Category Archives: history

A Strasbourgian Birthday

I’ve a hour or so up my sleeve while I wait for a train to Basel – yes, a train. But I’ve been convinced that the cycling from Strasbourg to the Basel/Mulhouse area is none too exciting and while pleasant, the ride from Wissembourg to Strasbourg was enough of the flat Rhine valley to see. From there, I think I’ll skirt the French-Swiss border through the Jura range – if I can handle that & whatever the weather does – and somehow get over/through the Alps to Aosta in NW Italy.

As mentioned, Saturday’s ride into Strasbourg was not too thrilling – pretty flat (only a hundred metres of climbing in over ninety kilometres) as I paralleled the Rhine upstream. A lot of it was road too, with not many dedicated cycle routes to be had. It rained quite a bit, but nowhere as bad as the torrents that fell from the sky in Belgium. As I was sitting eating my lunch, through another shower, I saw a couple of Italian flags flying past on the back of touring bikes. Eventually I caught up to Giorgio & Nora sheltering under a shop awning from another shower. From Umbria, they were a week into their honeymoon cycle-touring from Amsterdam back towards Italy – I think they were sick of the same weather that I was.

While we mostly conversed in English as we shared the ride into Strasbourg, it was fun to try out what Italian I can remember. Just as we approached the city, there was a cycle-path off the road and this one was most definitely riding along the top of the Maginot line – it was raised like a stop-bank for the river, but every couple of hundred metres there was a concrete bunker/pill-box. I bid my Italian cycling buddies arrivederci as we neared their campground and I my first warmshowers.org experience (like couch-surfing, but for cycle-tourists).

Adrien greeted me warmly, we managed to get my bike in the elevator up to the sixth floor (29” wheels are almost a bit much for small European elevators) and I even got a loaned a pair of house shoes (slippers) for my stay. Thankfully, Adrien graciously let me stay an extra night to what I initially proposed – this meant that I could have my birthday completely off the bike – and cooked me dinner and made tea. Like a lot of border town/cities around here – Strasbourg has at different times been German & French.

More TPHS history classes here: Germany lost Alsace (the region of which Strasbourg is the largest city) and neighbouring Lorraine back to France after Versailles, I’m unsure how many times before the area has changed hands. So there is a big German influence in the city’s buildings and language. In fact, Adrien is a primary school teacher and he shares two classes of six to seven year olds with another teacher – he teaches in German, while the other teacher teaches in French (I think I’ve got that correct). But Adrien is from Brittany, so not a native German speaker – but then Europeans do so much better at learning languages than Kiwis.

I slept well on a proper mattress, slept-in & missed birthday calls from family back home, returned said calls, slowly got organised and headed into the city for a leisurely look around – snacking regularly on various baked goodies. A climb up the cathedral (also called Notre Dame) tower was the most strenuous my day got – but 330-odd stairs take a little effort. As it was Sunday, there were only really tourists around but the city gradually woke up and was nice to walk around looking at the buildings and canals. I sat writing postcards, finally, with a beer looking up at the cathedral.

I did enjoy looking at all the steep roofs from the cathedral tower.

The view from Adrien’s apartment

Upon my return Adrien & his mate had returned from a couple of hours of road riding to the west towards the Vosges. I had suggested that I take him out for dinner as thanks and also for my brithday – but he was keen to cook crepes and somehow with the help of his ex-flatmate, it turned into a dinner party of nine. We rearranged the kitchen and living area to try and hold nine people and then Adrien dragged out his crepe hot-plate, for want of a better word. Bretons take their crepes seriously – this hot-plate was a 30th birthday present and it was hefty, weighing in at eighteen kilograms! That’s getting up there with my loaded bike. A vast amount of batter was made up, with buckwheat flour – this is best I’m told and gradually people started arriving.

Over a few hours the crepe hot-plate was in constant use and over good conversation (although I was lost whenever it strayed from English, which was often) and three bottles of champagne a most memorable birthday was rounded off. Somehow during the course of the evening my named morphed to Brian – to which there is only one answer. “I’m not Brian!” – of course that is slightly wrong with the negative, but it’s always surreal to me to be discussing Monty Python with people from foreign-speaking countries, for some reason.

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Adrien with the tools of the trade

By the time I ran a few errands this morning (another kilogram shed from my luggage and rear bag structure now more secure), it was getting close to noon – Adrien has definitely gone out of his way to accommodate me. What a great stay and a nice break from the bike (only two weeks in), thanks Adrien and au revoir.

Volklingen Iron Works

[Content Advisory: Here follows a gratuitous amount of industrial history, associated photos and general talk of ironmaking. If that doesn’t interest you, too bad – it was the highlight of the trip so far. Yes, I know that that is quite sad.]

