Operation Thunderbolt

A sunny holiday lies ahead of us. It offers an excursion to the nearby beautiful Harz region, the minicamper is quickly packed and the little tour can begin.

We have already picked out our sleeping spot with a grand view of Nordhausen, Kyffhäuser and the South Harz on our last round. So we can enjoy our morning coffee in the warm sunshine with a dazzling blue sky - we won't forget the indispensable, vital and precious catering box again anytime soon.

The wooden steam locomotive is still missing from my stamp book and we are very curious about the highlight that awaits us. And so the hikers end up in Neustadt/Harz. The local parking lot is already bustling with activity, and the reason becomes apparent after a few meters: the internationally famous ice cream parlor, at least that's what the various license plates and the long line of masked people suggest. However, we continue up the hill. The wooden steam locomotive turns out to be exactly what the name suggests: a wooden steam locomotive where the weary hiker can take a well-deserved break with a view of the town.

Today, there is already a lot going on up here in the morning, children climb around on the structure, families have hauled their picnic baskets up, and mostly men of all ages sit in the locomotive sipping the first beer of the day. Oh yes, it's "Father's Day" - meaning men walk around and drink alcoholic beverages.

A strange custom, in my opinion. But I read that even the ancient Germans are said to have moved around the fields in spring, asked the gods for bountiful harvests, and used strengthening mead to support them.

As the day goes on, the roaming groups become more numerous. Instead of hand trolleys, backpacks are dragged along, which offer less weight with every kilometer. Friendly waves are exchanged, the mood is relaxed, even if the sun's effect on alcohol is evident here and there. Beer gardens are open here and there, and even in the distance, the hit medley - Andthisbee...belongstome...Sevenbarrels... – is clearly audible with more or less well-hitting, sung tones.

Despite all well-meaning understanding for traditions, we know from our own painful experience that extra caution is required on these days in road traffic.

Today, in Niedersachswerfen, there is an unguarded railway crossing. Large red flashing lights already make this special danger point visible from a distance. We approach slowly and now the loud warning signals are impossible to ignore.

The route belongs to the Harzquerbahn network and thus to the Harz Narrow Gauge Railways. Unfortunately, a thick steam locomotive is not running today, they are apparently still on a Corona break. But a small red railcar stops at the station, and I think it looks funny. We are delighted with the waiting pedestrians at the sight when a big white SUV comes roaring from the opposite direction, much too fast for the cobblestone pavement in the interior of the village. The red lights at the level crossing are flashing, the alarm sounds shrill, but the driver of the big vehicle seems to take no notice of it, racing towards us at full speed.

And the little red railcar leaves the station. The big white SUV races across the tracks at exactly the moment the little red railcar gains momentum! I want to close my eyes because a real disaster is imminent, but I can't; they're wide open with horror! However, the railcar's conductor reacts in no time and reduces the speed of her vehicle, unlike the driver of the big white SUV who pushes the pedal to the metal. Luckily! The railcar driver pulls the compressor-operated foghorn rope, releasing a deafening honk and apparently sweeping the audacious car off the tracks.

Pheeew! We stand by the tracks and everyone exhales noisily. That was a really close call! The pedestrians and we look at each other with eyes still wide open and try to digest the shock. A holiday doesn't have to end like this. Thanks to the great railcar conductor for her vigilant and damn quick reaction!

We start our journey home with weak knees and now we are both extra vigilant. Maybe we should enjoy the next sunny holiday on our own safe terrace?