September 21–22
Moselle Valley

The day offers a relatively flat bike ride along the Moselle River, though there are a few uphill stretches. We set off after 8:30 a.m.—since the reception opens at 8:00—allowing time for a cup of coffee in the bistro first.

Grapes taste lovley

The weather is sunny and pleasantly warm with barely any headwind, and the route follows the designated cycle path all day. Along the way, we encounter many groups of day-trippers traveling between small towns, often on e-bikes and carrying light gear.

The route takes us through picturesque villages and towns along the banks of the Moselle, where vineyards stretch out in endless rows across the hillsides.

My first major stop is Cochem, about 45 km away, where we plan to stock up on supplies and grab a snack. The town is lively and straddles the river; a large bridge leads to the side where the grocery stores are located. After a bit of searching, I find two shops and buy bread, butter, cheese, and yogurt.

Bridge over Mosel in Cochem

After crossing back over the bridge, I look for a café before heading toward Senheim. Maps.Me suggests a route taking us higher up through the town, leading to a steep, nearly three-kilometer climb over the hill—a climb so grueling that my legs are still protesting!

Road from Cochem over the hill to Senheim

Senheim, Moselriver end Nehren down

This is followed by a scenic descent toward Senheim, Nehren, and the Moselle River, which winds its way through the valley and the vineyards.

Upon reaching Senheim, I decide to spend the night at the campsite after a quick tour of the village. I book a spot right by the river, with the bridge as our nearest neighbor.

Night camp at Senheim campingplace

After pitching the tent, I enjoy a cold beer at the campsite’s bar and pub. The evening concludes with food, coffee, and some research for tomorrow’s ride towards the border city of Trier.

September 18

Tough climbs to Fulda

I set my mobile alarm for 5:30 AM. It is pitch black outside, and I feel a few drops of drizzle falling, so I hurry to pack up.

I carefully make my way down the mountain, taking a different route than the one I climbed yesterday. Once at the base, I cycle to a Netto store, where the bakery and café are open. There, I order a coffee and a roll filled with something savory and meat-like.

Before cycling out of town, I change into rain gear; the drizzle has picked up a bit. Navigating out of town is easy, but cycling isn’t. A diabolically long hill—nearly 7 km—nearly breaks me.

Around ten o’clock, I pedal into Vacha, only to find my grand plan thwarted by a closed route. After some impromptu cartography, I roll into a large park, where a towering man in green—who, thankfully, is made of stone—stands frozen in eternal pride.

I need a break and a water refill; my legs are feeling worn out. The sun has come out now, though, so the rain gear goes back into the bag.
The climbs are relentless; I have to struggle up several tough hills, and on top of that, I’m facing a headwind.

As the clock nears 1:00 PM, I start planning a coffee break. Eiterfeld will be my stop; I choose a roadside café and bakery.

I just buy a coffee and sit outside at one of the three available tables. I take out my cooler bag and help myself to sandwiches and eggs. Before setting off, I pop into the café to charge my phone while using the restroom.

Just as I’m about to pedal away, the young woman at the bakery surprises me with two soft, jam-filled cookies—completely free of charge. Naturally, it’s a moment worth capturing in a photo.

By the time I finally ride off, it has started to cloud over, but it doesn’t look like rain, so my rain gear stays packed away.
Approaching Götzenhof, my GPS cheerfully guides me straight onto a highway like it’s the scenic route. The chorus of honking cars and trucks quickly clues me in that I might be the main act in today’s traffic comedy.

Just before the exit, a police car with flashing lights and blaring sirens makes a dramatic entrance. After a stern lecture about my unintended highway performance, I blame my overconfident GPS. Mercifully, I’m sent on my way without a ticket—just a bruised ego.

After a bit of maneuvering, I find the bike path, which leads me to Fulda. I arrived there just after 4:30 PM. I stop in the city center for a beer, sit for half an hour, and map out the route to the campsite I’ve picked out.
It is located about 5 km outside the city.

