Germany tour

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Germany tour

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Germany tour

Germany tour
1000 new ways

The Rhine and Moselle are more unknown to me than the Amazon and Nile, and I’ve been to the Rockies and Altai, but I don’t know either the Taunus or the Hunsruck. In this sense, this trip was long overdue.

Michael Schroder


Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt. Sunday morning, around seven o’clock. The best weather and three free lanes where rush hour traffic would otherwise jam on the kilometer-long straight towards the center of the Swabian metropolis. Then this wonderful left-right combination just before the center of Stuttgart, finally the lindworm-like Weinsteige, which leads back out of the city quite steeply uphill. Hardly anyone but me, and I find myself traveling a little too quickly. Somehow a good start for a lap through a part of Germany that is right on my doorstep but, to my shame, is quite unknown to me. However, my route has not yet been determined exactly. From Stuttgart roughly towards the Palatinate Forest, then Hunsruck, Moselle, Rhine, Westerwald, Rothaargebirge, Taunus and finally the Odenwald. The Porta Nigra in Trier and the Loreley on the Rhine are compulsory; As a freestyle, a detour to the Grober Feldberg is on the wish list. To get the whole thing going, I take the autobahn as far as Karlsruhe and only turn onto a tempting country road at Kandel. Sunday mood in the dressed up villages. Church goers and weekend guests, license plates from half of Germany. Wine and potatoes are for sale in front of many houses, a trailer with huge, bright orange pumpkins on the roadside creates a veritable traffic jam. In Bad Bergzabern I finally have to decide on a route, after the small town I take the first right. A direct hit. Suddenly I’m on my own again, driving through a dense forest that only occasionally opens up to misty floodplains. Suddenly two herons right next to the narrow road. Brilliant. Like the rest of the road, which is slightly uphill the whole time. Thick, gnarled fairytale forest trees, the golden shining leaves of which have long covered the route like a carpet. A slippery affair, more than 40 km / h is not possible. But a fantastic picture. After a while I am on the 611 meter high Weibenberg, then the route leads ?? now a little narrower? through this magical forest down again. I feel like I’m in another world: a little faster because it has two lanes, the country road from the Eschkopf towards Rodalben. Curves. Curves. Curves. Hardly a straight stretch. Crazy. It’s more leisurely again on the way via Zweibrucken to Saarbrucken, where I turn three involuntary laps through the city center to find the way to Volklingen. Once there, my actual destination cannot be overlooked: the »Alte Volklinger Hutte «, Europe’s oldest plant for the production of pig iron. A rusting giant made up of countless ovens and chimneys, kilometers of pipelines, half-ruined halls and huge containers. I am speechless at the peculiar fascination that emanates from this gray industrial oak, which in the meantime has even been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Unfortunately, it is already too late for a detailed tour around 4 p.m. And it starts to rain heavily. Quite hard, actually. Tomorrow shouldn’t be better, I find out when I refuel. So get away from here. North course. Soaking wet ?? I still haven’t learned to put on a rain suit in time ?? I drive the Fazer over the unloved train to Trier, Germany’s oldest city: the Romans built the first walls here as early as 18 BC. In the evening the clock shows 470 kilometers, and the next day the Porta Nigra, that mighty, fortress-like portal on the edge of the city center, made of dark stone, hardly stands out against the gray sky. But no rain. After all. As if spellbound, I look at this building, while listening to languages ​​from all over the world. I don’t know when I last saw so many coaches. As soon as I was out and about, it suddenly pelted like buckets. Damn. Wet feet again. I can only find protection under the roof of a gas station. It’s unbelievable how loud the rain is pounding the tin. Only two coffees and a bag of gummy bears later can I get started again, play leisurely under an unexpectedly blue sky along the Moselle, which winds in many loops through a sun-drenched valley to the Rhine. Vines everywhere, swans, canoeists, cyclists, walkers, squeaky clean villages and inns that advertise traditional cuisine. German flow romanticism in perfection. In the autumn decorated wine village of Niederrommel I realize that at almost 40 I am definitely one of the youngest visitors. Two bends in the river I trade this tranquility for a truly daring stretch of road. The route from Bernkastel-Kues winds spectacularly through a narrow and dark gorge and finally through an almost impenetrable forest, steep and above all extremely curvy uphill. To Longkamp. At best I would have expected this delicacy in the Alps, but not on the edge of the Hunsruck. Up here you can hardly feel anything of the loveliness of the Moselle valley. The landscape looks barren, rougher, the unadorned villages hardly have anything of the comparatively Mediterranean flair down by the river, which I reach again via an equally daring descent near Traben-Trarbach. My map now looks like I’ve been on the road for two months and not just two days. Further along the Moselle. Sixth gear and let it roll. This landscape is extremely calming. Until I turn my back on the river and aim for the Rhine over the Hunsruck heights near Emmelshausen. Suddenly things get down to business again: The way down to St. Goar turns out to be so lively that I just can’t help but drive this route again. The Loreley will still be sitting on her rock tomorrow – and she will. But after a good breakfast I almost drove past Germany’s most famous lady. Over a dozen coaches and a few hundred onlookers at the roadside let me go in the irons just in time. You have to look closely at the opposite bank to make out the image of the singing beauty, which has driven many infatuated boatmen to ruin, on an inconspicuous rock. Somehow I was expecting more and am seriously considering whether it is even worth getting off the motorcycle. Okay, ten minute break. Most coaches don’t stop any longer either. As I continue my journey, I discover a small path that leads up into the vineyards. Single-lane, winding and quite steep, the route offers a magnificent panorama after a few kilometers. Without annoying coaches. Deep down, the vines are still hiding in the last wafts of morning mist, the Rhine winds in a large arc around a jagged cliff. In the backlight I can see the outlines of several castles, each built on a promising rock high above the river. Fantastic. By ferry to St. Goarshausen, from there to the north. To Braubach along the water, then through dark forest, which only opens again on the outskirts of Bad Ems. Finally a short distance along the Lahn and left behind Nassau. In the Gelbachtal. And via Montabaur and Neuwied into the Wiedtal. What can I say? For example, that at the end of the Wiedtal shortly before the intersection with the B 256 there is the “Haus Diskret” for lingerie, party and leisure wear? Or that the unrestrained routing through these two winding valleys is really hard to beat? In any case, I don’t know when I was last so dizzy from cornering. In the evening in Siegen I get to know Sergio, a migrant worker from Romania, in a guesthouse, who cannot pay the room bill in full. Because I take over the few missing euros, he returns the favor with homemade schnapps. We toast a new friendship with men with toothbrush mugs: Hilcherbach, Kirchhundem, Bad Berleburg. The routes in the Rothaargebirge are a hot pavement, and because of its flawless half-timbered scenery, I declare tiny Oberhundem the most beautiful village on this tour. Then there is this crazy descent from Dotzlar to Bad Laasphe. Formula 1 course suspicious. I notice an above-average number of Golfs, Kadett and old 3-series BMWs with a “wider-deeper” look. Now I just let the Fazer run. Final course south. An hour later Dillenburg, from there it goes to Weilburg, idyllically situated on a hill, of which I have never heard of. Neither from the great castle complex nor from the magical old town. It is annoying that it is so difficult to walk in motorcycle clothes, especially on warm days. Onward through the Weiltal. Another route that should never end. However, the end turns out to be very befitting ?? At least as far as the geographical location is concerned: The ascent to the Grober Feldberg, whose 880 meter high summit ?? the highest in the Taunus ?? certainly one of the most famous motorcycle get-togethers in the region. Compared to what I’ve experienced in the last three days, the wide route up is less exciting. Does not matter. Upstairs, although in the middle of the week and now quite rainy, a handful of motorcyclists have actually gathered. For coffee and sausage, crowded in the slipstream in front of the kiosk. Shortly afterwards Frankfurt flies past me to the left. I decided to take a stretch of train to get past this Moloch into the Odenwald as quickly as possible. I can still make it to the vicinity of Pfungstadt today. Like every morning. Only more difficult otherwise. Just too many routes that look extremely promising. Breakfast drags on cup after cup. My choice finally falls on the Muhltal with a subsequent detour to Reichelsheim and via Affolterbach to Beerfelden. Great. Really great. But hardly more than a warm-up lap compared to what suddenly happens: the small and very narrow route over the Hirschhorner Hohe via Rothenberg in the direction of the Hirschhorn. Around 20 kilometers made up only of curves. There is not much time to take a breath; the path that leads to the Brombachtal shortly before Hirschhorn is even narrower and a tad more exciting. Not a fast route, the surface is simply too bad for that. Maximum second gear. But this forest. Huge ancient trees, huge ferns, complete solitude. Is there anyone else on the road today? Only on the B 27, which runs along the Neckar, do I have to expect oncoming traffic again. Final spurt. Stuttgart’s television tower can almost be made out.

