After leaving the castle, William and I went on the quest to find The Loreley. Finding Loreley was a adventure, since we followed the signs to get the
After leaving the castle, William and I went on the quest to find The Loreley. Finding Loreley was a adventure, since we followed the signs to get there only to go up a mountain. After searching, I finally found a local and found out she was beneath us the whole time.
Written below in our Rick Steve`s Tourist book:
The Loreley- Steep a big slate rock in centuries of legend and it becomes a tourist attraction, the ultimate Rhinestone. The Loreley, rising 135 meters (450 feet) over the narrowest and deepest point of the Rhine, has long been important. It was a holy site in pre-Roman days. The fine echoes here - thought to be ghostly voices - fertilized the legendary soil.
Because of the reefs just upstream, many ships never made it to St. Goar. Sailors (after days on the river) blamed their misfortune on a wunderbares Fraulein whose long blonde hair almost covered her body. Heinrich Heine`s Song of Loreley tells the story of a count who sent his men to kill or capture this siren after she distracted his horny son, causing him to drown. When the soldiers cornered the nymph in her cave, she called her father (Father Rhine) for help. Huge waves, the likes of which you`ll never see today, rose from the river and carried Loreley to safety. And she has never been seen since.
But atlas, when the moon shines brightly and the tour buses are parked, a soft, playful Rhine whine can be heard from the Loreley. As you pass, listen carefully ("Sailors...sailors...over my bounding mane")
Song of The Loreley:
I do not know what haunts me,
What saddened my mind all day;
An age-old tale confounds me,
A spell I cannot allay.
The air is cool and in twillight
The Rhine`s dark waters flow;
The peak of the mountain in highlight
Reflects the evening glow.
There sits a lovely maiden
Above so wondrous fair,
With shining jewels laden,
She cambs her golden hair.
If falls through her comb in a shower,
And over the valley rings
A song so mysterious power
That lovely maiden sings.
The boatman in his small skiff is
Seized y a turbulent love,
No longer he marks where the cliff is,
He looks to the mountain above.
I think the waves must flung him
Against the reefs nearby,
And that did with her singing
The Lovely Loreley
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