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Moselle, journey along the
Moselle, journey along the
A date with Moselle
Spring feelings. Enjoy the first warm rays of the sun. And the Moselle valley promises even milder temperatures. Two summer hungry people followed the grande dame of the German rivers from the mouth of the Rhine near Koblenz to its source in the Vosges.
Daniel Lengwenus
03/18/1997
“You know that tingling in your stomach too …” is the loud sound from the open window of a passing car, one arm hangs casually outside. It’s warm, great weather. At last he is there, the spring. Winter is behind us, the trees are developing their first green, and buds are already forming on the vines. With blinking eyes from the sheer brightness, I watch the people waiting on the Alken pier. Everyone seems to be smiling somehow. Close your eyes and put the sun on it. The pleasant grin comes of its own accord. This is also the case with Isabelle and me. We sit on the terrace of the »Burg Thurant« restaurant directly on the Moselle promenade in Alken near Koblenz and let the first rays of the spring sun caress our faces. The sun itself is still shining a little pale, as if it had just got up, but it is enough for a bright blue sky and pleasant temperatures, and for the first motorcycle tour of the year. We decided to go river hiking to follow the course of the Moselle. Just right for a long weekend, but until now the broad B 49 on the northern bank of the Moselle has contributed little to driving pleasure. A bus ride for seniors is probably hardly less entertaining. But while we sit and drink coffee, our chef and Harley rider Peter Kopowski draws a couple of attractive alternative routes on our map. We should leave the Moselle for a short time and try the small side valleys instead, is his tip. All right then. Let’s try it out. The chef seems to know his way around. Now really is driving fun. The asphalt belts wind their way through the deciduous forest, dry and easy to grip. It is pleasantly warm, the sun brings about a whopping 20 degrees with its rays. Perfect. Where it doesn’t get there, however, it gets significantly cooler, so I literally crawl into my thick jacket. The journey from one sunspot to the next, interrupted again and again by shady forest sections, is like a rollercoaster. When the sunlight then heats up the thermal clothing and sends cozy warmth to the arms and back, the muscles relax again and gradually we find our way again, falling into the familiar rhythm of accelerating, taking off the accelerator, braking, downshifting, turning corners, accelerating out , upshift, off the gas, brake. It’s back again, this addiction. While we slowly nibble the hardened winter layer from the tire edges, we suck up the fresh, unused spring air like dried out sponges. We had to do without it for long, far too long, our eyes were already lazy from the eternal gray of the winter landscape. Again and again we drive up the hills of the small valleys, cross over to the ridge to the next descent and drive back down into the Moselle valley. From Brodenbach to Emmelshausen, from Bickenbach down to Burgen. This works on both sides of the Moselle and offers fun bends away from traffic and tourist crowds. The Flaumbach, still a very young hop at Treis-Karden, invites us to let off steam with it. A wonderfully curved lane leads up its bank to the edge of the Moselle valley. From there, the view falls on the river, which winds comfortably in the soft sunlight. Inspired by the warm rays of the sun, a light haze rises over the water. A few more curves and then it will already start to get dark. But we can’t leave it yet, a valley still fits. Only one. A very small one. The next morning promises another wonderful spring day. It is still bitterly cold and the hoarfrost is glistening on the motorcycle saddles, but the roads are already dry. From Monreal we swing down to Eller-Erdiger. There it becomes apparent that Madame Mosel has clearly gone overboard quite a few times. Some of the water level markings on a house in Eller-Erdiger cannot even be reached with an outstretched arm, as the water ran through the Moselle that far. We get stuck on the Eller promenade, enjoy the beautiful view of steep slopes and ridges, the rhythmic pounding of the passing barges as background music in our ears. Finally we set out again, strolling leisurely along the quayside. The engine hums to itself, the Triumph pushes leisurely over the asphalt, falls easily from one curve to the other, playfully changes sides. An incline follows the incline. As if wrapped in cotton wool, we flow along with the meanders of the river. The plateaus of the Eifel and Hunsruck rise abruptly from the banks of the Moselle. Here the winemakers defy nature from a wine that has become more famous for its location than for its taste: the Bremmer Calmont. It grows on the steepest vineyard in