Kulkwkitzer am See my next vist

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.