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Who dont asks stays dump. On the way editor Schroder, for whom Germany is still an unknown country, asked MOTORRAD readers on the Internet about the best routes between the Palatinate Forest, Rothaargebirge and Taunus.

The route Some MOTORRAD readers were not entirely uninvolved in the route described in the text. In order to find out which stretches between the Palatinate Forest, Rothaargebirge and Taunus, to have as much driving fun as possible, Schroder published his plans for this story in the travel forum of motorradonline ( And was overwhelmed by the number of answers, some of which were very detailed and entertaining. The fantastic Gelbachtal was recommended by Kai Wischnewski and Pit Biernot, for example. Peter Pfaffenberger immediately put a A4-page tour tip online (Stuttgart-Palatinate Forest-Eifel) and, like Annette Krones, suggested the great exits and driveways to the right and left of the Rhine to the author. Stefan Appelt finally warned Schroder against showing up at the well-known Lutzel-Treff near Siegen without sanded knee sliders. When reading this information, Udo Hartmann only came to one conclusion: If Schroder actually traveled all of the routes mentioned, he would be guaranteed longer on the road than on his six-month trip to South America. We would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who answered. The forum as a route exchange? Certainly a good idea! Taking into account the suggestions mentioned, the final route actually only emerged on the way: the respective daily stages were planned at the breakfast table before the start. The aim was to avoid the “larger” country roads as much as possible. The routes marked in yellow on the maps are almost always more fun and usually much more curvy. There is generally very little traffic here. If you are also out on the weekdays, you will feel surprisingly lonely in some places. To find your way around, a precise map is of course essential. The general maps of Mairs on a scale of 1: 200000 have proven to be very good (the map set Germany comprises 20 sheets). Once on the move, you unfortunately spend a lot of time looking for the right path at the numerous crossings and junctions ?? Germany’s road network is one of the densest anywhere. Of course, nothing works without a tank bag with a map compartment or a handlebar map pocket. If you have the necessary equipment, you can work out your route in advance on a digitized map on your PC and then transfer it to a GPS receiver. Then just a quick glance at the direction arrow on the display is enough and you usually know where to turn. (See MOTORRAD edition 10/2002). Spontaneous changes of direction are of course like the icing on the cake on such a tour. Instead of insisting on a route planned once, it can be extremely appealing to turn onto a tempting-looking road or into a beautiful valley and only return to the original course later. Just let yourself drift, finally take your time and the driving pleasure will come almost automatically. Anyone who drives all day shouldn’t be racing at racing speed anyway.

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