It’s a public area belonging to a residential neighborhood, featuring green spaces, barbecue spots, tables, chairs, swings, and climbing frames for the kids.
I find a good spot near some bushes and close to the tables. It’s a pretty perfect place to camp.

Looks like a sleeing bear

View over Fulda from Schzenberg, my tentcamp place

September 17
A tough bike ride to Eisenach

I wake up quite early, as usual, and linger in bed for a while. I decide to get up even though it’s only 6:00 a.m.; the sounds of the workmen moving about in the kitchen make it hard to stay put. Still, I suppose they have to move around—they have a job to do, after all.

I step into the shower and turn on the hot water; it feels wonderful and shakes off my morning grogginess. Then I prepare breakfast in the empty kitchen: muesli, yogurt, eggs, cheese sandwiches, and finally, coffee.

Just before 8:30 a.m., I’m on my bike, pedaling leisurely out of Erfurt. Seven kilometers later, I’ve left the city behind. I then enjoy a pleasant ride along a dedicated bike path—no pedestrians, dog walkers, or parents with strollers, just bicycles.

The ride to Gotha is rather dull—31 kilometers with not much to see. Six kilometers before Gotha, a completely flat, straight stretch lies ahead.

Shortly after 10:30 a.m., I cycle into Gotha; the weather is sunny, but it feels like autumn. I stop at the first outdoor café I come across—an “Asia Bistro”—and order a coffee while taking sandwiches out of my cooler bag.
There isn’t much to report about the day; the villages are mostly deserted and lack colorful houses to admire—they seem to lack soul.

I make several stops to rest and refill my water bottle. There are quite a few long, grueling, gradual climbs to tackle. Anyone claiming Germany is flat hasn’t cycled across the country—even though it is beautiful in many places.

I arrive in Eisenach around 2 p.m.; at first, I take a wrong turn and end up below the town center itself.

Cycling is prioritized much better in Germany than back home in Sweden.

I turn around and find my way into the middle of town. I frantically search for an outdoor café with a power outlet and finally find one.

I order a beer, followed by a cup of coffee. Then I sit and figure out the route to the campsite I’ve set my sights on. According to the map, it’s not a particularly long distance—just two or three kilometers. The first hundred meters are nothing special, but then…

First comes cobblestone and a steep climb through an area that, judging by the villas, seems exclusive.

The cobblestones end, but the hill continues; it just gets steeper and steeper. The GPS shows a gradient of 51 percent.
At first, I walk the bike for 25 meters before resting, but during the last hundred meters, I have to stop every ten meters.

Tougfh climbing up the hill

Finally, I reach the top, only to realize that the campsite I had pictured doesn’t actually exist; it was just a tip suggesting that camping was permitted up here.

Lsst hunderd meters I had to park my bicycle…- to steep

Naturally, I want to reach the very summit, but for the last hundred meters, I have to leave the bike behind and walk up on foot.

My tentcamp was OK and it was soft for my back

I make my way back down and walk the bike part of the way until I find a reasonably level spot to pitch my tent. The spot I’ve chosen is situated above some houses, but I’m fairly well sheltered by the beech forest.

I find a few concrete pillars, about half a meter high, that serve perfectly as a seat and a base for my camping stove. I eat dinner with a hearty appetite; the air around me is mild.

I fall asleep quite quickly, even though the podcast *USA-podden* is playing in my ears.

September 15–16
Erfurt and a rest day 

I slept well on my green sleeping pad; I pack up quickly and head off. The weather is a bit overcast, but it doesn’t look like rain for a while yet.

After a fairly demanding hill, things get a bit easier, though I can’t escape the crosswind. Germany is a major agricultural country; there are fields of crops, corn, and sunflowers everywhere. Incidentally, the sunflowers have finished blooming and are now more brown than yellow. It’s probably time for the harvest!

I arrive in Weimar and make my way through town using only bike paths; near the exit, I spot a café that looks organic. I make a U-turn and cycle over. I didn’t have breakfast this morning, and I’m craving a coffee.

I sit here enjoying my coffee and the fact that there isn’t far left to go to Erfurt and a rest day—just 25 km.

