Crash in the Solling!

A sunny and warm October weekend is announced and why not seize the opportunity to hang the Château and venture into the green?

We decide on the beautiful Solling, where extensive mixed forests promise colorful autumn colors, red apples shine on the roadside trees and even a flea market entices.
We already know a spot for the caravan, so we set off on a small journey on Friday evening.

When we arrive, it is already dark and gentle fog fields envelop the landscape in a mystical atmosphere, Grimms fairy-tale flair lingers in the clear air. And faster than expected, we have already passed the right access to our place for the night.

Now it's time to turn around again. With the caravan on board, a simple maneuver can quickly turn into a bigger adventure. But in the next village we discover a signpost to a hiking parking lot. Unfortunately, it turns out to be much too steep as a place for the night, I estimate the incline to be about 8%. So turn around and back to the original destination.

The smooth surface that the Kangoo is now heading for with a large turning circle seems fatally only superficially flat and solid. Quite abundant rain in the last two days has transformed the ground in front of the newly built community center into a muddy swamp. And before we realize it, the front wheels have plunged into the sludge, splashing mud in all directions and getting stuck!

What didn't happen once in the nine wonderful and relaxing summer trips is now happening here, in the fabulous fairy-tale world of the northern German Solling, quite quickly cruel reality. Dislodging the heavy stuck lair always requires indescribable fingertip and toe sensitivity, with the Château in tow, the world looks even muddier.

So the first thing is to uncouple the caravan and push it into the parking space behind it.
It doesn't work, it goes uphill.
The Château is actually lightweight, but the two of us have no chance of pushing the vehicle up the hump.

Then downhill! With the drawbar down and rolling bit by bit, pull the handbrake, then let it roll again. Sounds serious, it is. I immediately get scolded for not standing behind the car. Yesss - the master is always right!

After some rolling and braking, the caravan is far enough away from the car so that it can be maneuvered out of the mud. And with the usual back and forth swaying, the Kangoo is back on solid ground pretty quickly.

So far, so good. Now the caravan is facing the wrong direction and needs to be turned around so that it can be hitched again. To make matters worse, there is a parked car in the way and it has to be cleverly avoided without causing any dents. With the brake-roll technique, the Château comes to a stop in the gap next to the car. Now the vehicle needs to reverse and go downhill to be able to dock to the Kangoo. So roll again and pull the brake.

But oh no, oh no, oh no, hook spider and crossbill, my goodness! I cover my face with my hands, I can't watch the drama. In my mind's eye, I see our rolling home plunging into the raging waters of the Helle, being carried away by the wild masses of water, and sending a sad farewell with the drawbar before it too sinks into the icy cold water. And as I now realize with horror, the whole travel gang is being dragged along, who cheerfully took up their adventure spot with a view in the Château at the beginning of the journey! Panic seizes me, the inability to think and the impossibility to act paralyze my whole body.

Just in this terrible moment, a huge crash, crunching and creaking tears me out of the cruel nightmare. I can hardly believe my open eyes: the caravan has come to a stop just before the abyss! But oh woe, not on its own. Upon closer inspection, a massive, powerful boulder overgrown with green moss reveals itself as an unyielding, merciless and stubborn brake. The slope is so steep and additionally wet and slippery that it is almost impossible to get back onto the paved path after the inspection. The drawbar reaches high into the dark sky, immersed in mist.

Now take a deep breath. Fortunately, I have a constantly available problem solver and a perpetually cool-headed keeper. Without him, I would have long been desperate, hopeless, and broken, following the caravan into the abyss.

Zappa fetches the tow rope from the car, skillfully ties it to the drawbar, while I can at least contribute to the rescue with the flashlight of my mobile phone, providing light. Now the Kangoo has to do its duty.

After some pulling and tugging, crashing, crunching, creaking, and other terribly sounding noises, the master and his car succeed in pulling the Château out of the deep abyss and freeing it from the clutches of the Ice Age monster.

Finally, the brake blocks can be placed under the wheels and behold, the caravan no longer rolls downhill. Maneuvering the trailer hitch in the end still suspended drawbar that still protrudes into the black sky almost feels like child's play.

After an hour, we have completed the turning maneuver and can happily, tired, and for my part, emotionally stirred up and at the end of all exposed nerves, bed down at our original destination for the night.

The Château now has another hole in the already crumbling facade, but the damage is not as bad as the bursting sound initially suggested. To the existing maintenance backlog, another maintenance measure has now been added. We congratulate ourselves once again on the decision to stick with the good old one and not invest in a new mobile home. Currently, the excursions are simply too adventurous.

In any case, in the future, I will no longer carve pumpkins at the end of October, but will sacrifice myself to the stones of the last Ice Age, because without a boulder, the Château would have sunk forever into the floods of the Helle.