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From Koblenz to Mainz
This where the superlatives begin, and so too the geography lesson. Taking notice of our Eurail guide, we have been down the Rhein Valley (as we Germans spell it), from Koblenz to Mainz, but instead of rail we travelled by car thanks to Fleur’s friend, Thomas. To get there, our first autobahn experience, and at around 140kph, there are plenty of cars that leave us in their wake. This may be the only country in the world where signs stipulating a 130kph maximum speed limit means to slow down.
From not having heard of Koblenz, we find a 2000 year old city, at the confluence of the Rhein and Mosel rivers, and a real treasure it is. The altstadt, or old town, has cobbled streets filled with splendid Gothic churches and buildings, just the thing for antipodean tourists to gawk at in amazement, and indiscriminately start taking photos like the Japanese tourists at home we (now used to) mock. A huge, imposing, monument of Kaiser Wilhelm overlooks the meeting of the rivers, it is immense and, like the Arc de Triumph, it is hard to capture just how commanding it is on camera.
From the rather featureless countryside between Dusseldorf and Koblenz, the Rhein Valley is stunning. It is real picture postcard stuff. Towns ribbon each side of the river against a backdrop of steep hills, upon which at various vantage points are castles and other ruins. Many of the villages have the remnants of Roman and medieval walls and, above the town of Oberwesel, we visit Schonburg Castle.
At various points the sides of the valley are vast vineyards, looking in places to be on a slope of at least 45 degrees. Quite how the vines are tended and crops harvested we are not sure, but we don’t envy those with the task.
As dark sets in we arrive in Mainz, another city we had never heard of, but one founded as a Roman military base in 13 B.C. So it has been around a while. Our night of luxury is to stay in the Novatel, from which we head down to the altsadt for dinner and, again, what a surprise. At night it is breathtaking, the town set around the Kaiserdom Cathedral, appropriately named St Martin’s, a Romanesque bascillica and, again, cobbled streets and beautiful old buildings. This is the town where Gutenberg invented book printing we are pleased to report.
Intending to enjoy our night of luxury, we inspect the hotel’s spa, contemplating an early morning swim and sauna, but it is more like we are the ones inspected. The attendant, a solid, fierce-looking fraulein in a crisp white uniform reminds us of Nurse Rachitt from One flew over the cuckoo’s nest, and we have visions of being flailed with birch branches (for our own good). Regrettably, we sleep in.
The drive home, the next day, is along the other side of the river, stopping first where, as legend has it, seven brave hearted virgins were transformed into a reef of seven rocks, onto which the siren Loreley is supposed to have lured passing sailors to their death. In the real world, Thomas and I climb around 350 steps to a particular lookout point, only to find we could have driven up had we turned off at the next village. Despite the climb just about killing me, the exercise helps the body combat the cold. Cold which reminds us of Central Otago in winter, with the ground solid white from the hoar frost and icicles hanging from rocks.
The final stop is at Marksburg castle which, said to be the best-preserved castle on the Rhein, and set 150 metres above the town of Braubach. Again stunning.
At home, roast pork and red wine for dinner before heading out for New Year’s Eve.