Day 11 - Danke, Herr Reschke!

Wringing and shaking the damp tent, we break camp in the morning fog. We're still heading south, following the Spree upstream. At the next bridge, the blazes (they've been a reasonably consistent white-blue-white since Potsdam) point us to a questionable path along the west bank, up a hill thick with vegetation. On the east bank is a broad and level gravel path, clearly the better choice. My GPS agrees, the map agrees, but our book by Manfred Reschke is very clear on this point -- we should stay on the west bank because it's "romantisch."

That's that then; west it is. Though we're still not sure it's really a trail at all... completely overgrown, no more blazes, gingerly treading between an eroded riverbank and an electric fence... but after just a few short hours it opens up into quite a comfortable walking path with excellent scenery and no bike traffic. Had we not been so fervently assured, we might have given up and missed all this, so thanks Mr. Reschke! (No pictures, unfortunately, since this particular stretch of Spree idyll is quite rainy.)

...In 1958-65, they went and did it: they dammed the Spree valley, creating a huge reservoir called Talsperre Spremberg. It served as a water source for Cottbus, and also provided flood control and much-needed lakeside recreation in a relatively lakeless region. 

The reservoir fun zone we pass through has a certain Communist-era flair. Here's the bar/restaurant/ice cream stand compound:

Well, it's a dreary day at the end of the season. This place is probably pretty fun in good summer weather. Here are the cabins:

And the canoe club:

For even more fun, the timeless temptations of Mother Russia: "adventure, vodka, and caviar".

South of here, our blazes lead us off the paved bike path and down an overgrown staircase, to a mucky ditch right by the shore.

Again, if not for Reschke's specific enthusiasm for this portion, it would be easy to lose heart and fear that this isn't a trail at all. Clearly it hasn't seen the kind machete-swinging hands of a trail crew for some time. It's undeniably fun to have a change of pace after the many days of level bike trails. Thanks, Mr. Reschke! Though when we finally rejoin the bike path -- burr-covered, itchy, muddy, and just a bit bloody -- we're actually quite relieved.

We follow the trail down to Spremberg, the charming town at the south end of the reservoir. For the first we're near real-ish mountains, and though the trail's not going over the peaks, we are indeed finally leaving the Spree and heading uphill. We grab lunch at a bakery in the main square.

...Between Spremberg and Schleife, the next town on the trail, is a large thick forest of tall pines, with colorful blooms of heather and a couple of nice peaks. Unfortunately, there's no trail through here. On the map, trails enter the woods from both sides and somehow fail to connect in the middle. I don't get it -- some sort of land dispute?

The official route runs along open roads north of the forest, adding several kilometers of detour. Is there something spectacular up there that we need to see, that's worth all that?

Once again, Manfred Reschke comes to our aid: he colorfully and unequivocally explains the road walk as pointless and boring, and recommends skipping it if at all possible. Well, it is possible... by rail. This sort of transgression isn't my style at all, but if Reschke says it's okay then I guess we can make one small exception. So we get a fine but very quick view of the lovely forest whizzing by at 100 kilometers per hour, and shazzam, we're in Schleife.

Leaving the forest behind also means we've sacrificed our camping opportunity, however, so we push on to the half-pint village of Halbendorf to grab a room and meal at Paulo Pension, specifically recommended in the book. A great place, and delicious -- thanks, Mr. Reschke!

Day 10 - Cottbus

Briefly locked into the breakfast room at Zum Stern, but no breakfast room can hold us! Quick exit from Werben and through the little villages of Papitz, Rabinau, and Kolkwitz. 

The churches here have battlements -- to protect against thesis-wielding Lutherans perhaps? (Actually these are Evangelical churches.)

We slowly make our way east to the large city of Cottbus, through farms and little bits of woods, then the large fancy houses of the suburbs, then the Kleingartens, then the DDR-era apartments blocks, and finally into the heart of downtown. 

This city was heavily damaged by Allied bombing during WWII and is a little lacking in architectural personality, with grey office buildings, glass shopping malls, and a train station that feels more like an airport terminal. It does still retain a small "old town" where we enjoy a delicious Japanese lunch -- good to have some culinary variety. 

