop work, and some run bys.  We finished up about 6:30, and headed back to the hotel and dinner. 

I don’t like English beer.  Enough said.  But the countryside is gorgeous, the people friendly, and its worth a return trip.  Then back to room to watch the overdone chaos over the Princess Diana funeral.  The general feeling here is that it has gotten way out of hand.  Another media circus.  We did find out some info on sheep today, which is important, as the beef industry is in the tank due to bovine spongiosa encephalitis (BSE) or mad cow disease.  Nobody is eating beef, and they can’t export it to the continent.  The disease is a complex protein change that stays in the soil for up to 17 years. So sheep are important.  While red dots on their backs indicate that they have been dipped, other colors indicate whether they were contaminated in some way by the fall out from Chernobyl.  Don’t eat the meat, don’t drink the water, don’t breath the air.  Humph.  Enough.  It is very pretty here.  But I don’t think I would retire here.  But I wouldn’t have missed it.  And no one has a tan.

September 6

The day dawned with high overcast, and we hoofed down to Porthmadog to catch yard work before the first train.  The Princess Diana funeral has messed up the schedules, so today is sort of up for grabs.  We got a good sound bite from a young volunteer, Elizabeth O’Malley, who is an engineering student at the University of Glasgow, and was working on the railroad for experience.  The volunteers have a dormitory, so they can come and stay weekends or holidays.  A nice touch I thought, and so very British. 

Then it was off to do several more chases (I now can drive like a mad British driver) and climb up on several heather covered hills to see the train pass.  It is a little like Alaska in that the high cliffs dwarf the train.  John and Gary did the on board footage and I played taxi, running back and forth to both ends of the rail line.  Porthmadog is a livelier town, but we still found no restaurants open for evening meals.  Greg and I found a record shop that had original (although second hand) old 45’s of Elvis, Petula Clarke, The Guess Who, etc.  It was a step back in time.  No Patsy Cline, but Roy Orbison and Jellyroll Morton. 

John said that the train ride was pretty obscured by trees for any good video scenery.  We finally finished by recreating the “Welcome to Wales” shot in the bar with Amy Jones in the Queen’s Hotel bar.  I think it will look better than the other attempt at this.  We made certain that we left lots of promotional stuff around, as the other video crew is staying here tonight.  Now it’s notes, expenses, and then off to the bar and dinner.  More later if it warrants it.  We did hear our first conspiracy theory today from a hardware store owner who said that the royals had the Princess killed.  That brings to three the number of different theories - royals, arms manufacturers, and Libya.  Sigh.  Tomorrow it’s back to Germany.

September 7

Dear Diary:  Today started out with a telephone call from Greg, in the lobby.  He, along with a very glum hotel staff, reported our van broken into last night.  A large boulder was tossed through the rear passenger window, and John’s blue bag, which he had inadvertently left on the seat, was taken.  With it, and assorted small camera paraphernalia and his pin collection, was the wide angle lens, and three batteries.  But worst of all, he had left his plane tickets and his passport in the bag as well.  We of course called the police, who took all the details, and were very helpful.  The hotel staff was visibly upset, and helped us vacuum the car and check the trash bins and refuse contains for a long ways in both directions.  And we taped up the window with cardboard and all our remaining gaffer's tape.  We called the American consulate in London, and were informed that John had to present himself in person, with some documentation, to get a re-issued passport.  But they wouldn’t open until Monday, and then they didn’t expect to get their passport machine back on line until Tuesday.  So John is stuck here in Birmingham, waiting to take a train to London tomorrow, and hopefully rejoin us in Germany on Tuesday night.  The people of Ffestiniog were very helpful, and one of the hotel staff promised to check around in several of the pubs, as the place is small enough that everyone knows everyone else’s business.  So we trundled back to Birmingham, got John one of the last hotel rooms in the area (due to a trade fair), and sat in the airport. 

Some things are backwards here, and some are nicely advanced.  The car parking for example, is all automatic.  Take a magnetic ticket on entry, and then pay with an automatic vending machine which marks the magnetic ticket so that you can release the gate on exit.  I suppose it has a fifteen minute grace period built in to allow for traffic congestion.  So no operators.  Pretty cool.  The car rental people were very helpful, and even though I had declined all coverage, the checking agent apparently didn’t hear me, and put the damage waiver on the car.  So we were covered except for 250 pounds.  I managed to drive on the left side for the entire trip, with no trouble, although it does take a lot of concentration. 

