This is a surviving wing of an altarpiece that I assume has been lost somewhere over time. It all looks like it’s a medieval Lübeck painting which depicts a scene in which nobody has had time to hold a proper planning meeting, but it appears that it is of religious significance. The prophet Elijah is being taken up to heaven in a fiery chariot, while Elisha, his follower and successor, kneels below and reaches towards him. I’d add that I didn’t know that, I copied it from the information panel at the museum.
The panel was painted in Lübeck at the end of the fifteenth century, at a time when the city still had the wealth, workshops and devotional culture to produce works of real beauty like this. I was strangely drawn to this, although I think I’m always intrigued by things where half the artwork is missing, or over half in this case. I don’t have the religious knowledge to make much comment about the artwork and I’m not sure I even understand the museum’s account that it “could be read as a prefiguration of Christ’s ascension”.
It’s painted on pine and is in reasonably good shape, although the museum doesn’t know where it came from other than they acquired it in 1866. There’s a level of awe that the average fifteenth century viewer of this artwork might have perhaps thought, I rather like it.
Sudden Death are one my favourite brewers in Germany, but I hadn’t realised that they were based in Lübeck until I actually got to the city, so I was very surprised and delighted. Although it goes to show that my knowledge of German brewers is quite weak, but there are relatively few craft beer outfits like this in the country, so I think that they need support and I was happy to oblige.
I was one of the first people there when they opened at 17:00 because I had limited time to get to my train which left a couple of hours later and the railway station was nearly a thirty minute walk. There was a friendly welcome from a team member although she noted that she’d have to move things about as I didn’t have a reservation. That was helpful, although they were able to seat everyone coming in without a reservation for the next hour, but I appreciated the engagement and immediate welcome.
This is a taproom and so their main brewery equipment dominates the environment and it all looks clean, shiny and well presented. There was table service offered to customers which made matters easier, so I didn’t have to go to the bar at any stage.
It started to get busy with a couple of large groups taking up the tables near the brewing equipment, but it felt organised and well managed. There are some fridges with cans in, but I thought I’d just try the beers in their home environment as it were.
I looked at the menu and decided quite quickly that I’d like food. I’m decisive like that.
I asked if they did flights and I was pleased to discover that they did, with a choice of (i) their core beers, (ii) their newer releases or (iii) anything you wanted. I decided to go with the middle option initially and the beers were from left to right:
Bliss in the Field – anything inspired by Trillium is likely to be good and this was punchy in the hops, almost a TIPA intensity, hazy and rounded.
Brick by Brick – a bit rustic, bit smooth, there was a bitter flavour and it was quite intense, all being something a little different.
Hop Ripper (Cascade) – this was piney, light coloured and maybe slightly thin, but it was pleasant enough.
Pilsener Program v.01 – it’s a Pilsner and they don’t excite me, but it was clean and light.
The pizza arrived and it was slightly heavy, but I didn’t let that stop me. It was the taco pizza with some Mexican based toppings and the flavours were robust and it all was all rather lovely.
I then got muddled up and ordered another flight, but these things happen. This time I chose my own four beers from their brewery and they were from left to right:
Brewpub Anniversary Special 4 – this was hazy, tropical, punchy and hoppy.
Echoes of Collapse – juicy, rich, hazy, tropical and fruity.
Eat My Haze 2 Fully Loaded – hazy, peach and mango flavours, tropical and nicely rounded with plenty of hops.
Blabarsoppa – this was the best of all the eight beers that I tried, so I left the best until last. Flavours of blackcurrant, blueberry, cherry and plum, with the whole arrangement being lightly tart. Absolutely delicious and it was good to see them making sours.
There were a couple of guest options as well, but I thought I might as well try beers from the brewery whilst I was here. I’ve had beers from Sudden Death a few times before, but all of the eight I tried here were new to me.
There’s the Untappd screen and two of my check-ins. I still get excited about this despite having been on Untappd for eight years, so I really should get out more.
