Between Bad Schussenried and Ochsenhausen
“Auf de schwäbsche Eisebahne
gibt´s gar viele Haltstatione,
Schtuegert, Ulm und Biberach, Meckebeure, Durlesbach.
Rulla, rulla, rulllala, rulla, rulla, rulllala,
Schtuegert, Ulm und Biberach, Meckebeure, Durlesbach”
(“On the Swabian railway
there are many stops,
Stuttgart, Ulm and Biberach, Meckebeure, Durlesbach.
Rulla, rulla, rulllala, rulla, rulla, rulllala,
Stuttgart, Ulm and Biberach, Meckebeure, Durlesbach”)
ICE 4 ready for departure in Munich Hbf
"On the Swabian Railway" is a popular folk song that simultaneously satirizes the backwardness of the South German transport system and the naiveté of its rural users. It likely originated after the opening of the first Württemberg railway line, running from Heilbronn via Stuttgart and Ulm to Friedrichshafen, in 1850. All the stations mentioned in the first verse are located along this line.
Ulm Hbf
After a pleasant and uneventful ICE train ride from Munich, I have to change trains in Ulm to get to Biberach. The train station in Ulm is large, yet too small. Many platforms are double-booked with trains departing in both directions. The signage is unclear. But the trains run frequently, and I'm in no hurry. In Ulm, the German state of Baden-Württemberg begins, and the difference to neighboring Bavaria, the "Bahnland Bayern" (the railway state) is immediately apparent. A lot of self appraisal is always suspicious. Instead of Bavarian platitudes, action has ruled here, I think.
"Biberach" is synonymous with the Swabian town. Biberach has existed since at least 1083 and was an Imperial City from the 13th century onward. The town became wealthy in the 14th century through weaving. Several medieval weavers' houses are still preserved in the old town. There are lots of other historic buildings, and a small section of the former city wall, including a tower and gate, remains. Most buildings have been meticulously restored and painted white. I doubt these buildings were ever white originally, and if they were, certainly not so clinically pristine. The German meticulousness has robbed the otherwise welcome renovation of the old town's historic buildings of much of their charm. At least they're covering the streets with old fashioned cobblestones and restricting car traffic.
As a consequence of the Reichsdeputationshauptschluss (Final Recess of the Imperial Deputation), Biberach became part of Baden in 1802. However, it was soon exchanged by Württemberg. The railway first ran from Ravensburg to Biberach in 1849. I want to go to Bad Schussenried. It's only a few train stops further south, but there's also a bus connection, albeit a slow one. Since the train station is 2 km from the town center, I would have preferred to take the bus. At the bus station, I ask around for information about the bus because the display board isn't working. Nobody knows anything; they look as if I've asked them for a way to the moon. I decide to take the next train after all.
Auf de schwäbsche Eisebahne
gibt es viele Restauratione,
wo ma esse, trinke ka,
alles, was de Magen ma…
(On the Swabian railway,
there are many restaurants
where you can eat, drink,
find everything your stomach desires.)
On the platform-side facade, there's a large sign that says "Grüß Gott in Bad Schussenried" (Greetings from Bad Schussenried). However, there's no longer a station restaurant at Bad Schussenried station. Instead, there's a huge parking lot, a large furniture store, and—a little further on—a liquor store.
Württemberg was one of the German states that built narrow-gauge railways to connect smaller communities to the rail network. Formerly, the Schussenried station (Bad was added in 1966 to Schussenried), located far from the town, was the starting point of the 29-km-long Federsee Railway to Bad Buchau and Riedlingen, which, like most Royal Württemberg narrow-gauge railways, had a 750 mm gauge.
Passenger service on the Federsee Railway was always infrequent. It was discontinued beyond Buchau as early as 1960, and along the entire line in 1964. However, since the industry in Bad Schussenried needed to continue to be served, freight traffic continued there until 1970. Afterward, the line was even converted to standard gauge. But in 2002, freight service on this branch line also came to an end.
Since no trains are running and there is no bus in sight at Bad Schussenried station, I have to walk through the desolate landscape along the busy main road towards the town center.