The trail leads us past this breathtakingly gorgeous electrical station...

...through Göethe Park and then to a bridge over... the River Spree! Hello again, Spree! 

We jump back and forth across the Spree on various bridges, with many puzzling little trail changes, always heading upstream. We pass the desolate and decaying stadium for the home team, the Cottbus Energie (soccer, not Radball, sadly).

Though we're still technically in the city, it's a narrow wild strip of parkland along the river, without any commerce. Which is a bit of a problem for us, because we need water. Too bad we have no way to collect the afternoon's cold, steady rain. We consider pumping straight from the Spree (looks much cleaner here than Berlin or even the Spreewald) but decide to detour into town instead. After an hour-long adventure on the public transit system, we return to the trail with bottled water purchased at the small grocery in the central train station. How do German hikers get their water?

Looks like they're resurfacing the trail here... hope it's not going to be more asphalt; no doubt the bikers love it but our feet don't one bit. For now it's loose sand and gravel, slow going but soft. A few kilometers upstream, on the city's southern outskirts, we snag a damp campsite in one of the few precious plots of forest. Fancy houses are a hundred meters away in every direction... we can see them, but they can't see us. Unless they have some sort of infrared vision gear. Hope not.

Day 9 - New Boots, No Boats

When looking down, I've been increasingly aware that I started this trip with the wrong boots: old boots, from a previous hike, familar and tamed. Thought they had another journey in them, but they're asking for early retirement. So be it -- I'm lucky enough to have a sporting goods store just around the corner from our hotel/brewery in Lübbenau. These new boots will take some breaking in but I can see a bright future ahead.

Meanwhile, Deb's at the town harbor cooking up her own scheme...

Frustrated with a trail of hard pavement and the bikes that flock to it, she's hatched a brilliant plan to do the rest of the Spreewald by boat. That's what the Soreewald's about, after all! Sadly, no one-way rentals are available. So we walk on, criss-crossing the canals and dodging the bikes. It's really not so bad. Not as crowded as yesterday. 

For lunch we stop at a cute beergarden that has its own dock for boat tourists... Many establishments around here do.

Shortly thereafter we're delighted to find ourselves on a little road called Erlkönig Weg!

...but to our dismay, no one invites us to recite Erlkönig. Too bad the beergarden "Zum Erlkönig" in the sign above is closed today...

By the way, also in the signs you will

notice some towns with alternate names -- Lübbenau is "Lubnjow" for instance. The Speewald was previously home to a large Slavic population, known as Wendisch or Sorbisch, which was largely displaced by Germanic peoples but still has some cultural sway here. (We had some of their soup with lunch, if that counts.)

After little bits of forest and farmland we emerge in a burg called Burg and stock up on supplies at the Edeka. Then boldly onward, hoping for a perfect little hidden campsite in the ever-tinier clusters of trees between the fields. No luck, but we pass a youth camp with these excellent barrel-style cabins:

None of that for us though, we want to camp.

In the next town, Werben, rain hits and we boldly compromise our ideals and run to the nearest (only) civilized shelter, Zum Stern. In this bizarre astrologically-themed hotel and restaurant we find our night's food and rest. Here's the comforting view from our window:

Day 8 - Spree Idyll

Early (and excellent) breakfast, benefit of being in a real hotel. Tranquil and scenic morning's walk along the canal and lakes.

Before long the day's first bikers pass us, "Guten Morgen"s all around. As the day winds on though, it's clear that there are, in fact, too many cyclists. And by mid-day of lot them are grumpy, having to negotiate these narrow trails full of other cyclists: couples, families with kid's bikes and baby trailers, large groups, solo athletes, slow old people, careless youths. Add our wide, plodding figures to the mix and it's a rare Spreewald tourist who still offers a proper hello by noon. 

The large number of trails and the confusing signs are a bit of a problem for these guys too. And for us. We somehow lose the E10 and bypass the purportedly lovely town of Lubau. We're desperate for a comfy lunch and follow signs to "Cafe Lichtenblick" right on the trail... but it turns out to be the cafeteria of an oncology clinic. Despite the fun location, we feel funny among the chain-smoking staff and weary patients. So we have a trail mix picnic a little further down the road.

