Forget planes – it’s time to travel like we did a century ago

Do you hate flying as much as I do? I bet you do. The long trek out to the airport, the queues at security, the wait in the departure lounge, more queueing at the gate, followed by hours squeezed onto a cramped plane and then another wait at immigration. Then to get home, you have to do it all over again.

If you’re only going to the Continent, wouldn’t it be more relaxing and exciting to do it all by train? Lately, new train connections have been springing up all over Europe, making international rail travel a lot easier. And if you’d rather not sort it all out yourself, there’s a growing range of tailor-made trips too.

The Rhineland is particularly well served by rail, and Cox & Kings has just launched a new Rhineland by Rail tour. I took a test drive to answer a question that’s been nagging away at me for ages: now flying has become such a bore, is it time to start going on holiday by train again, like we did a century ago?

Day One: London to Cologne (via Brussels)

I’m at St Pancras at 6am, to catch the 7am Eurostar. I’m through security in 10 minutes, enough time for breakfast before we board. I sit back and watch the countryside sail by. It feels great to be able to get up and stretch your legs. We reach Brussels Midi in two hours, bang on time.

The onward train to Cologne leaves from the same station. Changing trains here is easy. No baggage checks or passport control. I have an hour to kill, and the cafes in the station are unappealing, but the Pullman hotel has a quiet and comfy bar that hardly anyone seems to know about: your own business-class lounge, for the price of a Belgian beer.

Brussels to Cologne takes another two hours. From Cologne’s busy Hauptbahnhof (central station) it’s a brisk 20-minute walk to my hotel. The Wasserturm looks like the keep of a medieval castle – it’s actually a 19th-century water tower, converted into a sedate and stylish hideaway. The entire journey has taken me eight hours, door to door – slower than flying, but a lot less stressful. I drop off my luggage and walk back out into town, along the Rhine.

If you’re travelling along the Rhine, Cologne is the best starting point. This historic, hectic city is where the most scenic stretch of this mighty waterway begins. The arched railway bridge that straddles the river and the colossal cathedral that looms over it is one of Germany’s most arresting vistas. I’ve seen it many times before, but the first thrill never fades.

I head for Früh, a cavernous bierkeller in the shadow of the cathedral. I demolish a plate of Himmel und Erde, the local comfort food (mashed potato, apple puree and black pudding), and a few glasses of Kölsch, the light, crisp local beer. A gruff waiter brings me frequent refills and marks my beermat to keep the score.

I hurry to the cathedral for evening mass – a hushed and holy contrast to the boozy hubbub of the bierkeller. The twilit interior is lit by candlelight. The ceiling is so high, it feels like staring up at the night sky. I find an empty pew and let the lyrical German liturgy wash over me in this ancient, sacred setting.

Day Two: Aachen

Aachen is midway between Brussels and Cologne, an hour in each direction. Most people pass straight through without stopping. They don’t know what they’re missing. Emerging from the station, it looks like a dreary commuter town, but at its centre is a charming citadel, a huddle of antique houses crowded round Germany’s most beautiful cathedral.

It’s hard to believe today, but 1,200 years ago this was the capital of Western Europe, the centre of Charlemagne’s vast empire, which stretched from the Alps to the Pyrenees, from the Med to the North Sea. Enticed by Aachen’s hot salty springs, he established his court here. The ornate cathedral and robust Rathaus are built upon the foundations of his palace.

I wander the cobbled streets of the picturesque Altstadt (old town), a maze of gingerbread houses, marvelling at how well it’s been patched up since the war. In 1944, this was a battleground, the first German city to fall to the Allies, and after the war it lay in ruins. You’d never know today.

I walk through the leafy Stadtpark to the Carolus Thermen. The building is brand new, but this thermal mineral water is eternal, the magic potion which brought Charlemagne here – to cure his rheumatism, apparently. I plunge into a tepid indoor pool, then swim through a tunnel into a warm outdoor lagoon. Steam rises off the water, and Germans of all ages bask in the shallows, like sleek, contented seals.

Day Three: Cologne to Frankfurt (via Koblenz)

From Cologne the Rhine snakes south. The railway follows close behind. First stop is Bonn, another former capital shrunk into a market town. The Haus der Geschichte charts Bonn’s strange sojourn as the capital of West Germany, from the foundation of the Bundesrepublik in 1949 to reunification in 1990. Nowadays, this unassuming city is better known as the place where Beethoven was born and raised. The house where he grew up is now an evocative museum.