Before the trip, I had planned to stay at Hostel Opera upon arrival, and my GPS was set for it.

Unfortunately, they were fully booked for the day. I got a tip about a place 200 meters further along, but the room cost €120 a night, so I politely declined.

I checked other hotels along the way; the “hostels” seemed completely full, so that option appears to be exhausted. Prices seem to be the same: €100–130 per night.

Eventually, I enter the heart of Erfurt, passing through the old town districts to a large square with several outdoor cafés.
I sit down at an Italian one and order a simple pizza and a beer. I frantically check my phone and Google for cheap rooms.

After a diligent search, I find one that suits my taste; it’s more of an apartment-style hotel than a standard one, and it’s located just about 2 km from where I am right now…
The place is called Pension zum Ringelberg; I book online via Booking.com, and the price is just over half of what the other hotels were asking—€100 for two nights.

After a delicious pizza, I cycle through town using Maps.Me to reach Ludolfweg 6.

It’s situated in a quiet residential area; the owner greets me but says I have to wait 20 minutes because he’s still getting the room ready.

I sit outside on a sofa and wait; the sun is shining, and I’m longing for a shower. I receive an email notification saying I can now pick up the key using the code he sent.

The key is in a lockbox on the other side of the house. He meets me when I come in and shows me around.

There’s a small kitchen with a modern stovetop, a table along the wall with four chairs, and a fridge—small, but I think I can fit my cooler bag in if I do a bit of rearranging…!

The shower is shared with the two other rooms on the ground floor, and it looks clean and fresh. There’s also a coffee and soft drink vending machine on the second floor.

The room isn’t big, but it suits me well; the mattress is admittedly a bit too soft, but that’s something I’ll have to accept.

I bring in all my bags and get settled, then turn on the TV and look for CNN or BBC—I’m not interested in any of the other channels, as I barely understand a word of German. Brewing a cup of coffee, then hopping in the shower.

On the way here, I noticed—and heard—that the front mudguard was loose. A long screw passing through the lower part of the steering column is missing. I spotted a bike shop on the way, though, so I’ll stop by tomorrow and ask for a new, long one.
In the meantime, I’ve secured it with a narrow plastic zip tie, and it’s doing the job.

After changing, I catch some BBC news—stories about Trump and a woman, the nurse Lucy Letby, who murdered at least seven premature babies. This case is getting a lot of attention, as are reports of a NATO jet shooting down a drone over the Baltic region and a Russian vessel firing flares at a Danish military helicopter.

It’s past 6 PM now, so I’m heading to the nearest grocery store to stock up on supplies; it’s just a stone’s throw away.

Then I’m back to prepare tonight’s dinner: Indian-style curried rice, fried bacon, two sandwiches, and a beer. Afterward, coffee and palm-oil-free Digestive biscuits, finishing off with a “four” (a generous measure) of Steward’s Whisky.

I crawl into bed—on a mattress that’s far too soft for my liking—around 10 PM and watch some more BBC.

Talk to you tomorrow from a bike ride through central Erfurt.

 – Erfurt around by bike  –

I wake up early and hear guests in the neighboring rooms bustling about in the kitchen and shower. The people on the ground floor seem to be assembly workers—and early risers, too.

After breakfast, I cycle the nearly straight, 2.5 km route to the Fischmarkt, right near the center of Erfurt.

This beautiful building at Benediktsplatz is one of the oldest in Erfurt; the Krämerbrücken café on the ground floor is popular, and the prices are reasonable.

The Breitstrom—a tributary or stream feeding into the Gera River—also flows through Erfurt at this spot. Several buildings are constructed right over the stream.

The Fischmarkt is a somewhat small square, yet it is surrounded by beautiful, old, historic buildings. Trams curve through the square, and the outdoor seating areas are nearly full.
The sky is turning very dark, and my weather app is warning of a heavy downpour any minute now.

I had a view of this beautiful building—Haus Zum Breiten Herd—while I enjoyed my coffee. It was built around 1580.

