When Germany Built a Flying Train 125 Years Ago, a City Coalesced Beneath It. It Has Moved Royalty, Commuters and Tourists—and One Elephant—Ever Since

When there was no room on the ground, towns in the Wupper Valley looked to the skies and built a suspension railway that became a source of pride and connection

Soumya Gayatri | Freelance writer

July 8, 2026 8:00 a.m.

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On a warm summer morning, I find myself in Wuppertal, an industrial city in western Germany’s North Rhine-Westphalia. There isn’t much on my agenda for the day, just one simple thing—riding a train.

In most places, that wouldn’t be much of a travel plan. But in Wuppertal, riding the train is a singular attraction. Because the train I have come to ride is the Schwebebahn, Wuppertal’s suspension railway. It’s also known as Germany’s “flying train.”

One of the most unusual public transportation systems in the world, the train hangs from an elevated steel track, its carriages dangling 26 to 40 feet above the city as it glides through the air, giving passengers the sensation of flying.

For more than 125 years, the Schwebebahn has floated over the River Wupper and across the city. It opened to the public in 1901 and is the world’s oldest suspension railway. It carries more than 80,000 passengers—mostly residents and a few curious tourists like me—every day and remains integral to life in Wuppertal.

As I board the Schwebebahn, I quickly understand why visitors are fascinated by it. It feels like stepping into a wobbly cable car rather than a sturdy train cabin. The carriage sways gently as I rush to grab a seat at its farthest end, which promise the best views. As the train leaves the station, I look out of the window to see the Wupper snaking away below me. Roads and buildings zoom past while cyclists and pedestrians occasionally stop to wave. For a moment, it feels like I’m on the fictional Japanese manga Galaxy Express 999, bound not for another station but for the stars.

“A ride on the Schwebebahn is special and unforgettable,” says Thomas Helbig, managing director of the Schwebodrom, an interactive museum in Wuppertal dedicated to the railway. “That’s why we have a saying in German: ‘Einmal im Leben durch Wuppertal schweben,’ which means ‘Once in your lifetime, you have to ride the Schwebebahn in Wuppertal,’” he adds with a smile.

On digging deeper, I find that the story of how Wuppertal got a suspension railway is as fascinating as the train ride itself.

A Train Fit for the Terrain

When the idea of a suspension railway was conceived in the 1880s, the city of Wuppertal did not exist. Instead, the Wupper River Valley was home to several smaller towns, including Elberfeld and Barmen, that were hubs for Germany’s booming textile industry.

“By the late 19th century, these towns … experienced a surge in population and were desperately looking for mobility solutions to replace the horses and coaches that could no longer handle the increasing traffic,” says Helbig. “While other places opted for trams, buses and underground metro systems, the situation here was different and a little tricky.”

The Wupper Valley was narrow and surrounded by steep hills. Towns had grown along the river, with factories and houses built on its banks. There was no space to construct additional roads or railway tracks. Digging underground, which was hard and rocky, wasn’t a feasible alternative.

“The space over the river was the only space we had,” says Helbig.

When Carl Eugen Langen, a German engineer and entrepreneur, presented his ambitious idea of an elevated railway system in which carriages were hung from an overhead steel track with the help of wheel bogies, Elberfeld and Barmen jumped in on the plan. Vohwinkel, another town on the river, joined them.

Wuppertal’s suspension railway was formally approved in 1894. Construction began in 1898, and on March 1, 1901, the first section opened to the public. Although Langen did not live to see its construction, he had christened the train Schwebebahn, or the “suspended railway.”

From its inception, the Schwebebahn attracted significant media attention. Newspapers across Germany followed its progress with a mix of excitement, skepticism and disbelief. A cartoon published in the Berlin satirical magazine Lustige Blätter, or “Funny Pages,” in 1895 captured the public mood with the following poetic caption that loosely translates to:

“Suspension, Apprehension, Super-Invention! The Schwebebahn soars high. If the project doesn’t go awry. And won’t melt like a lofty dream. The sublime Schwebebahn, it may seem.”

The Schwebebahn, however, quickly proved its worth and became a lifeline for the towns lining the Wupper Valley, which would later merge to form the city of Wuppertal.

From Engineering Marvel to a City’s Lifeline

“The suspension railway was a technical masterpiece of its time,” says Christian Kindinger, head of technology at Wuppertal’s transport division. “Its design was revolutionary because it did not require any space on the roads, had no crossings and operated independently of traffic.”

The Schwebebahn seemed tailor-made for the city’s unique geography.

Wuppertal is often referred to as a “linear city,” because it grew in a straight, uninterrupted line along the river valley. “The suspension railway was able to match this exact layout and connect the most important districts of the city,” says Kindinger.

That alignment, however, was no accident. “No part of the Schwebebahn was standard,” explains Helbig. “Designers replicated the exact curves and bends of the river so that the train could remain directly above it.”

The result was a public transport system that was customized for Wuppertal and became integral to its growth. More importantly, it brought together communities that had long existed as separate towns.