So we are off from the United Kingdom, and back to Germany.  My final impressions of Wales?  Starkly beautiful.  Quaint English houses and cottages.  Gray row houses.  Narrow twisting roads.  Fast drivers.  Solitary patches of sun lighting a green and gray mountain field to a sparkling jewel.  Friendly, concerned and courteous people.  Fast traffic, and roundabouts that keep traffic moving but would be intimidating to the uninitiated.  It was a place to come back to just to tour around.  And the sun is out now that we are leaving.  The plane ride back was uneventful.  But Greg managed to find a videographer to save this shoot tomorrow.  We have no clue as to what he is like, but at least he is available.  So hooray.

September 8

Wow, what a day.  The Schwebebahn is simply incredible.  The word schwebe means  “to float, to soar” and that’s just what this hundred-year-old contrivance does.  It soars!  The new videographer turns out to be an ex-shooter for ZDF, one of the German networks.  He was very familiar with the camera, and took right off.  And did he work is hair out!  I had to contract for two days, but he certainly seemed to know what he was doing.  His name was Paris, and he understood English which was a help. 

But back to the Schwebebahn. It is a monorail system which was established in 1901 as an electrically powered mass transit system, which linked several small villages in the Wupper Valley.  Hence the name of the city -- Wuppertal -- meaning “Valley of the Wupper.”  The thing is much like Chicago’s El system, except the trains gracefully sway beneath the center rail.  When we first pulled out of the station, my first thought was that I didn’t have to wait for traffic.  I just flew right over it.  And to judge from the number of passengers, that same thought occurred to a lot of people.  The thing was jammed all day long.  It is 13 kilometers long, and about 10 of that is over the Wupper River, which winds through the heart of the town. 

And the town was constantly crowded.  The whole area consists of a city center, and then little neighborhood shopping areas.  It is consistent with the way any large US city started out.  But the US population spread to the suburbs, largely through the use of cheap gasoline, and lost the warmth and the closeness of these towns.  Gas here, by the way, is about $5 a gallon.  The cars are all taxed according to size and horsepower, and must undergo an annual inspection for mechanical and cosmetic defects.  Rust?  Off the street until it’s fixed.  Noisy muffler?  Dented fender?  Sorry, you’re outta’ here until repairs are done.  So people take very good care of their vehicles, and all are quiet.  The city has lots of green space, which makes walking easier.  And people do walk.  Parking is just to difficult.  Or they take the Schwebebahn, which connects with buses and trains.  As a result, the people look healthy, and in pretty good physical shape.  So.  A good looking population, sexy cars, all coupled with a flying train.  A pretty cool place.  And tight jeans and high heels definitely seem to be in. 

I had to hit a bank to pay for the new shooter, and managed to determine that the one card had a stop on it, but the second worked.  So at the moment I have lots of cash on hand.  Later I called on the first card and got to usual security check of, “Some is using your card in .....”  I assured them it was me, and all was well.  The Schwebebahn is an amazing piece of engineering, and has a long history.  There is the incident with Tuffi the elephant, which was being transported as a promotional stunt back in the 1950s and decided to get off!  Fortunately, Tuffi only got a drop into the Wupper, but the legend lives on, in the Tuffi Dairy, and the Elephant Pharmacy.  But the girders all date back to the turn of the century and many of the stations have been preserved in that state.  See it - no FLY it if you can. 

We got back to the motel, and found that John had gotten straightened out in London and we went and picked him up about 10 PM.  Two night-blind old guys drilling down the autobahn at 160 kph.  Not a pretty sight.  But we managed and are back in the hotel.  John with stories to tell, and plenty of beer to buy.  More tomorrow.

September 9

Up at 6:30 and a cloudy day.  But the weather report is for good weather, so we shall see.  A quick run down to the Schwebebahn and a look at their maintenance shop.  Switching was pretty neat, how they move the overhead track to put cars on and off the line.  And the shops were so clean you could eat off the floor.  The had the Kaiserwagen out, which was a rehabbed unit from the 20s, complete with etched glass, and lots of wood and brass.  You can rent the unit and get married or party above the city. 

