Friday, June 6
We got up fairly early again, before 8, and took off not long after on rented bikes, heading as far as Boppard (about 18 miles.) Along the way we got to see more of the majestic Mittelrhein as we'd observed on the boat the day before. Actually, one of those boats left port in Bacharach at the same time as us and docked in each city consistently as we arrived there as well. Given that the boat was stopping to let passengers on and off, and we were stopping to take pictures, we traveled at essentially the same pace the whole way up the river. The bends were a bit more pronounced in this section, with the most notable hook in the river occurring at the great protruding rock named Loreley.
In Boppard, probably the biggest city in the Mittelrhein before Koblenz, we got our most mediocre meal of the trip–I'm not sure it's worth saying any more–and then we walked in search of a chairlift on the edge of town. As we approached it, my mom asked, "Is it even moving? It looks closed." Yes, it was moving, but quite slowly. It took roughly 20 minutes to get the 250 meters or so to the top of the mountain, but it was worth it to be tourists and get the fantastic view of a particularly grand bend in the river (above.) We didn't have much time to stop though given our 4PM appointment back in Bacharach with another wine producer. We rode the gentle lift back down the mountain and boarded the next regional train south with the bikes.
Trains in Germany are very accommodating of bikes, with special sections designated for them that have seats that fold down from the wall and belts to strap in the bikes. They even write how many bikes can be accommodated by each car on the outside of the train. We were not alone in using these spots, and the fact that they existed made our initial trip north that much more enjoyable because we knew we could travel however far we wanted by bike and always take the train back.
Weingut Ratzenberger is located up the valley from Bacharach about 20-30 minutes walk to the sleepy hamlet of Steeg. We arrived once again right at our scheduled time, meeting with current estate patriarch, Jochen Ratzenberger. He'd spent the last several days in Barcelona presenting his wines, so he'd been making up for his absence by farming late in the vineyards, and actually the two of us had seen each other the night before without knowing who the other was. For my part, I didn't want to be intruding when we'd been walking through the Posten vineyard, so when I saw the farmer, I pretty promptly turned around. Jochen had noticed me as well, and in retrospect, he said it would have been very funny if we'd met accidentally that night in the vineyard.
He was an extremely engaging figure, so eager to share the history and culture of his home and a passionate advocate of riesling. As soon as we shook hands, he said, "So do you want to see the wine yards." Who could refuse? We hopped right into his car outside and drove up into the hills we'd wandered a bit the night before. He broke down the differences between the three fields of Steeg valley, the Rhine tributary which Baracharch and Steeg sat along. First, closest to his home, and furthest up the valley was Steeger St. Jost, where he made a point of having us touch the hot black slate rocks of the field which baked all day in the sun. You could see, with such solar heat, the often cool temperatures of Germany could be moderated. The almost entirely rocky fields forced the vines to send their roots deep as well, searching for water deep in the ground and filtering any rain water through meters of rock, which gave the wines a distinct character indicative of the place they came from. Next was Bacharacher Wolfshöhle, separated from Steeg by a small rift in the hillside and characterized by a little more earth under the rock, which produced slightly rounder wines. Last was Posten, closest to the river, where he described the wines as being a bit finer and flintier.
Along the way, he also talked at length about the valley's history with the Celts, who originally established a presence in the 5th or 6th century BC, and Romans, who came around 100 BC. While I'd always heard that Bacharach was named by the Romans for Bacchus, god of wine, because of its great potential in that capacity, Jochen refuted this claim. He said he is not quite sure of the etymology, but the latest he's heard is that the name is of more Celtic origin, with "arach" referring to the fact that hunters had success going after the abundant deer and wild boar. In fact, he noted that the Romans didn't care much about Bacharach because they planned their main cities methodically every 20 kilometers. They mostly overlooked the Celtic village, establishing a much greater presence in Bingen to the south and Oberwesel to the north. Nonetheless, he spoke fondly of finding both Roman coins and seashells, from the land's historic oceanic heritage, in the vineyards with his daughter.
He also commented on how the local Green Party had scuttled plans for a bridge across the Mittelrhein. They were generally of good interests and supported him as a farmer, but the lack of any bridge between Mainz and Koblenz left residents on opposite sides of the Rhine as essentially foreigners. While looking across the river, he said, "Nobody over there knows anybody over here because it takes 2 hours to get there. I have a friend who is a good chef in Kaub across the river, but after one or two times of seeing him and missing the ferry, which stops before evening sets in, I say it is too much."
After our tour of the fields, he showed us around the old cellar, which his parents bought in the years after World War II, when initially setting up a wine business in Steeg. The cellar was built in 1850, deep into the mountain, keeping the wines at an extremely stable temperature, and making it too humid to label bottles. Unlike many small family producers, the Ratzenbergers acquired this fantastic old cellar, which allows them to store wines much longer than others, simply because they have the temperature-regulated space to do so. They even have wines dating back to the 19th century from the previous owners, which Jochen said are quite good, though he indicated that they were not as of high quality as those made by his own family.
Finally, we sat down at his dining room table to try a handful of wines. We did not go through as many as we had the day before with Angela Kühn, and the tasting seemed more informal. He had some literature on the table listing bottlings from recent vintages, but we tried a whole assortment of wines new and old. There were some from each vineyard, one each of red and Grauburgunder (Pinot Gris), and Riesling from early harvests and late harvests, sweet and "fruity." Jochen did not like the term "sweet" at all because he associates it with concocted drivel, but "fruity" represents good feelings, and gets the idea across in a way he finds people respond too more.
I had always heard great things about Jochen, and his were the first German wines to really capture my attention, but the experience gave me a new personal attachment to the person and the place. I would definitely love to go back again in the future, and I look forward to seeing him if he comes to America, which he anticipates he'll be doing next year.
As we departed, he pointed us back towards a foot path along the opposite hillside, which he said would be much more pleasant than the road and would lead past the old castle on the hill and 13th century church. Both were pretty cool, with walls and steps at the castle carved out of the natural slate of the hill. Apparently the church, of which only half of the walls and none of the roof remained, was designed by the same architect behind the famous cathedral in Köln. As that larger church was built over some 650 years up until the late 19th century and then needing significant restoration following World War II, Jochen said people often came down to Bacharach to consult the techniques used on the smaller building for reference in figuring out how to authentically complete the period piece in Köln.
For dinner we also took Jochen's suggestion, going to an outdoor courtyard beneath the remains of the old church. As he said, the food was not amazing, but they had his wine and the ambience was wonderful, if a little diminished by the saccharin live harpist who played soft versions of pop songs all night. The chef was apparently a butcher, so we both got sausage, lamb and venison, which were quite good. Neither of us are big sauerkraut fans either but alongside the sausage we found a new appreciation for its usage. I've certainly been eating my servingful at nearly every meal, along with crisply fried potatoes, and of course a bottle of Ratzenberger Posten wine.
After dinner, we got some ice cream and went for a brief walk, figuring out trains for the next day, which we expected to be one of the busiest of the trip, given the quick turnaround we had planned between a number of places.
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