Europe. Behind Alf we drive up to the Petersberg to the former Marienburg monastery, where a coffee party with the river diva is the order of the day. Here the Moselle winds so tightly around the mountain that it almost forms a circle and is visible on the terrace to the left and right of the walls. At the narrowest point, the distance between the Moselle and Moselle is barely 400 meters. A real challenge for inland skippers who come here almost drifting around the corner. The way down to the ferry to Briedel is certainly not the official one and is less intended for motorized two-wheelers. But we are drawn to the call of the wilderness on the small asphalt path between the vines. Downstairs we have to call for the ferryman, just like in the old days. The Moselle is now getting younger, narrower and therefore more interesting. Behind Traben-Trarbach, we are more attracted to her naked ass than anything else in Krov. A sonorous and famous vineyard from which, however, a completely normal Moselle wine comes from. The name matters, the taste is rather secondary. We use the day and orientate ourselves again on the tips of the Harley-driving chef. Out of the Moselle valley to the plateau and back down to the next valley. It could go on forever, Isabelle and I can’t get enough of this “swinging the curves”. Until finally the forearms report and threaten with tendinitis. If the clutch has to be pulled with the whole arm, it is time to stop. So in Trier-Schweich we follow the signs to the hotel »Zum Stern«. A good choice as it turns out. There is a beer stand in the parking lot, a remnant of yesterday’s festival. We are spontaneously invited to empty the barrel and postpone the shower and dinner until further notice. The local regional drink – Bitburg is less than 25 kilometers away – tastes excellent. And because of leftovers, the barrel seems freshly tapped, it just doesn’t get empty. In the meantime, the manager of the house, a friend and the kitchen help have joined them, and the leftover drink turns into a cheerful, lively party. Late, very late, we find it difficult to go to bed, and in the mornings we find it very difficult to get out of bed again late, very late and with great difficulty. The day starts correspondingly tough. We’re not making any headway, and from Trier the route no longer offers any particular attractions. Hardly any bends, stubbornly it goes along the now steadily flowing Moselle. Cruising instead of swinging corners is the order of the day – not the worst program with a heavy head. The Moselle forms the border with Luxembourg for a short distance, and then we are in France. The seriousness of life for Moselle, as it is now called, begins between Metz and Thionville. Tower-high loading cranes and refineries with innumerable, colossal tanks determine the picture, eternally long rusted conveyor belts that lead to soot-black courtyards. Dumps of coal and rubble and scrap as far as the eye can see. Up the Moselle we try to escape the industrial hustle and bustle and always follow the signs with the addition sur-Moselle, which means that the locality in question is near the river. Nevertheless, we increasingly lose sight of our companion, the streets are moving away from her, houses and industrial plants block our view. At some point she will be gone. But shortly before Nancy, near Pompey, according to the map, la Moselle makes an arc to the west and flows around the city extensively. Here we come into close contact with her again. And in front of Toul, she shows us her sanctuary as a compensation: the Moselle Riviera near Liverdun – her only small sandy beach. We estimate it to be seven meters long. Two small rowing boats bob under a linden tree, the branches of which extend into the water. Light rain sets in. We stay in the dry under the thick canopy of leaves and enjoy the romance of the Moselle to perfection. Right in front of us are gray herons like statues in the water, big fish jump out of the water to catch flies. Toul itself is a single fortress from the 17th century, surrounded by meter-thick defensive walls and deep trenches. In the old streets of the town, the last holiday in the south of France is present again. It is blooming everywhere, the laundry is hanging on the balconies, and it smells like the approaching summer. Contrary to all living habits, I get up early the next morning. Addiction drives me out of bed. The first glance is at the sky behind the curtain. Gray. Too bad. But it doesn’t matter. The main thing is that it is dry because we are hot to drive. In the direction of Epinal we first have to make do with the boring Moselle Canal. It is higher than the road, the ships pass unreally at head height. The route is not very spectacular, but we haven’t had a leisurely glide through green meadows this year either. With 80 things it goes on the French regional roads through the air washed clean by a short downpour. In