When I chose my camping spot for the night, I did not realise there was a chiming church clock just the other side of the river. Or a building site. Still, I slept well enough and had a pretty good gauge of the time each time I awoke. Eager to see it, or with nothing better to do, I was first through the gates at Volklingen Iron Works. I was quite nervous about leaving my bike unattended for so long with only a lock that serves only to thwart the opportunist thief. But the attendant assured me that it was quite safe, I suppose you don’t get a lot of thieves frequenting industrial museums early in the day. By the time I returned three hours later, there were many more bikes around – so mine was less conspicuous.

When they shut the plant (six blast furnaces and much more ancillary equipment) down in 1986, they really did just leave it. I couldn’t believe how much there is to see – I was fascinated and even though the multimedia presentation wasn’t in English, all the signs were, so it was easy enough to understand. You could wander around an awful lot without barriers getting in the way – obviously some areas are off limits as the platforms and walkways have decayed over time, but work continues. Donning a hardhat, you could even climb through forty-five metres of height up stairs (brought back a lot of memories of getting around the NZS Iron Plant) to the charging floor and then go even higher and get amongst the off-gas system.

The explanation of the process was very well done, and only later on in a hall under the burden room did you get to read/hear a few stories of what it was like to work there. I would have liked to have seen more of that – at one stage in the sixties, some 16000 people were employed making iron. Incredible to think; although each blast furnace only had the daily capacity of one NZS Melter (of which there are two). Well, obviously I loved my visit there – as shown by the fact I took so many photos. I will let some of them tell the rest of the story.

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Hoist controls in the inclined ore conveyor machine room.


I’d noticed these two hills the night before – completely different to any others in the region. I should have known that they are slag heaps from almost one hundred years of operation.

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Charging floor – the cars on the monorail used for feeding the furnaces.


Top of the inclined conveyor.


Off-gas system, part of.


Still an industrial town


More off-gas system.


The hood that is raised to charge five cars at a time into the furnace – there is another such bell cover further down to prevent the furnace gases escaping.

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Nature taking hold at height.


Work continues all around the site still – I was surprised by how much exactly. All to broaden the areas accessible to visitors.


Metal tap hole


Mud gun – used for closing taphole


Slag taphole

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Coke ovens – coke side


Coke ovens – machine side


Inclined ore conveyor, built in the 1910s – took the sintered iron ore up to the charging level. The main reason the plant could not be expanded to compete in the 1980s by making the furnaces larger (taller) is that this conveyor could not be heightened.


The charge cars used on the monorail system.

After all that excitement, the time available for riding was cut back substantially. It was a very easy eighty-odd kilometres. Mostly following the Saar upriver, stopping at a bakery in France somewhere before following the Blies upstream back into Germany. This turned into an old rail trail, sealed as they mostly are, so was rather quick – well, for my bike. There were many people out riding beside the river all afternoon. Which would be why there were multitudes of beer gardens backing on to the cycle routes. I stopped in at one for a drink and what turned out to be a strange rectangular pizza-like dish – very white & runny cheese, much onion and pancetta.

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The signs I’ve been following for three days.


A glorious evening to be out riding – sun setting on fields just cut for haymaking

Tomorrow, I should make the town where the TransVosges MTB route starts – it’s only fifty kilometres as the crow flies, but after my northern Luxembourg experience that could be quite hard work, although it’s not as hilly around here. I’ve enjoyed the last two days’ riding with no rain and occasional warmth; a bit of rain has fallen at night, so my tent is wet again – but, hey-ho. Hopefully the TransVosges has had a chance to dry out – I’ll shall have to see if it’s suitable for me.

Deeper into the Saarland

After a particularly poor night’s sleep, I was taken aback to find it almost nine o’clock before I got up. It was a still and clear, but very chilly, start to the day’s riding. I had better luck finding villages with open shops – so much so that first lunch was at 10.30. I think that I didn’t eat enough for yesterday’s 115 km – more bakery stops required. It was more of the same sealed trail through farmland – much easier to appreciate in the sun. Every so often I do remember to take a photo just so that I don’t forget it all in many, or a few, years’ time.

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While the scenery is nice, it doesn’t thrill me the same way as riding the North American West does. Thoughts throughout the day return to the still vague possibility of riding Tour Divide 2015. While I’m beginning to realise that open-ended solo bikepacking might not be best suited to me – I’ve always loved riding singletrack unencumbered and with good mates, not much of that is happening here – a crazy undertaking such as the Divide would be quite an achievement to work towards and be lighter-weight bikepacking with more of a purpose…

As I dwell on this the route enters forested areas much more and as, I assume, there are less tractors to churn up the paths they are now gravel and that is much better. I see a lookout ahead as I approach the top of a climb, the GPS shows two small lakes below it. I was rather underwhelmed. A big disused mine, a large power plant in the distance and some other factory off to the left.

