DAY 232 - MERZIG (GERMANY) TO REMICH (LUXEMBOURG): 20.5 MILES (41,000 STEPS)

11 December, 2011

20.5 (Total: 2301.8 miles)–41,000 (Total: 4,950,601 steps)

I bid farewell to David in the morning, as he was to travel on to Luxembourg with my rucksack and I set off by train for Merzig, bringing to an end a six week epoch of the journey in which I had been blessed by the company and support of: Xuelin Black, Stephen Bates, Tom Hall, Rob Parsons, Peter Vardy and David Bates – who had all answered the call to offer support whilst my broken arm and shoulder were healing and during which time I was unable to carry my large rucksack. I was now on my own again and would need to carry the rucksack again to complete the required distances, despite the shoulder being far from recovered. I didn’t mention this at the time, as it is Christmas and people would rightly be busy preparing for the celebrations without someone having to do a mercy dash across the Channel with the time and expense that such a trip would involve. This left me quite reflective and melancholic. Added to which the mileage and the weather were beginning to take their toll. I had done 130 miles in a single week, which equalled the record distance I had set when I came up the Croatian coast from Zadar to Rijeka. I have had these times before and normally manage to get through them by keeping moving and as a result of my completely irrational sense of optimism, though even this was in short supply as the rain lashed down again.

In Mettlach I was quite inspired by a large piece of open air art, by Stefan Szczesny, called ‘The Living Planet Square’—I spent quite a while reading the descriptions of each of the ceramic panels (pic), but wasn’t quite sure I understood where the artist in this case was coming from – which is a poor reflection on me, not him. Nonetheless I enjoyed the bright colours and vast scale of the work and tried to pick out the continents.

Then it was up the hill out of Mettlach, which I made heavy weather of as much for my emotional as my physical shape and then an uplifting walk through the forests and into Orscholz. In the main square beside the church, a group of young people were setting up a tent to serve hot mulled wine and waffles. The boys gathered around the large pan of mulled wine, watching it bubble away, whilst the girls were busily organising the rest of the operation. They didn’t have much trade so I gave them their first order and it opened up a great conversation about the walk and the truce. I do get a pleasure out of telling people what I am doing, not in a self-adulatory sense, but just in seeing the response to the concept of the truce.  Invariable no-one has ever heard of the notion that a guy, who downs two large cups of mulled wine and three waffles at 11:30am on a Sunday morning, is capable of walking a few hundred yards across the town square, never mind another 10 miles to Remich—here they had a point, but that has taken years of practice to perfect.

Climbing higher onto a ridge which overlooked Remich in Luxembourg and from which the tall buildings of Luxembourg city could be viewed, I came across an unusual sign indicating a ‘Peace Memorial’. As I approached the small memorial, I found that it had been erected by veterans of the US Army, 94^th Infantry Division, who had been engaged in heavy fighting in this area around what was known as the Mosselle-Saar Triangle; one did not need to be a military historian to figure out that this ridge would have been prime real estate on the battlefield.    It carried this inscription: Nulla Salus Bello Paces Te Poscimus Omnes, which is from a poem by Virgil and roughly translated via Google as—All of you ask for peace, for there is no salvation in war. The peace memorial seemed a bit tired, overgrown and uncared for, compared to military monuments and memorials which commemorate great victories or great leaders. I don’t know why this should be so, but I think it tells us something about what we value.

Down into Remich and a very friendly welcome at the St Nicholas Hotel, another glass or two of mulled wine at the Christmas market and then a wonderful Chicken Tika at the  ‘Ghandi’ Indian Restaurant just off the water-front, things were beginning to look up again…..

DAY 231 - VOLKLINGEN TO MERZIG: 20.4 MILES (40,800 STEPS)

10 December, 2011

20.4 (Total: 2281.3 miles)–40,800 (Total: 4,909,601 steps)

The whole of the Saar valley was a literal power house for German industry hosting, as it still does, the largest working coal mine in Europe; barges still carry coal up and down the river to the power stations. As I set off from Volklingen railway station, I encountered an unlikely UNESCO World Heritage Site—not a cathedral or an ancient fort, but the Volklingen Iron Works. My initial reaction was to roll my eyes and think UNESCO! But the more I thought of it, the less ridiculous it seemed.

