After spending a day in Lübeck, the National Geographic Explorer took us north, and in the night we entered the Kiel Canal, a 98-kilometre (61 mile) canal connecting the Baltic and North Seas, once the busiest canal in the world.
After breakfast I dashed up for sightseeing, and soon saw this vessel passing us headed in the opposite direction, towards the Baltic.
We're catching up to a ship ahead. If the canal looks broad, that's because it was widened between 1907-1914 to accommodate the newest battleships of the Imperial German Navy.
Three of the omnipresent swans catch up to and pass us.
There's plenty of traffic behind us. It will only get busier.
One of the things which might have slowed the traffic is the Fischerhutte ferry. Our captain, Oliver Kruess, passed along the tidbit that, in Germany, if a ferry crosses a natural waterway, it's allowed to charge for the ferry ride. If the ferry crosses an artificial waterway, the ferry must be free. (There is no end to what you can learn by just hanging out on the bridge.)
But the major factor controlling traffic speed on the Kiel Canal is the width of ships. If there is a wide ship coming through, any other wide ships must wait in one of the pull-over zones until the one with right-of-way passes. I believe that's what is happening here.
Also, the heavy container ships tend to lift at the bow and dip at the stern when under way, the degree of tilt depending on the ship speed. The Kiel Canal is 11 meters deep, and the largest ships are allowed a 9½ meter draft, so there is little margin for a tilt.
The oncoming ship passed the wooden bollards, or tie-up points, in the pull-over and kept going.
Private vessels are allowed in the canal, of course, although it takes a bit of nerve.
Note the traffic signals along the canal, just as with railroads.
There seemed to be heavier traffic within the hour.
In the above photo we've just passed under the Grünental High Bridge, one of eleven road/railroad crossings of the canal. An earlier crossing, the Rendsburg High Bridge, has a transporter for pedestrian and auto traffic suspended from a high railway bridge. Here is a photo from the Wikimedia Commons.
Eventually we approached the locks on the western end of the canal, which empty into the estuary of the Elbe River. We will be entering the lock on the far right, which already has one ship in it, and there will be another beside us.
This area is highly developed, including wind turbines to take advantage of the winds arriving from the North Sea.
Many of our tribe are out to take in the action.
The Explorer eases into the lock.
The difference between the water level in the canal and in the sea is never great; there are locks only at either end of the canal. These locks create a stable water level that isn't subject to the tides. I engaged in a debate with a few fellow gawkers about whether the ship would be lowered or raised to meet the level of the Elbe estuary -- can you guess from the above photo? -- and lowered was the correct answer. (I was right.)
Meanwhile, once the Explorer was secure in the lock, the third ship began to slide in.
When finished, it was a close fit.
The operation of locks, almost anywhere in the world, always attracts a viewing gallery.
A ship in the adjoining lock left first. Then, our lock began to open. The Hanse Courage, in front, must go first.
And then we sailed out for Amsterdam, at which we would arrive tomorrow in a misty morning. This map (courtesy of the Lindblad web site) may help put our route thus far into perspective (click to enlarge).
Having left Copenhagen the previous evening, we reached the port of Travemunde, at the mouth of the river Trave, when there was only a soft promise of sunlight in the early morning sky. Joan and I went up to the bridge to see what was up, and to enjoy the fresh pastry that Ben Lyons, in charge of the morning watch, always made sure was there to entice visitors.
The town of Lübeck, premier city of the Hanseatic League during the Middle Ages, was still 20 miles away up the Trave.
There is a mix of industrial and shipping zones, green areas, and residential zones along the river.
Our visit to Lübeck began with a canal boat cruise. There was a short transfer by zodiac from the Explorer to the canal boat dock. Because of recent rains, including this morning, the canals were brimming with water, and the tour boats couldn't squeeze under the lower bridges. At one bridge our boat backed up and we then disembarked for small group tours.
This was our first encounter with a recent innovation in communication between guides and their flock, which might easily number between one and two dozen for each guide. In our cabin on board the Explorer were two short-range radio receivers with earphones. They were not complicated; an on-off switch, volume switch, and channel selection (A/B and 1-4) were the only controls. We would each wear one around our neck. The local guide would don a microphone and transmitter loaned by a Lindblad representative, and thus the problems of traffic noise and being more than a few feet from the guide were eliminated. Each group would be on its own channel. The system worked well, but if you stopped when something caught your eye the guide might walk out of the radio's range, and you would need to scurry to catch up.
