European Tour 1979: Trent to Stockholm

The Bicycle

While I was working at Mt. Corna, I made it known that I was in the market for a bicycle. It happened that one of the airmen had one he wanted to sell, so we struck a deal right away: I could have the bike for $50.

To pay, I took out my wallet and pulled out the $50 bill it contained. The airman noticed that it was the last American money I had, so he gave me a dollar back. I guessed that there was some tradition that it was bad luck to be in a foreign country without any greenbacks, so I accepted the rebate along with the bike.

The bicycle was a steel-framed 10-speed Italian racing bicycle made by the Filli Trarovi in Milan in the early to mid '70s. It had 700mm aluminum rims with sew-up tires, and Campagnolo components. It had a very tight racing cluster (maybe 12-21) in back and 52-48 chainwheels: This bike was not set up for hill-climbing....

To test it out, one evening I rode up to Sirmione, had dinner there and then rode back to Castiglione before dark. I don't remember whether I kept the bike at the base or in the hotel. But it seems like it was handy, so perhaps I was allowed to keep it at the hotel.

I bought the bike in preparation for a trip I had planned before we left Boulder. It happened that I had met a high-school exchange student from Sweden, and made plans to visit her after she returned to Stockholm. I also contacted Sarah's host family in Regensburg, and sent word that I intended to stop in for a few days in late July. My general plan was to ride a bike through the alps and then take trains the rest of the way to Regensburg and Stockholm.

I saw on maps that Brenner Pass was a fairly low pass through the Dolomites, but the shortest route to Munich went through Mittenwald. Somewhere, I had heard that that road contained 16% grades, which would still be a challenge on a bike with more reasonable gearing. I found that Fernpass to the west was a much lower pass, and if I went that way, I could visit Schloss Neuschwannstein along the way. I was delighted to see that the famous Europebrücke also lay along my route; I had seen it in one of my books on bridges and was keen to see it close-up.

I had thought ahead and brought along a knapsack and sleeping bag, along with straps to cinch them together. I had packed bike tools in anticipation of picking up a used bike at some time during my stay in Italy. The bike came with a pump, so I had that aspect covered. I didn't have patches that could be used with sew-up tires, so I suppose I was optimistic that I would not get any flats during my adventure. I did realize the need for the glue that attaches the tire to the rim, so I was sure to visit a bike shop and buy some before hitting the road.

Italian 

The trip to Italy was proposed to me two weeks ahead of the departure date. This did not give me much time to study Italian, but I did so anyway. I checked out the first two sets of Barron's Italian tapes from the CU library, and started listening to them. By the time I left Boulder, I could count to 100, ask directions to the lavatory (though I would likely not understand the response), and request a few essentials, like red wine, beer and water. I still could not express more complex concepts, like needing a hotel room for the night, or wanting glue for mounting sew-up tires.

When I needed a needle and thread for mending my clothes, I looked up the words in my Mondadori's Dictionary. I found a sewing shop on a side street northwest of the center of town and requested those items. All of that worked to my satisfaction.

However, when I went to a bike shop and requested glue, the young salesperson looked perplexed. I had to draw a picture of the cross-section of the rim and tire and then show the stuff that sat between the two. Probably, learning the word for tire would have helped in that case. But he eventually understood what I needed and produced a tube for me to buy.

On my bike trip, I subsisted entirely on panini, prosciutto and limonata (at least before I left Italy), because those were three foods whose names I had learned. On the whole, I think I might have enjoyed Italy more if I'd had longer to learn the language.

At the summit house on Brenner Pass, I stopped in the store and bought a bar of Toblerone and a few other items. I totalled up the prices of the items in my head, to use up as much as possible of my remaining Lire. When the young woman at the cash register rang up the sale and started making change, she gave me back more change than I was owed. I was tempted to correct her, but with my limited Italian I concluded that it was a fool's errand. I just thanked her, pocketed the extra coins and left.

Trent to Munich

At the end of our 6-week stint in Italy, Dave Wortendyke and I had two of the three radio links in operation. We already had firm travel plans, so we left bringing up the Paganella link as a future project.

Paganella from the North

Early in the afternoon on our last day, one of the airmen at Mt. Corna offered to carry me as far a Trent in his pickup truck -- an offer I gladly accepted. The airman also sent me on my way with two 16oz cans of Budweiser. I drank one right away, and downed the other one after passing through the center of Trent. It was a fairly hot day, and after that much alcohol, I was feeling no pain.

As I was passing through, I read the historical marker about the Council of Trent. After riding through Trent, I rode some distance north of the city along the side road paralleling the Autostrada. Around mid-afternoon, I ran through a small rain shower, which caused my rear tire to come loose from the rim. My earlier purchase turned out to be prudent: Applying more glue to the rim secured the tire in place and allowed me to continue, even though both tire and rim were still wet. The rain shower was warm, so I did not find it necessary to don my jacket through all of this.

About 8pm, it started to get dark. I began to scan the roadside for places I might camp. Finally, I found a portion of the ditch on the west side of the road that was filled with enough brush to hide me from the roadway. The slope rose sharply on the other side of that patch, so it was only a few feet wide. But that was enough: I just pushed into the weeds, unrolled my sleeping bag and bedded down for the night.

Vipiteno

The next morning, I awoke at dawn and hit the road. In this part of Italy, I noticed that signs for all of the villages along the route had both Italian and German names. It reflected that that part of Italy was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until it was annexed by Italy in 1919. The names are most often direct transliterations, but some pairs are more intriguing (eg. Sterzing:Vipiteno and Gossensass:Colle Isarco).

As I climbed toward Brenner Pass, I looked for a place that I might stop and get breakfast. The road I was on mostly avoided going through villages, and it seemed to me that possible places to stop were too far out of my way to bother with. 

I had very little traffic to contend with, since long-distance travelers preferred the Autostrada. So I was amused at one point to look back down the road, and see (and probably hear) a Lamborghini threading its way through the hairpin turns. The top was down (or stowed), so I could see that the car contained a man and a woman. I assume that the guy had chosen the side road to demonstrate the car's performance to his lady-friend.

Climbing toward Brenner Pass

By around 10:30 in the morning, I had gained the top of the pass. I bought a few food items -- as related above -- and had a little snack. At the Austrian border, the guard requested my passport. I said, "Moment, bitte" in my best German. Detecting my accent, the border guard asked, "Englisher? oder Americaner?" I said, "Americaner", whereupon he just waved me through -- no passport required.

Just below the pass, I heard a train, and was able to photograph it as it climbed toward the pass.

The Europabrücke

 

 

 

The Europabrücke carries the Autobahn across the Sill River, about 10km south of Innsbruck. From Brenner Pass to Innsbruck, it is almost entirely downhill, so it took me very little time to reach the famous bridge, and little more time to reach the city after that. In some places, I had to drag the rear brake to keep from going too fast.

