Burg Ulmen and the Sleeping Craters

Burg Ulmen is a medieval castle ruin that sits on the southern edge of the Ulmener Maar overlooking the town of Ulmen in the Vulkaneifel region of Germany. The oldest parts of the castle were built around the 11th century, and it very likely stands atop the remains of an earlier Roman settlement. In the Middle Ages the complex grew to include an upper and lower castle; the lower portion reached down toward the maar and was once linked with the town’s defensive wall. The castle was home to regional knightly families and because of its size was rarely taken by force until the late 17th century. After the last descendant died around 1800 it was abandoned, quarried for stone to build local houses, and suffered further damage in later centuries. In the early 20th century it was placed under preservation and is now freely accessible to visitors. From the ruins you can see the maar and the surrounding volcanic landscape, and there are some remains of walls, a cistern and foundation traces of the original buildings.

Sitting quiescently below the castle, the Ulmener Maar itself is a volcanic crater lake formed by a phreatomagmatic eruption roughly ten to eleven thousand years ago and is the youngest maar in the Eifel. It is up to about thirty seven metres deep and is ringed by a wall of tuff and ash that marks its explosive origin. You can walk around the shore of the maar on a path that gives views of the water, the forested slopes and the castle above.

Just to the north of the Ulmener Maar is the Jungferweiher, a much older maar that was re-flooded in the mid twentieth century and now serves as a shallow lake and bird sanctuary. A circular trail of roughly three kilometres runs around it and there are observation points where you can often see waterfowl and other wildlife.

Between these two maars there is the Ulmener Maar Stollen, an old water tunnel cut through the volcanic rock that historically helped manage water between the basins and is now a visitor attraction you can walk through. Inside the tunnel you can see layers of volcanic deposits and sediments that tell the story of the region’s geological past.

Walking from the Jungferweiher to Ulmener Maar around Ulmen usually combines the connecting paths through forest and low hills, passing through the tunnel and returning through woodland and open fields, giving close contact with both crater lakes and the volcanic terrain between them. This is great on a hot day because the cool of the tunnel offers some relief from the heat and humidity of the lakes. 

If you want something longer and more like a journey over passes and through changing landscapes, there is a long distance trail that begins at Ulmen and leads south through the maar region and down into the Ueßbach valley, eventually reaching Bad Bertrich with its thermal springs. This route takes you from the high volcanic plateaus past lakes, through forests and over gentle ridges into a warmer river valley and is often walked over two days.

Altogether Burg Ulmen and the surrounding maars offer a rare mix of medieval history and dramatic volcanic scenery. Walking from lake to lake here is not about high alpine passes but about moving through a rolling, crater shaped landscape where castles, forests, tunnels and dark blue lakes all sit within a few kilometres of one another, making it both rich in atmosphere and easy to explore on foot. It's pretty accessible for disabled people or those who just want an unchallenging but interesting stroll. 

Easter Bunnies, Metro Store Koblenz

 

Der Nette-Wasserfall

The Nette Waterfall lies in the Nette Valley in the eastern Eifel region of Germany, not far from the town of Mayen in Rhineland-Palatinate, in a quiet stretch of forested highland where it feels less like a landmark and more like a secret that reveals itself first through the sound of moving water, then a cool breath of mist, and finally the sight of the falls spilling over dark, layered volcanic rock. The Nette River rises in the volcanic highlands of the Eifel and flows northward to the Rhine, and at this point it cuts through ancient basalt and lava beds left by eruptions that ended roughly ten thousand years ago, with the hard rock forcing the water to drop in a stepped cascade rather than a single sheer plunge. The water descends in a long silvery sheet that breaks into ribbons as it meets ledges carved by centuries of erosion, swelling and roaring in the rainy season so that spray rises high into the air and feeds a broad restless pool below, and becoming gentler and more intricate in drier months when the texture of the rock and the many small channels of flow are clearly visible, yet always carrying a quiet power that makes people fall silent without quite knowing why.

