The route east was characterised initially by mainly flat land covered as far as the eye could see in all directions by agriculture. Then the forest-covered Vosges mountains appeared in the last hour or so. We’d deliberately chosen the route over the mountains rather than dodge around the southern edge as this seemed a great way to enter our target village which is perched on the eastern fringe of the mountains and the western fringe of the plains which stretch east to the Rhine river, and Germany’s Black Forest region.
Having previously extensively reconnoitred digitally our new accommodation and its village we had no difficulty arriving on time outside our ex-Post Office (19th century German) apartment building, whose architecture is singularly different from its neighbour buildings.
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| That’s Mary at the front window of our apartment which uses the entire side of the building at that level |
Parking space in the street outside seemed tight at first glance but with a little more of a look around we squeezed in just as the locals do. I think they are very casual about parking here.
Access to the apartment was easy, with the use of a key safe and a code which had been passed by Airbnb message. It took me only two trips to transfer all of our gear from the car into the apartment where we unpacked everything into the various built-in storage facilities as we were already tired of living out of suitcases (not that we had any suits in there). Next, off to the supermarket two minutes walk away. A few essentials like beer and wine, oh, and breakfast stuff and a frozen pizza for dinner in the apartment and we were set. It was a warm and sunny afternoon and the sun doesn’t set until 2130 so we took ourselves the two minutes’ walk down to the local Grand Rue where we found a table at a clearly popular establishment and sat down for what we considered a well-deserved rest.
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| Draft beer (pression) is widely available in Alsace and drunk with enthusiasm |
Day one. Saturday. This place is surrounded by countryside and during the small hours is quiet as (I imagine) the depths of space. We slept soundly, arose late-ish, and enjoyed the soft-light views of varying terrain from our windows looking north, south and west. Some light traffic noises and the rare (thankfully) ear-splitting moped roar from the favourite transport of the local youth competed with the melodious calls of the blackbirds in the vineyard abutting our back yard. Breakfast was pleasant and the microwave (our coffee machine, recipe available on request) was easily mastered so all was well. We opted to do bugger-all today, except wander, individually, on foot with the plan that we’d eat in the Grand Rue in the evening, perhaps after a glass of red at home. The washing machine now caught our eye and Mary mastered its various buttons and dials with the help of the manual, written in English for once.
The washing machine got us an invite to a get-together, that evening, of the various tenants of the ex-Post Office in the back yard. How come, you ask? Well, we couldn’t open the washing machine door at the end of its cycle. I messaged the owner, who lives in nearby Colmar with his wife and infant son, and he mentioned that he was attending the get-together, that we could attend also and that he’d get the washing machine door open during his visit. All of which happened, although the washing machine door was far more difficult for the owner than he expected.
The soirée was a great success but, with only one other English-speaker among the less than a dozen attendees, we struggled with the conversation, but the more wines we had the easier it got. Then before the party got too wild, we oldies sauntered off to the Grand Rue where numerous bistro/restaurant choices awaited. After a delicious meal at surf club prices we headed back to bed to find that the soirée was getting rowdier by the minute. We were tempted to stay but fortunate, I think, that we didn’t, although it would have been a great chance to pick up some new words of French.
Sunday. Day of rest. Yeah, sure! Early start, on with the boots and backpack and we were off to conquer the steep castle-topped ridge to our west overlooking the village.
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| Looking west along Grand Rue, with one of the castles visible on the ridge in the distance |
Movie of the hike up the mountain: Click “View on Facebook” if not displaying
Apart from another great evening meal in the Grand Rue, Sunday was used up.
Monday 28May18
Time to use the car, which had stood, lonely and unused, in our street, Rue Klee.
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| Ribeauville is at top left. We roughly followed the blue annotated line in a clockwise direction. The Rhine and the border show clearly, running S-N. |
Germany’s not far away, to the east, from Ribeauville, which, if you’ve been paying attention, was itself once part of Germany. We picked the detailed route as we went along, with no fixed visit locations planned and carried our own lunch (baguette, ham, cheese, fruit) knowing we’d happen on a sweet place to pull up at a picnic table or grassy bank, away from traffic and munch at our leisure.
Probably all reading this have heard of the Maginot Line. If not, you can find lots of info about it on Wikipedia. Anyway, all of a sudden we started to see signs mentioning a memorial to this strategic linear fortress. Sure enough it was on our route and certainly worth a visit even though I’d had no inkling beforehand that such a memorial existed.
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| One side of the massive bunker |
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| Preserved adjacent to the bunker was this sizable bomb crater; according to the notice a Luftwaffe Stuka dive bomber delivered its bomb there, missing the bunker by 15m. |
Unceremoniously we crossed the Rhine into Germany where a huge hydro electricity plant was operating, in French territory, using water from the north-flowing Rhine whose centreline serves as the border between the two in these parts. On the other side, after some diversion onto gravel roads looking for a lunch spot, we happened on a very pleasant facility right on the right bank. Here we ate our lunch before moving to the adjacent riverside restaurant for a single cold beer each and no more, although there was a bit of mission creep on Mary’s side.
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| Mission creep in action |
Having crossed back into France we headed west, as on the map above, to intercept the Alsace Wine Route and follow it north back to Ribeauville. This Wine Route, while scenic, was not easy to navigate, being poorly signed in villages where it’s common for three or more streets to intersect.
So here’s the docket for dinner last night, at Chez Martine.
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| Each euro uses 1.5 Aussie dollars. Delicious meal, al fresco, with wine and local beer. Surf club prices, but better quality, we think. |
That’s the first three days of Ribeauville, and we leave here on Friday 01Jun to a single night in a little riverside inn near Besancon.
Thanks for reading and providing feedback.
Kev and Mary
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