The Europabrücke

The Europabrücke needs to be seen close-up to truly appreciate its immense scale. The base of each of the piers covers an area the size of a city block. The bridge is so tall that from the point of view of the road that passes beneath it, you don't even see the bridge unless you look up.

Cima Gallina

I had in mind that in Innsbruck I would visit the Hotel Sacher and sample their famous Sachertorte. But my review of the local map revealed that there was no Hotel Sacher in Innbruck (hint: it's in Vienna). Instead, I went to a cafe and tasted their Sachertorte, which was okay but not great. To taste the famous dessert is still on my list, should I ever visit Vienna.

Innsbruck

After lunch, I crossed the Inn River and headed west up the valley. As already mentioned, I had determined that the road to Mittenwald was too steep for me to attempt. Instead, I planned to cross into Germany via the much lower Fernpass on the west side of Zugspitze.

It was a hot day (ca. 36C), and I had not gone very far before I needed to buy something to drink. I stopped at a beverage store in Zirl, and was greeted by the shop keeper, "Grüsst, Gott!" It sounded to me more like a command than a greeting, so I was a bit taken aback. But I regained my composure and explained that I was very thirsty, having come through Brenner Pass this morning. "Mit dem Radl?" she inquired, somewhat incredulously. "Ja...."

Zirl

I sat on the front step of the shop and downed the two liters of limonade. On returning the empty bottles, I was surprised that I got most of the money back. This was repeated as I started up toward Fernpass, when I bought a liter of limonade for 13 Shillings and got 9 Shillings back for the empty bottle. 

Before I left the shop, three cyclists rode up from the west. They said they had ridden over from Switzerland. They were not carrying any camping gear, so I assumed they were planning to return to Switzerland the same day. They commented that the weather was unusually hot, so I had some inkling of what was "normal" summer weather back then. For my trip, though, the weather was quite cooperative. I had only taken along my green canvas jacket and a red windbreaker, so I wasn't really prepared for rain or cold.

Telfs looking N

At Telfs, I crossed the Inn River and continued west. At Imst, I left the Inn Valley, and started up toward Fernpass. I admired the houses that seemed to be dotted onto the landscape far away from any city. After I passed through Imst, I found the valley to the northeast rather pretty and worth of a photo.

Looking NE from Imst

It was around 5pm when I passed Nassereith and started up toward the Pass. And it was not long before I reached there. I saw signs for camping alongside the road. I passed a small lake on the right in the lengthening shadows, and then suddenly I was already at the pass. That was good, because I was quite tired from my day's ride. I didn't think my legs had much more in them.

Below Fernpass

I rode downhill until I reached the first restaurant I saw and stopped there for dinner. In the restaurant, I ordered what turned out to be something like Salisbury steak. The waitress asked if it was good and I replied "Si". Then, realizing that I had replied in the wrong language, I said "No" to correct myself, which puzzled her. I finally managed to say something like, "Es hat geschmeckt" and pay my bill.

Zugspitze

After dinner, there was just a little daylight left. I rode a short distance until I saw a dirt road leading up small hill. It turned out to be an empty lot that had been cleared, but nothing was built there yet. The top of the lot was above the roadway, so it was hidden from view. I figured it was safe enough there, so I rolled out my sleeping bag and slept.

The Lech River

The next morning, I was again up at dawn. I started coasting downhill, and found a view of the bridge across the Lech River at Reutte worthy of photographing.  There were also views of Zugspitze off to the east. I continued downhill, and soon found myself near Füssen. At the border, the guard requested my passport. As before, I said, "Moment, bitte." Again, the border guard inquired "Englisher oder Americaner?" On responding, "Americaner", I was again waved through.

Hohenschwanngau

My next goal was to visit the Schloss Neuschwannstein. I believed that I had found my way onto the road leading to the castle, but as I was riding along, I saw an elderly gentleman walking along the roadway. Just to be sure, I stopped to inquire the way. This was my first real conversation in German, not counting my interactions with shopkeepers and waitstaff. I was delighted to discover that my 5 years of German study in junior high and high school allowed me to talk to the gentleman with ease. I thought, "Wow! It really works!"

Hohenschwanngau f. Marienbrücke

The gentleman assured me that all I had to do was continue straight and I would arrive at the castle. And indeed, just 1/4 mile up the road, I caught sight of Hohenschwanngau. I continued on and reached the base of the hill leading to Neuschwannstein a few minutes later. I rode my bike right up to the castle gate. Then, I discovered that the first tour started at 9, meaning I had about an hour to blow. I walked around the castle and photographed it from various viewpoints. I also hiked up to the Marienbrücke  and took pictures of the castle from there.

Neuschwannstein f. Marienbrücke

Marienbrücke

For the tour, we were split into two groups: one for English speakers and one for German speakers. The German group began the tour by climbing up to the top of the castle and descending, while the English group began at the bottom and made their way up. I had chatted a bit with the people in my group, so they knew that I had logged over 300km on the bicycle in the last day and a half. When the tour guide said things like, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, I must ask you to climb another 36 steps to the main ballroom" I would groan and make a big show of how painful it was for me to ascend those stairs. I did manage to finish the tour, and then rode on toward Munich.

I took the shortest route according to the map, which led me through Rottenbuch and Boebing. For one stretch of the trip, I was riding on new asphalt. The new pavement noticeably reduced my rolling resistance, so I was really moving on that part of the trip. I remember following a small meandering river. I was amused to find it was called the Wurm River.

On reaching Munich, I found my way to the train station and then tried to call the Griems in Regensburg. It took me a while to figure out that each coin was worth only about ten seconds. I would connect and Gisela would say hallo, and then the phone would count down to zero and drop the line. Eventually, I got the hang of feeding money into the machine as it counted down and was able to announce myself and say that I was in Munich, I would be joining them in Regensburg that evening.

I bought tickets on the next train to Regensburg, which left about 5 in the evening. To pass the time, I found an open-air cafe near the station and sat with a dentist who was waiting for his wife to meet him there. It was another hot day, and the cafe was out of everything except for Bluna, a cherry-flavored soda. The soda came in 7oz bottles, so I requested two and sat there for a while telling the dentist of my travels. When his wife arrived, I excused myself hurriedly. I was so intent on not intruding, that I forgot to pay for my sodas. I am sure that my new acquaintance picked up the tab. Vielen dank.

Regensburg

The Steinene Brücke in Regensburg

I don't remember any of the train trip to Regensburg, but surely I got there. Eberhard met me at the station, and drove me to their house in Wenzenbach. I remember him asking me about my adventures in his perfect British accent. The Griems made me very welcome, and I stayed there for a few days before travelling north, again by train.

Regensburg skyline

 

 

I probably took a few days to recover from my long bike ride. Shortly after getting there, Gisela took me downtown on an errand and pointed out some of the landmarks. 

