When searching for the most beautiful office in Bremerhaven, Eugen von Abel seems to have reached his destination. As the 69-year-old nautical engineer turns on his own axis, his gaze first glides over yachts moored in a marina in front of modern residential complexes, then over the historic lighthouse, the dyke and finally onto the Weser.
In the midst of this maritime backdrop lies his realm, the lock system with the official name "Schleuse Neuer Hafen", which connects the Weser with the harbour in the heart of the city. The job is the reason why Captain von Abel leaves his house several times a month at five o'clock in the morning to work here, despite his retirement: He then coordinates the comings and goings of the boats in a tower with a glass façade.
Working as a lock keeper in the high season
Even on this Monday morning in July. High season. Blue sky over brown water and a gentle breeze. "It's hard to say how the day will turn out," says Eugen von Abel - he never knows at the start of an eight-hour shift. In summer, it lasts either from six to 2 pm or from 2 to 10 pm. Ten men divide the watches between them. They don't have to worry about routine.
It is 7.30 a.m. and the survey boat "Seeadler" is pushing its way into the lock. Shortly beforehand, three sailing boat crews have already sluiced out, presumably to make it a little way up the Weser with the last of the rising water before the tide capsizes at around eight o'clock today. The tide table lies open next to the radio. The closely printed lines are the bible of the sailors in the area. They determine the direction to sail on the Weser if you don't want to have to fight against up to three and a half knots of current.
The booklet is also an indispensable tool for lock keepers. Because around high tide, the chamber gets crowded in good weather. Crews coming from the sea plan their journey so that they are here at this time. Departing skippers use the tide for a rough ride out of the Weser and further west.
Today, however, it is not so much the tide as the holiday rhythm that seems to determine the departure of the yachts. Only a few boats fill the lock chamber at eight o'clock.
Step by step
Lowering barriers, opening and closing gates - the whole procedure is controlled via a single monitor. With the help of the programme, lock attendant von Abel triggers one step after the other. Two other screens with five tiles use cameras to show him all the critical points on the site that are difficult to see from his chair: the barriers on the paths over the lock gates, for example, the entrance from the outside, the lock chamber. He can even use a camera to pan and zoom across the Weser. "It's new and a blessing. Before, there were only black-and-white images in which you could hardly recognise anything," says von Abel.
After a career on the North Sea and Baltic Sea, he knows the area extremely well and is still grateful for the technical innovations. Von Abel was born and raised in Stuttgart. But during his holidays, he either visited his aunt in Kiel or his grandmother in Lindau on Lake Constance. When he realised that the humanistic grammar school was not for him, he decided to study nautical science and moved to northern Germany.
He starts the locking process with an announcement from the tape for passers-by. It echoes across the site in German, English and, for the tourist fun, even in Low German: "Moin, leeve Lüüd, groote und lütte! We've all got to get off the bridge! The slüüs are open - and that's why: All Lüüd fix runner vunne Brüch! Many thanks!"
Then, after pressing another button, a barrier is lowered in front of the lock gate, which is to be opened and which is otherwise used for a tour around the harbour. Quite a few visitors are so mesmerised by the hustle and bustle on and around the water that they simply ignore the warning signals. "Then the only thing that helps is an announcement from me," says von Abel.
Today, too, a man in shorts and bare torso jumps up in shock when the red and white barrier next to him starts to move with a clatter, blocking the way across the Binnenhaupt.
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Whoever finds their way into the lock
Up until a year ago, the lock was operated in both directions as required. Boaters could register and expect to be taken in or out at short notice. Since this season, however, the route now only leads from inside to outside on the hour. According to von Abel, the reason for this is that the lock system would otherwise become too warm and overloaded in summer. "It also costs a lot of electricity."
In addition to pleasure craft, small commercial vessels use the facility, such as the excursion steamer "Geestemünde". Tugboats and small bunker ships also take a shortcut to one of Bremerhaven's branching industrial harbours via the pleasure craft lock.
The chamber measures 14 by 50 metres and can be extended to 62.5 metres if required. A gate further out on the Weser side is used for this purpose. This option comes into play during major events, for example, when one or two traditional ships want to moor in the New Harbour.
In the meantime, von Abel has closed the inland gate, adjusted the water level - which is hardly necessary at high tide - and released the boats onto the Weser. The next boats have already signed up for nine o'clock, but a tugboat wants to come in first. Eugen von Abel, a quiet man with grey hair and glasses, thinks for a moment. "We should still make it before nine," then he radios his answer. "Come over here!"
A lock keeper with composure and experience
It takes a lot of composure and experience to be able to assess situations like this in a relaxed manner and not lose the rhythm of the lock. Not all colleagues are as experienced as von Abel, who has been with us for four years.