It really is just a paved road, though labelled a bike/hike trail. Hard on the feet. And so many bicycles! Passing each other, dodging each other. So many that they form little traffic jams. At one bridge where the riders have to dismount to cross, it's a ludicrous scene as long lines of cyclists take turns, one from the north and then one from the south, with the impatient newcomers attempting to shove to the front. 

But enough grousing, this is our Spree Idyll! Here, wild hops!

Peaceful fishing in the Spree!

Lovely gardens as we approach Lübenau!

No camping possibilities in this area, so we take a room at the Babben brewery in Lübbenau and sink off to sleep inside this old barrel:

Day 7 - Hello Spreewald

Late start from hotel in Buchholz, good breakfast. We head out of town on the canal that connects the Dahme River to the vast waterways of the Spreewald. The Dahme is significantly lower, so there's a nice little artificial cascade:

Instead of a lock to raise and lower boats, there's a small boat trailer on rails that runs between the upper and lower levels:

The Spreewald consists of the Spree River (the same river that flows right through the middle of Berlin), dozens of tributaries, and small lakes, all connected by man-made canals. It's known as the "Venice of Brandenburg" because business here has traditionally been done mainly by small rowboat, though these days there are many canoes as well -- and for the tourists, kayak rentals and even gondola rides. The flat landscape and scenic canalways are also popular with cyclists. Most of the walking paths are also bike paths.

There's still the occasional hill that passes for a berg though -- we enjoy the view from the tower atop Wehlaberg:

The little village of Groß Wasserburg greets us with a hand-knitted welcome pillar:

But we push on, crossing many arms of the Spree and finally the main Spree (Hauptspree) on our way to Schlepzig, a tourist haven in the heart of the Spreewald. We dine on local wild game accompanied by our new favorite red wine, Dornfelder. Our hotel room overlooks the canalway, right alongside our trail. We rest well-positioned for tomorrow's hike, more Spreewald to come.

Day 6 - Quiet Sunday

Up with the dawn. Quick minimal breakfast with reduced coffee rations -- we're very nearly out of water.

A yippie red dog on the road nearby (closer than we realized last night) tries to rat us out to its owners but is unheeded and glumly retreats.

Other than the barking, it's a tranquil Sunday morning. Our trail follows the road, meticulously paved with interlocking bricks, uphill past the entrance gate to a "psychosomatisch" hospital and past an unoccupied forest management house, then along some rectilinear logging roads.

In a cold, steady drizzle, we reach the tiny town of Groß Köris. By tradition everything in Germany is closed on Sunday, but we're lucky enough to pass by a gas station, exempt from tradition.  It even includes a small bakery, so we indulge in a second breakfast with real coffee and tomato-laden brötchen -- served on real dishes, with the gas station logo! Happy to be out of the rain, we eat slowly and watch the entire population of Groß Köris buy their Sunday brötchen.

Fully warmed, we brave the rain over a little bump to Klein Köris -- yes, Groß Köris was small, but Klein Köris is even smaller, just a few houses 

and barking dogs.

Back in the woods, we're shielded from the unrelenting sprinkles by tall pines. We pass another "försthaus" -- still not quite sure what these are supposed to be, some seem like ranger stations, some like logging headquarters, some like hunting cabins, some like little farms, some like mad hermits' ruins. This one looks like a little park, and has delicious wild game sausage for sale, and picnic tables, and drinks -- but closed on Sunday, of course, too bad. 

We approach the grand Dahme River. Just a glance through the trees at first, then a full glorious river, flowing north. I realize I've never really seen a river flowing north before! I mean, there was the Havel, but it seemed more like a lake than river. And I've seen the Rio Grande at Big Bend of course, in fact I swam to Mexico and back there, but that's just a temporary wiggle. And of course there's the Hudson when the tide's just right, flowing backwards. But still it's strange to see a normal river just happily flowing north.

River walking is a nice change of pace, and the rain's slowly letting up. Before long we find ourself at our day's end in the little town of Märkisch Buchholz. We take a room at the only hotel, and count ourselves very lucky that there's a tiny pub in town that serves dinner on Sunday.