The Ostentor in Regensburg

On one afternoon, we harvested ripe gooseberries from the small stand of canes in the yard. Then there was the question of what to make with them. I suggested a pie, which was a new concept to Gisela. I showed her how to make a pastry crust, fill it with washed berries, sugar and spice and add a top crust. It turned out well, and I was proud to be able to teach her a new dish.

That weekend, the Griems were going to sing at a cathedral near Starnsee and invited me along. I was tired from my ride, so I declined. But in retrospect I regret that choice: I would have gotten a guided tour of the countryside and a free concert as well. 

I stayed in Regensburg long enough to see the sights and do a few errands. I went into a variety store near the downtown buy a lock for the bike. Outside the city, the roads were paved with asphalt, but in the old town they were cobblestone. This made travelling by bike quite a challenge. 

Regensburg to Stockholm

While in Regensburg, I had to figure out the logistics of sending the bicycle along to Stockholm. I had in mind to box it up and take it along with me on the plane ride home, but that didn't happen. 

The bike did not have to be boxed to ride on the train, but it was still handled as checked baggage.  When I went to board the train, I surrendered my bike, confident that it would be loaded onto the train with the famous Teutonic efficiency. What I did not know is that the train was to be split in Berlin and the baggage car was in the part of the train that was left behind.

Efficiency in this case also meant that far more tickets had been sold than there were seats available on the train. This being the high tourist season, the aisles of every car were littered with backpacks along with young people like me who had been unable to find a seat.

After we started moving,I found an empty compartment and settled myself inside. I figured that if I was told to move, I could use the opportunity to inquire where I was expected to sit, since I genuinely hadn't a clue. I don't remember that a conductor came through at all. But then, I'm not sure how a he would have made his way through the crowded car.

The train stopped at Hof, so East German soldiers could board the train and issue entry visas to the passengers. This was done fairly efficiently, and we then headed off across the East German countryside in the gathering gloom.

I noticed a few things right away. From what I saw, the population, architecture and industry seemed to have been frozen in time around the late '50s. In comparison with West Germany, the countryside in East Germany was very empty: Villages were small and sparse; there were very few street lights; houses were dark, except for one or two lights; I only saw a few cars in mile after mile of travel. The overall impression that I got was that East Germany was a huge economic vacuum -- pulling like the tide against the burgeoning economy of the West. At that moment, I realized that it was only a matter of time before western wealth would overwhelm the borders.

The train made no stops as it travelled through East German territory. It was late in the evening when we pulled into Berlin. If I had not remained awake as we approached and pulled into the station, the riot of city lights would have given me a clue that we were once again in western territory. It was a long stopover, but I chose to remain on the train. After we arrived, the conductor came through and announced that passengers for Copenhagen should remain in these four cars while passengers bound for other destinations should make their way forward. Some time later, the train was split, and a new locomotive attached to our half.

While we were in Berlin, a Danish couple came in and sat in the compartment that I had camped out in. I realized in retrospect that they were just too polite to ask me to leave. They chatted between themselves for a bit in Danish, and I found that I could understand them almost completely. To me, Danish sounds half-German, half-English. Eventually, I spoke up in English, and they conversed with me in English as the train pulled out of the station. 

When we passed back into East Germany, soldiers again entered the train. One issued entry visas to the Danes and started to write out another one for me. He flipped to an empty page in my passport book and started writing in his log. I said, "Darf ich noch sowas haben?", indicating the visa in the back of the book. The soldier scowled and said "ach!" -- clearly upset with himself that he had assumed I was travelling with my new friends and had thus failed to scan my passport book for an open visa. The duplicate entry was scribbled out, and he moved on.

After he left, the Danish woman said, "Those Germans are such rude people." When they started to convert their compartment into a sleeping room, I took the hint. I went back out into the crowded hallway, and attempted to sleep with my head propped up on my rolled-up sleeping bag.

Again, we made no stops in East Germany. There was a bit more stopping and starting and switching as the four cars were loaded onto the ferry at Warnemünde. Once we were sailing toward Copenhagen, I went up on deck and looked out over the sea. In the faint light, I was fascinated to see that the water was criss-crossed with boat trails like those I had seen on my canoe trip the preceding summer. Many hours had passed since the last ship had come this way, and yet its trail was clearly visible on the surface of the open sea.

Copenhagen

The train I took from Regensburg ended its trip in Copenhagen. I had a connection to the train that would take me from there to Stockholm. I remember walking north from the train station along a street with the Tivoli Gardens to my right. And that's all I recall from my visit there.

Since most pictures of Norway show mountains and fjords covered with dense forests, I had in mind that all Scandanavia looked like that. But the Swedish countryside traversed by the train was fairly flat and open. We started in Malmö and headed north from there, taking a route between Helsingborg and Stockholm that was almost a bee-line. 

I had slept very little on the overnight voyage through East Germany, so I dozed as I sat by the window and watched the scenery fly past. I remember passing through Linköping and Norrköping: The o-umlaut in their names caused those cities to stick in my mind.

Stockholm

After arriving in Stockholm, I went to baggage claim and asked for my bicycle. Some time passed, and then I was informed that the bicycle was still in Berlin. It would be sent along, and arrive within a week. My heart sank a bit at that news, since I expected to be returning to the States before the week was out. I left the Alsen's number with the baggage agent, so they could call when the bike arrived.

I was to call Malin from the station when I arrived in Stockholm. On the phone, she gave me instructions for taking the trolley north to Täby. So I did that, exchanging some money at the station for the trolley fare. Malin met me at the trolley platform in Täby, and from there we went back to her family's house.

I was shown to a guest room and allowed to nap before dinner. It was Malin's habit to take a run late in the afternoon, so she woke me and I went along. We ran for a mile or two in a loop that went through a forested area near her house, along the seashore a short way and then back by a different route. My legs were still sore from the long bike ride, but I was able to keep up easily -- this being close to sea level and mostly flat.

At dinner, the family asked me to relate my adventures. While talking about my epic bike ride -- covering 480km in the space of two days -- I was offered a beer. I took the opener and proceeded to crack the neck off the bottle. Hunh ... I guess I don't know my own strength.

The first night, I recall going to bed at around 10pm, noting that it was still light outside. I awoke once around midnight and saw that it was dark. But when I awoke again at 4am, it was already quite light. I snoozed a bit, but was happy when others started moving about.

For breakfast, I was offered muesli with filmjolk. It was a strange taste for me since I was not accustomed to eating yogurt. But one thing I grew fond of was Swedish caviar. It came in a squeezable tube, like a tube of toothpaste and was not particularly expensive. Before leaving Sweden, I spent my last Kronor buying caviar. I also noticed that the butter in Sweden was especially rich and tasty.

Malin was my tour guide, and we went to museums and other landmarks in Stockholm. For entertainment one night, we went to see "Hair" that was showing in a theater near downtown (with Swedish subtitles). Malin's older sister Rhea, and Rhea's boyfriend carried us to the theater and back in his American car. Almost all of the cars on the road were either Volvos or Saabs, so it was a real status symbol to own an American car.