Some of their can art, it’s decorative and interesting.
Overall, I really enjoyed this visit and it was like being in a brewpub in the United States, this was as on-trend as a German brewery is going to get. The team members were friendly, the venue was spotlessly clean, the glasses were in good condition and all of the beers were above average and some verged towards excellent. They deserve their reputation of being one of the best breweries in German and I’m hoping that this sort of venue is very much part of Germany’s brewing future. When I left all of the seats were taken, so things seem to be going well and the reviews are all very positive. All really very lovely.
This interview is with Mark Pennington (with his wife Deborah in the above photo) who is looking forward to taking part in his fourth hundred. And I love this answer about what he’s most looking forward to and his answer was “Saturday and Monday” which seems quite realistic!
Q. Could you briefly introduce yourself and say how you first became involved with long-distance walking?
A. I am an accountant from Leeds with no athletic background. Around the age of 50, weight-gain suggested I needed some exercise, and my wife Deborah and I decided to walk a trail as a holiday. I found information on the LDWA website, and selected the Dales Way, which we managed to complete, exhausted, at 12 miles per day. We then joined LDWA and did our first social walk with The Irregulars on my 51st birthday.
Q. You mentioned that this will be your fourth hundred. What do you remember most strongly from the first three?
A. The walk into the unknown on Hundred #1. Everyone has done 50 miles to qualify, but most debutants have no idea what their body and mind will do beyond that point. On reaching Coventry at 70 miles, I was exhausted and ready to stop. Instead I asked for a lie down: while discovering that I couldn’t power-nap, I had to listen to other conversations going on around me about whether to quit. I didn’t think it was justified, so I got up, had some food and drink, set off, and gave myself 10 minutes to decide whether I felt too awful to continue. The lie down had done me some good, as I actually found a burst of respectable speed and started overtaking people. I didn’t look back from there. It was a pivotal moment for me.
Q. Does approaching your fourth 100 feel different from preparing for your first, and are you calmer about the distance now or does it still have a healthy ability to cause concern?
A. I now feel as though I understand the event and how to get myself through it. It’s immensely long and things can go wrong, but so far I have coped and never felt that I wouldn’t finish my subsequent Hundreds.
Q. What made you decide to take on this year’s 100 in Kent?
A. After two I decided I’d had enough and would take a break. This turned out to be 10 months long (!), and I was a late entrant for last year’s event: I missed having a goal in the spring. I think I’m hooked now.
Q. How has your training been going, and have you changed anything based on what you learned from your previous 100s?
A. My approach has been similar and I’ve come through unscathed. I just beat my PB in the Marsden Moors Meander by 19 seconds, so I guess I should tackle the Hundred at my usual pace!
Q. How prepared do you feel at this stage, physically and mentally?
A. Physically I’m okay. Mentally, it’s how you feel on the day: but it’s an inspiring day, so I should be up for it.
Q. Food can become strangely important on a 100-mile event. What do you usually rely on to keep yourself going, and is there anything you absolutely cannot face after enough miles?
A. On approaching a checkpoint I’ve always been ready to eat, and I always know what I want. In the wee small hours, milky foods like cereal and rice pudding go down well. And tea, of course.
Q. Is there a particular point in a 100 where you know from experience that things can become difficult, and how do you usually get through it?
A. As a Monday finisher, Sunday is immensely long and very hard. In particular, 60-80 miles is the hardest, when you’re done-in and there’s a very long way to go. Before 60 I can smell sausages, and after 80 I start to smell success. One thing I’ve learned is that your feelings come in-and-out: you don’t just feel progressively worse all the time.
Q. What would make this year’s 100 feel like a success for you?
A. Any completion is a success. Beating 41 hours would keep up my statistical progress, but I suspect the late hills might challenge this. I won’t worry about it.