The biggest attraction in Bad Schussenried is the monastery, founded in 1183. Originally a Premonstratensian abbey, construction began in the 18th century to replace the old monastery complex with a new Baroque building. Since secularization led to the dissolution of the monastery in 1802/03, only three of the planned four wings were completed. However, these three are impressive enough. The entrance building with its gate dates back to the monastery's early days.
After secularization, the monastery became the residence of the Counts of Sternberg-Manderscheid. In 1835 the complex was sold to the Kingdom of Württemberg. The Wilhelmshütte ironworks was built on part of the site in 1840, and next door, in 1875, a Royal Sanatorium and Nursing Home was established, which later became the Center for Psychiatry. Whether the proximity of a steelworks was particularly beneficial for the patients is not passed on.
Today, the most spectacular sight in the monastery is the Baroque library. The bookcases were arranged over two floors, lavishly decorated with figures in the Rococo style. Ceilings and walls are adorned with Baroque frescoes. However, the originally extensive collection of artworks and books was sold after the dissolution of the monastery and is now lost.
Parts of the monastery church date back to the original Romanesque building from around 1230. Later, it was first Gothicized and then Baroquesized according to the prevailing taste. Today, the church serves as a Catholic parish church.
Despite the later Baroque alterations, the church still contains medieval Gothic sculptures. The richly decorated Baroque choir stalls made of linden wood, dating from 1715–1717, are more recent but remarkable for their iconography. The reliefs on the bases depict the vain world of plants, animals, and human vices. The sides of the stalls show people in everyday scenes. In the dorsal panels of the two rear rows are reliefs framed by statues of twenty-four male and four female founders of religious orders or saints.
Their original remains are displayed in the reliquaries of the side chapels. There, skulls seem to smile invitingly at the visitor as their rich garments slowly crumble to dust from the skeletons. However, the skeletons are merely props for relics said to be of the catacomb saints Vincent and Valentine. The interior of the church is described in detail in the corresponding, very recommended Wikipedia article.
The Baroque convent building is now used as an event and exhibition space. The latest exhibition was dedicated to the Peasants' War in 1925. The wealth of the monasteries, including the Schussenried monastery, was based in part on serfdom, forced labor, and the taxation of their peasants. Understandable discontent ultimately led to a bloody uprising in 1525. The area around Biberach was one of the early centers of the revolt. Twelve thousand peasants are said to have gathered here and risen up. On March 29, 1525, the rebellious peasants stormed Schussenried Abbey. The archives were ransacked, books destroyed, and food supplies plundered. The abbot at the time, Johannes Wittmayer, escaped the attack by taking refuge in the church tower after fleeing through a hidden passage.
The Peasants' War spread from southern Germany to large parts of Thuringia, Saxony, Franconia, Tyrol, and Switzerland. During the war, the leaders drew up a list of demands reminiscent of an original version of the Declaration of the Rights of Man. Castles, palaces, and monasteries were destroyed before the uprising was crushed by the rulers in the south in 1525 and in the other parts of the country in 1526. An estimated 70,000 people lost their lives.
The Wilhelmshütte ironworks, built in 1840 on the secularized monastery grounds, was the last ironworks in Württemberg to remain in operation until 1998. It produced cast iron. Operating the ironworks was likely one of the reasons why the converted railway line continued to run for several more years. Its last freight customer, however, was a gravel pit at the end of the line.
However, as late as the summer of 2003, a shuttle train service between the monastery and the train station was reinstated for an earlier exhibition at Bad Schussenried Monastery. Recently, the Biberach district has even begun discussing the possibility of reopening the line between the train station and the town center. The tracks still exist as far as the monastery courtyard. And in Bad Buchau, the Württemberg narrow-gauge locomotive 99 637 of the Tssd series has been erected as a monument to the former small railway.
The bus schedules in the Biberach district have been successfully kept secret from Google. However, I discover a timetable at the bus stop near the monastery entrance. The irregularly running bus number 27 should soon take me to Biberach without me having to walk along the main road for more than 20 minutes to the train station again. There's even a shelter at the bus stop where a few social misfits have gathered. They aren't waiting for the bus but are smoking shag and passing the time by staring at the endless, smelly line of cars inching past.