When we got to the front of the line at the ticket booth, I happened to be standing in front. The ticket agent said something to me in Swedish, which of course I did not understand. I stood there dumbstruck for a moment. Then, she growled impatiently as Malin came up to the window to buy our tickets.

The crowd at the theater was rather lively: They cheered and booed, and sang along. It was quite the experience. It must have been quite late when the movie ended, since it was dark as we drove back to Täby. At one point, Rhea's boyfriend went off an off-ramp and then back on the on-ramp, just to show off the performance of his car.

We called the station the day before my return, and found that the bike had not yet arrived. Malin promised to retrieve it from the train station when/if it showed up, but we didn't really have an idea what to do with it then. 

Rhea's boyfriend was probably also the one who carried me to the airport on my last day there (although I don't recall at this point). I flew on SAS for my return flight to the States, so I got one last taste of Swedish butter when the meal was served.

Epilog

I remember taking pictures while visiting the sights in Stockholm, but I have no slides from that time. The roll of film must have gone missing after I returned to the States.

The bike did eventually end up back in the US. The Alsens dutifully retrieved the bike from the train station in Stockholm when it arrived, and stored it in their house somewhere. While I was considering how to get it home, my sister announced her plans to do a year of study abroad in Germany. I asked the Alsens to hold on to the bike, and then ship it to Lise after she arrived.

Lise ended up spending her year the university in Tübingen. After she arrived there, the Alsens sent the bike along by train. Lise used the bike in Tübingen, but she did comment that the gearing was not great for going up hills. At the end of her stay, she arranged to have the bike shipped back to States (where "shipping" literally meant having it put on a ship). I had to go to the World Trade Center to pay for customs and get the proper clearance, and then to a warehouse in New Jersey to pick up the bike. But that's another story.

Italy Mountaintops, Tour 1

I spent most of my summer in 1979 in Italy, Germany and Sweden, with brief visits to Austria and Denmark. Using the word "vacation" would be misleading, because I was working full time -- at least while I was in Italy.

Setting the Stage 

After I graduated from High School, I was hired by the Institute for Telecommunication Sciences (Department of Commerce Office of Telecommunications, now NIST) as a Junior Fellow. My boss was Dave Wortendyke, and he had arranged the Junior Fellowship for me, but that's another story.

Our group had a contract with the US Army that involved performing received signal level tests on microwave radio links in Italy. This came about because the German government wanted to push base-to-base communication out of the 8GHz band. It was hoped that the study would prove that the next available band at 15GHz would be unsuitable due to atmospheric fading. For reasons that were not shared with me, it was decided to set up and run the tests on links between air bases in Italy rather than between army bases in Germany.

In the lab, Larry Hause designed and built the 15GHz transmitter and receiver modules. The design used aluminum pressure cookers as weatherproof enclosures. Each included a low-wattage incandescent light bulb as a heater, to provide some temperature stability. Each radio was to be connected to a 4' dish antenna by a short length of flexible waveguide. Dave and I worked together on coding the data-logging software that would monitor and record the received signal levels, and analyze the results.

Setting up the radios for the test would involve bolting the radios and dish antennas to the side of radio towers, and running power and data cables from these back to the nearby radio building. On mountaintop locations, we also needed to add a roof, to shield the radio equipment from falling ice. I was one of three people in the lab physically able to perform those tasks. The assignment also required people who were willing to spend most of the summer away from home. That left Dave and me.

It may be that Dave also did not fancy climbing up radio towers, so that would have left just me. But I was too young to rent a car in Europe, so I would still need a chauffeur. Anyway, having responsibility for setting up the three links and starting the tests would have been well above my pay grade. As it turned out, there was plenty enough work for Dave to do inside the various radio buildings while I was doing on-site machining or out working on the tower.

The logistics were all worked out before I was brought into the conversation. I arrived at work one day, and the guys in the group said, "How would you like to go to Italy for 6 weeks?" I said that was fine, and they said, "Great, you leave in two weeks." After their little joke, Dave explained the details. I also needed to obtain Secret clearance so I could visit the military bases and a tower-climber's certificate so I could scale the radio towers. These were obtained in short order.

Flights

Before leaving Boulder, I contacted my sister's former host family -- the Griems -- in Regensburg. I said that I might be able to stop there some time during the summer. I also wrote to Malin Alsen, a young lady I had met at a Sons of Norway dance that Spring. She was an exchange student at Boulder High and had returned to Stockholm. She was happy to have me visit with her family in Täby.

In anticipation for those side trips, I packed very lightly. Rather than taking a suitcase, I put all my clothes in a knapsack. I also took along a sleeping bag -- attached beneath the knapsack -- and packed my bike tools.

The outbound trip was to land in Milan, but when arranging my travel I requested that the return trip be from Stockholm. I was on my own for getting from Castiglione to Stockholm. But from what I had heard about the European rail system, I was pretty sure I could manage that easily.

The Alps NW of Milan

The flight from Denver to Milan had a connection at JFK airport. The international flight departed from the iconic TWA Flight Center, so I had an opportunity to walk through the famous Eero Saarinen terminal building to catch my connecting flight. The second leg flew right over Mont Blanc on our way to Milan. Once over the Po Valley, we turned a full circle while descending toward the airport.

I do not remember now whether Dave was on the same flight, but I think not. I recall finding my own way to my connection in JFK and I don't recall having to deal with the car rental. Whatever our arrangements had been, they all went like clockwork. As soon as I checked into my hotel room, I crashed for several hours. 

Radio Sites in Italy

Setting up the test involved installing microwave transmitters on 3 mountaintops (Mt. Cimone, Mt. Venda and Paganella) and 3 matching receivers at the central station on Mount Corna. The link with Mt. Venda had already been installed, since I did not have clearance to visit that site. I spent most of my time on top of the two taller peaks, or on the 50' platform on the tower at Mt. Corna setting up the other two links. There was a great deal of logistics involved, which somewhat explains why it took more than a month to install the two test links.

The initial plan was to install the transmitter radios at Mt. Corna and set up the stations at Paganella and Monte Cimone as receivers. Even a weak signal would allow us to align the antenna at the remote site, and this could be done even if the mountaintops were fogged-in. Then, we would swap a transmitter for a receiver at the remote site and return to Corna. The signal from the remote site would allow the antenna at the Mt. Corna end of the link to be aligned, and the link would be ready for testing. 

After we arrived, we had to go the airbase at Vicenza to pick up the materiel that had been shipped there. While we were on the base, we visited the PX and I purchased a flat of canned orange juice and some other food items. 

I was warned against drinking the tap water, so I bought the orange juice for hydration. It didn't work very well. After a few days of drinking only beer, wine, mineral water and orange juice, I was quite dehydrated and couldn't hold out any longer. I drew a big glass of water in my hotel room and downed it. I had some gastric distress for two or three days, but the adjustment to my gut flora was well worth it. After that, I could drink the water from the tap in the hotel without a problem.

