Und nun hier eine deutsche Version des Gedichts über den Leuchtturm von Eierland (allerdings ohne Reime, das ist mir nicht gelungen).
Der Leuchtturm von Eierland
Allein auf dem Achterdeck, heut Abend, zittert ein Schimmer - Trauer im Blick. Der Wind vom Meer, pfeifend in der Dunkelheit, bläht das Segel - und das Herz verirrt sich.
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Das Leuchtfeuer von Eierland atmet in seinem Nebel und säumt die Düne, auf der ein erstarrter Schatten wacht. Der Wind des Wattenmeers, voll Bitterkeit, trägt das Seufzen eines nie ausgesprochenen Wortes fort.
Seul sur la dunette, ce soir, un halo tremble - tristesse d’un regard. Le vent du large, sifflant dans le noir, gonfle la toile - le cœur s’égare.
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Le fanal d’Eierland respire dans sa brume et ourle la dune où veille une ombre engourdie. Le vent des Wadden, plein d’amertume, emporte le soupir d’un mot jamais dit.
I decided to try the little I’ve learned about sketching to colouring a mandala with pencils. I might want to try to colour some future sketches and before I f*🫢§ them up by bad colouring 🙈, I thought it a good idea to try first with mandalas. 😁
Je souhaite créer une esquisse de mon poème sur le voilier. N’ayant trouvé aucun dessin inspirant ou instructif pour apprendre à dessiner un voilier, j’ai décidé de me tourner vers l’intelligence artificielle. J’ai spécifié le type de voilier que je souhaitais, un côtre à un mât, et j’ai décrit la scène. Une fois satisfait du résultat, j’ai demandé à l’IA de générer une image que je pourrais utiliser comme base pour mon dessin.
Ce travail est encore en cours, mais je tenais à en montrer les étapes.
Every summer, there comes a time when you must pack the car, ignore the nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something crucial (spoiler: we most certainly did, but I like the blissful feeling that if I would remember what, then I wouldn’t have forgotten it in the first place, or would I? 😉), and head south toward cheese, baguettes, family, and hopefully a bit of rest. This year, our plan was simple: visit family in France, give the kids a change of scenery, and perhaps steal a few moments of peace in between. What else?
Week One – Family Affairs and Slightly Grumpy Hikes
We left on a Sunday – early for us – miraculously organised the day before (wrote this one down in the family history book). Vera heroically took the wheel for most of the 10-hour drive, while JC, having tossed and turned like a seal after a meal all night, could barely manage 1-hour drives. Still, we arrived in one piece. Bravo, Vera!
Monday greeted us with classic French summer weather: greyish skies, a stubborn 22°C, and the kind of light and sporadic drizzle that makes you unsure whether to wear a raincoat or not. We opted for a walk, the adults at least. The kids were less enthused, already dreaming of lakes and ice cream.
The city center of DullinView of Dullin
On Tuesday, JC was gently reminded that holidays warp your sense of time. He was quite surprised to see his uncle at the door, having firmly believed it was still Monday. Plans were reshuffled. Vera took the kids for a nearby via ferrata before heading to the lake, while JC enjoyed a long walk and chat with his uncle. We all reunited at the beach for drinks under the trees – a nice family moment.
JC and his uncle on a walkThe beautiful lake
Wednesday’s plan was a “small trek” – 5-6 km with a gentle 150 m elevation. We’ve done it before with the kids as toddlers. This time? After 500 m, complaints began. The kids executed a perfect moaning relay, each handing off the baton of grumbling as we marched on. Very French of them.
Start of the trek, still smilingYeah, climbing!Let’s go higherand higherWe almost did it!
Speaking of experiencing the French, later that week, JC cycled to the bakery and encountered the true spirit of French driving – a local buzzed past him so closely JC could’ve check his look in their side mirror. Naturally, JC expressed himself in an eloquent blend of French swearing and Italian hand gestures. The driver gestured toward a barely visible shared path (which, legally, he didn’t have to use). All part of the authentic French cycling on the road experience. Beautiful country, baffling cycling signage and morons behind the steering wheel.
Friday brought a family reunion with JC’s cousin. We explored a cave (12-14°C inside 🥶 – bliss for JC in shorts and sandals 😎), visited a waterfall, and had a picnic with 11 people, which required the kind of table you’d usually find at a wedding. The cave wasn’t long or large, but you could stand in it (except for my cousin and his 1m90 or so) and it had plants, green plants in it (mostly ferns), JC was surprised by that and asked the guide why, she replied that the lighting system installed for the visitor is emitting also in UV lights while bats and tourists bring the seeds which find clay and water to grow. Amazing! After that refreshing experience, the kids ran wild around a nearby pond while the adults caught up in the shade. Simple joys.
