Halfway between Frankfurt and Nuremberg lies the beautiful city of Würzburg, only just inside Bavaria, but anything but Bavarian in character. Ruled for centuries by its wealthy and influential prince-bishops, it was only subsumed into Bavaria during the Napoleonic wars in the early 1800s.

Those prince-bishops bequeathed the city its two top-drawer attractions. On the hills on the left bank of the river Main lies the Festung Marienberg, a medieval castle complex designed to provoke awe among the residents of the area. However once it had outlived its usefulness 300 years ago, the decision was made to build a palace in the city itself. The stunning Residenz, one of the most important buildings in Germany, and listed by UNESCO as a world heritage site, is the result. It took 60 years to build and is regarded as one of the finest baroque palaces in Europe.

For a city to have one such attraction is impressive, to have two is remarkable. But what makes it all the more astonishing is that only three weeks after the infamous air raids on Dresden and only six weeks before the end of the World War II an even greater level of devastation was wreaked on Würzburg. The Allied bombardment here is far less well-known, but had the effect of destroying 90 percent of the city. After the war the initial thought was to leave the ruins as a sort of memorial, but then it was decided to rebuild the main sites exactly as they had been, a painstaking task which took almost 40 years to complete.

Stunning architecture aside, one of Würzburg’s biggest contributions to modern life was the discovery of X-rays by William Röntgen at his laboratory in the city in 1895, an achievement for which he was granted the first Nobel Prize for Physics. Today there’s still a lot of study going on at the University of Würzburg (founded in 1582), which contributes a quarter of the city’s population, giving it a very young and vibrant atmosphere.

Finally, and once more in contrast to other Bavarian cities famed for the production (and consumption) of beer, the drink of choice in Würzburg is wine (although for those still keen on the usual the Distelhäuser in Sternbäck bierkeller is a wonderfully fresh beer). Winemaking has been going in the area since the Middle Ages and the banks of the Main are covered with vines. The locals are rightly proud of their renowned produce and sipping a Silvaner on the Alte Mainbrucke, looking up at the Festung Marienberg is one of the must-dos of any stay.

In September 1971 I spent a couple of weeks walking with friends in Switzerland. I then had three days to get to Leuven University in Belgium for a chemistry congress. Some of us found ourselves in the Bavarian town of Füssen, which I had heard of, though I was familiar with neither Neuschwanstein nor King Ludwig II, that famous castle’s eccentric creator.

We were penniless students staying in the town’s youth hostel and that evening, over a few beers in the local kneipe, one friend said that he aimed to hitch north along the Romantic Road, which also meant nothing to me. He showed me the map, where nothing caught my eye until I saw Nördlingen.

I knew the name from my interest in German history, because it was at Nördlingen that two battles had taken place during the 30 Years War. So next day we set off separately, hitching north along the B17, aiming to meet again at the youth hostel in Nördlingen.

I really did not know what to expect, but when I got there I was totally stunned. The town might have stepped right out of the pages of a history book, being still completely surrounded by an almost perfectly circular wall, a wall punctuated by massive, strangely shaped city gates with peculiar names. Meanwhile the town centre was dominated by a huge church tower belonging to the first Gothic church I had seen in southern Germany: a complete contrast to the Baroque I’d got used to.

The next day I had to get to Würzburg, so I set off early, having been advised to make sure I stopped in the celebrated Rothenburg ob der Tauber, which I was told would be even more impressive than Nördlingen. However, the driver who picked me up asked if I knew Dinkelsbühl, the next town north of Nördlingen. He assured me that it was very well worth a visit, too, and dropped me just outside yet another ancient city gateway. (Later I discovered the story of how the town was saved from the besieging Swedish Army back in 1632 by a young woman and a group of children who begged the Swedish colonel for mercy, an incident commemorated today by the Kinderzeche festival.)

Soon though, I had to continue north to Rothenburg, widely considered to be the jewel of the Romantic Road. For me though, Rothenburg was merely the third (almost) perfectly preserved medieval town, and today Nördlingen is still the place that stands out in my mind.

Some 14 years later, when I first went into business offering holidays in Germany, a walking route connecting these three towns was where I started. And although I myself am now retiring, that holiday is still available today.