„Auf de schwäbsche Eisebahne
braucht ma keine Postillione,
was uns sonst das Posthorn blies,
pfeifet jetzt die Lokomotiv…“
("On the Swabian railway,
we don't need postilions anymore;
that the post horn used to blow,
the locomotive now whistles...")
Of course, no locomotive has whistled in the center of Bad Schussenried for a long time either. What used to be a sound produced by the postilion blowing a horn, or by the locomotive whistling or ringing a bell, is now produced electrically by horns. While people complain about the noise of a locomotive, drivers consider it stylish and use it not only as a warning but also on every other occasion, such as greetings, farewells, expressions of joy (for example, at weddings), or anger. Apparently, everyone knows everyone here. Drivers in Schussenried make frequent use of their horns.
In the morning Biberach is even on the route of an international railjet
Next to me at the bus stop sits a woman with a blue helmet and an electric scooter. She eats her lunch from plastic containers and offers me homemade dolmades. She wears the helmet because she recently had an accident. The scars are still visible on her face. She's actually on her way to the train station; she lives in a town 30 km west of Ulm. She's just stopped here for a break because she knows the other man, who's also staring at the cars, a Turk
Entrance to waiting room, Biberach station
Her husband, Murat, was also Turkish. Murat was a truck driver. He drove all over Germany and neighboring countries, and she accompanied him. She wasn't there when he died. At the age of 52, he felt unwell in his cab. He managed to call for help, but by the time they arrived, he was already dead. She has twins, who are now 25 years old. She no longer sees her own children. He was a Muslim and a good man, she says. On her way home, she has to pick up meat in Ulm for the Muslim celebration of Eid al-Adha. She is apparently still integrated into the Muslim community.
Looking for a restaurant, I walk through the pretty, sterile old town of Biberach. It's hot and humid. A cold beer in a garden would be nice right now. I ask at a restaurant's outdoor seating area if there's a free table, but everything is reserved. The Ente restaurant also has a garden, theoretically. But it's closed due to staff shortages. There's still space inside, though. The food is good, the service friendly and attentive despite the staff shortages, and the atmosphere is quiet and pleasant. At the next table, a large group gathers around an old man. He's hard of hearing, but everyone hangs on his every word as he recounts his life story. He seems to have worked in the film industry. He speaks dreamily of the quirks of famous acquaintances, directors, actors, and those who wished they were.
I retreat to my hotel room. There's a balcony where I can use the last light to read. As darkness falls, it begins to rain. When I try to continue reading on the bed, I drop my book. I'm asleep by 9.
The hotel has an excellent breakfast buffet. There are only a few guests. I secretly pack a sandwich and a boiled egg for lunch in my backpack. Then I head to the nearby train station.
I arrive at the station 15 minutes before the train to neighboring Warthausen, just a few kilometers away, departs and buy a ticket from the machine. When I get to the platform, I hear an announcement that the 9:38 train was cancelled due to an unexpected staff shortage. I am annoyed that I had bought the ticket – the machine had displayed the 9:38 connection, and I had selected it when I bought it. There was no indication of a cancellation. The unexpected staff shortage must have occurred very suddenly. Did the staff jump off the moving train in despair just before Biberach, or desert out of frustration at the last station? Or is the machine simply poorly programmed?
In any case, it was fortunate that I had discovered earlier that a bus to Warthausen was supposed to leave from the adjacent bus station at 9:44 or 9:45. However, the display still doesn't work properly, so nobody knows which bus platform it's departing from. Inexplicably, instead of the destination, the bus itself displays the name of the bus company that operates it. Further research of the addresses at the various bus platforms reveals that a bus to Warthausen could depart shortly from both platform 15 or platform 13, which, conveniently, is located at the far opposite end of the bus station. A bus is indeed waiting at platform 15. The driver has vanished. The destination sign reads "Ertl Bus." Eventually, a driver actually appears, confirms that he is indeed going to Warthausen, lets me board with my train ticket, and then drives off immediately. It's a good thing I happened to be standing in the right place.
