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Friday night I was back in the hotel, and Saturday morning I found myself, this occasion in uniform, back at the train station and waiting for the train. As stated prior, there is a method to the trains and I didn’t catch one element. The schedule changes dramatically on the weekends and I watched as one posted time after the other slipped by and....no train. About 6:40AM a gentleman ambled down the platform and stood as if waiting. I asked if he spoke English and he stated no, as he gave my uniform the once over. I asked in very bad French if the train went to Diekirch to which he stated Oui. So I was in business. 

He was giving me the once over on my uniform and I was waiting for something negative. Europeans have a funny feeling about uniforms sometimes, depending on what country, and his eyes landed on my US Air Force tab on my shirt. “Marche L’Armee?” he asked. “Oui”. He started speaking beyond my capability, and mentioned the word train and bus, and motioned for me to stick with him. We got on the next train (the only one I saw in Mersch that morning) and off we went, but he motioned for me to exit the train at Ettlebruck, and we walked to a bus. This took us to Diekirch. 

We walked past the mayors office, over the bridge crossing the La Sure, and to the starting point. We had out tickets punched, he turned and waved with “Bon Chance” and walked off, leaving me in his dust, which has always been the case with me in these marches. 

The first segment of the march was enjoyable, through the town and to the outskirts. Then the fun passed. “Fun” to some people being something entirely different to others and I mean this facetiously. Luxembourg is not known for being flat. For nearly two hours we climbed, head slightly forward. I do not jest in the slightest on the time element. 

The roads wind back and forth in such a way to conserve the effort of the vehicles that pass over them, yet they have no mercy for those climbing. As such the roads wind through the forest and when you think you might be at the end of a particular rise, you turn a corner and get around a line of trees and see the road continuing, UP, for another 150-250 meters. Another bend in the road and another gift of uphill, on and on. 

Many of the comrades I knew to be experienced marathoners were making those noises known to us in the military as the same as saying “God, make this stop”. One Swedish NCO I knew from prior marches who was enduring her eighth Luxembourg was making just those noises. I had less trouble than others with the uphills, as I have spent some time on stair-climbers. But it was a struggle regardless. This continued for most of the first half of the day. The irony was the downhills were just as demanding in that when going uphill it made demands on the back of your thigh muscles and going downhill made equal demands on your shin muscles. 

Countering all of this was magnificent scenery. We passed through hamlets and villages, and past castles going back I don’t know how many centuries. And there were always the lovely people, giving you a quiet nod and a hello in several different dialects. 

The Luxembourg Army gave support to all marchers and had their form of lemonade and tea on hand at half a dozen places, which is more often than most other marches I have been on in Europe. The checkpoints were located almost always near a town so one could gauge their progress and then have a mini-celebration by stopping for something to eat and drink. On some occasions the stops would be in the forest, which added to the pleasure of being there. 

In my preparation for the march I did not see or hear of any support on hand for the professional taping of feet, which is my preferred approach to foot protection, so having applied a generous dose that morning, I reapplied mid way through the march. I had tried it before with mixed results, but with two years behind me it was having a very positive effect. 

I use a Camelback as a water source and had consumed three liters in six hours. I found it necessary to refill by bag for the remainder of the day and didn’t have a lot left when I finished. Many of my European colleagues find it enjoyable to have a beer several times during the march. Those of us not accustomed to the consumption of beer as the Europeans (remember it can be twice as potent as American beers) should keep our Yankee metabolisms in mind and be careful of same. But I did sit with some friends and have one, followed by a generous dose of water immediately afterwards. Coffee has the same negative affect but I rely on that first cup in the morning. OK, a second and third as the morning went down. 

The end of the first day, and I got my final ticket punch at the arrival gate to the festival area, and just finished on time. I was, I admit openly, exhausted. I had not prepared for hills as I had not expected them. A lesson learned in researching terrain when preparing for new marches. 

There was the normal steady flow of beer and conversation at the conclusion of day one, but I had been stung by the train schedule and wanted to get back. I left after an hour of conversation and comments on the march, and trained back to Mersch. I was walking back to the hotel, a good 400 meters, when two policemen stopped their patrol car and spoke to me in French. When I spoke English, they re-asked where I was going. I said to my hotel, and they told me to get in the back and they would take me. Another example of the tremendous hospitality of the Luxemburgers. 

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Photos copyright 2001 Gary Nelson, licensed to About.com