This is not just a scenic waterfall but part of a rare volcanic river ecosystem, because the dark basalt absorbs heat and creates warm microclimates even in cooler months, allowing wall ferns, liverworts, and rare mosses to grow directly on the wet rock faces while alder and ash trees dominate the banks with their roots gripping the porous lava, and fire salamanders that prefer cool oxygen-rich streams are common in the pools below the falls alongside stoneflies, mayflies, and caddisfly larvae whose presence signals very clean water. The constant tumbling of water oxygenates the river and makes this stretch one of the most biologically productive sections of the Nette, while the surrounding forest thrives on the moisture as ferns cling to damp stone, moss coats fallen branches, birds gather in the canopy above, and sunlight filtering through leaves catches in drifting mist to form pale rainbows that hover briefly over the pool.

Local legend says the waterfall was once guarded by a Wassernixe (female water spirit or nymph) called Nette, from whom the river takes its name, who in Eifel folklore lured careless travelers too close to the edge during flood season so that those who respected the river were rewarded with good fortune and those who mocked it were swept away, and even today older residents say you should never throw stones into the fall because it angers the water. In the Middle Ages the falls powered small water mills that ground grain and crushed volcanic stone for construction, and remains of mill races and stone foundations can still be found along the banks.

Unlike alpine waterfalls that drop in bright dramatic plunges, Nette Waterfall is a volcanic cascade that is broad, dark, and muscular, where the water does not sparkle so much as glide over black rock polished smooth by centuries of flow, and after heavy rain the entire valley fills with mist and the falls become thunderous, echoing through the basalt gorge. It is one of those places where geology, ecology, and myth overlap, and people still come not only to admire its beauty but to sit nearby and listen, letting the steady rhythm of water wash through their thoughts, whether they stand on the trail above or on the smooth stones at its base, drawn by the quiet invitation to slow down, breathe, and remember how powerful something as simple as flowing water can be.

Bhagavad Gita for Dummies

Eknath Easwaran’s commentary on the Bhagavad Gita is often praised for making the text accessible, but in doing so, it loses much of the depth and complexity that make the Gita so powerful. His approach feels less like a serious engagement with one of the world’s most profound philosophical works and more like a modern self-help manual wrapped in spiritual language. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with making ancient wisdom relevant to contemporary life, the way he does it often feels reductive, smoothing over the difficult, even uncomfortable, aspects of the text in favour of a softer, more digestible message.

One of the biggest issues is how he reshapes the Gita to fit a modern, personal-development narrative. The Bhagavad Gita is not just about mindfulness or ethical living; it’s a deeply complex dialogue that wrestles with duty, morality, devotion, and the nature of reality itself. Krishna’s teachings to Arjuna on the battlefield are filled with contradictions and nuances, often challenging simple moral conclusions. But Easwaran tends to boil these teachings down to broad life lessons about inner peace and detachment, which, while appealing, don’t fully reflect the weight of what’s actually being said. This translates into repetitive metaphors where, for the benefit of Westerners, the innermost workings of spiritual life is reduced to a car analogy. By being constantly likened to the mechanical workings of an automobile, I did wonder if I needed an oil change after reading Easwaran's commentary.

His translation also takes a lot of liberties. Instead of staying close to the original Sanskrit, he paraphrases heavily, sometimes changing the meaning in ways that simplify or distort the text. The Gita is rich with philosophical terminology; concepts like karma, jnana and bhakti yoga carry layers of meaning; but in Easwaran’s version, they sometimes feel vague, as if they’ve been sanded down to fit a general spiritual outlook rather than being explored in their full depth.

There is also the issue of how he approaches the more difficult parts of the Gita. The text, after all, is set on a battlefield, where Krishna urges Arjuna to fight. This raises profound and challenging questions about duty, violence, and moral responsibility; questions that have been debated for centuries. But Easwaran, whose own background was rooted in pacifism, tends to downplay this aspect, framing the Gita in a way that aligns with his personal philosophy rather than engaging with the raw ethical tension that makes the text so compelling. It’s understandable that he would emphasize nonviolence, but in doing so, he risks presenting a version of the Gita that feels more like a comforting guidebook than the deeply challenging spiritual text it actually is. One of the most irksome outcomes of avoiding the conflicts of life yet over-simplifying human struggle is exemplified in a section where Easwaran castigates women who must sell cigarettes for a living, saying they are forever karmically tainted as a result, owing to the health impacts of smoking. This wanton and misogynistic mis-application of spiritual truth is of course easy to come up with from the comfort of a professor's armchair. 