The tower on Mt. Corna

Leaving Vicenza, we carried the equipment back to the base at Mt. Corna, and set up a transmitter there. Mount Corna would not even qualify as a hill in Boulder, but the prominence still required switchbacks to reach the top. We drove through the center of Grole, turning right and left on streets barely wide enough to accommodate one car, then up the hill past vineyards to reach the gate of the air base. Sometimes we had to wait for chickens to move off the road so we could pass. It was all very Italian and picturesque -- the more so when viewed from the 50M platform on the radio tower.

One time, as I was working on the tower, the Master Sergeant on the base decided (or more likely, was ordered) to bring a 6WD truck up the hill and park it there. When he reached the hairpin turn below the gate, he had to pull forward and back up about a dozen times to negotiate the curve. I thought the whole performance  rather comical, particularly since there was no apparent reason to have such a huge truck up there.

The tower was a convenient landmark for US pilots on training runs from the nearby air base. They would come up from the east, pull a tight turn around the tower and head back to base. I remember distinctly hearing a sound like the air being torn apart, and looking down on the top of the pilot's helmet as he pulled an 85º banked turn around the tower.

Tower, Barracks and Vineyard

 

In the photo, our three 4' dishes (with green radomes) can be seen mounted outside the lowest platform, 50m above the ground. When working outside the tower, I wore a safety belt and ran the rope around any convenient cross-member. The safety rope was about 4' long with a carabiner at each end; these clipped onto a D-ring on each side of the safety belt.

I never lost my balance, but one time, I dropped a power supply that I was using to test one of the radios. The power supply hit one of the cross-members on the way down and spun end-over-end until it hit the grass. It turned out that the only damage was that the plastic case had split open. So we duct-taped it back together, and that was that. Hewlett-Packard made some pretty durable equipment, back in the day.

Town Boss

Dave had booked us rooms at the Lido Hotel in downtown Castiglione. It was convenient to drive from there to Mount Corna, and the price was reasonable. The Lido had a restaurant on the main floor, and we often ate there.

After a few nights dining in the Lido, I noticed that there was a certain man who sat at a neighboring table. He always sat at the same table, and was always in conversation with a few people. My Italian was too rudimentary to listen in, but I still gathered that people were bringing plans to him for approval, or asking him to resolve minor disputes. It didn't take me long to figure out that this guy was the Town Boss.

About a week after we arrived, I heard a crash and looked out the window. One of the airmen from the base had had a bit too much to drink. He was having trouble maneuvering his car out of his parking spot: He'd backed into the car behind. As I watched from the window in my room, he pulled forward and bashed the car ahead as well. Then (perhaps after another iteration of bashing and crashing) pulled out onto the street and drove away with screeching tires.

The very next evening, the airman was escorted to the boss's table by two locals. The boss explained (in English) that the serviceman was expected to pay for the damage to the other autos, and that was that. No trial, no evidence, no attempts to deny responsibility. The boss learned as much as he needed from the community, and justice was done.

I assumed that this was the extent of the local government at the time, and I admired its efficiency.  

Food

When working at Mount Corna, we usually ate in the hotel restaurant at the Lido. The restaurant there served typical Italian food: After taking our order for pasta and the meat dish, the server brought around the salad cart. You chose the vegetables to be included in your serving. Each table had two cruets containing balsamic vinegar and olive oil, as dressing. Each table also had a bottle of mineral water and a carafe of red wine. You served yourself, and were charged proportionally for what you drank. Regular water was conspicuously absent, but consistent with the warnings I had received against drinking the tap water. At that time (as I gathered) the water came unfiltered from the nearby river.

Occasionally, we would eat at the pizzeria in the downtown area -- a short walk to the west of the hotel. Each pizza was made to order and baked in a large gas-fired brick oven off to one side, placed and removed with a long-handled wooden peel. It might be seen as gimmicky today, but it seemed matter-of-fact to me. How else does one make pizza?

Sometimes we would drive way out into the country, to a little farmhouse restaurant that Dave somehow knew of. There was room in the parking lot for at most six cars, yet it was a going concern. It was there that I had my first taste of tortellini alla panna. After that, it became my favorite pasta dish.

We also drove up to Sirmione a time or two, and had dinner at the fancy lakeside restaurant there. When I ordered pork chops, I was surprised when they were brought to the table rare. At home, we always served pork well done, but I supposed that by then, trichinosis was not a problem in Italy. 

In the morning, we would typically have the continental breakfast in the hotel. Supplies from the local grocery would be carried up to the break room on Mount Corna for lunch. I bought the ingredients for cheese sandwiches and PB&J. If I could find pan dolce (baked with raisins and dried fruit), I would use that in preference to regular sandwich bread. From the habit of making many school lunches, I probably included some fresh fruit in my diet. But at this point I don't recall that detail. I do recall that I initially gained a few pounds, and then compensated by eating less for breakfast and lunch.

Mule 

After setting up the transmitters on Mount Corna, we set about installing a receiver on Paganella -- a rocky promontory which sits above the city of Trent. At the time, there was a cable car (funivia), which ran right up the face of Paganella. The original plan involved getting all of our tools and equipment up the mountain using the funicula, and making a cable car ride up and down part of our daily commute. 

The Cableway on Paganella

Dave wanted to visit the site and arrange work and storage space with the airmen stationed there. We rode the cable car up the face of Paganella, and it was spectacular. The cable had two segments because a ridge lay between the base on the east side of the Adige River and the summit house. Towers had been built on top of the ridge to carry the cable across. I remember feeling a bit uneasy as the gondola approached the ridge; it seemed to be heading toward the rocks rather than into the clear air above. But of course, the car climbs most steeply right before reaching the tower.

There was another unnerving moment as the gondola's wheels climbed over the curved support where the cable passed from one side of the tower to the other. But that also went without a hitch, and we soon arrived at the summit.

Our side-trip to Vicenza may have intervened, because a week passed before we were ready to haul our equipment up the mountain. When we returned, we were told that the funicular was closed to passenger traffic due to safety concerns. Some test authority had come through and used time-domain reflectometry to determine that too many of the wires making up the main cable had broken due to metal fatigue.

Up the Adige Valley

At that point, the cable car could still be used to haul freight. And I seem to recall that we sent one load up in that way. However, the next time we returned to the funivia, it was closed completely. We had to look for another way to get the rest of our equipment to the top. [Historical note: Recent photos show that the cableway has been removed. A channel which was blasted through the rocks below the summit house remains to show where the cableway once stood.]

The backup plan involved driving through Trent and Mezzolombardo, then around to Andalo on the backside of Paganella and into the ski area. From there, we rode the chairlifts to the summit. There were three separate chairlifts between the parking lot at the base and the top of the peak. The top of the peak is some distance from the edge of the bluff overlooking the Adige Valley. The radio and TV towers were advantageously sited at the top of the bluff, which lies about 500 yards east of the summit.