Ferns in a caveWaterfallBy the pondFamily reunion
On Saturday, we attempted a hike to a via ferrata overlooking Lac du Bourget. Flynn and Vera were the brave ones who clipped in and started climbing 🧗💪. JC and the rest opted for games in the shade – we all have our strengths. Flynn gave it a shot but turned back (understandably, it’s 800m above the lake!). Vera finished the route with ease and then casually added a second, more challenging one for dessert. Show-off. 😜
Lac du Bourget with my sonsFlynn and Vera, the courageousThe rest of usVera on her last stretch
Sunday brought the village festival and a visit from JC’s parents. Music, games, laughter, and even dancing — JC shared a lovely moment with Runa dancing together. We stayed up late. It was, in a word, festive.
Week Two – Lakes, Ropes, and 36 Degrees of Realisation
Monday and Tuesday were about beach life and Stand-Up Paddleboarding. JC found time to sketch a mountain landscape from Austria (yes, he brought his pencils, he’s that kind of holidaymaker … and he forgot his reading book at home – now I remember what I had forgotten, no more blissful feelings). The temperature was climbing, but still kind, especially in the shade.
While dad paddles other relaxGetting readyDrawing… (unfinished yet)
Wednesday was the treetop adventure morning. We lied. Just a little. Told the staff all our kids were over 10 so they could try every routes – including the red and black ones. They all did brilliantly, especially Flynn who tackled the black like a pro. Afterwards, we – guess what – went to the lake. But it was chilly and windy (20°C), and the enthusiasm quickly gave way to shivers. All ask to leave early, except one stubborn soul. (We’re not saying who but he quickly surrendered.)
Ready!Let’s start…Easy…Is it a black route really?That’s definitely a black one!
And then came the heatwave.
1 .. 2 .. 3 .. 4 ..Splash!
With 36°C forecast, JC finally understood why Vera and the kids complain above 24°C 🥵. His Mediterranean blood has apparently expired this year. On Friday, he entered full Italian mode: siesta between 12 and 16h, shade, cold drinks, and zero movement. While the rest stayed active. What he didn’t realise was that the next day would be payback time: packing the car in 36°C 🥵🥵, without a single patch of shade. He’d parked by an empty bicycle rack, which he promptly used as a climbing frame to reach the roof box. Then came the “holiday luggage Tetris” championship. By the end, his t-shirt and shorts were completely soaked — the kind of wet you normally associate with jumping into the lake, not loading a car. This year, he really can’t stand the heat… and at last, he truly understands the rest of the family when their summer moaning begins.
Next we will visit my parents the next two days and go home. We all miss our cat. 🐈
We woke around 7:00 and started the day with a modest breakfast: a cereal bar and some scrambled eggs; Rührei, as the Germans call it. Flynn took the lead in our field kitchen, and I was assigned the role of apprentice. Fair division of labour.
The chef preparing our breakfast
Today, there were fewer photo stops. Jean-Christophe had promised Flynn no diversions for wildflowers photography or wild blackberries tasting. A hard promise to keep for him, but fair enough.
We rode through Dülmen, where we made time for a second breakfast – a German tradition which Jean-Christophe was happy to discover. Then we left the town behind, passt the old gates and headed towards Lüdinghausen, with Burg Vischering as our next culinary goal.
The scenery along the way was amazingly peaceful with humming fields, cooling forests, gliding storks, and a lone maypole near a cozy fire circle. Part of the route took us along a stretch I had cycled a month earlier on the way to Münster.
At Burg Vischering, we paused for drinks and hoped for a bit of cake or ice cream. (especially Flynn wanted soft ice) Unfortunately, the ice cream machine was out of order for the day, and the only drinks available were fizzy – not Flynn’s favourite. Disappointment was quickly put aside with the help of home made cookies, and we moved on.
On the road through a small villageLeaving Dülmen’s GatesA restful momentArriving in Lüdinghausen (Burg Vischering)
The road to Olfen remained pleasant, but time began to press. Jean-Christophe had an appointment later in the afternoon, and we needed to keep a steady pace. We reached Olfen and Flynn – exhausted – deserved an ice cream and was finally rewarded! He, after 88 km in two days, was understandably worn out. Vera kindly came to meet us near Henrichenburg, where Flynn wrapped up his journey.
