The local newspaper printed a photo of Martens on the ladder in his suit and one of the newlyweds kissing under the tree alongside the headline, ‘Wedding of the year’. Twenty-four years later, Martens and Renate remain happily married, and the former postman still keeps her letter.

As the sun began to fade in downtown Eutin, Martens suddenly closed his scrapbook and reached for his coat. “Let’s go before it gets dark,” he said, grabbing his car keys. “Follow me.”

Women climb the ladder to read love letters in the 1930s (Credit: Karl-Heinz-Martens)

Fifteen minutes later, I was back in the Dodauer Forest, this time following Martens’ heavy footsteps towards the old oak. At the circular fence around the tree, he pointed towards two signs: one describing the tree’s history, which he wrote; and another reading, ‘May this marriage last a long time!’.

In 2009, after more than 100 years of bringing people together, the Bridegroom’s Oak was symbolically married to a 200-year-old chestnut tree near Düsseldorf. Though 503km apart, the trees remained together for six years until the chestnut started suffering from old age and had to be cut down, leaving the Bridegroom a widow.

“When I started coming here, the tree was stronger and healthier,” Martens said, pointing up to a series of cables securing the oak’s branches. “But I’m not so healthy either, so I suppose we have a special connection.”

Several years ago, arborists detected a fungal infection inside the oak, leading them to lop off a number of its limbs to prevent it from spreading. Around the same time, Martens was diagnosed with leukaemia. Like the tree’s branches, he explained that his bones aren’t so stable anymore.

Though retired, Martens still likes to come back to visit the tree (Credit: Eliot Stein)

“But I can still climb the ladder,” he said, slowly raising himself up its rungs.

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