Retired: The E4 And 700 Shinkansen

The CFTR's steam train

In a serious rain shower, the Chemin de Fer Touristique du Rhin's train stops at Volgelsheim station, where the association that maintains the line has its museum. The train itself is made up of former Austrian carriages built in the 1920s with what I suspect were 2nd and 3rd class seating.

The locomotive is a T3 tender built around 1900 at Graffenstaden, just South of Strasbourg, for the Alsace-Lorraine Railways. At the time, the region was under Imperial German control, hence the Eagle logo and German inscription "Elsaß-Lothringen" above the number. The association has two of these, nicknamed Berthold and Theodor. These are supported by small Diesel engines; on our trip, one of these hauled the train to the depot, where the extent of the association's work is on display. The active engines are maintained here, while others are being restored.

Peut-être un jour? - To run again one day?

The town of Breisach, on the other side of the Rhine and therefore in Germany, is visible, and a boat carries passengers across the river from near the depot.

Update: Moulin Rouge has got new sails, and celebrated with some French cancan in the street.

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Le moulin rouge du Moulin Rouge a perdu ses pales!

Was going to take a break from posting today, but we had a bit of breaking news out of Paris: the famous cabaret Moulin Rouge's red windmill has lost its sails! They fell off at around 2 in the morning apparently, cause unknown. No injuries.

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Towers and trains at Oberwesel

Downstream from Bacharach and Kaub seen in the most recent posts, Oberwesel is a gorgeous town on the left-hand side of the Rhine, with many of its medieval walls and towers still standing. The railway was built alongside these walls near the river, and even goes between two towers, the Katzenturm (left) and Ochsenturm (right). Add the hills in the background, and it is certainly a spectacular train spot.

Here is another tower, the Haagsturm, in a view from the station platforms. (I just got off that train and failed to position myself in time to get the sign out of the way bottom left.) The two trains shown were the only types visible that day, as the intercity traffic was diverted to the other side of the river via Wiesbaden.

Further from the river, another section of town walls and towers runs through the hills. In the centre of the picture above, taken from the short but steep Elfenlay trail, is the Kuhhirtenturm (with raised drawbridge), with St Martin's Church rising behind it.

Oh alright, have a wider view from the Elfenlay.

I'm a bit low on inspiration and time today (work starting to pile up), so here's a train in the snow from the recent trip to Mulhouse and Thann. The train itself is a bi-mode Regiolis B84500 set, waiting at Mulhouse as the Sun sets.

The best timepiece in the world (IMO): Strasbourg Cathedral's Astronomical Clock

I could go on about this thing for ages. There's so much history, so many symbols to spot, and so much information on display... This is going to be a long one.

I guess I'll start with the artistic aspect on which I have the least to say because it's the least up my alley. There's loads of mythology and Christian symbolism going on on this 18-metre tall monument, and these are the main draw for the general public, because they move around.

Like cuckoo clocks in neighbouring Schwarzwald, this astronomical clock has automatons. Every quarter hour, the lower level of the photo above sees a change of "age": a child, a young man, an adult and an old man take turns to be in the presence of Death, whose bells toll on the hour. At high noon, the upper level also moves, with the 12 disciples passing before Christ, and the rooster at the very top crows.

Moving on to what really makes me tick: the amount of information on this clock is incredible. The time, obviously, but actually two times are on display on the clock at the bottom of the picture above: solar time and official time. Given Strasbourg's position in the time zone, there is a 30-minute discrepancy between the two. Then there's all the astronomical stuff, like the phase of the Moon (just visible at the top), the position of the planets relative to the Sun (middle of the picture), a celestial globe at the base (pictures below, on the right)...

The main feature behind the celestial globe is another clock displaying solar time, with the position of the Sun and Moon (with phases) relative to the Earth, sunrise and sunset times, surrounded by a yearly calendar dial. These have remarkable features, such as the Moon hand that extends and retracts, making eclipses noticeable, and the calendar has a small dial that automatically turns to place the date of Easter at the start of each year. This sounds easy, but look up the definition of Easter and note that this clock is mechanical, no electronic calculating power involved! Either side of the base, the "Ecclesiastic Computer" and the "Solar and Lunar Equations" modules work the gears behind these features.

The accuracy of this clock and its ambition for durability are truly remarkable. Relative to modern atomic time, it would only need adjusting by 1 second every 160 years, and it correctly manages leap years (which is not as simple as "every 4 years"). It just needs winding up once a week.

