The hidden castle

I finished my cruise at the Rhine’s confluence with the Moselle River, at Koblenz, arriving in the evening. My intent had always been to use Koblenz as a base for a day trip to Burg Eltz, a tall and picturesque castle two hours along the Moselle, but I must have had a lapse of attention in my otherwise meticulous planning. I had booked a train to Cologne the next day at noon. I could have skipped Burg Eltz and concentrated on the pleasant, strollable Altstadt (“old town”) of Koblenz, but I decided instead to abandon my €17 train ticket and see the castle. It was wasteful, but I didn’t want to miss one of my must-sees on this trip for the sake of A$29.

From the Moselkern train station half an hour out of Koblenz, a 90-minute walk through forests and along streams takes you to the Eltz castle, towering above the valley. It is the only castle in the region to escape destruction by French forces under Louis XIV – all the others were blown up – and it has been restored several times under the custodianship of the same family which has owned it for 1000 years. The comforts of the castle were much advanced for the Middle Ages, and included rainwater flushed toilets.

It was predominantly for the photogenic aspect of the forest castle that I wanted to make the trip, but alas, the photographic expedition was a bit of a failure. No photography of the castle interiors was permitted, which is not unusual, but the light outside was really lousy. Bright sun struck the castle at the wrong angle, the afternoon light hazy enough without the wind also kicking up dust. Passing clouds which might filter the light skirted the sun like water avoiding an oily spot, so after waiting an age all I could do was put on a polarising filter and hope for the best. On top of this, the castle was blemished by the bane of architectural travel photographers: scaffolding. I can’t object to restoration or structural maintenance, but it seems that half of the castles and cathedrals in Europe are constantly marred with metal skeletons and veiling shrouds.

St Goar & Burg Rheinfels

St Goar is a bit kinder to backpackers. I was able to leave my pack at the tourist information centre while I climbed up the hill to the ruins of Burg Rheinfels, once the most impregnable fortress on the Rhine. A rabbit warren of defensive passages, some as little in height as a metre, meant soldiers could quickly get to other parts of the castle and any invading army which gained entry would be confused and outflanked within the walls. It would have been impossible to get through all the low castle doorways and narrow passages wearing a backpack.

How to work off a German breakfast

A hard day’s yakka today, working my way up the Rhine by ferry cruise, hopping off to visit different ports and sightsee along the way.

Carrying 25kg on my back.

Running.

I hopped off the ferry in Rüdesheim to visit the Niederwald Denkmal, a monument celebrating the creation in 1871 of the German Reich, high above the Rhine and accessible by a 2-person cable car. It’s then a 30-minute walk through the forest to the chairlift down to Assmannshausen (which sounds like a house Cosmo Kramer lived in – boom-tish!) I rested the tired dogs on the peaceful chairlift down, but by the time I found the ferry wharf I had to crack the whip. I was 300 metres away and the ferry was already there! I had to run, which is hard to do wearing a backpack. It’s a good thing I have a sharp whistle, because at 50 metres they were pulling the gangway.

I made it to Bacharach, one of the prettiest towns on the Rhine, full of half-timbered houses on narrow streets surrounded by a city wall. Burg Stahleck, the castle on the hill overlooking the town, has been a youth hostel since 1920, and I booked a private room there months ago. Unfortunately, there’s no cable car or chairlift; the access is hundreds of stairs and switchback trails up the hill.

The steam from my shoes hissed like a train when I finally released my belaboured feet. The shower was very welcome.

Expecting a relaxing evening overlooking the Rhine, I came downstairs from my room to find the youth hostel completely overrun by overexcited schoolchildren on an overnight excursion, screaming, playing, and running everywhere. Being the happy-go-lucky traveller (tourists are always happy) I rather enjoyed their fun, though when they were playing in the hall outside my room, screaming and falling against my door, I had to look up the word "quiet" in my phrasebook and open my door with "Ruhig, bitte!"  German children are very polite, and they complied.


Misty morning view from my room in the castle. 

Mainz is boring.

This is in part because carpet bombing flattened it in 1945, so there are only a few old buildings left in a small untouched section of the old town. But the rest of the blame must lay with the indifference of the subsequent town councils who seem to have engendered a total absence of civic pride in the local population with their apparent lack of city planning. Europe is a continent of pedestrians, as much so here as anywhere, yet it’s difficult to get anywhere in Mainz because you have to walk around so many walls and roads and buildings that suddenly loom in your way. Public spaces are half-hearted with unimaginative pebblecrete fountains smelling of chlorine, and gardens are yellowed and uncared for with half-broken green wooden benches from the 1970s. It is unglamorous and suburban.

This is the start of Germany’s famed Romantic Rhine. I now understand why, when I said I was headed next to Mainz, the guesthouse proprietor in Rothenburg shrugged quizzically at me as if to say, “Why?”