JORDAN CURET: RIVER QUEST

Jordan Curet reflects on a 100km SUP journey downstream on the beautiful River Mosel in Germany.

Words: Jordan Curet // Photos: Jordan Curet

As I dip my paddle into the water, my board glides forward and the bow breaks the perfectly smooth reflection of the steep vineyard filled cliffs around me. The sun is setting somewhere behind me, casting a deep golden glow across the valley. Along the quiet banks I can see the peaks of houses as a town comes into view, and just as I pull alongside a small dock the air fills with the peals of church bells on a Sunday evening. It couldn’t be more picturesque. Taking a deep breath, I pull my board out of the water and begin carting my gear through the narrow town streets of Trittenheim, Germany to find my hotel for the night. Later, with a meal in my belly and crisp glass of Riesling in hand I think back to how my adventure began.

The initial leg of my journey concluded with a flight into Frankfurt Airport, marking the beginning of a whole new adventure. Laden with only a backpack slung over my shoulder, I made my way to the baggage claim, eager to retrieve my sole piece of luggage – a Red Paddle Co board bag. Manoeuvring through the bustling terminal, I followed the signs toward the train station, the wheels of my bag rolling smoothly behind me.

Anticipation

Settling into my seat aboard the train, I stowed my bag beneath me and gazed out the window as the landscape transformed. Urban sprawl gradually gave way to verdant hills punctuated by the occasional sight of a distant church spire or castle turret. As we traced the path of a meandering river, anticipation swelled within me, knowing that in just a few short days, I would navigate back down these same waters on my paddleboard.

But as swiftly as the river had appeared, it vanished from view as we plunged into a tunnel. The rhythmic hum of the train became my companion as we traversed nearly two hours from Frankfurt to Trier, where I would rest for the night before embarking on my nearly 100-mile paddle downstream.

After checking into the hotel and unloading my bags, I seized the opportunity to wander through the old quarter of Trier just as the sun began its descent. Trier is a modern city, with a historic district at its core. Narrow streets, snug with pedestrians, opened onto lively squares adorned with remnants of Roman grandeur. According to history, the city was founded in 16BC as a Roman capital, making it one of Germany’s oldest cities. The formidable Porta Nigra stands sentinel at the entrance to the historic precinct, a gateway to a realm where cathedrals, basilicas, and an amphitheater reveal layers of history.

Seated upon the steps of the cathedral, I marvelled at the journey that had transported me over 5,000 miles, from the heart of the United States to this bustling European crossroad. As the last vestiges of daylight surrendered to dusk, I found myself immersed in the vibrant energy of Trier’s city centre, a witness to the seamless fusion of past and present.

Equipment

The next morning, I pulled my 13’2” Voyager in its roller bag to the shores of the Mosel and set off downstream. Aware that I would be relying solely on my board to carry all necessities, I meticulously organised my gear for the days ahead. Secured to the tail of my board was a dry bag housing my roller ATB bag and pump, ensuring they remained dry and easily accessible. Positioned at the nose was a zippered duffle containing my clothing, essentials, and a bounty of snacks to sustain me throughout the day’s endeavours. And because I can’t leave home without my camera, I also had a hard case with camera, lenses, and a small drone. On my back I wore a hydration pack so I could drink all throughout the day. The 13’2” was the perfect touring board for this adventure, with plenty of d-rings to strap my gear down and the twin fin to balance the weight and give me stability in the current.

The initial leg of my journey demanded a considerable distance to leave behind the urban fringes of Trier. The river seemed to unfurl endlessly, mile after mile, offering little in the way of noteworthy sights. Yet, it was this seemingly interminable stretch that heightened the impact of the canyon’s sudden appearance. Abruptly, the landscape transformed as steep hills ascended on either side of the river, their slopes adorned with meticulously terraced vineyards.