We shot some stuff in the shop, passed out thank-you gifts, and headed down town once again to an interview with a Wuppertal city spokesperson.  We ended up climbing into the clock tower of city hall to get the interview, which was fine.  The woman spoke very good English.  We also shot stuff in the marketplace, which was a variety of people buying at an open market.  Again, lots of of hustle and bustle in this town.  We also learned that Wuppertal is noted for its beautiful women, and we could all see why. 

Then into the car for a 180 kph run down to Koblenz, where we started the Rhine Cruise segment with an interview with a young Deutsche Bahn representative.  We shot it on the station platform, which was an audio nightmare, with the station announcements, and moving trains forcing a constant start and stop.  We then chased up to a fortress (festung) high on a cliff overlooking the city to see if we could get some establishing shot of the city.  It was too back lighted, too windy, and too hazy. 

The fortress was the site of a major German army stronghold during WWII, and was a most impressive thing.  The base goes back to about the 12th century, and it features miles of tunnels, thick walls, and a dominant position over the convergence of the Mosel and Rhine Rivers.  We will have to come back tomorrow to do this again. 

Then back to Essen, dinner with John and a listen to his tale of woe concerning the replacement return tickets he still doesn’t have.  He is thinking of starting a phone card collection, as there are no coin pay phones in Germany any more.  It’s all done with phone cards.  And he was making some headway with someone when his last card ran out.  And he is having language adjustment problems.  But dinner was good, and I actually managed a whole meal for the three of us without ordering “sole of old boot” and we are back in the rooms. 

I’m in with Gary tonight as John can’t stand his snoring.  I guess I’ll see just how bad it is.  But it’s singles for the next several nights.  I’m hoping that John is just a light sleeper.  More tomorrow, as the German trip continues.  Oh yes, I filled the car tonight with 97 DM worth of gas -- about $60.  If Joe Sport Ute in the USA had to pay real market prices for fuel, we would see a great change in the way cities and towns are laid out, the cars people drive, and the way public transportation is put in service.  As I said, more tomorrow.  The forecast is for good weather with rain on Friday afternoon.

September 10

Gary does snore.  But not that badly.  In fact, he said that I woke him up.  I only had to roll him over once.  The rest of the night was uneventful.  Such is life on the road. 

We checked out of the hotel and headed for the famous Rheingoldstrasse -- the Street of the Rheingold, or better, the Golden Road of the Rhine.  Or something like that.  We stopped at the Festung for some great blue sky overlook materials -- which we couldn’t get yesterday, and then continued down to road to the Bopparder Hamm, which is “The Boppard Turn.” 

The Rhine is at its swiftest and deepest here in the Rhine Valley, with steep cliffs on both sides.  The little towns nestle like storybook villages along the shores, while the passenger trains constantly run up the west side, freight trains on the east, and ferry boats and barges ply the water in between.  The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the material was gorgeous.  The castles along the way are stunning, and quite a sight to behold. 

I did learn the difference between a “burg” or “festung” and a “schloss.”  A burg or festung is a fortified place, while the latter is a palace.  The ruins of the Rheinfels Castle were amazing.  It was originally about five times as large, but was destroyed by the French, and dismantled by the Prussians in order to build the festung across from Koblenz.  The thing was detailed for us by historian Frau Eva Haupt, who talked of the fabulous parties in its heyday, as well as the vastness of the place.  It had tree wells, with one going down 96 meters to the Rhine.  Also there were vast underground tunnels, storerooms, accommodations, industry, etc. 

It was still most impressive today.  The sights along the Rhine were really beautiful, as were Lorelei Cliffs.  It tuns out that the Lorelei was a fabrication of Heinrich Heine, another romantic poet, and a romantic era composer.  The Rhine itself is very rough and deep at that point and so many ships were lost over the ages.  Adding to the legends are the twelve most dangerous and slightly visible rocks which are supposed to be the remains of twelve virgins who escaped from one of the castles and subsequently drowned.  And of course the legend of Siegfried and the Rhine Gold starts here, with the variants on the cruelty of the gods, man’s portent for self destruction, etc.  But it was really a sight to behold. 

