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Drachenfels and the River That Watches Time Flow
Königswinter, Germany | June 2025
Sometimes, you need to let go of your laptop, close the textbook, and just go uphill.
This weekend, I took my bicycle and headed to Drachenfels, a legendary peak above the town of Königswinter. Most people take the Drachenfelsbahn — Germany’s oldest cogwheel railway — to reach the summit. It’s a comfortable ride, scenic and steep. But I wanted the journey to be part of the story. So I cycled
The ride up wasn’t easy. The road curved endlessly through the Siebengebirge, a forested mountain range so rich in myth it feels like you're pedaling through a fairytale. I paused often, partly for breath, partly just to listen to the wind rustling through the leaves, to distant church bells echoing from a village below.
And then I reached the top.
There’s a moment when you step up to the stone wall at the summit and look out — and suddenly, the effort fades. You’re met with a panorama so vast and green that it’s almost too much for your eyes to take in at once. The Rhine River winds through the valley below like a silver ribbon, splitting forests and villages, reflecting clouds that hang like curtains over the land. It’s a view that makes you quiet. Not because you don’t have words, but because you finally don’t need them.
Somewhere below, boats glide along the river, and for a second, they look like thoughts — slow, deliberate, carrying stories from one place to another. The Rhine doesn’t rush. It doesn’t panic. It flows with ancient patience. Watching it, you remember to breathe a little slower. And just behind you stands the ruined Drachenfels Castle, where legend says Siegfried slew the dragon and became invincible. It’s easy to laugh off such tales — until you stand where those tales were born. Then, somehow, they don’t seem so impossible.
Cycling up was exhausting — and it made the food at the summit restaurant taste even better. I ordered a warm chocolate muffin, rich and gooey inside, with just the right amount of crumble. And of course, a plate of pommes frites, fresh from the fryer — golden, salty, crispy on the outside, soft inside. I don’t know if it was the altitude or the view, but they tasted perfect.
The ride back was easy — gravity did most of the work. But my mind stayed at the top. Sometimes, you don’t need an experiment or a theory to understand something fundamental. You just need a hill, a bike, and a quiet river that’s been flowing long before we ever arrived.
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