Mosel
Originating in northeastern France and Luxembourg, the river flows gracefully into western Germany. Beginning its journey in Trier, it adopts the moniker of the Middle Moselle, referred to as the “Mosel” in German. Along its winding path, the river meanders through gentle arcs and sweeping bends, offering glimpses of hilltop castles that seem to reappear hours later from a different vantage point. It’s a mesmerising journey where time and perspective intertwine, inviting contemplation and appreciation of the timeless beauty that surrounds.

Locked and loaded

As the first day drew to a close, I encountered the most significant hurdle of my journey: the first of many locks lining the Mosel. Given that the river serves as a vital economic lifeline for the region, barges navigated its waters incessantly. Anticipating this challenge, I had meticulously researched the operation of locks beforehand to ensure both safety and feasibility for a small watercraft like mine. My research was well worth it as once I arrived at the lock I found all the directions were in German (which I knew very little of). This one had a smaller lock beside the commercial one, called a Bootsschleuse, for leisure boats. It runs on a semi-automatic self-service system. With a deft pull of a green lever, I swung open the lock’s gates, paddling inside before sealing them shut once more with another lever. A digital countdown commenced, and the water began its gradual descent, lowering me by approximately 12 metres over the course of roughly 20 minutes. As the doors reopened at the base, I resumed my journey, grateful for the seamless passage facilitated by my prior research and a touch of mechanical ingenuity.

As I continued my journey downstream, I encountered additional locks, many of which were solely commercial in nature, stretching approximately 170 metres in length. Despite their imposing size, navigating them proved to be a manageable task. Slipping into the lock’s confines, I deftly manoeuvred to keep a safe distance from the barges and ferries that shared the space.

Bernkastel-Kues

After spending the night in Trittenheim, my next destination lay 20 miles downstream in Bernkastel-Kues. As I paddled my way down the lock I found myself appreciating the design of the V-hull on my board, effortlessly slicing through the water and propelling me forward with each stroke. However, there was one aspect I hadn’t fully considered in my planning: the absence of current. The series of locks on this section bring the flow to a halt, and it is truly self-powered paddling on flatwater. Yet, this slower pace had its advantages. It afforded me the opportunity to leisurely survey my surroundings, absorbing the sights that unfolded around me. At times, the vineyards extended right to the water’s edge, allowing me glimpses of individual clusters of grapes glistening in the sunlight. On other occasions, the terraced slopes towered high above, offering a panoramic view of workers toiling amidst the steep rows of vines, using machines that winched up and down the steep rows between the vines.

As I approached my destination, the picturesque village of Bernkastel-Kues came into view, its charm accentuated by the imposing bridge spanning the river and a majestic castle perched atop the hill. I slotted my paddleboard in to one of the passenger ferry docks and moved my gear to dry land.

Settling into my hotel accommodations, I wasted no time in immersing myself in the labyrinthine streets of the town. Wandering through the narrow pedestrian-only lanes, I soaked in the ambiance of Bernkastel-Kues, its bustling tourist atmosphere a stark contrast to the tranquility of my previous night’s stop. Finding a cozy spot at the front of a café, I indulged in a leisurely lunch accompanied by a glass of the region’s renowned Riesling.

I continued to see changes as I made my way down river the next day. There were more passenger ferries floating by in both directions, as well as a winding bike path on one side that followed the river. I watched tour groups on bikes making their way between towns, just as I was. Rather abruptly the path crossed a bridge, and the cyclists were gone from sight leaving me to the silence on the water as few large raindrops began to fall. The brief shower provided a welcome respite from the sweltering heat that permeated the region. I continued to paddle, watching as Roman ruins on a hill came into view and then slide behind me. Even when a ferry or barge would come by its smooth progress barely left a wake behind it, passengers waving to me as I paddled along the shoulder of the river to give the boat a wide berth.

