Heart of medieval Germany

O n my first trip along Germany’s Romantic Road, I didn’t know I was on it. That was in July 1968, and I

was sleeping in a tent outside the old walled town of Dinkelsbuhl when I awoke to trumpets blaring and horses galloping. Sleepily, I peered out on riders in brilliant medieval costumes.

I had blundered into the Kinderzeche, this thousand-year-old town’s celebration dating back to the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648), when two-thirds of the town’s residents died on a pike or from the plague.

In 1632, Swedish troops under Col. Klaus Dietrich Sperreuth laid siege to the town. After stiff resistance, it fell. As the colonel led his troops through the gates to plunder the town, he was met by children bearing flowers. Legend has it that one of the children resembled his son who had just died.

After accepting the flowers, he spared the town for the children, its residents and the thousands who would follow to marvel at its steep-roofed, half-timbered houses; cobblestone streets; St. George’s Cathedral; and its 10th-century round towers edged by a moat fed by the Wornitz River. Swans still glide on the moat’s placid waters.

I stayed for a week of history, revelry, parades, music and beer and was captivated by the town. A two-year stint at Stars and Stripes newspaper allowed me to return to many villages along this Romantische Strasse, which follows the course of Via Claudia Augusta, built by the Romans.

I recently revisited this famed route, which has drawn romantics since the 17th century. We flew to Frankfurt, picked up a rental car for eight days and began a 180-mile drive that took us on a leisurely tour through hillside vineyards, fertile farms, meadows, forests, dramatic mountain scenery, wild landscapes, historic villages with half-timbered houses and along a well-marked route with signs in German and, yes, Japanese.

Is it touristy? Yes. Does this spoil the charm? Never.

Use guidebooks or hire guides at local tourist offices and leisurely savor the charm, beauty and romance of Germany’s most famous road.

Our route takes us through Wurzburg, Bad Mergentheim; Rothenburg ob der Tauber; Feuchtwangen; my old favorite, Dinkelsbuhl; Nordlingen; Donauworth; Augsburg; Landsberg am Lech; Schongau; and Fussen in the Bavarian Alps, home of King Ludwig II’s famous castles of Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau. This is but a portion of the 25 stops the German Tourist Office lists along the route.

We drive 74 miles to Wurzburg, an old episcopal see and vivacious modern university town that recently celebrated its 1,300th anniversary. We check into the Mercure am Mainufer hotel and walk across one of Germany’s oldest bridges into the old town as cruise boats pass on the Main River. We pay no bridge tax as earlier travelers did, helping the town grow rich.

We look up at ornate 18th-century statues, including that of an Irish monk, the town’s patron saint. The medieval fortress of Marienberg, set on a ridge above vineyard-covered slopes, rises behind us as the sun beats down. Built in 1201, it housed the ruling prince bishops before the Residence was built.

It’s hard to conceive that 80 percent of Wurzburg was destroyed in World War II. Its art, culture and dry white Franconian wines — three of the four largest winegrowing estates in Germany — make this is a perfect spot to begin our journey.

Church bells greet us, striking a deep chord within me and opening the door to memories. Each town is a time capsule, full of surprises and well- and little-known personages.

Famous names associated with Wurzburg are Johann Balthasar Neumann (1687-1753), an architect who designed the Prince Bishop’s Residence — the Versailles of Franconia; Tilman Riemenschneider (1460-1531), my favorite Gothic sculptor; and Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1696-1770), who created the wondrous frescoes showing the known world above the Residence’s grand staircase. It’s one of the world’s largest paintings.

Story Continues →