My friend Liam is a civil engineer (not that he’ll read this, some best friend…..) and I thought of him when reading the cathedral’s comments that their structure has four quite big construction problems. Now, a medieval version of Liam would have blamed the architects and it’s clear that they made a few little errors as well.
The first problem is that they built the cathedral in the wrong place. There is the story that God chose whether to site the building by making a miracle happen, but he chose a place that was very sandy which feels sub-optimal. The engineers got building their lovely new cathedral and discovered almost immediately that the tower was sinking and leaning, which caused quite a commotion. They built brick ribs and added walls to fix the little problem, but that didn’t much help.
The second problem is that they couldn’t make bricks. They couldn’t afford to ship stone in from France, which would have been the sandstone that most cathedrals at the time used, so they instead used brick as that worked for the Romans. So they got some people together to make bricks, but the things they made were riddled with cracks and crumbled. The cathedral’s new facade crumbled away within years and so had to be rapidly replaced with some new bricks as they had become more experienced by this point.
The third problem was a bit later when the repairs to fix the earlier problems started. They used Portland cement which was unsuitable and led to some bulging of the stonework and bits promptly fell off the towers. I can imagine the annoyance of the engineers who whilst trying to fix earlier problems ended up creating new ones.
The fourth problem is that they had to keep patching up the frontage because of the succession of building errors. They, on numerous occasions, patched up the outer layer of brickwork, but failed to actually attach it to the stonework behind it. This led to cracks of the outer layer and, once again, bits kept falling off. Recent investigations have shown that just 11% of the original masonry has survived, the other 89% is more modern and attempts to fix the construction errors that have occurred.
All of this has combined today to mean that the cathedral is currently faced with another major restoration, because the towers are still not stable. I think it’s clear that the bombing of the cathedral in 1942 didn’t much help matters, but the problems are much longer-term. I rather liked the whole engagement that the cathedral showed with this, it’s clear that many cathedral projects didn’t go to plan, although this one seems to have had more problems than most.
I’m slightly puzzled by this painting, although I’m frequently puzzled by many things so I don’t let that surprise me. It’s evidently St. Christopher, but the cathedral gives no other information about the artwork other than referencing the saint himself and how he looks after travellers. There can be few more noble things than looking after travellers and pilgrims, so he’s quite high on my list of favourite saints. I’m not sure whether you’re supposed to have a list of favourite saints, perhaps there’s another blog post there one day….
It’s not a subtle little piece, but it’s in remarkably good condition for something which is dated 1665 in the top right hand corner. This meant I assumed that it was a modern painting which replaced an earlier artwork that was damaged during the Second World War. However, there are mentions online that this is the original and so I’m puzzled as to why the cathedral in its guide doesn’t want to make more reference to it.
It seems to me that this is the original painting which shows him carrying travellers along a dangerous river, but it seems that some sort of restoration is likely. But maybe that’s just out of hope that it somehow survived the Second World War, I think it’s one of the highlights of the cathedral.
Edvard Munch’s (1863-1944) Die Söhne des Dr. Max Linde is apparently one of the landmark family portrait paintings of the twentieth century, or at least that’s what it says online and so it must be true. Painted in 1903, it shows the four sons of Dr Max Linde (1862-1940), a Lübeck eye doctor, collector and important early German supporter of Munch. The boys are not presented as neat little decorative cherubs, but they have individual personalities, varying levels of patience and the faint air of children who have been told to stand still by adults who are not fully in control of the situation.
The museum’s own account notes that Linde first encountered Munch’s work in 1902 and went on to commission portraits of his family, views of his house, garden and collection, as well as what became known as the Linde portfolio. Its presence in the Museum Behnhaus Drägerhaus is appropriate given that Munch was repeatedly active in Lübeck between 1902 and 1907, largely because of his relationship with Linde, and this work is one of the great results of that connection.
In terms of the children, Hermann leans in from the left, Lothar seems barely able to keep still, Theodor occupies the right-hand side with considerable confidence and Helmuth in the centre who looks straight out. I wonder what the children thought of it, it does show a sense of mischief between the two of them, I rather suspect that they liked it.