In 1899, the Royal Württemberg State Railway opened another narrow-gauge railway with a track gauge of 750 mm from Warthausen to Ochsenhausen. The following year, the line was extended by 3.24 km to 22.22 km to the district capital of Biberach. The railway was inaugurated with two Mallet locomotives of the Tssd type. Initially, two pairs of passenger trains and one mixed train (GmP), a freight train that also carried passengers, ran daily. In addition to narrow-gauge freight cars, standard-gauge cars were also transported on so-called „Rollböcke“, transporter bougies. For this purpose, there were two pits in Warthausen over which the standard-gauge freight cars could be pushed onto the narrow-gauge underframes. There was also a ramp that allowed narrow-gauge vehicles to be pushed onto a transport wagon for transport on the main line to other narrow-gauge railways or the central workshops.
Everything – the ramp, the transport bougies, and the pits for transferring the standard-gauge wagons onto the transporter wagons – is still present in Warthausen. A loading gauge, used to determine whether the load was too large for the loading gauge, and the weighbridge building have also been reconstructed.
Between the elevated standard-gauge track, where the freight wagons were positioned, lies the narrow-gauge track, where the transporter bougies could be pushed under the standard-gauge wagons. By hand, the transfer forks on the transporter bougies, which gripped the axles of the freight wagons, had to be unfolded. A spindle allowed the transfer forks to be closed around the standard-gauge axle like a pair of pliers. The standard-gauge freight wagon could then be pushed over the sloping end of the standard-gauge track and lowered onto the transporter bougie. Initially, long coupling rods served as the connection between the narrow-gauge locomotive and the first transporter bougie; from 1960 onward, so-called "buffer wagons" were used. They have couplings for the narrow-gauge locomotive and buffers and couplings with which the standard-gauge wagons could be directly coupled.
Later, when the transport of animals in jacked wagons was also permitted, these wagons were always very unpopular with the shunters at Warthausen station. To achieve a good selling weight for the animals, many farmers gave their cattle a good drink shortly before selling them. During the journey, the animals would then relieve themselves in the wagon. To unhook the wagons, the shunters had to crawl underneath them to fold down the drive forks of the jacks. Given the streams of liquid manure coming from above, this was certainly not a pleasant task. When a circus performed in Ochsenhausen in the 1920s, the elephant wagon was brought there. Since elephants unfortunately have the habit of constantly swaying back and forth, the transport was initially considered impossible on the high and narrow transporter bougies. Since elephants stand still during feeding, the solution was eventually found in feeding them continuously with loaves of bread during the journey. Four-axle wagons were also transported, for example, four-axle tank cars weighing 90 tons.
On March 31, 1983, the last freight train ran between Ochsenhausen and Warthausen. Around 14,000 tons were transported annually at the end. Almost 90% of this was goods from the Liebherr Household Appliances GmbH company in Ochsenhausen. Three men were sufficient for operation. Until the end, the two diesel locomotives 251 902 and 251 903, two buffer cars, and 66 transporter bougies were available. Other railways in Germany, for example in Saxony, used so-called "roller wagons," very low-profile flatcars onto which the standard-gauge wagon could be pushed directly. The advantage was significantly faster loading and unloading. The higher center of gravity and greater weight of the wagon were disadvantages.
90 ton tank car to be loaded on narrow gauge boogies
In 1906, the facilities in Warthausen were expanded, and the station building, which still stands today, was constructed. By 1914, four locomotives were already needed for operation. After the First World War, when operations were taken over by the German Reichsbahn, the volume of traffic at Ochsenhausen station was so high that a separate freight yard was built before the terminus.
Little shunting engines like this one used to be present in all german stations with freight traffic
The German Reichsbahn ensured that the complex Tssd Mallet locomotives were soon replaced by Saxon VIk-type locomotives. These locomotives, built between 1918 and 1927, remained in service on the Öchsle Railway until 1964, and the last one with the DB (German Federal Railway), 99 651, was not retired until 1969. This locomotive and a newer sister locomotive from 1927, along with a Tssd locomotive, can still be seen on the Öchsle Railway today.