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All through this trip so far I’ve been trying to remember much that I learnt about where I am from various high school and university history classes. I think, I’m sure someone will correct me below if I’m wrong, that the Saar was lost by Germany at Versailles and that was a blow as it was an industrial powerhouse – with coal and iron, & therefore steel predominating. I’ve noticed that I’m missing researching a bit about the areas I’m visiting beforehand – the reasons for this are twofold: 1) I don’t really know where I’m going until I get there and 2) I’ve such irregular internet access, such research is not possible to do on the fly.

In one small town I spied a collection of new MTBs on display down a driveway. It was actually a very small bike shop. I stopped ostensibly to look at what bikes might be popular in Germany. While the trend for e-bikes (bikes that electrically assisted, mostly uphill I think) has been around for a while, it is a little concerning and bewildering to see the popularity of full suspension e-MTBs. While I was there, I mentioned the little bit of play that had started to develop the day before. I was in luck – the guy had the correct one in stock, so I had it changed then & there.

Past Saarbrucken was my goal for the day, but only ten or fifteen kilometres short I was on the outskirts of Volklingen. The trail board mentioned an old steel works that had been preserved after the blast furnaces closed in 1986, I could see it not far away – I couldn’t resist taking a peak as I’m a sucker for industrial history, steel in particular. It turns out that it’s so well preserved that it was the first industrial site to be given UNESCO listing as a world cultural heritage site. Well, I just have to see this properly – but as it was closing for the day, it will be tomorrow – which puts everything back a couple of days. Oh well, it’s not like I’ve got a schedule.

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Being a steel town, I can’t say I was surprised that the centre was pretty dead and difficult to find somewhere suitable to eat. It was a little unnerving to ride under a rail-bridge that I’d seen torpedo ladles of molten hot metal roll over a few minutes before. The bridge held.

Glasgow & Highlands Walking

The seven hour drive north from London to Glasgow Sunday evening was uneventful; but, considering it was mostly motorway, strangely beautiful in the evening light. Arriving just before one o’clock Monday morning, there was not much else to do apart from briefly say hi to Fi and then sleep.

The purple patch of weather of the weekend in London continued with us and after a late brunch (it’s easy to justify a full Scottish breakfast when it’s noon & it really is breakfast and lunch) Fi took us on a very nice walking tour of Glasgow. Through the university, large sun-soaked parks and down to the side of the Clyde I was impressed and after the little I’ve heard about Glasgow, pleasantly surprised to be so.

On the walk back to Fi’s (recently acquired & nice) flat it was decided by consensus that it was definitely above the threshold temperature for gelato – starting a week of high ice cream consumption. Now that I think of it, that started a fortnight of regular ice cream eating. Adele & I weren’t really sure what Fi had planned for the week, so had packed the car for many eventualities. As the forecast was best earlier in the week, we soon had a chalet booked near Fort William (I tried not to miss having a bike too much) and drove north into the highlands planning a bit of walking the next day. The town itself proved quite a frustrating one in which to find a decent place to eat in the shoulder season; the huge chicken skewers were definitely memorable, but (in an unrelated way) that night started a strange week-long run of extremely broken sleep & I still don’t know why.

Tips Fi had gleaned from others suggested we should take a less trodden and defined route around the back of Ben Nevis and along a shoulder to avoid the easy route up. Some unplanned reconnaissance (we missed the turn for the trailhead) showed a lot of snow still up that way, so I was beginning to have doubts. Even with the detour we were walking shortly after eight o’clock on a beautiful morning with good views up and down the glen and of the surrounding hills. It certainly is a big wide path up to the top of the UK’s highest peak, but there are enough big rocks and steps mixed with switchbacks and, in such weather, good views that it is definitely not boring climbing – I quite enjoyed it, but then I usually much prefer hiking up over hiking down , when I just think of bikes.

It flattened out a lot briefly before we reached the junction in our path. Still undecided about which route, we walked north to check out the more difficult one. Getting under the north face we could see that there was a substantial amounts of snow and wind up further along the route; with none of us really knowing the route or having more suitable equipment, common sense prevailed and we headed back to the main trail. At the junction we met the frontrunners of a large group of Edinburgh bus-drivers out on a charity walk before we started hauling in those walkers we’d already passed earlier on.