After shooting material from the Loreleiblick (Lorelei Overlook) we checked into the Weinhaus Weiler, had dinner, and here I am writing.  And the tripod was not my friend today.  Tomorrow will be worse, as we are sans auto, and on the train all day. One the other hand, my room is right near the rail line and I can hear trains running past at high speed.  The other guys would hate it.  I love it.  John still has no ticket, and he either has to buy one at the gate, or stay in Frankfort on Sunday to straighten it out with United Airlines.  I’ll call the states now to see what I can do.

September 11

Another great day, weatherwise.  Perhaps the Tracks Ahead rain curse has been broken.  The dawn mist on the Rhine was simply fantastic.  The castles were highlighted in backlit sun with fog, and the river steamed.  It was as if there were dry ice all around, providing an ethereal presence to the area. 

We took the commuter train up Koblenz, and then John and Greg got into the cab on an IC to Mainz, while Gary & I rode in one of the cars.  Unfortunately, the DB people were having trouble with the engine, and as a result had not had time to clean the windscreen.  And the station stop times are so short that there just wasn’t time to clean things up.  So the shots on the run are all rather long to minimize the bug damage. 

Then it was into the train again to shoot from on board a car on the way up to Boppard.  This was about 1 PM and so we were treated to a gaggle of school kids making their way home from class.  The kids were noisy, but curious, well behaved, and nondestructive, unlike American kids.  Once we reached Boppard we taped some of the Onion Festival (imagine an upscale flea market with wine) and then boarded a KD lines boat for a Rhine Cruise up to Oberwesel.  The boat has an interesting propulsion system which consists of vertically rotating airfoils rather than ordinary horizontal screws.  As a result, there was no need for side thrusters.  We interviewed the captain about the danger and technicalities of the Rhine, and then asked him if he had ever seen the Lorelei.  He stated that he believed that he had, but as he was a happily married man, the temptations of such delightful virgins fell upon deaf ears. 

We then hopped in the car and shot back down to Kaub, crossed the Rhine (there are no bridges between Mainz & Koblenz) and drove up to the Niederwald Denkmal, which is a statue commemorating the German unification in 1871.  It is impressive, and the view over the Rhine Valley was spectacular.  One could draw parallels between the modern German state and the old unification statue, while eagles rose on the wind currents, hot air balloons could be seen, and below was spread the wealth of Germany, spread in compact towns, dark mysterious forests, golden fields, and river boats plying the Rhine.  It was an allegory for the modern German state. 

Enough.  Back to the hotel, dinner, and the notes.  And ultimately, bed.  It is supposed to start to rain tomorrow.  We have several interviews, which are all interiors.  There is more exterior to get, but even if we had to quit tomorrow, the piece would be complete.

September 12

The day started with a hangover.  How many beers did we have last night?  It certainly didn’t seem like much at the time.  In actuality, it really wasn’t much.  I just think we are all tired of being on the road, one step from getting Greg’s cold, burned out on this piece, and just damn sick of trains. 

The day dawned with sun, and after breakfast, we hooked up with our tour guide & contact in Bacharat, a Rolf Jung.  He was a retired school principal, and very eager to show off the town.  And a pretty place it was too, with much of the ancient Roman wall still standing, along with the towers.  There were brooks running through old arches, old beam and post buildings, and a general feeling of timelessness.  The flowers, and narrow streets and passages made for some very pretty settings, among them the Malewinkle, or Painters Corner, so named because of the many painters who come to paint the stream, towers, and houses.  A very pretty place. 

Then it was off for a sound bite with Fritz Stüber, a restaurant owner who reminisced about the building of the railroad, the electrification, and the growth of the line.  And then it started to cloud up, we all went brain dead, and just sort of blew off the rest of the day.  The light was either wrong or too poor for the rest of the material, and we couldn’t do any interviews.  So we checked into tonight’s hotel, the Castle Schoenburg, which sits atop a hill overlooking Oberwesel.  I’ll tell you, the old inhabitants must have been of strong stock, because the walk from the parking lot to the reception desk was a killer.  Steep winding cobblestone paths about did us all in.  But the place is impressive, with nice rooms, a library, a great restaurant, etc.  It would be great to spend several days relaxing here.  It overlooks the Rhine and the railway, as well as the town. 