Saxonian VIk engine delivered new to the Öchsle railway
In 1964, passenger traffic on the railway succumbed to the competition from bus services and private car use. Consequently, the narrow-gauge railway parallel to the mainline between Biberach and Warthausen was closed and dismantled. Freight traffic, however, increased to Ochsenhausen. The Liebherr refrigerator factory, in particular, generated considerable activity, and there were also private sidings to serve at three other stations along the line. The VIk series locomotives were replaced by V51.9 series diesel locomotives in 1964. However, steam locomotives remained in service as backups until 1969.
The staff running the historic engine
When the railway line became so dilapidated in 1983 that operations ceased, a gauge conversion was considered due to the heavy freight traffic. However, dismantling the line then became a real threat. As early as 1985, a group of interested parties formed, committed to continuing operations as a heritage railway. This required overcoming a tangle of bureaucratic hurdles, which over time led to several suspensions of museum operations and the loss of the original rolling stock. In 2001, the Öchsle Railway Company was founded. The company consists of the Biberach district, the local municipalities, and the tourism association. Although operations continue to run at a loss, heritage trains operate every summer on Thursdays, Sundays, and some Saturdays.
Engine running around the train in Ochsenhausen, in the background the shed
For its operation, the Öchsle Railway acquired a new, yet old, Class 99.77 steam locomotive from Deutsche Bahn in Saxony for 500,000 DM. Deutsche Bahn, much to its dismay, had to take over a large number of narrow-gauge railways in eastern Germany after reunification and find reasons to close them down. Between 1952 and 1957, the former Deutsche Reichsbahn of the GDR had built 24 locomotives for the narrow-gauge railways in Saxony. Externally, however, they are identical to the locomotives ordered before World War II as Class 99.73-76 by the original Reichsbahn. These heavy locomotives had never previously been used in Württemberg. In addition to its fleet of two Class VIk steam locomotives, the Tssd 99 633, the diesel locomotive V51 903, and two other diesel locomotives, the Öchsle Railway has also built up a wonderful collection of other historical equipment.
When I arrive by bus, the Öchsle train, pulled by the modern locomotive from the Karl Marx locomotive works, is already there. Despite the dubious weather, the train, consisting of seven four-axle and three two-axle carriages, is quite full. A few people have even taken to the open-top convertible carriage. All the carriages are perfectly restored, inside and out.
The train slowly sets off on its nearly hour-long journey. Rows of bushes, small woods, and the typical onion dome steeples of the baroque churches still hint at the bucolic originality of the local landscape. But otherwise, the systematic, profit-driven destruction of historical landscapes, buildings, and infrastructure, so common in Germany, has taken its toll here as well.
Small-scale farming has been replaced by large, mechanized fields of industrial agriculture. And you can consider yourself lucky if the greenery around you hasn't disappeared under photovoltaic panels. Old farmhouses have vanished, replaced by machine sheds and ugly housing developments. In the small towns and villages, historic buildings have been brutally renovated without sense for tradition or demolished; surfaces are paved, brick has been replaced with concrete, and hedges with cheap wire fences that require no maintenance. Concrete boxes with palm trees adorn the barren parking lots, framed by enormous billboards and faceless so-called consumer markets. Every unevenness in the surface is secured by at least one railing. The streets are deserted. Only cars populate the asphalt.
From the train, you can see into the gardens. Children lead a hidden live where there's a trampoline; next to almost every other house, there's a camper van to escape the desolation; if they don't have children, they buy a convertible.
I unpack my lunch: a boiled egg and a sandwich I'd helped myself to from the hotel buffet. But the hotel has taken its revenge; the egg is squashed, and the yolk jelly has spilled into the plastic bag and all over the sandwich. As I carefully put it in my mouth, the shards of eggshell crunch between my teeth.