While I’m having my coffee, the warning about the torrential downpour comes true. Those not sitting under the parasols have to rush inside the café. Luckily, my bike and I are sheltered under a large parasol.
There are plenty of tourists in Erfurt, even though it’s the middle of the week. I suppose the Germans have already started their holidays? In any case, it’s fun to walk or cycle amidst the bustling tourists.

This figure outside the Town Hall is popular, judging by the information provided; “Bernd das Brot”—or simply “The Bread”—is a character that has apparently achieved iconic status in Erfurt.

I believe he comes from a children’s TV channel or something similar.

Trams are a common sight in many German cities, and Erfurt is no exception. However, cycling on these streets can be a bit tricky and risky; getting your front wheel caught in one of the tracks leads to an immediate spill. It’s fine as long as the streets are relatively empty—like in the photo—and it hasn’t rained.

The second photo is from another popular square in Erfurt, Anger Square, with the Anger Fountain in the foreground.

I then head back, stopping at the bike shop I saw yesterday. I wheel my bike through the large store up to the counter and ask the guy behind it if he can find a larger screw, pointing to the front fender.

He goes over to some bins, picks out the right size, and brings back two tools. He fixes the fender in a minute or so, and when I ask about the cost, he says in German…

“Es kostet nichts, ich biete es an.”
I didn’t understand every word, but I gathered it was free. Then, it was back to Ludolfweg 6 and my room.

September 14

Heading for the next stop – Apolda

I have a bit of trouble getting out of the campsite and onto the route to my next destination, but after some maneuvering, I’m on the right track.

I pass a few small villages with nothing particularly noteworthy about them; the road is mostly flat, with only the occasional small hill.

At around nine o’clock, a yellow road sign comes into view, displaying a name well-known to us Swedes: Lützen. This is the site of a significant military battle that occurred 394 years ago—the Battle of Lützen.

I find a grocery store—NORMA—and buy bread, muesli, and yogurt. In the same building, there’s a combination café and butcher shop.

I order coffee and take out my cooler bag. I make a few sandwiches and eat some eggs along with the rest of yesterday’s yogurt.

My next destination is Weißenfels, just under 20 km away. During the ride, my mobile phone holder breaks first, followed shortly by the zipper on my small camera bag.

Weißenfels is an older town, similar in size to Örnsköldsvik, with a population of 35,000–39,000. Like many others in this region, it has an enormous town square.

Even though it’s a weekday, there are few people about; I cycle around a bit but decide to sit at an outdoor café and have a beer.

The ride out of Weißenfels is anything but flat—there’s a tough 1.5 km climb followed by several smaller hills, giving my legs a real workout.

As if the hills weren’t enough, the strap on my waist pack breaks, too. I’ll have to either try to fix it or buy a new one.

After nearly 20 grueling kilometers, I reach Naumburg, and at the town entrance, I spot a familiar name: Kaufland.

It’s a large shopping center that usually stocks just about everything, so I decide to pay it a visit. On the lower level, I find exactly what I’m looking for: a mobile phone holder made of Teflon-based rubber that fits my Xiaomi 12T Pro.

I still have just over 31 kilometers to go to reach Apolda—my planned destination for the day—and it promises to be a tough ride. To make matters worse, a strong headwind has taken a firm grip on me and my cycling.

I find joy in discovering charming cycling paths that meander through beech forests and trace the edges of gentle streams, offering breathtaking scenery at every turn.

I arrive in Apolda feeling quite worn out; as usual, I’ve picked out a campsite just outside town.
Upon reaching the main street, I stop at a café called “Himmlisch” and go inside. The main reason is that my phone battery is nearly dead—while I do have a powerful 27,000 mAh charger, I’m also craving a cold beer.

I sit there for half an hour and map out the route to my campsite—about 3.5 kilometers out of town—but there’s a brutal uphill climb to get there.

Just before the turn-off that leads out and up past a farm field, I spot a sign on my left: “Röde Camp, 500 m, Rechts” (Right).
I hesitate for a few seconds but decide to keep cycling uphill now. That way, I won’t have to tackle the climb tomorrow morning. I pass the 500-meter and 1-kilometer markers—still no sign of a campsite—but at least I’ve conquered that long hill.

