Biking along the Rhine

The Rhine River has always possessed a certain mystique within my soul... a latent, generations-since forgotten familiarity that comes from the grandfather of my grandfather, a man whose first name I don't even know but whose last name must come from somewhere around this river: Reinfurt. As I learned yesterday from the bicycle-rent-shop-owner in St Goar, however, "rein" could have something to do with cleanliness. But since that doesn't sound at all romantic, I'm gonna opt for an imaginary, but possibly real belief that my ancestors arrived in New York in the mid 19th century (this I do know) from the Rhine River region (this I don't).

It feels a bit full-circle to be here. To be wandering the cobblestone streets of ancient villas like St. Goar, Oberwesel and Bacharach. To bath in the refreshing waters of the Rhine River, busy with constant activity from transport boats heading towards Frankfurt (and away), tour boats full of retired Germans reconnecting with their watery father and brash tourists eager to consume as much local beer and wine as possible, and ferries plying their trade back and forth, back and forth.

Here are photos from our tacked-on trip up the Rhine after the conference when we rented bikes for the day.

the famed Loreley

Pfalzgrafenstein; the place where they stretched a chain across the river to prevent passing unless a toll was paid

where we stripped down and went swimming in our knickers; no problem in Germany