I’m more amused about AI’s response to whether it could tell me anything about this as it replied:
“The stone is very worn, and Latin inscriptions are unforgiving little beasts even before several centuries of feet have gone over them. I can provide some words with reasonable confidence but why put these stones where people walk over them?”
It seems to be humouring itself now, but I like its style. Anyway, the ‘Memento Mori’ which means something like ‘remember, you’ve got to die’ is a cheery little number at the bottom of the stone. It dates to 1730 although it’s not clear whether they’ve moved it because of the damage done during the Second World War. I suspect that it hasn’t moved very far, if at all, and in response to AI, it’s likely a good thing that they didn’t have this as a memorial on the wall, as that would have been less likely to survive the various attacks that there have been on this building.
However, this stone is readable enough without AI and it’s the tomb of Kaspar Andreas von Elmendorff (1658-1730). He was born in 1658 at Füchtel, located to the south west of Bremen, and became a Catholic canon in the otherwise mostly Lutheran cathedral chapter of Lübeck. Remarkably, he received the expectation of a canonry at Lübeck Cathedral when he was only ten, which goes to show what happens when you’re from a wealthy family.
He later held a canonry at St Alexander in Wildeshausen, before being ordained subdeacon in Münster in 1681 and priest in Hildesheim in 1700. He moved permanently to Lübeck in 1697, became an Imperial Councillor in 1705 and eventually served as senior of the cathedral chapter. He was also caught up in the rather tangled 1705 Lübeck bishopric succession dispute, supporting the Danish candidate Prince Carl, who ultimately lost out to Christian August of Schleswig-Holstein-Gottorf after a diplomatic intervention which all sounds very complex.
Elmendorff died in Lübeck in 1730 and was buried in the southern choir ambulatory of Lübeck Cathedral. Rather surprisingly perhaps, some of his donated liturgical silverwork survives, which is some achievement although it’s primarily just a saucer that is left.
There was an interesting little museum area at Lübeck Cathedral, but these two images tell the story of the damage done here during the Second World War. This photo of the cathedral was taken in 1930.
And here’s what is left following the air raid on Palm Sunday (Psalm Sunday if you’re Robert Jenrick) on 28 March 1942, with this photo being taken a month after the attack. A city left in ruins and a cathedral primarily reduced to rubble. Work to restore the building wasn’t completed until 1982, although the interior of the cathedral has been rebuilt with some considerable care.
More in future posts, but the cathedral authorities are challenged at the moment as their building is starting to fall down and they’ve decided that they’d better fix that. This is a long-term historic issue, although not really helped by the 1942 destruction.
Mainly just a few photos in this post, it’s the rather beautiful frontage in Lübeck along the River Trave. Originally this would have all been a trading space where goods were shipped, stored and handling, so primarily working warehouses. In the nineteenth century, it all became rather more industrial with cranes, slipways and docks being added along the river.
It’s all really rather beautiful now, there are plenty of spaces to sit, walking routes, restored buildings and it’s much more touristy. I didn’t have time to walk as far along the river as I would have liked, but another time…..
It took me a short while to notice that this was a stuffed snake and not a real one. I don’t like getting too close to them to inspect them, but it soon became apparent that it wasn’t moving and a lazy snake was hardly likely to stay in that position.
It’s fake nature was more obvious when I zoomed in. I don’t trust snakes though, they can be shifty little things, so I’m glad I checked.
Although there were other clues, like this sign that mentioned at the moment there wasn’t any “living” snake in the terrarium.
There should have been a grass snake here, for which the German is ‘Ringelnatter’. The word ‘natter’ can mean a snake or adder and it’s what came across into English as ‘nadder’ for snake. In middle English ‘a nadder’ became ‘an adder’, so by the seventeenth century or so the spelling had changed.