People need two things as Tony Campolo says ‘roots’ and ‘wings’ and the iron works was most definitely a deep-rooted part of the local culture and identity. As in Consett, in County Durham, the iron and steel works were part of a shared identity, a shared culture, a shared sense of belonging. Not because of the blast furnace, but because this was what they did and there was a pride in it because it was hard work and very good quality. When such a place, a shipyard, a mine or a car plant goes, then in many ways the whole raison d’être for the town is brought into question, the roots are torn up and a cloud of despondency sinks in. The only antidotes I am aware of in such situations is education and enterprise.  For far too long in the UK, successive governments have wanted to turn their backs on the industrial legacy and doled out tea, sympathy and social security rather than world-class education and enterprise support, all based on a solid pride and honour of the former heavy industry. UNESCO may actually have taken a step in the right direction with their recognition in Volklingen, provided the government step in with the education and the enterprise, and the people take responsibility for their futures, rather than wallowing in the mud pools of blame.

Again when I had set off that morning I had been too ambitious, thinking that I might make it all the way to Mettlach. I walked along the cycle path that ran alongside the Saar. It was a busy day as it was a Saturday so there were many cyclists out and a few runners too so the journey wasn’t lonely, but I have to say it was boring. Until that glorious moment when things looked up and I saw the iconic yellow lettering on blue background spelling ‘IKEA’ just outside of Saarlouis. I had my fill of meatballs and chips and was then on my way again. David had been in Trier, the oldest city in Germany, for the day. I was quite envious as it was a place I would have loved to have visited, but with impeccable timing I reached Merzig railways station a few minutes before his train coming back from Trier to Saarbruken did and so we got the same crowded service, full of festive shoppers on their way too and from Christmas markets and Christmas shopping. It is one of the most striking things about France and Germany that there seems to be a greater depth and width to their celebration of Christmas. In the UK, it is invariably expressed through Christmas decorations and offers in the shops; it is commercial rather than cultural perhaps, but on the continent there seems to be an entirely new socio-eco system that emerges at Christmas time, which on the surface appears more cultural than commercial

DAY 230 - SARREGUEMINES (FRANCE) TO VOLKLINGEN (GERMANY): 19.8 MILES (37,600 STEPS)

9 December, 2011

19.8 miles (Total: 2260.9 miles)–37,600 (Total: 4,868,801 steps)

In his preparations for the next stage of my walk, David had found that there was an excellent train service which would get me to the Sarraguemines railway station in 15 minutes, rather than 40 minutes in the car. I was in the mood for taking advice and so set off for the station from Hotel Bruchwiese in Saarbrucken. It was a bitterly cold and wet day and the walk was to be through former heavy industrial towns inter-spaced with small mining villages – all reminiscent of my native county Durham with the weather thrown in for free. The maps David had secured picked out a good cycle route along the River Saar as far as Grosbliederstroff, from where I would skirt around the southern edge of Saarbrucken in the direction of Luxembourg.

On cold and wet days it is essential to try and find some good cafes/bars/restaurants in which to get dried off and warmed up. In Grosbliederstroff I found the wonderful Cafe Restaurant de la Paix Carepa, a family owned cafe that looked as if it had been there for 100 years. Even though I was soaking wet, I was offered a place by the radiator and I ordered two large mugs of hot chocolate. The lady who served me was distinguished looking, tall, thin and even though probably well into her seventies, with almost regal features. She spoke little English and I quickly exhausted my French, but her gestures were warm, kind and considerate. I assumed she was the owner because she displayed a quality of care and interest in patrons that comes with a sense of Calling/vocation of an owner and which, understandably, is very hard to buy-in with the offer of an hourly minimum wage.

I stayed longer than I should have and decided to get back out into the rain rather than order a third large hot chocolate. I regretted my decision as I walked a couple more hours in the driving rain and came to the small town of Spicheren. I was cold and wet and desperate for warmth and shelter and the loo! I tried all three cafes/bars and restaurants in Spicheren, but was turned away from three—one because it was full, another because I said I just wanted a coffee rather than a meal, and the third because I was bringing my own pool of water through the door with me. Of course I can understand the reticence of people to allow someone who looks and smells like a drowned rat into their fine establishment, I am sure I would be a bit sniffy too, but I could have really done with a rest from the weather, but was forced to sit in a bush shelter  for thirty minutes whilst I peeled the wet tissue paper of a napkin off my extra cheese and salami sandwich secured at breakfast.

I had hoped to make it as far as Saarlouis, but this was going to be impossible as I was shivering, hungry and cold. I marched on as far as Volklingen, which is on the main rail line, and after a very uncomfortable 20 miles that had taken 8 hours to complete. I was glad to get back to the hotel for a long hot shower, a warm room to dry my clothes in, a good meal and good company with my brother, David.