Operation Königswinter

We were planning on catching a tram to the Rhine town of Königswinter today before heading out of the Bonn area for good but the Missus' Achilles is creating walking problems so we're giving it a miss.

Ashame really, I was looking forward to soaking up the history of the river town of 41,000 souls across the Rhine from the UN campus in Bonn.

Königswinter nestles at the foot of the Siebengebirge or Seven Hills, a small mountain range made famous by a hotel and a dragon.

The hotel, Petersburg, is the official state guesthouse of the Bundesrepublik and sits mid-range in the Siebengebirge. It has received most of the world's heads of state and royalty too including Queen Elizabeth II. After WWII it was the base for the Allies High Commission until the early Fifties. It is open to the public.

The Dragon I mentioned is the one atop or within the final mountain, Drachenfels. There are many legends surrounding this imposing edifice and how the dragon was smote. Today many visitors reach the castle ruin at the top via a small railway and can enjoy a Gaffel bier in the restaurant.

There is also a second castle on the mountains flank, Schloss Drachenfels and appears, like Neuschwanstein, as if it belongs in a fairy tale.

Sportier travellers can walk the whole seven hills on the long distance path, the Rheinsteig.

Below these ancient peaks lies Königswinter on the riverbank. For me it's most endearing feature is the fact that John Le Carre lived there in the 1960's and dreamt up his global bestsellers whilst commuting to and from the Embassy he worked at undercover for MI6 across the Rhine in Bonn, then the Capital of West Germany. It was here he no doubt contemplated perhaps his most famous tale of espionage, The Spy Who Came in from The Cold.

Le Carre was my Dad's favourite author and my parents' bookshelves contained many a novel. I remember Smiley's People the most clearly abutted by Jack Higgins' The Eagle has Landed 

And so Operation Königswinter was not to be, a dossier left closed so to speak, gathering dust already.

Currently we are wending our way along iron tracks towards the great cities of the Rhine-Ruhr: Cologne, it's vast twin-towered Cathedral housing the golden reliquary of the Magi; Düsseldorf, the most affluent Rhine Metropole; Dortmund, with its footballing Borrussia; Essen, the industrial powerhouse and Duisburg, with its massive inland harbour.

My personal favourite is Bochum, a smaller University city, deep in the old mining area of the Ruhrgebiet and home to the national mining museum in the same way our home town of Wakefield is. 

Bochum is famous for it's fine Currywurst outlets in the city centre's Bermuda Triangle area. It's working roots of toil and coal have been immortalised by perhaps it's most famous son, Herbert Grönemeyer in his homesick Anthem, Bochum.

You can hear it's opening verse rising skywards from the voices of thousands of loyal football fans on match days as they worship the city's team, VfL, my Parents-in-Law's favourite.

I can hear them now chanting in their seats, 'Tief in Westen wo die Sonne verstaubt!'

Deep in the West where the sun dusts over.

I wonder if Le Carre would have used that line?