The Rhineland in Germany, a region I had only vaguely associated with history lessons, took me by surprise with its breathtaking beauty. The Rhine river, with its fairy-tale castles and haunting legends, unfurled before us like a storybook come to life and what was planned as a brief drive turned into a leisurely exploration over a week, as we wandered through picturesque towns, walked along serene riverbanks, and delved into lush forests.

The Rhine river, Europe’s ancient super highway, has been around for over 30 million years, give or take a millennium. Starting its journey in the Swiss Alps, it begins as a trickle of glacier melt and soon bulks up into a mighty river, travelling its slow, smooth way through six countries: Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria, Germany, France, and the Netherlands—before flopping exhaustedly into the North Sea.

Along its winding path, you’ll find castles perched on cliffs like something out of a fairy tale, vineyards that produce wines as rich as the history surrounding them, and cities that have been cultural hotspots since the Romans decided to set up camp there.  

But it hasn’t spent the last 30 million years just sitting around looking pretty; it got to work with the business of painstakingly carving out breathtaking valleys like nature’s sculptor.  Along with the help of tectonic tantrums and the gouging of great glaciers, the Rhine carved out beautiful valleys with dramatic cliffs and rolling hills.  

Today, these valleys are home to mysterious blue-grey forests that stretch to the horizon. Narrow roads wind through these woods, clinging to the hillsides as if their existence relies on the whims of nature. In the forest’s dark shadows, slender evergreens stand in tight formation, their feathery tops reaching towards a bright, blue sky. Below, they create an eternal twilight, a realm where humans seem almost out of place. Suddenly, the forest gives way to a stark clearing—a jarring contrast that feels almost rude. Fields and farmland spread across the hills, crowded with crops and baking under the early September sun.

Villages appear along the riverbanks, with quaint stone bridges arching gracefully from one side to the other. Houses line the roads and riverbanks, their dark, gabled roofs rising to sharp peaks. They resemble fairy-tale dwellings, with symmetrical wooden windows, dark beams, and flower-filled balconies. At the heart of each village, a church spire towers above the houses, standing guard as if to hold back the encroaching forest.

I have never seen so many castles in such a short span of time. Some are grand and ornate, like Schloss Stolzenfels, a pristine white castle near Koblenz, while others are modest or in ruins. Every hillside seems to feature a church or castle perched like a decorative cake topper, and the bells of these steeples ring out their melodies across the river.

We took our time driving through, making frequent stops to soak in the surroundings. We slept in, enjoyed leisurely lunches, and lingered outdoors as daylight faded. It felt as though the magic of the Rhineland had cast a spell on us, slowing our pace and enchanting us with its beauty. Our lives seemed to drift along with the river’s gentle current, idling in harmony with the landscape. Despite the leisurely pace, one destination stood out: Loreley.

 I had heard whispers of a legend—a classic tale of a tragic maiden—but had struggled to find a definitive version online. The allure of a good tragedy led us to Loreley with high expectations. At the visitor centre, I found what I was searching for: an English book detailing the legend, based on Clemens Brentano’s ballad from 1800.

Once upon a time (as all good fairytales begin), there lived a beautiful woman called Loreley.  She was so beautiful that she enchanted everyone who saw her and they instantly fell in love with her.  That must have been a little inconvenient in all honesty  but, that was her curse.  She, in turn, had a lover who lived in a castle.  Interestingly, he isn’t given a title in the story so he might have been a Prince or he might have been the guy who emptied the chamber pots.  All that is said in the ballad is that he went away.  Again, details are marvellously unclear, marvellous as that means we can fill in the gaps ourselves.  I like to think that he went to buy some salted crackers but as Germany doesn’t seem to sell these, had to go a very, very long way on foot.

Poor Loreley is distraught by the loss of her cracker-connoisseur lover and… (I love this bit)… goes to a Bishop to ask him to kill her.  Perhaps in times gone by, the German clergy also served as assassins to beautiful young women?   Either way, the Bishop fell in love with her (of course he did) and refused to kill her for the rather non-noble reason that he’d be killing himself in the process as he couldn’t bear to live without her.  Instead, he said she could become a nun (thus killing her social life perhaps).  She agreed that this was a sensible plan and he sent for three knights to take her to the convent. 

On the way to the covenant, she saw a towering cliff and begged the knights to allow her to climb it so she could look upon her beloved’s castle one last time.  They agreed because they were, rather boringly, in love with her.  So, she climbs up the vertical side of the cliff described as being “steep” and “shear” yet manages this incredible feat and stands on the top of the rock.  The knights tie up their horses and no doubt with much eye rolling and cursing, climb up after her.

Once at the top, Loreley sees a boat sailing down the Rhine and declares that this must be her lover returning to her.  She then leans down and falls into the Rhine.  The three unfortunate knights, left on the top of the rock, met a worse fate.  In the poem it says:

The knights all perished,

They could not come down,

They all died,

Without a priest, without graves.

However, it would appear that whilst the nameless knights faded into legend and were never heard of again, this was not the end for Loreley.  In 1824, Heinrich Heine wrote about a pretty maiden who was “all wondrous and fair” and who sat on a rock combing her “golden hair” and singing.  I suspect Heinrich didn’t have a wife or daughters as if he did, he would have known that girls just don’t do this.  No one in the entire history of women has decided to go sit on a rock to comb their hair and sing.  It’s just not a thing that girls do.

Nonetheless, Loreley – who is obviously completely mental – enjoys putting on a hair brushing, singing show for the sailors who travel down the Rhine.  They are so busy ogling her that they don’t see the rocks and oh no!  The next they know, their boat is smashed into splinters and they are swirling around in the Rhine like spiders washed down a plug hole.  

There is no mention of how Loreley reacts to this?  Does she frantically try to do whatever she can to help the sailors?  Does she feel horrible remorse that her seductive hair brushing shenanigans have led to such a tragedy?  No, judging by the look on her face in the artist’s photos, I think she knows exactly what she is doing and this is her way of seeking justice against mankind who valued a salty cracker over her love.

Today there is a parking lot up near the top of the rock (if only the knights had checked Google maps…) and it is a short walk to the top of the rock where a spellbinding view of the valley awaits.  You can see the castle and the peninsula that pokes out into the Rhine like a tongue.  You can also take the trail that leads down the cliff to that peninsula.  It’s 330 very steep steps down (and back up again too!) to the banks of the Rhine where you can walk out along that peninsula.  At the end is a bronze statue of Loreley.  Some say she comes to life at night, her ethereal voice floating across the water, luring the sailors as she combs her long, golden hair…

Okay, no one says that, I made it up – but I do think it’s a great end to a rather fantastic tale.