@chitaka45 Just Published Some Gorgeous Photos Of Shinsen-en In The Snow (I Love Their Photos In General

Heading towards Tokyo, two high-speed Shinkansen lines join up roughly 8 km North of Ômiya. I am riding an E7 train from Nagano, and at the junction, a red E6 coming down from Akita on the other line appears, coupled to a bright green E5 which has come all the way from the Northern island of Hokkaido. Another E5 shoots in the other direction, having just left Ômiya.

My train is overtaking, and I exchange amused waves with the passengers who have just seen an E7 appear out of nowhere in their window, but the long nose of the E5 just gives it the win at Ômiya station.

There could be clearer pictures of these impressive trains in the future, but for now, that's the story behind the blog's banner picture!

Location of the first photo (link to OpenStreetMap)

Karlsruhe Palace

Thought I'd pop up to Karlsruhe today; it's not very far and I'd never been. It was... well, OK for a light outing. There's a lot of construction work going on in town, and it wasn't very animated being late January. Still, the weather was good enough for a pleasant walk around the centrepiece, the Palace, which houses the history museum of the State of Baden.

Karlsruhe is a relatively young town, by European history standards, as it was founded in 1715 as a new seat of power for the Margrave of Baden. A symmetric living building with a rear wing mounted by a tower was surrounded by vast gardens, and streets radiated out from the palace - a rather original urban arrangement, I don't remember seeing it in other places. Following French invasion in the late 18th century, Emperor Napoleon granted Baden the status of Grand Duchy: the ruler gained access to more riches and symbols such as a crown, a throne...

The Grand Duchy was briefly overthrown in a revolution in 1849, and abolished entirely following the fall of the German Empire in 1918. The region of Baden, stretching from Mannheim and Karlsruhe in the North, along the East side of the Rhine down to Freiburg and Konstanz, became a Republic within the Weimar Republic, and merged with neighbouring Württemberg, the area around Stuttgart, into the Land of Baden-Württemberg we have today in 1952. Baden was the smaller of the two former Grand Duchies, and was more reticent to the merger, as this poster in the museum shows.

"This is what the merger will be like!"

Ultimately, the merger wasn't as bad a deal as feared: when a Baden-only referendum was held in 1970, a return to a split was emphatically rejected. Still, it is not rare to see the yellow and red flag of Baden in the South-West corner of Germany - I've seen it outside a drinks hut near Oberkirch (bottom left picture) and on several castle ruins. It naturally flies atop the Karlsruhe Palace tower.

When I have the inspiration, I stage an Easter Bunny Massacre. Also it's April Fools' Day, so I wanted to post something funny. Lacking inspiration at the moment, I looked back at a previous Easter weekend.

I saw it once! Kind of.

After Gion Matsuri in Kyoto last summer, I was catching a train back to Nagoya and noticed lots of people on the opposite platform. I thought nothing more of it, but when I boarded my train, the windows were... yellowed out. I figured out what was happening fairly quickly, but I probably wouldn't have had time to get back out and take a good picture.

Hopefully one will be preserved either at JR West's museum in Kyoto, or at JR Tokai's SC Maglev Railway Park in Nagoya next to its predecessor.

ドクターイエロー。

Out of service: the Trieste-Opicina tramway

While the reopening of Notre-Dame cathedral in Paris is making big news, and while I'm in a bit of a tram phase on the blogs, spare a thought for the tram line between Trieste and Opicina, closed following an accident in 2016. And it's a real pity, because it was a wacky one.

Trieste is a city by the Adriatic Sea, surrounded by steep hills - and I mean steep. Opicina is 300 m higher, and the tram line features gradients as steep as 26% - link to the Hohentwiel hike for scale. Steel wheels on rails weren't going to be enough...

Initially, the steepest section was built as a rack-and-pinion railway, but in the late 1920s, it was replaced by a funicular system. Cable tractors would be coupled to the streetcars to push them up the hill, and control their descent on the way down - that's the curious boat-like vehicle in the photos (at least I'm getting boat vibes from it). The picture below shows just how steep the climb is.

In the later years of operation, these cable tractors were remotely controlled from the tram. The streetcars themselves date back to 1935, with wooden doors and fittings, making the Trieste-Opicina tramway a charming and technically unique heritage system.

Sadly, the line is not running. Two streetcars collided in 2016, they were repaired, but service has not resumed. One vehicle, coupled to the cable tractor, remains stationary at the foot of the climb, near where the second photo was taken. A look on Google Street View shows that cars are now habitually parked on the disused tracks. The number 2 tram route between Trieste and Opicina is currently served by the number 2/ bus.

Summer highlight reel: Île de la Table Ronde

To the South of Lyon, the "Island of the Round Table" in the middle of the Rhône offers a fantastic escape from the city. While the East side is exposed to a lot of noise from motorway traffic, the inside and West shore are gorgeous, and the southernmost end is a nature preserve.

The river flows by at a steady pace, making it a good spot for a reaction ferry similar to the ones in Basel. Fair play to the locals, they thought that too!

Bridges now do the job - though the suspension bridge from Vernaison isn't doing too well. Built in 1959, it needs replacing and until then, traffic is limited on it so as not to overload it. This hasn't been helped by the North side of the island being an industrial estate.

In the centre of the island, one finds a ruined farm, the Ferme aux Loups. One thing @teamroquette likes to do is geocaching, and so we looked for some, but the most elusive geocache of all was the namesake of the island. There are pictures of a round table associated with the island on Google Maps, but we missed it. That said, one Google review also mentions that they couldn't find it, so who knows.

We did find these interesting and somewhat imposing water level meters though. Lay on them to measure yourself... and get the wrong answer!