Then John and I drove down to Mainz, where my broken German managed to locate a few European Pez dispensers.  We also go real lost, but managed to get back to Oberwesel in time to meet up with Gary and Greg at the Oberwesel Weinfest.  In the rain.  I hope it clears up for tomorrow so that we can finish up this thing and go home.  We have miles of tape.  I’m getting Greg’s cold.

September 13

I felt much better when I woke up.  And Greg snores.  Not much, but enough to say he does so.  Heh Heh.  The castle is pretty neat, and a massive restoration task.  It was purchased as a ruin in the late 1800s by an American Army general, who then had it restored.  The city of Oberwesel bought it from the General’s grandson back in the 1940s.  It was quite something to think of how old royalty lived, and the massive upkeep on such a place. 

The weather was spotty, with periods of sun and rain, so we chased down south to Bingen and started shooting east side castles from the west side of the Rhine.  Everyone of them collected their river toll in the old days.  We were lucky and caught a few trains at the same time.  Then we ended up back in town for an interview with Barbara Höhn, an attractive redhead living in the southernmost tower of the old Roman wall surrounding Oberwesel.  Called by some the Turmhexxe (Tower Witch), she and her husband were restoring the tower’s seven levels and living in it.  The tower was basically a two bedroom condo, except vertical.  So you climbed a lot of winding stairs.  It was beautifully appointed, and was a great mixture of old and new.  Barbara liked living right next to the trains, as she considered them and their assorted apparatus works of art.  She liked to sit at a small sundeck, have her morning coffee, and watch the trains go past. 

That completed, we needed some wine festival material.  And because the people really didn’t turn out until late afternoon, we just sat and sampled the local fare.  At tourist prices.  An interesting note here: The crowd was a mixture of old and young faces, all drinking wine, all talking, joking, meeting new people, and generally having a good time.  In America, it seems like people just drink to get drunk, and then they get obnoxious.  Not so here.  Even blasted, these people were still courteous and pretty controlled. 

So we shot the festival, with the traditional German music bed, and out of ten minutes, we should get the required minute or so.  It is difficult to describe the throngs of people, all crowded into the old cobblestoned streets, the bands playing, the banners waving, and the dancing and laughter.  I hope we captured the flavor on tape.  Then we waited some more for “Der Nicht am Tausend Feuers/Die Rhein in Flammen.”  Or in English, “The Night of a Thousand Fires/The Rhine in Flames.”  The wall was supposed to be backlit with red flares, the towers to have flares on their tops, and lots of fireworks over the city.  And a lighted boat parade.  And passing trains.  I expected something as massive as the show at Rothenburg, but while the fireworks were good, the trains were sparse and the flares died quickly.  But I think it will look pretty good.  We got one train in particular with the fireworks reflecting off the sides.  German fireworks are not like American ones.  Instead of shooting them off one at a time, they fire off a whole bunch at once.  And the people don’t make much noise.  They don’t got “ooh” and “ah.”  They just quietly watch.  But there were a ton of people. 

Then it was the two hour drive back up to Kettwig, were we dropped Greg at home enroute, checked into our hotel, and packed up for Sunday’s departure.  And suffered through a wedding at the hotel.  At least I did.  John merely suffered Gary’s snoring. 

With the exception of the Zephyr segment, all the series segments are shot.  I’m glad.  At this point in any of the series, I am so sick of traveling and looking at trains that I could just croak.  My interest rekindles, but it takes a month or two.  Now it’s on to try to finish the series for a January/February release.  I am glad to be going home, but sorry to be leaving Germany.  I’d like to try living here for six months or a year.  There are some things that are so sensible -- food, living quarters, mass transit, life style.  Exercise centers just wouldn’t make it here.  People walk all the time. 

Enough carping.  The plane is ready, and we are all ready to close this chapter on the fourth season of Tracks Ahead.  I hope people have enjoyed my sometimes meandering and sometimes preachy monologue.  It has been a year of hard work, but we have seen lots of places, and experienced lots of new things.  But the old adage of, “There’s no place like home” comes to mind.  It will be nice to just park for a while.  Until the travel bug bites again.  Auf Wiedersehen, Ciao, Cheers, and good bye.