On the street corner in Dernau lies a wine tank, swirled around like a toy, one street further a car is hanging up in a tree. The streets are covered in mud, wrecked cars are piled up on the railway embankment, a sweet stench of oil and mould hangs in the air - devastation, metre-high mountains of debris as far as the eye can see. Excavators, tractors and heavy trucks roar. They clear, they dredge mud, and they tear down what can no longer be saved. And that is a lot. In the wine village of Dernau on the Ahr, nothing is as it once was.