Continuing Adventures: Day Twelve: Mosel

Saturday, June 7

We were up again before 7 and on an 8:27 train to Koblenz. We walked the few blocks to our hotel, checked in–although we couldn't even get in the room because it was still occupied–and called the bike rental place we'd researched to meet us at the hotel. With our stuff waiting in a secure area of the lobby till the hotel clerks could bring it up to the room later, we headed off up the last mile of the Rhine before it met the Mosel, and then hung a left down the tributary to the southwest. Koblenz is a bit like Pittsburgh–if it were built a couple thousand years ago in Germany–in that it is an important interior port at the confluence of two of the country's largest rivers. The Rhine itself is part of a series of waterways that spans central Europe and is relied upon as an important shipping artery from northwest to southeast, connecting all the way to the Black Sea via the Main-Danube canal. The Mosel is a bit smaller and shorter, winding along from eastern France, and providing the terrain for some of Germany's most notable wines. Indeed, the reputation for sweet German Riesling comes from wines which were made in the Mosel.

We were off to see one more wine producer in Winningen, about 7 miles up river from Koblenz. Although our bike renter had assured us the signs would easily direct us across the river at what we thought was the second bridge in from the Rhine, neither the number of bridges or signage appeared to be as clear cut as we'd anticipated. As the second bridge was purely for rail, we decided to cross at the third bridge, which required us climbing a set of steps with the heavy bikes. Then across the other side, we find the signage again lacking, but we did our best to look for other bikers. Once we got going, we really appreciated the effort made to give bikers a nice path. It seemed there was appropriate infrastructure for trains, cars, pedestrians, and bikes along both sides of each major river.

Heading up the end of the Rhine along the promenade in Koblenz, a tram crosses the river to a castle on the opposite hillside.

A monument at the confluence of the Mosel and the Rhine.

Looking up the Mosel in Koblenz.

One of the many little villages that fall under the umbrella of Koblenz upstream on the Mosel.

Biking into Winningen.

Winningen

We reached Winningen some twenty minutes before our 11:30AM appointment with Andreas von Canal at Weingut Freiherr von Heddesdorff and walked around the small town for a bit before stopping to meet him and his wife, Irmgard. While perhaps struggling with or at least more conscious than the other two wine producers of their English–all spoke it far better than my German–they were quite inviting, taking us first out to their porch where they gave us some water. We discussed a bit about how I got into wine and their own background with it too. Each had come from family traditions in the business. Andreas had inherited the estate, named for his ancestors who began making wine in the mid 15th century, and Irmgard had also come from a wine family, whose business is now run by her brother.

Next, Irmgard took us up in her car around a few of the vineyards, which were probably steeper and more terraced than those in Bacharach. Andreas told us the hills were likely planted originally by the Romans down in the valley, but the major terracing up to the top of the hill began in the 17th century. When my mom asked if they used ropes to secure themselves in the fields, Irmgard told us they "just need good shoes." Nowadays they also have rails that wind up and down the steep face of the mountain, which you can run your tractor up and down, especially helpful for harvesting fruit. This Swiss technology is only roughly 15-20 years old though. Traditionally this was all done on the backs of hardened workers. Irmgard told us her father was nice enough to drive all his workers to the top of the field, so they only had to walk down. The walls are also prone to collapsing, particularly after big rains, in part because they are not allowed to use any sand or adhesive to build the terraces as animals are expected to borough in them, but she said some people put a little bit of sand behind the walls for safety.

The fields were also primarily slate, which meant planting vines and training them up stakes was a very hard task as well. She told us that ideally each vine would have an individual stake to grow up, but this was much too difficult and only reserved for the top vineyards with old vines. There were a few other techniques, but she said the best was to train the vines up wires, which ran horizontally between stakes that were planted farther apart, maybe every fourth or fifth vine. Roses also featured around the edges of the vineyards to serve like canaries in a coal mine, warning farmers of anything that might afflict the vines through the flowers before it showed itself on the crop.

