Heidelberg is a town that specialises in good views. Standing on the Alte Brücke – the town’s oldest bridge built in 1788 but dating back to Roman times – the views to the castle on a hillside above the Old Town are little less than majestic. For truly spectacular views though, head up the hill to Königstuhl, or King’s Throne, a lofty viewing point 550m above the town and valley below.
It’s possible to walk up a wooded trail to the Königstuhl, but why would you do that when you can take a trip on a funicular. In fact, this is Germany’s oldest funicular and you get two different funicular trains for the price of one. The first, a sleek modern glass and metal affair like a tram, takes visitors to the castle station; the other has small wooden carriages that creak and groan as it makes the climb.
Crawling up the final and steepest part of the 1km stretch of track between the castle and the Königstuhl funicular station, the gradient hits a whopping 41%. The vista become ever more dramatic. At the top, the views to the town were matched only by the awe we felt at the human ingenuity that got us there in the first place. Spread out below us as far as the eye could see were the Neckar and Rhine valleys.
Sweeping views like this were one of the reasons so many poets and artists found themselves irresistibly drawn to Heidelberg in the 1800s. The forested hills surrounding a quiet medieval town crowned by a ruined castle with a glorious and tragic history, kick-started German Romanticism. It even lured English painters like J.M.W. Turner, and won over British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli who praised its “exceeding loveliness”.
Descending on the wooden funicular, we jumped off to explore Heidelberg Castle just as the clouds cleared and the sun burst through. Dating to the 1300s, the castle witnessed history so turbulent it was abandoned over 300 years ago. For centuries the seat of the powerful prince-electors of the Palatinate, in the 17th century the castle suffered many blows, including when French King Louis XIV ordered it and the town destroyed in 1688.
The prince-electors decided to relocate their main residence to Mannheim, and Heidelberg slowly slipped into irrelevance. In earlier happier days, there was a British connection to the castle. In 1613, Prince-Elector Friedrich V married Elizabeth Stuart, the daughter of King James I. Friedrich had the Hortus Palatinus, the castle gardens once called the “Eighth Wonder of the World”, constructed for his 19-year old British bride.
Perhaps trying to impress Elizabeth, in 1619 Friedrich declared himself King of Bohemia, something that didn’t go down well with the mighty Hapsburg dynasty who claimed Bohemia for themselves. Forced to abdicate and flee into exile in 1620, his short rule earned him the nickname, the Winter King. The gardens are a wonderful and fitting gift for a queen, the terrace views over the city are beautiful.
The castle houses the German Apothecary Museum, which is fabulous. More importantly, the cellars also contain the world’s largest wine barrel, the Heidelberg Tun, a 250-year-old colossus that can hold 220,000 litres of wine. Having made many appearances in literature, including Moby Dick, The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen and Les Misérables, it’s probably the most famous thing in Heidelberg.
We had a glass of local wine in the cellar bar – they do a good dry Riesling in these parts – before walking back into the town centre. A short walk brought us to the Alte Brücke and the Brückenaffe, a statue known as the Heidelberg Monkey. It’s said to bring good luck if you rub parts of it, but really it is there to mock all the human apes passing by who stare at it. It holds a mirror in its hand to show us our folly.
As we contemplated this, the rain clouds gathered once again – time to sample more Heidelberg wine indoors. In the morning the rain would follow us north to Trier.
Notes from Camelid Country 