It’s a warm autumn day and I’m basking in the sunshine on the top deck of a Viking Cruises longship as it slices serenely through the broad waters of the Mosel River. It’s the first of seven days sailing from Trier in Germany to Basel in Switzerland, down the Mosel, then up the Rhine. Impossibly steep hills rear up from the riverbanks as we pass, covered in endless rows of post-harvest grapevines – a patchwork of ochre, lime green, russet and bronze – clinging for dear life to the slopes.
I have been enjoying the exquisite rieslings from this part of the world for years but have never visited the vineyards before. And seeing them from the water is a lovely introduction. I feel like a vinous pilgrim as holy sites glide past, a roll call of evocatively named vineyards tucked in between castles and churches: Himmelreich (“the kingdom of heaven”); Sonnenuhr (the “sundial”); Goldtröpfchen (the “drops of gold”).