It was a rainy morning. Our first stop was the Holstentor brick gate. We would see it again, in the afternoon, in sunnier circumstances.
I couldn't resist a picture of this dragon, suspended from a building that was, happily, along our route.
We reached the market square. A shelter-house on one side allowed me to take this picture of the east side of St. Mary's church.
The town hall, or Rathaus, is on the right.
We spent some time inside St. Mary's, and I was able to practice my no-flash photography. The first effort, models of the evolution of St. Mary's church, came out fuzzy.
The church bells crashed to the floor, and much of the church burned, during the bombing in March 1942. The bells remain where they fell as a monument to war.
Here's an overview of the interior.
All the stained glass is, of course, postwar. This panel has a rendering of burning Lübeck on the bottom row.
The astronomical clock, destroyed in 1942, has been rebuilt.
The bottom dial enumerates many things, from the phases of the moon to a list of names, one per day.
Joan and I dashed over to a Gutenberg-style press demonstration in one corner of the church. Our group was leaving, so we barely said hello and then had to leave.
We also visited the Hospital of the Holy Spirit. Originally used to tend the sick, it became an almshouse and then a retirement house for the poor. All my photos come from the entrance, or "lobby" if you will.
One wall has a fresco which depicts not only angels and religious symbols, but representations of the donors who funded the building of the Hospital.
The eight-part three-dimensional scene display caught my eye.
This whimsical arm was fun to see.
Next we paused to examine one of the Lübeck alleys. In the middle centuries of the last millenium day laborers and porters lived in huts clustered in the residential courtyards and alleyways of the well-to-do, who charged them rents. The original huts no longer stand, not having been made of stone until the mid-19th Century.
One of our party accidentally brushed against a rose near the end of this alley, earning a scolding from the resident, who then slammed his door.
Our tour also included some sites for which we only had the time to walk by. One such was Willy Brandt's house, now a museum dedicated to his life and influences. (He was the chancellor of West Germany from 1969-1974, and received the 1971 Nobel Peace Prize.)
We returned to the Explorer for lunch, and as we ate the skies lightened considerably. Joan and I picked for our afternoon activity the "long walk," which would loop around the outside of the old town. We disembarked directly from the ship.
After walking a few blocks along city streets, our group began to tread a footpath following the outer canal that rings the old town. Soon we came to the Emperor's Gate.
The plaque was photographable, but just barely.
After a while we ran out of canal footpath and started down a surface street towards the old city. The sun was out, hurrah!
We crossed a canal back into the old city. The first spire is that of St. Peter's Church, and the two further on are those of Saint Mary's Church.
Here's a closer look, using my zoom.
As we swing around, there are the spires of the Holstentor Gate peeking above the trees. But what is all that clutter on the side of the bridge?
It's a love-lock bridge. Couples fasten a colorful padlock to the side of the bridge and pitch the key into the river; their love is supposed to last as long as the lock remains. Or perhaps the lock is merely a symbol: you make take your pick of the interpretations.
It was a Saturday, and this family was out for a paddle in their canoe. You can see how high the water is on the bank of the canal.
In the improved conditions an alpenhorn concert (with accordion accompaniment) was being given on the other side of the Holstentor Gate.
Joan and I returned to the Explorer, which cast off from the dock at Lübeck about an hour later. Some of the citizens waved goodbye as we passed.
Lübeck showed her face as a city of spires as we pulled further away.
We followed a smaller vessel through this raised bridge.
The Saturday tour and party ships were returning to the old city as the sun dipped lower and lower.
Including this replica harkening back to the days of the Hanseatic League.
The two pigs accompanying us on this trip, Mocha Puff and Cream Puff, watched the banks of the river Trave slide by from our cabin window.
The sun continued to set as we slowly cruised down the Trave. As we looked back, we saw the pilot boat following us, waiting until the local pilot had completed his duties and was ready to return to Lübeck.
The Explorer slid past the Passat, a four-masted bark built in 1911 and anchored here permanently since 1960. We had passed her going in, in the dark, barely visible in the center of the first photo.
And now, you will be glad to know, you've reached the final picture of this post. It summarizes the day: a glowing moon riding above a rain squall. If you click and squint, there are a couple of wind turbines near the edge of the squall.
Sometime in the night we will enter the Kiel Canal.