Just outside Kleinromnstedt, I come across a large beech forest with a path leading in to the right. I decide without hesitation to just go for it; the tent is going up, and I’m tired.

Four hundred and fifty meters in, I find a decent spot to pitch the tent. First, I gather a number of small branches with large green leaves to use as a ground layer. It takes quite a few branches, let me tell you, but the resulting bed is soft—and GREEN.

The advantage of this kind of campsite is that you have some privacy; no one bothers you.

I drift off listening to a downloaded *Studio Ett* podcast, hearing animals moving about nearby outside. I’m simply too tired to check what kind they are.

September 12-13
Kulkweitzer campplace

I wake up after nine hours of sleep feeling rested; my foot—the most important thing right now—feels better, though not quite right, yet things are moving in the right direction.

I Heading out of the sleepy town, with only the Netto store still open, I embark on a longer ride today, aiming to reach the Kulkwitzer am See campsite just south of Leipzig.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens today, other than Maps.Me occasionally acting up—especially when it selects a bike path, or rather a trail, that I hadn’t even noticed.

At times like that, Maps.Me might decide I’m completely off track. The weather is neither hot nor cold; there’s no rain, and everything proceeds as usual.

I make a few stops to refill my water and grab a coffee, and occasionally to check my navigation. My biggest concern is navigating through Leipzig to the campsite on the outskirts; I have to keep a close eye on Maps.Me and follow every turn it suggests.

Around four in the afternoon, after cycling just over 100 km, I enter Leipzig. I’m keeping a very close watch on the map, and it seems to be paying off—not a single wrong turn, and I find the Kulkwitzer am See campsite quite easily.

I park my bike outside the reception and walk in; there’s no problem booking a spot for two nights. They charge 20 euros per night.
It’s a fairly large campsite situated by the lake of the same name, though not quite as luxurious as the one in Potsdam.

I get the tent set up quickly and then head to the shower block, located 100 meters away. After nearly 120 km on the bike, a shower and a shave feel absolutely wonderful. I also take the opportunity to wash some clothes in the sinks.

Back at the tents, showered and changed. I take my camping bag and cooler bag to the nearby building for supper.

Not much activity for the rest of the evening. I crawl into my sleeping bag just after 9:30 and listen to Sveriges Radio for a bit—after all, tomorrow is election day.

  -Rest Day and election day in Sweden – 

I wake up just after eight and hear the neighbors getting ready to head out. I make my way to the kitchen building for breakfast.
It is raining outside—and has been for the last few hours—but the weather looks set to improve this afternoon and tomorrow.

Despite having visited the kitchen building multiple times, navigating there feels like starring in my own low-budget maze movie. The place is a spaghetti network of paths and walkways, but somehow I stumble upon it eventually.
After breakfast and a dose of Swedish Radio’s election drama, I grab my gear and retreat to the tent. Yesterday’s arrival was greeted by a lively Aqua Park next door, where people were busy eating, drinking, cheering, and generally auditioning for the role of “Happiest Human on Earth.”

So, I head over there—it’s a walk of about 300–400 meters—but the place seems completely deserted.
Some staff members are sitting outside having a coffee break, so I ask them if it’s closed. One of the staff—a dark-haired woman who speaks English—explains that yesterday’s event was a private function, not open to the public.

I walk back to my campsite, feeling a bit glum. I sit at the campsite’s outdoor café area, buy a coffee and a doughnut, and charge a few electronic devices that are running low on battery.

While I sit there—for about an hour and a half—I listen to and watch more of the election coverage from SVT and SR. It looks like it’s going to be an incredibly tight race; let’s just hope the 2022 election doesn’t repeat itself.

There isn’t much activity at the campsite other than resting my legs and arms. I’m doing a bit of prep for tomorrow; I’m checking both Google Maps and Maos.Me, and they both show roughly the same thing: about 85–90 km to Apolda and the campsite I’ve marked on my Komoot route.

I’m eating a late dinner because I also want to keep an eye on the election results… I’m sitting in the kitchen building until 10 PM, and all the forecasts are pointing toward a Red-Green government.

