As everyone knows, the date of Easter Sunday is fixed by lunar and solar variables: Easter Sunday is the first Sunday, after the first full moon, after the Vernal Equinox. So Prof Roy instructed us Astronomers in the undergraduate course in 1976 at Glasgow University. I have never forgotten this.
This has no direct tie in with the consumption of good bier except it is traditional that this is a holiday period. And so the great staff trip of 2010 embarked to our other home Traben-Trarbach. Steve, Hector and Ian (who is not my brother!) were the pathetically small number of chaps who were given permission by their loved ones to embark on three days of R+R. Why are readers thinking that this is becoming predictable and that we will end up doing exactly the same things as we always do? Of course we shall, but there is always something new to report and Burg Eltz is on the calendar, the boats on the Mosel should also be operating.
If we were not here it would be München: who would go there?
The three Amigos were met at Hahn airport by Clive’s favourite Taxi-Doris, Hector was permitted to sit in the front as Clive was not on this trip. We checked in with Frank at the Altstadt Café and decided to retry the Schlossbergschenke (aka Rolf’s). Reissdorf Kölsch was on offer for the first time in recent memory and so we sat at the side bar and got the machine in motion. A quick move along the main street in Trarbach saw us ascend the stairs at the bridge. It was a decidedly dreich day in Traben-Trarbach as we sat looking across the bridge from the Bruckenschenke enjoying the fact that the first two places visited were smoke free. This was to change.
The Türmschen (aka The Station Bar) in Traben remains one of the smokiest pubs on the planet, made even worse by the pathetic way Federal Germany has introduced ‘the smoking ban’. We watched Hamburg SV draw nil-nil with Hannover 96. For Hector the highlight of the visual spectacle was the scarf of many blues and wavy pattern worn by the home fans. This is a must have, though Tracey claimed by a later text not to know what HSV referred to… We did not count, nor did we care about, the number of Franziskaners consumed, however Ian did change to Pils as weizenbier is a bridge too far for him. Steve remained strong, but as will be revealed this was to change too!
Caspari’s is a winery and restaurant at the top end of Trarbach as it approaches Bad Wilstein, a health spa..true!. This is a seasonal outlet and always worth a visit. Bottled bier may be on offer but bottles of Weissburgunder (or Pinot blanc as the CESM would call it) is the main attraction; at €8 a pop, one, two, or even three bottles of wine are in order. The food is always excellent, as long as one loves pork. This set us up nicely for a return to Frank’s at the Altstadt…but we were in no mood to go home yet.
We had the taste of Weissburgunder on our lips and so Hector dragged the others, kicking and screaming as usual, into the Goldene Traube. The place was empty. The young waiter who did not know us stuck his head out from the kitchen and said ‘Geschlossen!' Richard, Mein Host, had other ideas and soon we sat with a bottle of wine, yes I know… and Richard entertained us with more stories from his family history. Hector told the saga of ‘a distant relative, by marriage from Austria’ too.
We finally made it back to Frank’s to find the usual array of taxi drivers. The taxi driver turned Fireman is now working behind the bar too, or so it appeared. Herr Bucke, the first ever taxi driver to recognise Hector at the airport was in attendance, and to celebrate this, here is a photo.
Easter Monday : Breakfast with Rosi
We settled for the customary boiled egg before embarking up the hillside via Bad Wilstein. The meandering of the Mosel means that a boat trip of over an hour takes one back to just over the hill from where one started, a mere five kilometer walk directly. The Hunsrück is heavily dissected plateau. It is a gentle climb up through the well signed paths; Bernkastel-Kues is literally therefore over the hill from Traben-Trarbach. The walk gave Steve the opportunity to speculate as to how many vineyards it takes to make a living. ‘One more than ten’ was Hector’s quick response. We had the feeling that we were being watched: ‘That’ll be the Bernkastel-Kues’ Steve speculated.
Bernkastel is the classic picture postcard town of the region. Normally one stops for a bier or even lunch. A visit to the castle has not been unknown, but not today: we were on a mission – but not before Steve insisted we find his favourite toy shop.
We also found a curry house, but there was no lunch deal and it did appear to be pricy. Next time?
Brauhaus Kloster Machern was the main destination of the day. This necessitated a short taxi ride back down the Mosel. The place was busy and so we had to settle for a room in the Keller. A screaming wean ruined the first ten minutes: it would not stop and the parent did nothing. Hector is on holiday.
The reality is: the bier is not that great. The fore taste in the unfiltered Helles is fine, but the bier is ruined by the sadly too frequent homemade yeast taste. We decided that we would leave in time for the 14.35 boat back to Traben-Trarbach, based on a timetable the Frank had given us, for season 2008.
The ‘Moselperle’ duly arrived to take us back downstream. The smell of fresh paint was to the fore. The boat was pristine. We refrained from alcohol and chose to be intoxicated by the view instead. For those taking part in future pub quizzes: in the German flag, red is the colour of the middle stripe.
Back in Trarbach a fair was being held on the river bank. Frikadelle had to be taken as we wandered around the stalls. The afternoon was passing by, Hector and Ian had walked for miles and had taken in very little in the way of liquid sustenance. Steve had wellied down a half litre to catch the boat. Time for a bier.
And so back to the ‘Station Bar’ and the intended consumption of Frankiskaner. This is where Steve discovered that it was not going down well. He changed to Pils and we all know what Hector thinks of that… each to his own. A withdrawal to the smoke free environment of the Schlossbergschenke was mooted and then it was time for the main event.
A warm welcome was received at the Goldene Traube, Richard knew that we would be there for the rest of the night. More wine, watch out for the new sister blog: whine-today’… At first thee was a slight panic, the prices had gone shooting up; however we soon found the three numbered menus and chose one each: Hector had the fish. The pig fat and warm bread is a legendary pre-starter. The Weissburgunder is more expensive of course here, but not offensively so.
We had been told on entry that the couple behind us was Irish. At the end of our eating William and Irene came over and introduced themselves. They too have been going to Traben-Trarbach for years, eventually everyone meets everyone else. Richard appeared with his violin, the guitar was brought to Steve. Ian asked about the piano and so we withdrew to the other side of the hotel dining area.
Here we go again… more wine appeared …on the house. More wine appeared courtesy of William, thank you. More wine appeared and was added on to the bill, fair enough.
The Scots and the Irish cannot have a night out on bier alone and so off the Hami’s at midnight.
The Altstadt Café is closed on a Monday night…just as well Hami's is not!
Yonda is da cassell uv ma Fadda...
There was no a lot of bier consumed on the last day. This was the day Steve and Hector retuned to Burg Eltz and Ian managed to find two amigos who would walk the distance. It is an hour’s walk from Moselkern Bahnhof to the castle, fortunately there is a pit stop half way…selling Pils…
Hector’s second visit and the end result was the same as the first…the need for constant use of the facilities for the rest of the day, so beware of the food at the castle café. The castle is impressive but the sight of scaffolding is always a disappointment: good luck, Steve at Neuschwanstein nest week! The sun was also in the view of all the photos thus explaining the comparatively poor level of photography.
An enforced stop at Bullay meant that we could visit the rarely open station bar: ‘Sin City’. The bier was Ganser Kölsch which Howard had to confirm by email is brewed in the same plant as Dom and presumably Kuppers.
Back at T-T we ended up suffering asphyxiation in at the ‘Station Bar’ in order to see Mr Messi destroy Arsenal. By this time Steve had succumbed to drinking Pils, the Franziskaner had beaten him.
At midnight Frank announced it was his birthday: Frank and Hector were born in the same month in the same year.
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