I stop for lunch in Koblenz, where the Rhine meets the Moselle. This dramatic confluence is marked by a bombastic monument, the Deutsche Eck. High above is the cliff top fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. A cable car whisks you from the waterfront over the wide river to the summit.

South of Koblenz, you enter the Rhine Gorge, the most spectacular section of the river. Hills rise up into craggy cliffs, crowned with ruined castles. For 40 miles, the railway hugs the winding riverbank. You can see why Turner loved to paint this wild ravine, and why it’s now a Unesco World Heritage Site (alongside the cathedrals of Aachen and Cologne).

At Rüsselsheim, where the Rhine meets the River Main, my train turns east and follows the Main to Frankfurt. I emerge from Frankfurt’s Hauptbahnhof into a sea of commuters and head straight for Hotel Lume, a cluster of neoclassical villas dwarfed by the skyscrapers of Europe’s bankers.

I dump my bags and walk downtown, through the quaint, reconstructed Altstadt, then across the River Main into the bohemian enclave of Sachsenhausen. I slake my thirst at Wagner, a lively bar and restaurant which serves Frankfurt’s local tipple, Apple Wine (like a cross between wine and cider). I stagger back to my plush hotel and sleep like the dead.

Day Four: Mainz and Rudesheim

I retrace my steps, back along the Main and Rhine to Rudesheim. I stop off in Mainz to visit the city’s magnificent Romanesque cathedral. There aren’t so many tourists here, so it’s especially atmospheric, an enormous mausoleum of red sandstone with a colonnaded garden at its core. Mainz was badly bombed in the war and rebuilt in a hurry. Much of the modern architecture is drab, and quite a lot of it is downright ugly, but the restored Altstadt is pretty. This workaday city has a friendly, unaffected air.

Rudesheim is quite the opposite, but I don’t care. It’s kitsch and schmaltzy and I love it. A little town beside the Rhine, surrounded by sloping vineyards, it has a long history of viniculture, but these days it’s a place for day trippers who come to glug the local Hock. A tangle of narrow alleys crammed with whimsical wine bars, it’s shamelessly sentimental, but it’s as much a part of modern Germany as any other place on this route.

I walk out of town, uphill through silent vineyards. The Rhine lies spread out below, unfurled like an unending silver ribbon. It’s twilight, and the lights on the pleasure boats twinkle in the gloom. I watch the car ferry chug back and forth, between Boppard and Rudesheim. This has always been a working river, and that’s what saves it from touristic atrophy. I watch huge barges glide past, south to Basel and north to Rotterdam.

Day Five: Frankfurt to London (via Paris)

I board Deutsche Bahn’s high-speed inter-city train, the ICE, at five to nine. Deutsche Bahn used to be renowned for its Teutonic efficiency, but lately I’ve heard loads of horror stories – I’ve endured a fair few myself. However the trains on this trip have been fairly reliable, a few minor delays but nothing serious. Deutsche Bahn isn’t as good as it once was, but I like to think it’s turned a corner. We arrive in Paris four hours later, right on schedule. It’s a ten-minute walk from Gare de l’Est to Gare du Nord. My three o’clock Eurostar arrives back in London at half past four, in time for tea.

What did I make of Rhineland by rail? Well, mine was a slightly shorter version. Cox & Kings give you three nights in Cologne and three in Frankfurt (rather than my two in each), with chauffeured excursions to Speyer, Heidelberg and the Rhine castles. I’m sure that’s more relaxing.

There are a few things I’d change. I’d stay in Wiesbaden rather than Frankfurt – only half an hour away and much more homely. I’d only spend one night in Cologne, then head on to Bonn. I’d break my outbound journey in Aachen, rather than doubling back. However the train travel was a pleasure – far more fun than flying, and a lot less hassle. It felt like an adventure. It felt like real travelling. From now on, I’d like to go everywhere by rail.

How to do it

William Cook was a guest of Cox & Kings. Its Rhineland by Rail tailor-made tour launches on January 15 and costs from £2,295 per person, including all train travel, selected sightseeing with a private driver and six nights’ B&B in smart boutique hotels. For more information about train travel in Germany, visit www.eurostar.com, www.bahn.de or www.germany.travel.