A fortified castle perched on a basalt crag announces the city well before the first quays: Střekov appears around a meander, rising about a hundred metres above the Elbe. The arrival in Ústí nad Labem is one of the most striking of the route, as the river forces its way between the volcanic cones of the Bohemian Central Uplands, where vineyards, forests and cliffs alternate on both banks.

The gateway to Bohemia

Upstream, the Porta Bohemica gorge marks the point where the Elbe plunges for good into the hills; ships coming from Prague or Dresden pass through it before docking near the centre. Ústí unabashedly embraces its face as an industrial port and rail hub: cranes, silos and trains set the rhythm of the riverbank, a reminder that this river was long the great trade route between Bohemia and Hamburg. This frankness is part of the experience: here you arrive in a working city set amid extinct volcanoes. A contemporary cable-stayed bridge, now one of the local emblems, spans the current near the quays, a sign that the place looks to the future as much as to its past.

Střekov, Wagner's eagle's nest

On the right bank, Střekov Castle has guarded the passage since the early fourteenth century, clinging to its rock above a modern lock. You reach it by crossing to the other bank, then climbing the path that winds around the crag. Richard Wagner stayed here in 1842, and tradition links these romantic walls to the genesis of his Tannhäuser. The climb to the terraces rewards the effort: the view sweeps over the river, the hillsides and the green swell of the hills, one of the most talked-about panoramas of the Czech Elbe valley.

A tower that really leans

In the old core, the Gothic Church of the Assumption has a bell tower leaning nearly two metres, the result of a 1945 bombing that shook the ground beneath its foundations; local guides present it with a mix of pride and humour. Around it, the city reshaped after the war mixes functional buildings, surviving Art Nouveau façades and redesigned squares: an unvarnished face that tells the story of Central Europe's twentieth century better than a museum. The terraces on the main square offer a break amid local life, far from the usual circuits.

Větruše by air

An urban cable car leaves from a shopping centre in the heart of the city and lifts visitors in a few minutes to the Větruše pavilion, whose lookout tower dates from 1897. From up there, your gaze plunges down onto the confluence of the Elbe and the Bílina, Mariánská Rock and the comings and goings of river convoys. The ride itself is fun: leaving a store to land on a wooded hill is a shortcut few ports of call can offer. Walkers will head back down by the wooded trails, others by the same cabin, and all will have gained the best viewpoint in the valley.

Port of call at a glance

The call leaves a singular impression: that of a hard-working Bohemia, framed by dormant volcanoes and proud of its contrasts. Landscape lovers find panoramas worthy of the most celebrated valleys, history buffs a condensed version of the last century. As the ship casts off, you watch one last time for the castle's silhouette on its rock, and you easily understand what kept Wagner on this bank.