The equipment was packed into 3 large grey plywood boxes, each about the size of footlocker but half as tall. That was okay, but the boxes were filled with quick-rail, fittings, hardware and tools. Each one weighed at least 70 pounds. It took two people to handle them, because they were fitted with a cargo handle at each end: No person could reasonably grasp both handles at once, nor have the strength to lift the box if that position were possible. To get the boxes up the chairlift, one of us would go up on the first chair, the other would load the boxes with the help of the lift operator and then come up himself. The operator at the other end of the lift would help the lead person unload. We repeated this up the three lifts to the summit.

Dave and I carried the first box the quarter mile across the mountain top between us. But the handles cut into our hands so we had to make frequent stops. It was about all we could do to get the one box carried across, and two remained.

Then, I volunteered to fetch the other two by myself. The boxes had been secured with adjustable straps, to keep the contents from spilling out in case the latches failed in transit. I took two of these straps and fashioned a harness out of them, passing the strap through the handle on each end of the box. Then, I stood the box on end, put one strap on each shoulder and lifted it onto my back. The straps still cut into my shoulders, but I was able to carry both boxes across the mountain top in that way.

Standby Power

The power on Paganella was notoriously unreliable. In order to keep the radio relay online, the Army had installed backup generators in a room designed for that purpose.  The backup power was triple-redundant, consisting of one modern Deutz diesel engine and two WWII-era diesel generators. The Deutz diesel was air-cooled, a feature that I found impressive for an engine of that size. The person showing me the backup power said that the Deutz diesel was on 3-second standby, with the older generators set to come online at 10 and 20 (or 30) seconds, respectively. All three engines were fitted with dipstick heaters, so they would be warm when needed.

I never got to witness the older generators start, but the primary backup worked reliably on multiple occasions. It was amazing to me to see the lights go out and hear the starter immediately crank up the Deutz diesel, hear it come up to speed and see the lights come back on in 3 seconds flat. Even behind a closed door, the engine was pretty noisy: nobody had to check to see if the generator was running.

Ice Protection

The design for our transmitters included included protection from falling ice. It was known that snow, rime and ice could form on the tower members and radomes above our units and then fall in chunks as the weather warmed. Larry added little ice sheds to the design -- to be constructed on-site. Much of the contents of the grey boxes was the tools and materials needed to create them -- including pieces of SpeedRail and the aluminum plate used as a roof, a hacksaw, drill, etc. Much of their construction was left to me. While I was working in the shop or outside on the tower, Dave worked on routing power out to the transmitter station.

The need for ice protection was made clear on one occasion. A storm moved over Paganella and deposited snow and ice on the radio towers. Noone was allowed outside until the weather had warmed and the ice had all fallen off. I'm sure that was protocol, and it only made sense: A person could be seriously injured if struck by a sheet of ice the size of an 8' radome.

Wonderland

The Brento Dolomites

The top of Paganella offered good views of the Dolomites to the north, Lago di Garda to the south and Trentino and the Adige River to the east. I used my free time there to roam around the alpine tundra and look for interesting views and flowers to photograph.

On a typical day, there was enough humidity and haze that it was impossible to see Sirmione at the other end of Lago di Garda. The next photo shows three lakes -- L. di Santa Messenza, L. di Toblino and L. di Cavedini, from north to south -- but haze obscures the north end of Lago di Garda which lies beyond.

S toward Lago di Garda

On the day that I aimed the receiver at Paganella, the top of the mountain was fogged in. I was unable to pick up any signal from Mt. Corna after getting the antenna installed, so I had to use my memory of the terrain to point it where I thought Lago d traffic pass.i Garda should be. That explains why the antenna on that end was initially aimed so poorly.

Since we were unable to use the antenna as a receiver at the Paganella end, Dave decided to install a transmitter there and see if we could get a signal at the Corna end. This also failed, and by then we were out of time.

Monte Cimone

To keep with the schedule, we left the link with Paganella in a non-functional state and turned our attention to the installation on Monte Cimone. It is likely that Dave had arranged in advance for our access to the various bases, and we had to fit our work into those time frames. Prior arrangement was particularly important on Mount Cimone, since we had to pass through the Italian radio building on the summit to get to the American one.

Smog in the Po Valley

To reach Monte Cimone, we drove for some distance on the autostrada, then turned off on a 2-lane road south toward Fannano. At the time, there were no  pollution controls on the diesel trucks in Italy. Traffic on the autostrada in the Po Valley had heavy trucks travelling almost bumper-to-bumper in the right lane, each truck belching out diesel smoke. That, plus the humid summer air filled the valley with a thick layer of smog.

The Road to Fannano

 At Fannano, we stopped for lunch. I seem to recall that we met some other Americans there -- possibly to arrange our access to the base on the mountaintop. We then headed up into the hills toward Pian del Falco, which in spite of the fancy name seemed to contain little more than our pensione. I was amused to observe that the road to Pian del Falco consisted of one paved lane with a stripe painted down the center and a broad gravel shoulder on either side. It strongly suggested driving astride the center line most of the time, and pulling off on the gravel as needed to get past oncoming -- of which there was fortunately very little.

Monte Cimone

The pensione seemed rather fancy to me, with linen tablecloths and napkins in rings. Dave explained that it was the custom to place your napkin in the ring after eating so it could be reused at breakfast. One night, dessert consisted of a bowl of fresh fruit set on the table. In keeping with the atmosphere, I selected a peach and proceeded to eat it using a knife and fork.

The Road up Monte Cimone

 

 

To reach the top of Monte Cimone, we drove several kilometers up and up a winding dirt road until we came to parking lot near a small building. This was the lower end of the carella -- a counterbalance railway that went into the heart of the mountain. Operating the lift consisted of raising the telephone receiver near the empty car, and asking the operator to bring us up. The carella went into the mountain through a rough-hewn mine shaft perhaps half a mile long and climbing at a 20 degree angle. At the top, we left the cable car and summoned the elevator. This carried us 10 stories upward into the radio building on the Italian side. 

After exchanging the customary greetings with our Italian hosts, we made our way to the American side through a short passage -- like a breezeway except that it was entirely enclosed. Most of the space in the passage was taken up by an array of dish antennas, each about a meter square. Dave explained that it was important to walk behind the antennas rather than in front, if I had any plans regarding a future family. Whatever the carrier frequency, it was accepted as fact that it coupled strongly with one's gonads, and the transmitter power was high enough to do serious damage.

Our 4' Dish on Monte Cimone in Typical Weather

Within a few days, our RSL receiver was assembled and installed with its ice shield. Even better, we were able to detect a signal from Corna and aim the antenna, making the trip to that site a complete success. We replaced the receiver module with a transmitter, and left the site fully operational.

Looking NW toward Florence

Weather on Monte Cimone was changeable, and often we were completely fogged in. However, on a rare clear day, it was possible to see Florence to the south and Pisa down on the coast. 

