An the outskirts of Lahnstein, tiles climb up the houses and glass blocks turn dark. The romance of the Rhine with its castles and half-timbered houses, the green steep banks and barges that push glittering waves in front of them fades to a distant memory here. We pass the cemetery, squeeze under an elevated road and reach the Lahn valley. Above our heads, the elevated road swings, descends menacingly and almost crushes us with its hideousness – until St. Lubentius spots us and has an understanding. The patron saint of the Lahn boatmen not only takes care of the boats on his river, but also watches over the hikers on the bank. He raises the shepherd’s crook on his pedestal on the slope and points through a wooden gate to the Ruppertsklamm gorge. Miraculously, it’s momentarily quiet. The Michelbach gurgles in the ground and nature quickly puts on its spring dress.
We let ourselves be swallowed up by the ravine dug by the stream and ascend in the clear morning air. The path follows a slate-green rock gully more than a kilometer long. Smooth walls rise up on the mountain side, a cool wind blows down and shakes the leaves of the stag’s tongue fern. Lichens cover the gorge, misty moss crawls furry over the stones. Only a little water covers the sole. But round, barkless tree trunks, branches and washed-up squared timber give an idea of the force with which the water flowing down from the Westerwald can shoot through the gorge. During the torrential rains of summer 2021 that devastated the Ahr Valley, many of the small bridges we cross were washed away and torn from their anchorages. Fortunately, the floods rushed through the gorge during the night, so that no one was injured.