Finally, the history. The monumental clock was built in the 16th century, and used the calendar dial above, now an exhibit in Strasbourg's city history museum. It slowly degraded until the mid-19th century, when Jean-Baptiste Schwilgué restored the base and upgraded the mechanisms. The "dartboard" on the old dial contained information like the date of Easter, whether it is a leap year, which day of the week the 1st January is... - all of which had to be calculated by hand before the dial was installed! - and was replaced by the Ecclesiastic Computer, which freed up the centre space for the big 24-hour clock, complete with Solar and Lunar Equations.

As you may have gathered, I am a massive fan of this clock. Of course, nowadays, all the imagery and information would easily fit into a smart watch, but a smart watch isn't 18 metres tall and powered by gravity and gears!

"Stick an aircraft engine in it" part 2b - the TGV

"Wait, the TGV's electric, right?", I hear you say. You're not wrong: all TGVs in commercial service since 1981 have been electric. But this is the 1972 prototype TGV, and back then, those initials stood for Turbotrain à Grande Vitesse, continuing the development cycle of trains with helicopter engines that had already been introduced on intercity services with the RTG.

This prototype would set the standard of what French high speed rail would become: articulated units of carriages between two power cars, and the distinctive, iconic orange livery I wish they would have kept around in some capacity. The train regularly ran over 300 km/h, peaking at 318 km/h in Southwestern France in December 1972. The difference, of course, is that TGV 001 was equipped with four helicopter-derived gas turbines, two in each power car. As the oil crises hit before the production TGV was properly defined, SNCF were able to redesign the project around electric power in time for the 1980s.

After 15 years of service as a test mule, the train was due to be scrapped, but fortunately the two power cars avoided that fate. Their interiors were gutted, but the cars were saved and put on display as monuments to their builders, Alsthom, at Belfort and Bischheim (North suburb of Strasbourg). UNfortunately, they've been put by the motorway of all places, at both sites, so visiting them isn't very pleasant. At least at Bischheim, there is a footpath on the bridge over the motorway and railway yard, so it's possible to take one's time and get some decent views of the machine that started it all.

Hello! I just saw your post about the conference. I know it's very niche, but I'd love to hear / read more about your sangaku presentation. I actually went back to Konnō Hachiman-gū this afternoon, hoping to see more examples, but no such luck. (I cannot decipher them, of course, but I taught English at a faculty of engineering, and my students could. Sometimes. )

I'll put together something about the shrine, but どうぞお先に。Nudge nudge hint hint.

Hi, thanks for the message!

The presentation was in two main parts: first the historical context of the Edo period and function of sangaku in developing mathematics during that time, and second a closer look at Kashihara Miminashi Yamaguchi-jinja's example with a modern solution. I can't read the sangaku in full, but I have been able to pick out the parts with numbers and compare some of their results with the formulas.

I can probably put together a mini-series at some point. Which parts would you want to hear more about? (That's a general question btw: anyone can reply and add the conversation of course.)

Back to the Arzviller-Henridorff lock ladder

I took my own advice and returned to Arzviller to walk the full section of closed canal. It turns out the upper part is less overgrown and more active than the lower end. I'd only gone from the bottom lock, n°17, up to lock n°14 (under the railway bridge) at the time.

Starting from the top, the house at lock n°2 is a crêperie restaurant, while lock n°4 is a gîte complete with a private fishing pier. I counted four lock houses with some form of art going (n°2, 10, 13 and 15). The other lock houses are more or less well-maintained residences. There are no houses standing at locks n°14 and 17.

The Vallée des Éclusiers, or Lock-keepers' Valley, is well worth the wander. The quickest is either to drive there or cycle from Lutzelbourg station. But more on the logistics tomorrow - for now, let's enjoy lock n°9, probably the most dramatic on the route.

When I have the inspiration, I stage an Easter Bunny Massacre. Also it's April Fools' Day, so I wanted to post something funny. Lacking inspiration at the moment, I looked back at a previous Easter weekend.

Koishikawa Kôrakuen in the summer

This is my favourite park in the city and I've now seen it in three of four seasons, including exactly one year ago. As August in Tokyo goes, it was very muggy and overcast, and as soon as I touched the ticket, it started raining. As I hadn't entered, the person at the ticket office offered a refund, but this was my last day in Japan so if it was going to be a wet visit, so be it.

I did shelter for a bit as the rain was rather heavy, and it proved to be a shower, so it was mostly dry during the walk through the park. Well, I say "dry", but the air was horrifically humid, I was getting just as wet when it was raining than when it wasn't! And when the Sun peeked out, wow did it burn!

Through all of this, this one heron seemed to be chilling in the middle of the main pond. Heron? Hero, more like!

After the tour, I went to the Kantoku-tei tea house for some respite, a katsu meal, some tea... and a change of shirt!