My compact trans-Lux ride ended at Schengen, a once obscure wine-growing village down at Luxembourg’s southeast corner, now famous thanks to the border-controls-busting accord signed there.
With Britain’s notorious exit from the EU in mind, everything today about my departure from Luxembourg was likely to be a metaphor for Brexit. And so it proved: thick fog meant I couldn’t see where I was going, I wasn’t sure what to do when I got there, and leaving proved more problematic, expensive and drawn-out than people expected.
Luxembourg City was deserted this misty Whit Monday holiday, and all the shops were shut in the quaint old streets. I soon got on to a pleasant Piste Cyclable, on long car-free lanes tracking the banks of the Alzette.
Nobody was there except me, the birds, and a few cyclists also vainly trying to find an open cafe.
The forecast had been for sunshine, but it was still thick fog. That made for an atmospheric river valley ride, but once up on the village lanes heading the few miles towards Schengen, there were no views, so I took the quickest on-road way rather than investigate railtrails or cycle paths.
At the top of the final sudden descent down to Schengen was one of those shell-symbol markers for pilgrims heading for Santiago de Compostela in Spain that show up amazingly frequently round Europe.
I hurtled down to the river valley on the network of tarmac access roads through the vineyards. The Moselle’s steep slopes have been producing crisp white wines since the 1400s, especially Riesling.
I got plenty of chance to examine the terroir’s famously productive soil, because it clogged up my wheels as I negotiated the various mud and sand slides from recent heavy rain.
Journey’s end: Schengen. The place would have only been known to wine buffs if hadn’t been for the Schengen Accord, signed by five of the then ten European Union members in 1985. The village was chosen as a symbol: right here is the tri-point of France, Germany and Luxembourg – which, as one of the Benelux trio with Belgium and the Netherlands, meant the place effectively represented the five signatory nations.
By effectively erasing border controls, Schengen paved the way for the EU to succeed in uniting so many disparate nations in a kind of grudging collaboration on peace and prosperity. Britain was never even that keen: we never signed up to Schengen, never switched to the euro, and after the notorious 52-48 vote in 2016, left the EU in 2020.
All of which put me in a sombre mood. The fiasco of Brexit continues, and it’s made my life significantly worse. So I was in little mood to celebrate at the tripoint’s three-pillared monument, the official end of my trip. Coachloads of Germans and French were enthusiastically pointing at things and taking selfies, secure in the knowledge they were free to travel, reside and work in two dozen countries, unlike me now.
I poked glumly round the adjacent, free, Museum of the EU, noting the ‘cancelled’ sticker over Britain’s entry in the roll-call of proud EU nations. I wasn’t happy.
And, like Brexit, leaving Luxembourg proved trickier than enthusiasts had promised. Flooding meant cancelled trains, and my three-hour journey to tonight’s accommodation at Mannheim took over six, involving a two-sides-of-an-isosceles-triangle chug up to Koblenz. Still, I got to enjoy two leisurely riverside journeys, down the Moselle and up the Rhine, seeing the flooded banks first hand.
So… what did I learn on my mini epic, my Luxembourg End to End? No great insights into what makes Luxembourg’s culture individual. To me it still seems a mix of French this and German that, though Luxembourgish language seems a lot more prevalent than I remember from previous visits. But I certainly enjoyed riding its lush, hilly landscapes on quiet lanes and excellent cycle paths, had nothing but pleasant encounters with people, and ate the best hostel dinner I can remember. I’ll mark this down as another success.
Miles today: 27
Miles Aldi to Schengen: 103