Like him, all the others are pensioners and are employed on a mini-job basis by the company that operates the lock. Everyone works six shifts a month, always two days in a row. Then there is a break for a while. From November to March, when the lock is not manned, one of them looks after the tower and the grounds every day.
All of them are sailors, former captains or professional seamen. The hard core has been doing the job for a long time. The newest members of the team have only been with us for a few months. The prerequisite is nautical training or a connection to seafaring.
"Moooiiiin!" it booms from downstairs through the stairwell. "That's caretaker Chris," explains von Abel. Chris sweeps up the 52 steps to the lock booth, once around the tables and chairs and disappears again after a brief, cordial exchange of words about the great weather and the huge number of tourists in the harbour the day before.
An hour flies by quickly on the lock stand. The next person wants out, this time it's the captain of the "Geestemünde". The excursion boat has a special mission today, the national flag is flying at half-mast. "Another funeral voyage," explains von Abel. The passenger steamer can be booked for burials at sea, where the urn is interred at sea.
What can happen in a lock, but shouldn't ...
The manoeuvres of the professional crew are routine. According to the lock keeper, there are rarely any serious problems when mooring and unmooring pleasure craft. The most likely situation is when tugs are locking and, as happened recently, touch the gate and damage something. "With the pleasure craft, it pushes itself into place," smiles von Abel. But he has already seen a lot: lines that don't go over, boats that turn in the chamber, sterns that drift away, couples that bump into each other.
Or, as with the next lock that day, a large sailing yacht enters the chamber and moors directly behind the gate, even though another boat is coming from astern. "The classic!" murmurs von Abel. But this time, too, everything somehow falls into place in the end. "There's no movement, now we can close up shop."
Only when he has opened the outer gate again and the boats are leaving does he leave his post at the monitor and go out onto the platform of the tower. Many skippers look up as soon as the lines are released and shout "Thank you!". Others radio their thanks for the smooth locking process. Since not everyone does this, von Abel is all the more pleased about the attention.
The phone rings inside. "New harbour lock, hello!" answers von Abel. "Out at ten o'clock, no problem. See you soon!" Many sailors use the phone to register. "Some of them don't seem to have the confidence to go sparking," says the former captain. Some of them would also circle in front of the lock without registering, but then it's not clear what the crew is up to.
Particularly good coordination is required during major maritime events, when windjammers from all over the world fill the harbour basin - and a particularly large number of boats fill the lock. It is then operated in a three-shift system. From six to twelve, twelve to six and six to midnight, the pensioners are then on duty at their workplace with the fabulous view.
Eugen von Abel points to the guard schedule hanging on the door. It is set for a year in advance, "and then the big swap begins," he says with a laugh. He has just been on holiday for a while, but is now making up shifts.
From April to October, the retired navigators control the lock on site. In the remaining months, it is remote-controlled. Even then, there is still a lot of coming and going in the marina. The remote control is carried out by the staff of the large lock system, through which RoRo ships and car freighters enter Bremerhaven's northern industrial harbour. Large windjammers also take this route to enter the New Harbour.
Over 5,000 locks per year
It was put into operation as early as 1852. At that time, access to the Weser was via a dock lock with stem gates. It was in operation until 1937, but was then filled in due to flood protection. Today's lock was built at the same location between 2003 and 2005. Since then, modern sector gates have made it possible to equalise the level in the lock without strong turbulence in the chamber and the water level does not have to be regulated by pumps. Over 5,000 lockages take place every year, with almost 10,000 ships changing from inside to outside or vice versa.
Eugen von Abel enjoys keeping in touch with seafaring despite his retirement. "You can get a great view of the water and have radio contact - it's great fun," he explains. "It's also impressive when the weather comes up."
The path to becoming a lock keeper
He joined the lock keeper team in 2020, when his partial retirement from his old employer, the Federal Maritime and Hydrographic Agency, had just begun. He had spent almost his entire career there as a captain on surveying ships. "We surveyed the Schlei, for example - that was wonderful!"
After studying nautical science, he learnt that the German Hydrographic Institute, now the BSH, was looking for navigators with surveying skills. In 1980, von Abel signed on there and completed an additional surveying degree in Hamburg. The subsequent assignments on the North Sea and Baltic Sea were much easier to reconcile with his family life than the long voyage. Eugen von Abel has also always spent his free time at sea: as captain on the "Alexander von Humboldt" and, since 2012, on the ocean-going cutter "Astarte".
Five more locks. In the meantime, a new colleague comes in briefly, the chimney sweep for the heating check and finally his replacement: 2 p.m., change of watch. For the last time today, Abel activates the announcement that sets the lock spectacle in motion. "All Lüüd fix runner vunne Brüch! Thank you very much!"