Jean-Christophe continued alone to Lünen, this time without the panniers — a lighter finish.
Spending time like this – Father-Child – was truly special. Jean-Christophe hopes to have similar moments with his other children too – on bikes or feet, under the open sky, and with time to just be together.
Our cycling trip got off to a slightly wobbly start. After 488 meters – yes, meters – Flynn’s rear derailleur gave up. Not something we could fix roadside, so we turned back, swapped bikes, and tried again. Second departure: successful.
The forecast had promised dry skies after 10:00. At 11:00, the sky disagreed. Whatever was falling wasn’t technically rain – or so we told ourselves – but it soaked us just the same.
I had a route plan. A gentle stop after 2 km to buy sandwiches. A coffee break 10 km later. Then we’d eat the sandwiches. Later still, cake and another coffee. Flynn wasn’t particularly aligned with this schedule. But we did at least stop for the sandwiches.
We also stopped more often than planned to take shelter from some heavy showers.
The fields we rode through were beautiful – full of wildflowers. I couldn’t resist taking a few photos along the way. Then came blackberries. Another pause. Flynn’s patience began to show signs of strain. Fair enough. We agreed to tone down the stops.
The path through the Haard forest was a highlight – green, peaceful, and definitely uphill. I reassured Flynn it was the last climb, and that from there it would be downhill all the way – at least, that’s what my navigation said. But just like the weather earlier, reality had its own plan. One more hill appeared… and that one was on me – I’d missed a turn. So for once, the forecast had been right – we just didn’t follow it. We passed a firefighter observation tower along the way and, naturally, climbed to the top.
A proper pause in Haltern am See gave us a bit of a breather before heading on toward Dülmen and our campsite near the lake.
Dinner – pasta with Bolognese – was served just as the first raindrops returned. We made it into the tent in time. Outside: a steady downpour. Inside: dry and warm.
A pink cornflowerCosmos, cornflowers, etc.Marigold after the rainIn the HaardThe fire brigade watch towerAre we in Bavaria? Nope, it’s NRW!Approaching DülmenObstacle…… but nice viewpointTent is up, we are there!
With school now closed, my son’s boredom has started to show – a mix of restlessness and that familiar “what now?” look.
To break the routine a bit, we’re planning a small father-son cycling trip. Over the course of two days, we’ll be riding through the countryside around Haltern, Dülmen, and Lüdinghausen, with a tent strapped to the bikes and no fixed schedule.
Just a chance to slow down, camp outdoors, and spend some time together – away from screens and closer to trees … and the rain gods :-D.
Dies ist die deutsche Übersetzung des Gedichts Le Voilier, wieder in Form eines Kalligramms.
Der Segler
Des Ostwinds Hauch blähte das Tuch, die Leinen lösten sich, im stillen Morgengrauen erzitterte das Segel. Mit einem sehnsuchtsvollen Röcheln verließ er die Fahrrinne, und sein Bug zerschnitt die widerspenstige Woge. Das Stampfen ließ den Rumpf ächzen; die Wanten klagten im zarten Schweigen. Das Gouvernail – unbeirrt – zeichnete den Kurs, ohne Umweg oder Wiederkehr; Indessen hielten die Bullaugen die Erinnerung der verwaisten Küste fest. II II Sein Lehen wich zurück - mit unergründlicher Scheu. II II Ungeduldig bäumte sich der Wind auf – die Fock knallte scharf. Eine trotzige Gischtträne klammerte sich daran. Sie gab nach – einen Augenblick noch verzögert durch die raue Bordwand – bevor sie sich im Meeresabgrund verlor. Ein Tau knarzte sein trübsinniges Lied, ein Seufzer eines schweren Versprechens. Vom feurigen Böen gepeitscht, zog sich sein entschlossenes Kielwasser ins Grau des Vergessens. Sein Schatten dehnte sich in jener blauen Stunde, gen Horizont, in Aquarell -- Lavendel und Tinte. Doch hinter sich, verschmolzen mit der Morgenröte, glaubte er den Hauch eines Blickes zu spüren, für immer abgewandt.
Jean-Christophe Berthon
Auch hier muss ich am Layout meines Blogthemas arbeiten, da es die Darstellung des Gedichts in Form eines Kalligramms unterbricht, vor allem auf Mobilgeräten.