One afternoon, when we were getting ready to go back down to Pian del Falco the fog was so thick that Dave could not see the roadway in front of him. We could see to the end of the sloping hood of our white Renault 18 and that was it: the rest of the world disappeared into whiteness. However, I noticed that I could see the roadway out of the passenger-side window. That gave me an idea.

I got out of the car and told Dave to follow me. I put on my bright red windbreaker and ran down the road in front of him, showing him where the road was. After descending for a kilometer or so, the fog started to thin out. I hopped back in the car and Dave drove us the rest of the way back to the pensione.

Corna Again

After finishing the setup at Monte Cimone, we returned to Castiglione and the base on Mount Corna. It happened that a small snowstorm passed through the Po valley on the 12th of June, and this event left the air unusually clear. 

Sirmione and Paganella from Mt. Corna

This was a stroke of luck in trying to aim our receiver antenna, since it allowed me to visually align the dish with the promontory to the north. The accompanying 210mm telephoto toward Sirmione, shows the peninsula at the south end of Lago di Garda and the view along the lake. The shape of Paganella can just barely be made out behind the nearer mountains on the eastern shore of the lake.

Venice

Dave thought that we should use our July 4 vacation to tour Venice. So, we rode the train to Venice in the morning and returned in the evening. 

On the train, I stood on the platform between cars for a clearer view of the countryside. At one point, we passed another train going in the opposite direction. The other train blew its horn just as it passed, and I noted that the tone went down by a major third due to the Doppler Effect. From this, I was able to estimate our relative speeds to be about 300kph -- each train travelling about 92mph.

We started out exploring the city together, riding a water bus for a short tour. But at some point decided to split and meet again later at a well-known spot -- underneath the clock tower in St. Mark's Square. 

What struck me right away was the brackish color of the water in the canals. It was barely possible to see a foot down. Even so, there were many gondoliers, each with an immaculately polished gondola in the traditional black.

I found my way to St. Mark's Square right away, and was impressed by the number of jewelers stashed into the alcoves along the square. The prices on gold jewelery were quite reasonable. Even so, I did not have enough cash to buy any of the pieces that caught my eye.

I went off on a walking tour along the quay, but I don't recall the extent of my wanderings. It was a hot day, so I returned to the clock tower early, and waited in the alcoves for Dave to reappear. I did not occur to me to go inside any of the large public buildings, as in taking a tour, mostly because I did not have a lot of money to spend.

Paganella Again

After our success visually aligning the dish on Mount Corna, we returned to Paganella with renewed confidence that we could establish the link. Clearer weather also helped in aligning the antenna on Paganella. My fog-bound estimate of where the centerline of Lago di Garda should have been turned out to be the center of the rock wall about halfway down the west side of the lake. No wonder we were not getting any signal at Corna. It was still too hazy for me to see the peninsula at Sirmione, but I knew from the map that our link should run fairly close to the eastern shore of the lake. I aimed the antenna in that direction. With that setup, we were finally able to detect a signal at the south end of the lake. However, another full cycle of swapping the transmitter and receiver radios would be required to get the antennas correctly aligned.

At that point, we were out of time: Dave had to return to Boulder to lead a High Adventure trip, and I had planned to take two weeks off to visit the Griems in Regensburg and Malin Alsen in Stockholm. I assumed I would be returning later in the summer to finish setting up the RSL tests. 

 

Road Trip 1983

After resuming work at the GE facility in Binghamton, I arranged for some time off in late May and early June to take a trip out west. I had kept in contact with Kathy Humphries, who was studying at the University of Wyoming, and had promised to come visit her. I also planned to stop in Boulder and see Paul and Sarah there before returning to New York.

Allegheny Reservoir (?)

The first leg of the trip took me across the southern part of the New York panhandle on Highway 17 (now I-86). Some of the most beautiful farmland in the country lies in the rolling hills west of Olean. I snapped a few pictures from the moving car as I drove along.

I don't remember stopping anywhere along the way, which is consistent with my habit of the time. I thought it was expensive to stay in motels, so I would usually drive straight through. On that trip, I was driving the 1980 VW Dasher Diesel that I bought used when I started graduate school in 1982. The car reliably got 43 mpg cruising on the highway. So with just a 10 gallon tank, I could easily drive 8 hours without refuelling. On the leg of the trip across Nebraska on I-80, I got 50 mpg, so I nearly crossed the state on one tank of fuel.

A field in Nebraska along I-80

One thing that I noticed was that many of the fields along the road were under water. The Platte River must have flooded, and the waters had not yet receded. What I didn't know was that flooding had not yet reached its peak, and would only start to recede as I drove home more than a week later.

As I drove into eastern Wyoming, I saw a late-afternoon thunderstorm approaching. I wanted to be somewhat more presentable when I showed up in Laramie, so I pulled off the highway and down below the overpass. I took a bar of soap from my backpack and waited for the storm to arrive. Then I stripped down and had my shower right out in the open.

It must have been late when I arrived at Kathy's apartment. I was warmly welcomed, and must have stayed at her place during my visit.  Kathy showed me her lab at the University, and we made several side trips to places of interest around Laramie. On the first day, we drove to a nearby wildlife refuge and hiked a bit, but it was very cold and windy so we did not stay long. 

The author

Kathy

Next, we drove out to the Snowy Mountains and through the Snow Range Pass. We stopped to admire the deep snowpack. From there, we drove west to Saratoga and admired the old buildings there. I recall seeing an old schoolhouse, but (evidently) did not take any record photos of the place.

During this trip, the weather was blustery -- not really spring weather, even for late may. During our trip out to Saratoga, we even saw a few snow flurries. Based on our experience, we concluded that Wyoming has four seasons like many other places, but in Wyoming their names are: Early Winter, Deep Winter, Late Winter and Spring. I just happened to show up during Late Winter.

The Laramie River s. of Laramie

Rudolf on Route 10

Our next adventure was to head southwest out of Laramie on Highway 230 -- following the Laramie River -- and then south on Route 10 to see if we could drop down into Colorado and loop back via Highway 14 and US 287. The Laramie River was still out of its banks after the spring floods, so (in retrospect) the plan was rather optimistic.

A Laramie River Tributary

We passed more evidence of recent, and even ongoing flooding as we drove along, so it was no surprise when we came to a place where Route 10 had been completely washed out. There had been signs posted at the turnoff, warning that the road was impassible, but (ever optimistic) I thought that there might be a side road that cut across the ridge that would allow us to complete a slightly smaller loop. That imagined road did not exist, so at the washout we were forced to turn around and retrace our path back to Laramie.

The washout on Route 10

After leaving Laramie, I evidently decided to try driving as far west as possible before I ran out of time? fuel? interest? A frame in the series claims that I was viewing the sunset over Little America, but the next frame taken less than 30 minutes later claims to put me between Laramie and Cheyenne. Both may be taken with a grain of salt.