We steadily, actually it was pretty quick – Fi sets quite a pace – continued to climb – enjoying the switchbacks that took us away from a strong headwind. For the last few hundred metres of ascent it was a choice of hard packed snow or getting well off route and clambering over the rocks – I found the rocks an easier route for climbing. Unfortunately it clouded over pretty well as we neared the summit and the wind was fierce – we were quite glad we took this route up for our little outing. There were occasional breaks in the cloud to give views around. The most memorable part of the top of the UK was when one of the vanguard of bus-drivers (there were three about the same pace as us) pulled out a full bottle of Scotch, still in its box, and numerous shot glasses and offered us a wee dram. I’m not much of a whisky drinker, but it was pretty good – & possibly Adele’s first, which in the inclement conditions led to surprised comments of the warming qualities of such drinks.

Walking and running down on the snow was much quicker and quite good fun. We sat out of the wind and enjoyed a long lunch while we watched the rest of the (un-fitter) bus-drivers struggle on up – along with a large collection of people in all sorts of strange and, bordering on, unsuitable attire. Just as well the views were good as the trip down was the usual tedium of walking in zig-zags to try and stop my knees hurting for days afterwards – two walking poles between three doesn’t go so well, but my knees seemed to hold up better than expected.

It turned out to be only just over a six-hour outing – that’s including our half-hour detour and half-hour leisurely lunch; so plenty of time for more ice cream in the sun as we gave up on the Information Centre and headed back to the chalet for WiFi to research the next day’s outing. I say that, but after planning the rest of the three week holiday for Adele, I was more than happy to sit in the back seat – literally & figuratively. Pre-dinner drinks on the balcony overlooking Loch Linnhe were followed by a meal that is best remembered for the waitress continually apologising for the meltdown the chef was apparently having – “lucky we didn’t say anything about the dirty knife”.

Wednesday wasn’t quite as sunny in the morning, but that worked well to head to Glenfinnan to see the easily recognised viaduct.  Quite a spectacular setting and we timed it well to see the train from Fort William steam across – if that was the Hogwarts Express, we missed getting on it, so went back to do more muggle oriented activities.

The sound and smell of a steam train is very good indeed

Looking out over Loch Shiel near the Glenfinnan monument

That afternoon we went on a couple of pleasant strolls through various woods & forests that the girls had found somehow. The first was most noteworthy for my legs being destroyed by the notorious Scottish midges (after two weeks the bites have finally almost completely faded) during lunch, rickety bridges over a pond & half the intended trail being closed due to logging. The second walk was through quite pleasant woods with randomly spaced carvings made out of dead tree-stumps, a pond with ducklings, more bluebells (we’d seen many previously) and the picturesque River Spean. More ice creams.

Our drive north continued with a bit of Nessie spotting as we went up the west edge of Loch Ness to Drumnadrochit. We didn’t see Nessie, but it was still quite light and we obviously hadn’t had enough to drink. The local ale at the brew pub was pretty good – Adele even enjoyed her first real ale. The pint was substantially better than the greeting one must assume is only given to locals at the bar – “are you going to order or just sit there making the place ugly?”. Other peculiarities included novelty-onesie clad horse-riders wandering through the bar (horses left in the middle of the car park).

Adele by this stage in this trip had developed a fascination for castles, so that got a bit of a fix Thursday morning as we visited the nearby Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness. With an interesting role in the Scottish Wars of Independence, it was a good visit – although most of the signs posted gave the impression that they had no idea what different parts of the castle were used for.

Time to head back to Glasgow, we drove the short distance north to Inverness (sights seen included the castle from a distance and a fascinating multi-story car park, before we had lunch sheltering from the rain overlooking Beauly Firth) and then south on the notorious A9. It would have been rude to not break the journey up for Fi (I was still pleased to not be driving) with an ice cream – so a local dairy (in the British, not NZ, sense of the word) was found.

When I discovered Doune Castle was not much of a detour from the fastest route, I just had to go & see where so much of the Grail was filmed.

No large mammals or assorted poultry were thrown over the walls at us, which was most useful

It was almost closing time, so we had a brief wander around to satisfy my curiosity before we continued on towards Fi’s parents’ house for dinner. Looking back that was a rather surreal evening: Cally, the dog, had an injured paw & spent most of the night trying to chew off the dressing to the concern of all; people repeatedly seemed to lock themselves in the bathroom, or not; an endless parade of soft-toys; constant talk of power pylons; the story of two lost fishermen who thought it prudent to wave a red ball at a passing boat to indicate something was wrong; and somehow Jude knew that I’d been instructed to raise my BMI – she seemed determined that I should put on five pounds in the space of two hours, I have not eaten so much in a long time & that’s saying something. I ramble – it was a wonderful evening and a fitting end to a fantastic week in Scotland. I’m a little miffed that I’ve not managed to spend more time in such a beautiful part of the world. Not quite sure I’ll be able to rectify that now, but it would be nice to.