"Stick an aircraft engine in it" part 1 - Boeing Jetfoil

In the late 60s and early 70s, all branches of transport were hoping for an increase in performance similar to what the jet airliner brought to aviation, and the solution was invariably to use similar gas turbine technology, with invariably identical career trajectories when the oil crises hit, as, apart from in aviation, far more economical engine options were available. So I was very surprised to see this still active in Japan last summer:

This is a hydrofoil which uses gas turbines to power a pump-jet. Once it is going fast enough, it takes off and runs on foils, greatly reducing water resistance and achieving speeds up to 45 knots, over 80 km/h (which, on water, is very fast). I remember seeing exactly this type of vessel in ferry brochures when I was a child; Oostende Lines operated some between England and Belgium. The advent of the SeaCat, a class of huge Diesel-powered car-carrying catamarans, got the better of the hydrofoils and the hovercraft, which was incidentally another case of "stick an aircraft engine in it".

This specific class of hydrofoil takes the mantra to another level, as it was designed by Boeing, which named it the 929 Jetfoil. Production was licensed to Kawasaki Heavy Industries in Japan, which made boats for the domestic market. The Rainbow Jet is one of these, running between Sakaiminato on the San'in coast and the Oki Islands. I saw more of them at Atami in Eastern Shizuoka, providing transport to the Izu Islands. So, despite the astronomical 2150 L/h consumption (though to be fair, I can't find consumption numbers for equivalent foot passenger-only catamarans), Japan still runs them...

200 km/h push-pull trains

While Germany has recent double-deck train carriages, the Dostos shown previously being built in the 2000s, and updated versions still being produced, France made its last carriages in the 1980s, including Corail cars for inter-city services. But their use was curtailed by the development of the high-speed network.

Some sets were given push-pull ability, with a driving cab at one end that can control the locomotive at the other - the lead car above being a renovated B5uxh: second-class seating, 5 compartments, air-conditioned, driving cab, disabled access. These have found a new lease of life in regional transport, especially in the East, as the straight and flat Alsace line from Strasbourg to Basel allows these 200 km/h-capable carriages to stretch their legs. The "TER 200" puts Strasbourg only 80 minutes from Switzerland (wink-wink-nudge-nudge for a future trip).

The usual motors for these sets are BB 26000 "Sybic" locomotives built in the 1990s, powerful enough to get them to their top speed. While not at top speed in this setting, probably running at 100 km/h on the slower line to the Lorraine region, they still feel like very big trains when they go by.

Other push-pull trains exist in Alsace, with smaller locos and carriages rejoining the fleet for the planned Réseau Express Métropolitain Européen. However, most passengers trains everywhere in France now are covered by multiple units, especially since bi-mode units like the Régiolis shown below, have appeared. These are capable of running on electric power or with a Diesel engine, making them as flexible as can be.

Sangaku Sunday #2

As the tags in a reblog by @todayintokyo indicated, I waffled about what we'll do in this series in the first post without really defining its main object!

Sangaku are wooden tablets on display at Shintô shrines or Buddhist temples in Japan, featuring geometry problems and their solutions, usually without proof. They started appearing in the Edo period, a particular time for the Japanese people and Japanese scientists. The votive role of these tablets has been debated as far back as the Edo period, as indicated by Meijizen who wrote in 1673:

"There appears to be a trend these days, of mathematical problems on display at shrines. If they were true votive tablets (ema), they should contain a prayer of some sort. Lacking that, one wonders what they are for, other than to celebrate the mathematical genius of their authors. Their meaning eludes me."

I feel the debate on their religious role is overrated. If you look at some food offerings at shrines today, I don't think you'll find a prayer on the bottle of tea or pack of rice, as the prayer is made at the time of offering. It likely is the same for sangaku tablets, which went on display with other offerings. But, as Meijizen hinted, they did have another purpose.

Until we expand on that, below the cut is the solution of last weekend's problem.

Place the point H on the line between A and C1 so that the distance between A and C1 is equal to r2. As the lines (AC1) and (BC2) are both perpendicular to the line (AB), they are parallel, and since AH=BC2=r2, HABC2 is a parallelogram with two right angles: it's a rectangle.

So the length we want, AB, is equal to HC2. The triangle HC1C2 has a right angle at the vertex H, so we can use Pythagoras's theorem:

HC1² + HC2² = C1C2²

In this equality, two lengths are known: C1C2=r1+r2, and

HC1 = AC1-AH = r1-r2 (assuming r1>r2, if not just switch the roles of r1 and r2)

Thus, HC2² = (r1+r2)²-(r1-r2)² = 4 r1 r2 after expanding both expressions (e.g. (r1+r2)² = (r1+r2)x(r1+r2) = r1² + 2 r1 r2 + r2²).

Taking the square root yields the result.

Ruine Schauenburg

My hike in July took me to the South side of Oberkirch, while on the North side sit the ruins of Schauenburg castle. It's a short, but steep, climb from town centre (or you can drive up).

The castle was built at the end of the 11th century by the Duke of Swabia. It saw action mainly in disputes between local lords, most notably after much of the land around the castle was sold to the Margrave of Baden-Baden, around 35 km to the North. It became a ruin following a French invasion in 1689.

Today, a restaurant sits beside the ruin. When I was last there, there was a camera stand to take a clean selfie - you know, the one where you set a timer instead of holding at arm's length. That's where my photo on my professional website comes from.

As is the case from the South side, the castle has a good view of the Rhine plains, and Strasbourg cathedral sticks out. It would have stuck out even more back in the day, without the modern tower blocks. The lords of Schauenburg would have seen the massive gothic cathedral and its monumental spire being built... over the course of a few centuries.