Traben-Trarbach

My next destination was Traben-Trarbach, a shorter day consisting of just 12 miles of paddling. As I came down river, looking for my hotel I was greeted by a friendly face waving from the shore. My paddling partner, Clay, would be joining me for the remainder of the adventure. I was able to pull over just in front of the hotel, pass my bags to him and bring my board up to the grassy quay that ran the length of the town on the river’s edge. Using a coiled travel lock, I attached my board to a signpost in front of the hotel. This ingenious solution allowed me to leave my board safely tethered at the water’s edge, sparing me the hassle of transporting it too far inland, or having to deflate it to negotiate the narrow stairway leading to the hotel entrance.

Ready to move my legs after a long morning of standing on my SUP, Clay and I headed out to hike to the castle ruins above the town. Crossing the river under a massive medieval gate, there is a trail through the forest winding up a steep hill to the ruins of the Grevenburg Castle. Destroyed by the French in 1734, just a few tall stone walls remain and beyond that is a sweeping bend of the Mosel River. Far below me the town stretches across both banks, and I can just make out my paddleboard, locked-up just outside our hotel. Choosing a different path to descend we are immediately in a thick vineyard, walking parallel to the steep rows of vines that run right back into the village at the bottom of the hill. To finish up the walk, we duck into the stone façade of the winery we have just traversed, the Weingut Richard Böcking, to sample the local wines.

The following morning marked the continuation of our journey, with an early rise for a hearty breakfast at the hotel. Eager to capitalise on the cool morning air before the midday heat, we embarked downriver, our paddles cutting through the tranquil waters with purpose and anticipation. As the day unfolded, we found ourselves gliding past picturesque villages, expansive campsites, and endless vineyards stretching along the riverbanks. With each passage through a lock, we admired the seamless operation and the engineering marvels that facilitated our progress. Pausing in a charming town along the river’s edge, we treated ourselves to a leisurely riverside lunch, savouring the momentary respite from our journey. Along the waterways, painted walls bearing the names of towns greeted us at every turn, while ample docking points beckoned us ashore, offering opportunities to explore the quaint streets and riverside attractions that dotted our path.

Challenging

On our final day, we summoned our determination and paddled against a challenging headwind, our sights set on the grandest castle yet looming ahead. Perched majestically atop a towering crag overlooking the town of Cochem, the castle’s formidable silhouette commanded the landscape, its massive keep and imposing battlements evoking a sense of ancient grandeur. After a leisurely exploration of the town’s cobblestone streets, we found ourselves seated on a bridge, indulging in creamy gelato – or “eis,” as it’s known in Germany – while basking in the glow of the sunset. As hues of pink painted the river and sky, we were treated to a mesmerising spectacle as lights flickered to life across the castle grounds, casting a luminous reflection upon the water’s surface.

With nightfall ushering in the end of our journey, we reluctantly deflated our boards and carefully packed them back into their roller bags. In the morning, we wheeled them on board a passenger ferry, swiftly traversing the remaining stretch of the Mosel river in mere hours. Yet, as the towns and landscapes whisked by in a blur from the ferry’s deck, I couldn’t help but reflect on the days prior. Despite the allure of speed, I found myself yearning for the unhurried pace of paddling, where every bend in the river unveiled a new vista and each town unfolded its charm in slow motion. For me, it wasn’t just about reaching the destination – it was about savouring the journey and truly feeling immersed in the landscape.

Journey’s end

Our journey drew to a close with a memorable evening spent in Koblenz, before boarding on an early morning train to Frankfurt airport. Stepping into the bustling city after our serene days on the water felt almost jarring, a stark contrast to the tranquility we had grown accustomed to. As the sun dipped below the horizon, we ventured to the point where the Mosel gracefully merges with the mighty Rhine River. Watching the Mosel disappear into the swift current of the Rhine I couldn’t help thinking about the rivers journey, stretching some 700 miles downstream to eventually meet the Atlantic Ocean near Amsterdam. And in that moment, a spark of inspiration – someday, I want to paddle the length of the Rhine, from its source to the sea, embracing the adventure and beauty that waits along its storied banks.