What is it about the sense of achievement from a climb that breathes new life into our motivation? A renewed sense of commitment is found as the last steps are taken, and you turn for the final view of the city, village, river, valley or sea that serves as a reminder of things we want to achieve. Bad habits we want to break. Things we don’t want to give up on.

Bacharach, Germany

I first experienced this in Europe in the small village of Bacharach, Germany. It was October, just a month into my backpacking tour. We had begun to get the hang of things, with the assistance of the efficiency of the German rail system. A castle perched above the Rhine River that had been converted into a hostel drew us to the small town that was full of so many surprises.

I think this village may have been the location where the term ‘Europe Moments’ was coined. The moment where you are in such disbelief of your own life, a moment of invigoration, a moment of genuine surprise that can only be found when traveling. We had many over our few days in the village, beginning from the moment we stepped off the train. The village was perfect, authentic and without a t-shirt shop in sight. Elderly German women were talking in the streets, a few groceries under their arms in a burlap sack. And high above it all, was the castle that would be our home for the next two nights.

Wandering through the town, we found the path that led up to the castle. Around curves, over slick rocks, beneath a canopy of trees we hiked to our new home. Each vantage point was better than the next, whether looking out at the vineyards, watching the Rhine river snake away from the village, and all the hills and valleys in between. Checking in and dropping our bags in the tower, we hiked back down to the village before it got dark.

Trucks were entering the village from the hills, and before we saw the grapes, we smelled them. This area, famous for Riesling wines, was in the middle of the harvest.  The back of pick-ups were filled with the freshly picked grapes, and workers were in town eating a hearty meal after a hard day of work in the vineyards. After our own dinner, we got to bed early, excited for the next day’s activities.

A German breakfast is the best start to a day a backpacker could ask for. It is almost impossible to not stuff a fresh roll full of ham and cheese and wrap it in a napkin for a snack later. Our hostel was so aware of this backpacker tendency, that they provided lunch bags for guests to take on their hike, and everyone filled them liberally from the buffet. 

One view was more amazing than the next. We hiked away from the river, and into the forest. We doubled back to a vantage point above the castle. And for the location of a picnic lunch, we chose a steep path, up a series of steps along a rock wall, to a quiet clearing with a blend of all the views. There was the village below, in all its quaintness. There was the winding river, the mountains, the vineyards, the church bell ringing, the bright sun. 

After sandwiches, we sat until the sun started to set. Carved into rock at the top was the message, ‘I love everybody.’ I’m not sure if it’s the freshness of the air, the few moments of solitude or the sense of achievement after the hike, but clarity was found that afternoon. A new sense of purpose. A renewed commitment to the travels I would enjoy over the next 8 months. To the surprises, the moments, the disbelief I would undoubtedly encounter.

That evening, we wandered into a beer garden and became friends with the waiter. He offered us a wine tasting, sampling a variety of delicious wines from the region. We met two American women, and invited them to join us. Two hours later, we were laughing in a restaurant offering hearty fare, the perfect ending to our adventurous day. These two women bought our dinner, were our stand-in mothers for the night, gave us advice about the next several months. The kindness of strangers had taken on new meaning, and from these two lovely women, I learned an important lesson about generosity.

The next day, we joined in on the harvest. Over a morning picking Riesling grapes I developed a new appreciation for the art of winemaking. One plate of goulash and a train strike later, we were on a boat en route to Cologne. Our time in the village had come to an end. We promised new friends to return, hoping to taste the wine from the 2007 harvest that we had become a part of with our own bare hands.