Then we went back to the house, where Andreas had pulled their lineup of 2013 wines. It was particularly interesting discussing sweetness in the wines with him as well. They have taken to using the term "feinherb" more on their labels, which is an unregulated term that essentially means the wine is off dry, or literally "finely dry." Although they had no problem using the word sweet to describe some of their wines–unlike Jochen Ratzenberger–they'd found that some people were less likely to buy wine under the regulated off-dry designation "halbtrocken (half-dry.)" If they say it is "feinherb," people think of it as more like a dry wine, though in actuality, it gives Andreas the wherewithal to show the wine he wants to make. As he explained, "A halbtrocken may only have 18 grams of sugar per liter, but I can make a wine that tastes halbtrocken with 20 or 24 grams of sugar and 20 grams of acidity. Feinherb means I choose when it is ready, not the government." With all of the wines, they measure the sugar levels first and then taste, "Just to make sure it is right."

I also loved our discussion of later harvest wines, in particular "auslese," which I'd always understood to be the end of the normal harvest–before noble rot really sets in. As Irmgard said, "It is only last because they are the last grapes we pick." They leave the grapes from the top vines for last, letting them mature while they are picking the rest of the harvest. "Auslese" then refers more to carefully selected grapes than later harvest. It just happens to be later because they pick them after the other grapes.

Winninegar Brückstück, one of the fields where the von Canal's have vines.

Irmgard explains what's going on in the vineyard, with Winningen in the background.

A rose bush (right) and peach tree (left) at the bottom of a terrace.

Bidding Andreas and Irmgard goodbye, we continued up the Mosel another 14 miles to reach Moselkern. The Mosel was much more recreationally active than the Rhine, with more private motor boats and fewer barges. The waters were calmer and appeared more shallow, the hills rolled on more gently, and the villages seemed quainter, with easy access to the water. Whereas the towns on the Rhine had pronounced river port frontage, with stone walls to prevent flooding, most of the Mosel was bordered by beaches and greenery where people went to enjoy the warm day. We did briefly lose our nice bike path, following what appeared to be the assigned route through a campground, but our road soon narrowed to a foot-wide stone and earth path through bramble, with a steep drop to the river on our left. We plugged through, not having seen any cutoff, and after about a mile, we ended up in a grassy field from which we were able to rejoin the main road. There must have been a way to stay on the highway, but we didn't see it, and it certainly gave us a bit of unforeseen adventure.

From Moselkern, we hiked up to Burg Eltz. This was supposed to be one of the best castles in Germany, perhaps even better to visit than Neuschwanstein because its interiors are so well preserved. I speculated this might be due to its situation in a subdued valley, 4.5km inland from the Mosel up a hill, where it seems they were only ever attacked once. I'm not really sure why anyone would bother attacking it. It wasn't particularly close to anything of import that I could tell. Moselkern was not a big town, and I believe the family that built it made its money another 65 miles up stream in Trier. I'm sure that let them build their palace in peace though, with many fewer enforcements than we saw at Marienberg in Würzburg. It would have made a nice retreat, which is how it ended up being used by the patron family from the 19th century on. It was originally built in the 12th century and featured a lot of Turkish influence in the artwork, making good use of arabesque design particularly in the painted walls and doors. It was much more comfortable inside than most castles I've been to, and you could envision someone actually living in most of the rooms, unlike the excess of color-coordinated boxes you'll find at Versailles or the Residenz in Würzburg.

It was another worthwhile adventure that also got us out of the sun and hiking through the woods. Back down in the valley, halfway to Moselkern where we'd parked the bikes, we grabbed a beer and split a traditional flammkuchen with ham, speck, and onions. It was pretty tasty, and I'd have to say, if people in New York ever saw the difference between it and pizza there'd be a real market for it. I could certainly see it working on the Lower East Side and in Brooklyn. The thin almost tortilla-like crust and sharp flavors are distinctly different and worth sharing.

Then we headed back to Koblenz with the bikes on the train and decided to try a Greek restaurant they recommended at our hotel. I think we were both sausage and schnitzeled out. We were ready for a change, even if our train out of Germany was only a few hours later.