At the end of the day, Easwaran’s Bhagavad Gita might serve as a gentle introduction for someone new to the text, but it’s not the kind of commentary that does justice to the richness of the original. If you really want to dive into the Gita; to engage with its contradictions, its depth, and its historical context; there are far better translations and interpretations out there. Scholars like Radhakrishnan, J.A.B. van Buitenen, Mohandas Gandhi, or even A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada approach the text with a seriousness that allows its full philosophical and spiritual weight to shine through. Easwaran, in contrast, offers something more like a simplified retelling; well-meaning, but ultimately too watered down with bloated clichéd lifestyle advice to capture the existential spirit of the Gita.

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Sheep Market, Mayen

What sight could delight the heart more than watching frolicking spring lambs all full of life and joy? Well, it turns out even this tender sentiment has got its limits after an hour stood in a fedora-festooned crowd in the piss wet cold, breathing in the fumes of boiled bratwürst, and watching a succession of hapless sheep grimly sheared for public amusement. This blog concludes my February trilogy of miserable existential encounters with the German outdoors viewed through a rural folk lens, along with the promised trudging through mud.

The Sheep Market in Mayen is a traditional livestock event that takes place each year during the larger Lukasmarkt festival, a folk fair that has been held in the town since the early 15th century. It still has a  forlornly Medieval vibe if you ask me, but without the ergot to liven things up. The Sheep Market is held on the Wednesday of Lukasmarkt week on the Viehmarkt-Platz on Polcher Straße and is notable for being the only sheep market of its kind in the German state of Rheinland-Pfalz. At the event sheep breeders and enthusiasts gather to show different breeds of sheep, with either a practical flock show or a pedigree (Herdbuch) show where animals are judged and prizes are awarded. The day draws not only specialist visitors but also members of the public curious to see the animals up close and hear the chatter among shepherds and keepers. The Sheep Market serves as a reminder of the agricultural origins of the Lukasmarkt, which originally centred on trading livestock, and remains a mix of tradition, animal husbandry and community gathering within the broader festival atmosphere. 

My wife took some great photos of the sheep, and spent some time talking to the owners, until she innocently asked “How long does this breed live for?” To which, the owner said “I dunno, we eat them before they die.” This offended her vegetarian sensitivities.

Tractor Fayre 56825 Schmitt

The 2nd part of my trilogy “sad things that German’s do” is to detail (to my eternal shame) my attendance at a local tractor gathering (known as a Treckertreffen) in the village of Schmitt, in the Cochem-Zell district of Rheinland-Pfalz. I shall avoid the obvious gag here about “I used to be a tractor fan, but these days…”. On getting out of the car, we were greeted by a musky pong of fried onions, bratwurst, wood smoke and diesel fumes, to the strains of John Denver’s Take Me Home, Country Roads (I kid you not). This set the scene nicely for an exceptional period of trudging around a large field looking at tractors, in various states of rusting and agriculturally-accelerated decay. For a mundane a rather utilitarian vehicle, they certainly do have a variety of forms; one could say almost endless.

At the tractor fayre in 56825 Schmitt, owners and tractor enthusiasts (especially vintage or classic models) come together to show their machines, take part in orientation rides, and socialize with others who share an interest in agricultural machinery. The Treckertreffen in Schmitt features a healthy array of tractors (and some vintage cars) on display and group rides organized by local tractor clubs such as the IG Treckefreunde Schmitt/Eifel. On the day I attended this  included rather unsafe elevation in the bucket of some Leviathan tractor, which affords excellent views of the local countryside and an opportunity to void the rectum at the same time.