I’m packing up whatever I can, since I plan to set off early tomorrow—ideally before seven o’clock.

I crawl into my sleeping bag with my earbuds in, tuned in to Swedish Radio’s election night coverage.

September 11
Sanssouci – Coswig tältplats

When it’s half past seven my mobile rings and I start packing up but I’m not in a hurry. The reception doesn’t open until nine o’clock so I also have time for breakfast before I leave.

Even today the weather seems to be good, in too hot and the winds not so bad either. Before I pay for the night I sit down at the bar table and wait until the clock strikes nine. One night with all available opportunities and services, except for power to my tent site I have to pay 16,70€.

That’s quite OK considering everything that was available. Then off and out towards the main road, here I take a left and now it’s mostly straight ahead and through some small villages and mainly on bike paths or bike paths.

After just under two miles I stop in just before Klaistow. A harvest market makes me interested and decides that here it will be a visit.

The market is well visited and mostly it is root vegetables, and especially pumpkins in all possible and impossible creations.

Great job by the exhibitors and the harvesters.

They must have been busier than a one-man band scrambling to keep up with Chaplin’s wild antics.

Also this triangle sculpture

Some have been decorated so they look like old 20-30’s idols like Chaplin. Much is in red yellow. I walk around and cuddle a little among all the creations but don’t buy anything. Then I continue cycling south towards Coswig.

Stop at a Netto store because I need more AA batteries for the GPS.

It is not unusual to see this type of memorial for road accident victims in Germany.

When I arrives to Niemegk and Niemegker Cafe & Böckeri there is a stop for coffee and the sun is shining fully outside. However, I sit inside as the mobile phone needs to be charged, Maps.

Me takes some power I notice. I only have a little over 30 km to Coswig (Anhalt) which is located by the river Elbe.

After the coffee visit I feel that my left foot has sensations of pain. The last mile I avoid using the pedal clip.
Coswig is a small town and there is no camping but I find down by the river large green areas that also seem to be popular with dog owners. Here I pitch the tent.

I lock the bike to a tree that is surrounded by fence protection. I get the tent up relatively quickly but my foot doesn’t feel good. I limp a lot. I discover that I need more water and head up towards the community, saw when I was looking for a suitable place to camp a Netto store.

My foot makes it take some time to get there but at the same time I also notice that it gets better the more I walk.

On the way back to the tent and still limping I meet a man with a German hunting terrier, the man asks in typical German fashion if it is my tent down by the river…!

I catch only a few words, but I can tell it’s about me and the tent. He keeps talking as he follows me.

When we arrive he points to the bike and says that it is not good to lock the bike here… It is easy to steal and refers to the thin stem.

Instead he points away a large two meter high fence and says lock the bike this instead.

– I say… – Is it OK, do you mean? –

– Yes’, lock it up here

Politely thank the man who has shown genuine concern for my safety. Such kindness is rare, and he truly deserves all the praise.

I move the bike and then prepare tonight’s dinner. Then some navigation crafts before I crawl into my sleeping bag around 9 pm.

There will be some listening to radio program, Studio Ett before I fall asleep completely.

Tomorrow towards Leipzig and Kulkwitzer am See Camping

September 11

I wake up quite rested and the weather outside is broken and it will probably be sunny today as well. A campsite outside Potsdam is the goal, Sanssouci camping park and the distance is not very far either, only just over 60 km.

I can’t seem to shake those long—though not particularly steep—climbs. There are quite a few of them throughout the day, and let me tell you, I can really feel it in my legs.

One moment it’s cycle path, next peaceful forest path

Sometimes the peaceful forest path blocks by fallen trees

Arrive in Potsdam in a sun–drenched weather just after noon. Take mine into the center which is full of people. The bars and pubs stand like rods on the hill and the problem is just to find someone with a patio and at the same time has an electric wall socket.

Das EiS Cafe is perfect and the bike fits right next door. An older lady who passes by still thinks I should move it somewhere else. Her prayers are not answered.