In August 1929, when a Prussian territorial reform merged Elberfeld, Barmen and Vohwinkel with Cronenberg and Ronsdorf to create Wuppertal, the first three had already been connected by the Schwebebahn for nearly three decades. “The train was the glue that had brought the towns together,” says Helbig. “The reforms formalized it.”

Today, the Schwebebahn remains the backbone of transportation in Wuppertal. It runs through the valley’s busiest corridor, from Vohwinkel in the west to Oberbarmen in the east, serving 20 stations and covering nearly 8.3 miles in about 30 minutes. “Since this is the valley’s busiest corridor, … the train plays an important role in easing Wuppertal’s traffic congestion problem,” says Helbig.

A Cultural Symbol

Over time, however, the Schwebebahn has grown into much more than just a transportation system for the city.

“It has become a source of local pride and a symbol of Wuppertal’s identity,” says Kindinger, explaining how the railway has contributed to Wuppertal’s international recognition and brought in visitors from all over the world.

More than a century after its first trip, the Schwebebahn remains uncommon, with only a handful of comparable systems in the world. The closest is the Dresden Suspension Railway, which uses the same overhead-hanging technology developed by Langen. Japan’s Shonan Monorail and Chiba Urban Monorail are other similar examples, although they employ the newer SAFEGE technology developed by a consortium of French companies in the 1950s.

Therefore, for many tourists, the train is reason enough to come to this German industrial town.

“I always visit Wuppertal for the Schwebebahn,” says Clara Francken, a rail enthusiast from Belgium who has lost count of how many times she has been to the city. “Riding the train is so much fun; it allows you to see the place from a completely different perspective, almost like a sightseeing bus, but better.”

I find myself agreeing with her. Viewed from the hanging wagons, Wuppertal reveals many stories that are impossible to appreciate from the ground.

One of the most intriguing tales is the legend of the baby elephant Tuffi, whose stone sculpture I spot in the river near Barmen. A quick search reveals that Tuffi—Schwebebahn’s most unlikely passenger—is nothing short of a local celebrity.

In July 1950, a traveling circus visiting Wuppertal organized a publicity stunt by placing Tuffi in one of the carriages. “Tuffi, however, didn’t like the reporters and the noise, got nervous, and fell out of the train into the river,” says Helbig. “Fortunately, she survived with only a small scratch on her neck.”

“The story, however, became famous and is now part of local folklore,” says Kindinger. “Today, you will find Tuffi everywhere in Wuppertal—on postcards, pens, bags, mugs and all kinds of souvenirs.”

Tuffi’s legacy, however, goes far beyond the souvenir shops. The stone sculpture I spotted in the river marks the spot where the elephant fell, while a full-size bronze statue stands near Wuppertal’s town hall. Every winter, the city also celebrates its favorite baby elephant by installing a giant illuminated “Winter-Tuffi” sculpture at the entrance to the Barmen pedestrian zone.

I cannot resist picking up a Tuffi soft toy and a magnet from the gift store at the Schwebodrom museum, where children and adults excitedly browse through shelves packed with elephant-themed memorabilia. More than 70 years after her dramatic fall into the Wupper, Tuffi remains immortalized here.

I continue strolling through the museum to realize that over the past 125 years, the Schwebebahn has become a cultural icon in addition to being an engineering marvel. Closely intertwined with people’s routines and memories, as well as timeless legends, it has come to represent Wuppertal.

Perhaps nothing captures this spirit better than the city’s fascination with the Kaiserwagen—the king’s wagon—a replica of which I find at the museum. German Emperor Wilhelm II and his wife, Augusta Viktoria, rode this royal carriage car on the Schwebebahn on October 24, 1900, months before the suspension railway opened to the public.

The original Kaiserwagen, recently renovated with authentic upholstered seats, vintage lamps and Art Nouveau flourishes, is now available to ride again and offers visitors a chance to step back into the early 20th century.

“You can book the entire wagon for special occasions,” says Helbig. “Or join one of the coffee rides, where guides dressed up in period costume tell stories about Wuppertal and the history of the Schwebebahn while you enjoy coffee and cake.”

Francken hopes to ride the Kaiserwagen on her next visit. “It will be a fun way to travel to the city’s past,” she says. “And relive the times when women in long dresses and feathered hats, and men in high-buttoned waistcoats, would have looked up in wonder to see this futuristic train flying over them.”

As I leave the Schwebodrom and board the Schwebebahn one last time, I notice families traveling together, their little ones clutching plush Tuffi toys. Children giggle every time the train passes over a car while grandparents eagerly tell the story of the flying elephant. Teenagers chat on their way back from school, and couples look out of the windows in excitement.

I am struck by how deeply the suspension railway is embedded in the city, not just literally but metaphorically. It is much more than a means of public transport; it is truly Wuppertal’s symbol of pride and identity.

Soumya Gayatri | Read More

Soumya Gayatri is a journalist from India, currently based in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. She writes about travel, architecture, food and culture. Her work has appeared in BBC Travel, BBC Future, New Lines Magazine, AD Middle East, Conde Nast Traveller India, Travel + Leisure Asia, AD India, the New Indian Express and Deccan Herald.