Charmes, we’re looking for a place to break up the private birthday party in a pub. The landlady is about to make it unmistakably clear to us that we are undesirable when a lady in a fluttering skirt approaches from the dance floor. The birthday child, who openly invites us to baguettes with meat pie and fresh tomato salad. Colette is celebrating her 50th. She is a child of happiness, she explains to us, born on May 8th – the day of the German surrender. Dear me, of course none of us thought of that. We burst in here on this national holiday of all times. But the memories are apparently no longer precarious, we are kindly invited to join in. From Epinal onwards, she is now downright teeny. At Eloyes, she teasingly shows us another secret: her completely untouched natural river valley. Nobody here has yet intervened in the course of events. This is her nursery, here she can do what she wants. Simply beautiful, this landscape. It feels like it used to be on the big summer vacation. The flower meadow smells inviting, we spread our jackets and sit down. There is mowing somewhere, it smells of fresh hay. In this meadow landscape, our river is no longer so easy to locate. Several times we have to ask farmers which of the many bodies of water the Moselle is now. So it gradually lures us into the first mountains of the Vosges. But now no road can follow its unsteady course. We cross back and forth, occasionally glancing from bridges at her bed to see if she is still there. Soon the Moselle is just a Vosges stream, like its sister Moselotte, who joins it from the mountains near Remiremont. Our little one in Le Thillot is less than a meter wide, and behind Bussang there is just a trickle left of the Wiesenbach. It’s another two kilometers to the sources, Moselchen almost crawls into a ditch next to the road. We are there. Poured in concrete and bronze, a little water trickles from a brick wall, so lovely that it could not be clouded by itself. Here she begins her 545 kilometer long, sometimes arduous route through France, Luxembourg and Germany to Koblenz. Where, in the end, it brings some clarity to Father Rhine’s floods.
Info
To start the season, a tour along the Moselle is ideal, because the spring sun develops its warming power early on in the steep valley. And those who are only available in autumn can simply go to the grape harvest.
Arrival: The mouth of the Moselle near Koblenz can be reached both from the south (via Frankfurt or Mannheim) and from the north (via Cologne) on the A 3 or A 61. The route: The idea, the Moselle from its mouth near Koblenz to the source Following as closely as possible in the Vosges is not much fun on the lower reaches between Trier and Koblenz on the broad federal roads. There it is advisable to break out of the tight turns of the steep Moselle valley and drive to the high plateaus of Hunsruck and Eifel. In addition to perfect winding roads, there are always fantastic views of the river. Travel time: The best time is undoubtedly spring, and especially May. In the German part, the deeply cut valley harbors spring-like temperatures early on. In the southern Vosges, summer already begins in May, and it becomes significantly warmer and drier there again. In autumn, the vineyards and the grape harvest on the Unterlauf offer the second attraction of the year.Overnight: There are a couple of charming campsites between Trier and Koblenz, some of which are right on the banks of the Moselle. If you want a hotel, you can spend a particularly romantic night in Alkem near Koblenz on the Moselle promenade in the lovingly restored “Burg Thurant” hotel restaurant. Telephone 02605 / 3581.In French Toul, we recommend the hotel “Villa Lorraine” (with motorcycle garage), telephone 0033/38343/08 95, in the middle of the old town. The “Hotel des Sources” is located directly at the Moselle springs and is excellent dine and sleep peacefully. Telephone 0033/32961/5194. Literature: For the lower reaches of the Moselle from Koblenz to Trier we recommend the very nice HB illustrated book “Mosel” with good travel tips. Travel guides about the Vosges region provide information about the vicinity of the Moselle springs. For those interested in culinary delights, Meininger Verlag has two regional restaurant guides, “Mosel” and “Alsace”, which go well with the route. In addition to first-class star restaurants, rustic restaurants and wine bars are also recommended and information is provided about overnight accommodation. The map of Germany from Kummerly + Frey on a scale of 1: 500,000, which also contains the French part, is suitable for an overview. Details in 1: 200,000 in the German area are provided by the good general maps by Mairs (sheets 12 and 15 or large sheet 5). In France they are being replaced by the equally perfect Michelin maps (either sheet 87 or the “Upper Rhine” map).
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