What is true is that I knew I liked the drive from Walden to Granby, so I probably went west on Highway 230 through Woods Landing to pick up Colorado 125 to Walden. This view through Kings Canyon confirms that.

A view southwest through King's Canyon

 

At Walden, I stopped for fuel. I remember being thankful that they carried diesel, since I did not have enough in the tank to get me to Granby. I would have been willing to pay a premium price at that point but it turned out to be a bargain.

CO 14 near Walden

In order to record the back side of our High Adventure adventure from 1976, I drove a short distance out Highway 14 to get a good view of the Rawah Peaks. Then, I continued south toward Granby and Berthoud Pass.

As I drove south between Tabernash and Fraser and through Winter Park, I was again impressed by the quantity of snow that remained on the peaks in early June. A record shot of the Continental Divide looking north near Berthoud Pass looks more like a winter scene than the advent of Summer.

Looking N near Berthoud Pass

It seems that I wanted to visit many places familiar to me as I drove from Wyoming down into Colorado. I continued east and stopped to take a picture of Clear Creek where US 6 branches off from I-70. The creek was very full -- another indication that the spring floods that year were far from over.

Descending Clear Creek Canyon, I took the turnoff and headed north on the Peak-to-Peak Highway (CO 72). When I got to Rollinsville, I stopped and climbed up to the Fritz Peak Observatory.

Niwot Ridge from Fritz Peak

There, I took more pictures of the mountains up on the Divide. Then, I drove on to Boulder.

I was staying with Sarah and Nino in their house on Seminole Drive. Their cat, John, had staked out the basement in the usual fashion of territorial predators, so my recollections contain an olfactory element. I didn't see much of Nino during that visit. He was spending long hours working at ComputerVision.

Finding myself idle on another day, I decided to drive up to take a hike up above Loveland Ski Area. I parked at the base of one of ski lifts (now deserted, of course) and headed off in the direction of the ridge leading up to the continental divide. Shortly after leaving the parking area, I was already walking on snow. But practice allowed me to choose a path over firm snow, avoiding both drifts and the thin crusts that lead to postholing. 

Long's Peak (?) and others far to the north

That meant that it was easy going. I soon crossed the bowl, and gained the ridge where it met the bowl at its western edge. Then, I walked up the ridge to gain views of the surrounding mountains. There, I took a series of picture that covered the panorama.

Snow boulders triggered by me

As I hiked up the ridge, I occasionally heard a muffled "whump" sound. I didn't think much of it at the time. However, when I returned to the bowl I saw that there were a number of snow boulders that had come down from the cornice where I had been hiking. My extra weight on the cornice had knocked the boulders loose, and the whump sound was that of the boulder separating and starting its downhill plunge. I thought it was lucky that noone had been hiking in the bowl below, and even luckier for me that the cornice had not broken loose altogether and caught me in an avalanche. On the cornice, I was probably hiking out way past the edge of the ridge, and only realized that after I had returned to the bowl.

As I hiked up the ridge, I remember remarking to myself how much snow remained there on the 4th of June. So that must be the date of my hike. 

I also remember picking up the aluminum seat that had blown off one of the chairlift chairs some time after the ski area had closed. I thought, "This could be useful", so I carried it with me back to New York. The GE plant in Binghamton had a small sheet metal shop, so I took the seat in there during one of my lunch hours and with the idea of converting it into two cookie sheets. The shop technicians wouldn't let me use the tools myself, but one took the seat and cut off the curvy parts, returning to me two flat pieces of aluminum, which I use as cookie sheets to this day.

Very full Platte River

I returned to Boulder via I-70. 

When I left to return to New York, I drove out I-76 toward Sterling. The route follows the Platte River, and I was impressed by how much water was still in it. The river was still out of its banks where I-80 crosses it near Vroman. I stopped and saw that the flood was still within 1 foot of the high-water mark, and that mark was above where the piers met the cross-beams. It seemed to me that another foot or so of water would have been enough to push the road deck off its footings, breaching the Interstate.

I drove straight through the night, and found myself driving in traffic around the south end of Lake Michigan around mid-morning. As I drove through South Bend, I noticed that the red LED that indicated a charging fault was glowing yellow. Then, smoke began to curl up from below that dash.

I phoned ahead to Uncle Mark, and invited myself to stop in Ann Arbor around noon. After lunch there, I removed the instrument panel from the dash, but was unable to pinpoint the problem. I had the suspicion that the battery was not charging, but all I knew at that point was that the charging fault indicator had been zorched. The diesel would continue to run as long as I had enough charge left in the battery to keep the fuel solenoid open. But of course, that was playing with chance.

Rudolf and 3 other VWs at 1930 Cambridge

I must have chosen to go across southern Ontario as the fastest route home, because I ended up going south out of Buffalo toward NY 17. At some point, I had picked up a hitchhiker, which was a good call. While driving on a 2-lane road, a yellow wire behind the dash shorted out with the metal car frame and started making sparks. I reached inside the dash to reposition the wire while continuing to drive. I didn't notice that I was approaching a curve, but my passenger did. When it got to the critical moment, he said "Turn here!" So I did that. Otherwise, the trip might have ended abruptly.

We stopped for dinner in a small town south of Buffalo. I asked a service station to charge the battery for us while we dined. We took our time with the meal, but only spent an hour there just the same. The battery was not fully charged, but it would have to do. It was about 8:30 in the evening when we left.

I disconnected one of the headlights to lessen the drain on the battery, and drove on. After we went through the little hamlet of Fraklinville, I opened up the throttle. Then, I noticed flashing lights in my rearview mirror. I was pulled over for speeding. We were escorted back to Franklinville, where they assembled a kangaroo court, found me guilty of speeding and exacted their fine. My passenger had to kick in $10 to cover it. They must have been very proud of themselves, extracting the last dollars from two young men just trying to get home. And their lack of curiosity regarding the circumstances was at once consistent and astounding. It had not occurred to me or my passenger to carry in the instrument panel (that had been sitting the back seat) as evidence that we had no idea how fast we were going. But in that court it probably would have made no difference.

I continued to drive toward Binghamton, afraid that at any moment the fuel valve would snap shut and we'd be stranded. At one point east of Olean, I was too tired to continue, so I pulled off on an overpass and napped for an hour on the shoulder. I roll-started the diesel to save battery, and we continued on to my apartment, arriving in the early morning hours.

I let the hitchhiker sleep over, fed him breakfast and carried him out to a point on I-88 where he might get a ride, and paid him back his $10. Then I went to work.

A later diagnosis found that the electrical problem was caused by the voltage regulator in the alternator failing closed (short-circuit rather than open circuit). This caused the output voltage to shoot up and reverse-bias the indicator LED to its breakdown voltage. Part of that circuit supplied current to the rotor windings; without it, there was no charging. Replacing the voltage regulator fixed the problem.