„Auf de schwäbsche Eisebahne
wollt´ amal a Bäurle fahre,
geht an Schalter lupft de Hut:
"Oi Billetle, seid so gut !"…
("On the Swabian railway,
a farmer once wanted to ride,
went to the ticket window, tipped his hat:
"One ticket, if you please!"...)
Eine Geiß hat er sich kaufet
und dass sie ihm nit entlaufet,
bindet sie de gute Ma
hinte an de Wage a…
(„He bought himself a goat,
and so that it wouldn't run away,
the good man tied it
to the back of the wagon...)
"Böckli, tu nur woidle springe,
`s Futter wird i dir schon bringe."
Setzt sich zu seimn Weibl na
und brennts Tabackspfeifle a…
("Little goat, just jump around,
I'll bring you your food."
He sat down next to his wife
and lit his tobacco pipe...)
Auf de nächste Statione,
wo er will sein Böckle hole,
findt er nur noch Kopf und Soil
an dem hintre Wagentoil…
(„At the next station,
where he wanted to get his goat,
he found only the head and rope
at the back of the wagon...)
Da kriegt er en große Zorne,
nimmt den Kopf mitsamt dem Horne,
schmeißt en, was er schmeiße ka,
dem Konduktör an Schädel na...
(„Then he got very angry,
took the head along with the horn,
and threw it as hard as he could,
at the conductor's head…“)
"So, du kannst den Schade zahle,
warum bischt so schnell gefahre!
Du allein bischt Schuld daran,
dass i d´Gois verlaure ha !"
("So, you can pay for the damage,
why did you go so fast?
... You alone are to blame for
losing the goats!“)
As early as 1851, a caricature of a man with a Yiddish accent, presumably a Jewish cattle dealer, appeared in the Düsseldorf Monthly Magazine. He was depicted tying a calf to the back of a train to save on transport costs. Thrift, or its extreme form, avarice, is a common trait attributed to the Swabians in the rest of Germany. Today, no one would even consider taking their livestock, even a chicken, on a train. Livestock transport in freight cars has also disappeared; the animals now have to make their final journey in a rickety truck.
In Ochsenhausen and some of the intermediate stations, the original station buildings have been preserved and impeccably restored. Previously, every station, in addition to handling freight and parcels, also had facilities for the comfortable stay of passengers, such as waiting rooms with benches, water dispensers, and, of course, free toilets, which were kept more or less clean by the station staff. These were also made available again to today's users of the historic railway. On the contrary, waiting passengers for the trains of German rail must find a quiet place nearby for unobserved relief.
In the engine shed at Ochsenhausen station, I can wander around freely. One of the workers warns me not to fall into a pit. These pits were used to inspect and lubricate the steam locomotives from below. Besides carriages undergoing restoration, there's also the 99 651, one of the Saxon locomotives originally built for the Württemberg railway and the last in service of Deutsche Bundesbahn. The engine shed also houses an interesting exhibition of handcars and rail bikes. From a rail bike with luggage rack to a motorized microcar with a single-axle trailer housing an additional bench seat, there's all sorts of things to discover. Whether such a vehicle still meets today's stringent safety standards is questionable. Another single-axle trailer can be used to transport firewood or wood for starting the steam locomotives.
Rail car with one-axle trailers in the shed in Ochsenhausen
Rail bicycle
The former Benedictine abbey towers above Ochsenhausen. The monastery existed from 1083 to 1803, and at its greatest extent, it owned 20% of the area of what is now the Biberach district.
Over the centuries, the monastery was constantly expanded and adapted to the prevailing tastes of the time. The first monastery church, a Romanesque basilica dating from 1093, was replaced between 1489 and 1495 by a late Gothic building. Baroque renovations began in 1660 and continued for eight decades.
As was common, the monastery suffered during the turbulent times. At the beginning of the Peasants' War, concessions were granted relatively quickly to the rebels, thus sparing the monastery from plunder or destruction. However, after the peasants' defeat, these concessions were simply revoked.
Revenge came during the Thirty Years' War, when the Protestant Swedes quartered themselves in nearby Ulm and repeatedly extorted and plundered the monastery. Treasures and the contents of the library were lost. However, the income was so substantial that the monastic community was able to enjoy its prosperity again shortly after the end of hostilities and begin extensive construction work.