I order a cold large beer and at the same time take the route to Sanssouci camping park. It is just over 5 km from my place and fittingly enough in the same direction as I will take tomorrow. After just over three quarters of an hour I get out of Potsdam, stop at Lidl for some provisions.

The campsite has no difficulty to find. It is located at Templiner see, absolutely perfect. The campsite is huge it is impossible to mistake. There is a queue at the entrance. I have a bike so it is easy to pass.

Long queue but not for me as a bicyclist…

The reception and the Minimarket shop in the same building right at the entrance. After a bit of waiting I get a place almost at the back of the campsite, Z42 it says on the card and the female receptionist marks on the map where it is. She says that I can pay after 3 pm or tomorrow morning.

Prefer the latter option. Before I continue I buy a coffee and a pastry and sit outside at one of the bar tables. The pastry tastes absolutely awesome and the coffee not much worse. Then I cycle around the campsite to orient myself and there are all kinds of buildings to use, shower and toilet building, kitchen with plates and microwaves and a building for washing up only.

I also found out that in the building for the kitchen there was also a freezer for those who want to put in ice sheets. I have four in my cooler bag that need to be “refrigerated“.

It is quick to set up the tent and I have a view of the lake, feels good. Templiner see is not that big but it has connections to several others so there is every opportunity to jump on a boat and get around.

Although the price is not to my taste.

After setting up the tent I take my hygiene bag and head to the shower building. Now I note how many motorhomes and camping vans have found their way here. 100 is hardly enough and everyone seems to enjoy it.

There are also plenty of dogs. The shower is irresistibly nice and I also take the opportunity to shave. I feel like a new person and the atmosphere, the surroundings give me a positive feeling.

Later evening it will be the kitchen building and some simple dinner. There will never be gourmet dinners when I stand behind the pans and pots.

Still, the dinner tastes good. At 10 pm I crawl into my sleeping bag and fall asleep faster than John Blund has planned.

September 9

After a rest day at the campsite in Havelberg, it was time to continue my journey south. I had planned to stop in Liebenwalde, but I couldn’t find a campsite worth the name. It was only another 21 km to Oranienburg—a somewhat larger town—where I had seen that there was a caravan park right in the center.

I had quite a few tough hills to tackle, but the weather was good, and there wasn’t much of a headwind or crosswind.

I chose to cycle along smaller roads, passing through smaller villages and hamlets. The distance is naturally a bit longer, but the experience and reduced traffic make it worthwhile.

Just after four o’clock, I cycled into Oranienburg; it seemed like a larger city than I had expected. It was hot outside, so I stopped at a pub near a four-way intersection. After a €5 beer and a quick check on Google Maps, I saw that I just needed to continue straight ahead.

Stop for navigation infront of Schlossmuseum Oranienburg

Something went wrong, and I couldn’t find the campsite I had in mind. Even with the GPS to help, I couldn’t locate it. Eventually, after asking around, I discovered I had to take a footpath to get there—a route Google Maps hadn’t suggested.

Sadly, this campsite was a motorhome-only club, complete with a robot receptionist ready to sell you a patch of ground. The rates were clearly designed for four-wheeled mansions, and I wasn’t about to drop nearly €40 just to pitch my humble tent for the night.

Caravan camp in Oranienburg, don´t fit for bicycles

Someone working in the same building as the kiosk mentioned another campsite across the main road. After a bit of back-and-forth, he guided me there, only for us to discover it was closed.

The man who helped me indicated through body language that we should go back the way we came. He found an empty spot and said, “You can pitch your tent here.” Since I hadn’t booked a reserved seat, I didn’t have access to a toilet, shower, etc.

I quickly set up my tent, changed clothes, and headed out into the evening darkness to the nearest bar or restaurant for coffee—but primarily to get online. I needed to figure out the route out of town for tomorrow. My next stop is Coswig (Anhalt).

I’m back at the tent around 10 PM, having worked out how to navigate tomorrow’s route. It doesn’t look like it will be particularly difficult to get out of the city.

Talk to you later,
// P-G
The Global Cyclist