Jostling through crowds of Germans and tourists in the Rhine River village of Bacharach, I climb to the sundeck of the ferry and grab a chair. With the last passenger barely aboard, the gangplank is dragged in and the river pulls us away.
I’m captivated by the Rhine. There’s a rhythm to the mighty river that merges with its environment: black slate cut from plains above, terraced vineyards zigzagging up hills, husks of ruined castles, and stoic spires of stone churches slicing vertically through townscapes.