The end came in 1803 with secularization. The monastery fell into the hands of the family of the Austrian statesman Metternich. When the monastery was finally sold to the Kingdom of Württemberg in 1825, all the artworks and the contents of the library had once again been removed. Many of the 70,000 books were burned for heating. The building complex fell into disrepair.
It wasn't until 1964 before the monastery complex was renovated. 800 craftsmen were employed. Today, the monastery walls house the State Academy for Young Musicians in Baden-Württemberg and part of the Ochsenhausen Gymnasium (high school). The former granary, a storage building, is used for events such as weddings. One wing contains a monastery museum.
As I arrive, a guided tour happens to be just beginning. Visitors get to see the convent building, the prelature, the refectory, and the library, though without any books. One of the visitors confirms that nothing has changed here in decades, as she attended school here many years ago.
Entrance to the farm premises of the abbey
During my visit to the monastery, the weather steadily worsened. The temperatures resemble winter, and heavy clouds hung over Ochenhausen. It begins to rain on the way to the narrow-gauge railway station.
Today, there is no longer a track connection between the narrow-gauge railway and the adjacent main line, which has been reduced to the bare minimum of two through, electrified tracks. The standard-gauge carriages in Warthausen serve solely as exhibits. There is a level crossing between the platforms in each direction of the Ulm–Biberach–Friedrichshafen line. Each platform has a modest roof, offering some makeshift shelter from the elements.
Staircase in the convent
As the train arrives in Warthausen, a torrential downpour begins. The next train to Biberach is scheduled to depart in 40 minutes. I have to wait 20 minutes for a bus. There is no shelter at the bus stop. You're lucky if one of the passing drivers doesn't give you a free shower, because you can only wait right next to the road. I try to take shelter under the awning of the closed ticket booth of the Öchsle Railway. Instead of a waiting room, the former station building of one of Germany's most famous and stylish heritage railways now houses a "motor hotel." The train conductor asks, concerned, how I'm going to get away. I'm apparently the only passenger on the narrow-gauge railway who didn't arrive by car. I point at the rain-soaked bus stop.
Shortly before the scheduled bus departure, I walk through the pouring rain to the post marking the stop. The bus was supposed to leave at 4:49 p.m. Suspiciously, however, there's only a bus listed at 4:55 p.m. Furthermore, the following stops aren't in the direction of Biberach, but rather in the direction of places I don't recognize. The stop in the other direction is beyond the level crossing on the other side of the tracks, quite a distance away and across numerous puddles. When I see the bus approaching, I run towards it in the pouring rain, right in the middle of the road. I wave. The bus stops at the bus stop. I get on, completely soaked and out of breath. Apparently, the buses here are running in a loop away from their actual destination, Biberach. Back at the hotel, the first thing I do is take a hot shower.
Then, given the weather, I decide to go to the hotel restaurant. It's completely empty. When I want to sit by the window to at least have a little light on this dreary evening, the waitress points to the set tables in the dark interior of the modern dining room. When I point to the bare tables by the window, she complains about a missing place setting… consisting only of a strip of paper and the cutlery. Since that's apparently too much trouble for her, I take one of the paper strips serving as a tablecloth, along with a knife and fork, and place them on one of the tables by the window. There, I'm subjected to music from both the kitchen and the restaurant. Both are different, and both are bad. But the food is good.
So, jetzt wär das Lied gesunge,
hot´s euch in de Ohre klunge?
Wer´s noch net begreife ka,
fangs nomal von vorne a…
(„So, now the song's been sung,
did it ring in your ears?
If you still don't get it,
start again from the beginning…“)
Although no goats are transported anymore, the song about the Swabian railway is still popular. In Durlesbach and Meckenbeuren, they've erected a monument to the Swabian farmer with his goat because he put their towns on the map. Biberach doesn't need that; everyone in Germany knows it anyway.
Sources:
Information panels Kloster Ochsenhausen, Kloster Bad Schussenried, Öchsle Schmalspurbahn
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