Hochwasser

'Hochwasser', high water, an expression that causes a mix of emotions for anybody living near one of Germany's great rivers. 'Hochwasser' spells danger for farmers and property owners, excitement for children and visitors, expense and administrative headaches for the authorities.

The massive flooding in summer 2002 in eastern Europe hit the international news for days on end. The River Elbe and others in the eastern part of Germany, swelled by the unprecedented rainfall, burst their banks in innumerable places. A freak tidal wave along the River Mueglitz ripped houses apart. Loss of human and animal life and damage estimated in tens of billions of euros was the result. Large areas had to be evacuated as the Elbe rose from a normal summer level of about two metres to at least nine metres. In Dresden all the bridges across the river had to be closed and many of the cultural landmarks were inundated, the famous Semper Opera's basement being flooded by three metres of water. http://www.guardian.co.uk/gall/0,8542,775037,00.html

For those living along the Rhine, 'Hochwasser' is perhaps more a way of life. A worry, certainly, but centuries of seasonal high water has meant that permanent defences have been built. Strategies for dealing with 'Hochwasser' are firmly established. Even so, the added threat of higher floods caused by global warming means that more is being done all the time: dykes reinforced, a second line of defence being built far back from the river to create and contain a larger flood plain, huge bowl-shaped holes being excavated to protect villages.

For the larger cities along the Rhine such as Bonn, Cologne and Düsseldorf, the river constitutes an annual threat, particularly to their historic city centres.

This January, I happened to arrive in Cologne across one of its several bridges, to see a small media village of TV crews with their satellite-dished vans parked by the bridge. The reason? An early Hochwasser threatening. Steel barriers less than a metre high had been erected, offering an impotent looking obstacle. The fast flowing grey brown water surged past, swamping the gangplanks. The large river cruises that normally take tourists up and down the river are temporarily suspended.

Owners of bars and restaurants in the Altstadt were hastily bolting steel shutters across windows and doors – all carefully cut to size and numbered. Some eager defenders were applying bathroom sealant along the edges. That is, all except one restaurant which defiantly had all its tables out on the pavement under umbrellas and gas heaters – pretending 'business as usual'. Meanwhile the water crept to within a few centimetres of the top of the temporary barriers. The TV crews all strained to scoop the first breach, and the police kept everybody back. When the water had clearly stopped rising, the feeling of disappointment seemed almost stronger than that of relief, and the solitary restaurant owner was again confronted with competition. When the snows melt in the Alps, the Rhine will again swell, from its source in the Bodensee (Lake Constance) along its 1320 kilometre course to the North Sea. And then the story may be different.

If you visit some of the picturesqe villages along the Rhine in summer – Kaiserswerth between Düsseldorf and Duisburg, or Orsoy near Rheinberg pictured here, for example – you will notice impressive gateways through the walls that protect them from the river. Look closely at the inside of these and you will see deep grooves in the ancient brickwork, two on each side. Into these can be slotted heavy wooden planks and the space between filled with sandbags.

Ancient they may be but their purpose is modern. Come back in the winter or spring and you may well see a small car ferry sailing happily over that picturesque meadow just below the walls. A temporary landing point will have been set up where the cows now graze and that small road leading to the Rhine five hundred metres away will be marked by a few fence posts pointing tentatively out of the water. The Hochwasser is back!