The trophies on the wall are all for Radball; the proprietor was a DDR champion and his son and grandson also play. It's like soccer but all the players are on bikes. You're not even supposed to kick the ball apparently; you just bump it with the front wheel. He says the Czechs are crazy good.

Anyway, the food here is nice, especially the Klöße (potato dumplings.) We drink and wait out a fast rain storm, then back to the little hotel for a quiet night's sleep.

Day 5 - Fun Saturday

Just after dawn we tiptoe past the quiet abbey of St Gertrude in Alexanderdorf. Apparently hikers (and others) can stay here and "turn inward" but for us the tent does the same job, with less fuss.

The morning's walk is alongside active farmland. Deb says it might be asparagus. Does asparagus have leaves? Deb says they're fronds, not leaves. I guess that makes sense.

Still early when we arrive in the town of Mellensee. Stock up on supplies at a friendly LIDL. Just down the road is the Mellensee train station. The railroad here is defunct, but the train station is still quite a happening place -- a "fun zone" of sorts, and luckily for us they open early on Saturday. They have mini golf, and every manner of wacky bicycle and other pedal-powered vehicles -- including little rail cars that run on the old rail line. 

Several jolly families are here enjoying the contraptions. We enjoy the snack bar and restroom. 

There's also an old Berlin S-Bahn train on display here, which fills Deb with memories of pre-re-unified Germany, when the U-Bahn and S-Bahn were separate systems and both used to skip stations to keep East- and West-Berliners apart. 

Fully refreshed, we proceed on a lovely tree-lined path with a canal on our right (where families are launching canoe trips) and the old railroad line on our left (where beer-laden fun zone customers pedal their rail cars to and fro.)

This takes us to the village of Zossen, where a town fair is in full swing.

Musicians play a reel on antique automated instruments. Dozens of booths offer carnival rides and prizes, and local food and drink. Too bad we can't eat everything. But at least I get one quarkbällchen with powdered sugar.

The painted trail blazes are hard to spot with all of the booths and wagons, but we eventually make our way through, out past the town cemetery, and into the woods.

We skirt the village of Shöneiche, which offers an excellent trailside rest area decorated with old boots.

They also nail boots to the trees to mark the trail route. Some of those boots look

like they're in better shape than mine, but no luck finding a matching pair.

We emerge from the woods into the fancy lakeside resort town of Kallinchen on the Motzener See. The cobblestone streets are lined with sports cars and fashionable people are milling around the sidewalk. The aroma from the hotel restaurant is so tempting that we decide to make an early day of it -- but no room at the inn, nor any place else in town.

Further south we find the homes of the lucky few who live here - mostly tiny houses tucked in among giant trees.

A few of the lots have been redeveloped with less modest homes...

And taken to the extreme, this sprawling estate:

We aim for a fancy hotel at the south end of the lake, but it's a crumbling ruin, closed for years perhaps. Dreams of the luxury life smashed, back into the woods and up a piney hill for a fun Saturday night in the tent.

Day 4 - The Trouble with Trebbin

Breakfast at the bakery in Blankensee, delicious coffee and Brötchen. (They're like little loaves or large rolls... And these were "belegt" with butter and cheese and greens on them. "Belegt" is also how the bee keeper described her guest quarters before sending us off to the fish smoker.)

The trail out of the village sends us along a lakeside boardwalk:

And near some farmland outside of town, we find the bee keeper's hives:

Soon after, the trail marks get jumbled up and we get complely lost 3 times within about 30 minutes. No problem though, we're heading the right direction -- towards and up Löwendorfer Berg, at 104 meters the highest we've been since Kleiner Ravensberg. It sports an excellent viewing tower:

Down into Löwendorf and quickly over to the town of Trebbin, established 1213 A.D.  We passed by the office of the architect who designed the tower:

But it's closed, as is almost everything else in town. Hoping for some commerce, we head to the train station, but it's an abandoned semi-ruin. Trains still come, but the building is locked tight and the only commerce is a ticket machine and a cigarette machine. 

According to the old sign on the station wall, we've only made it 34.3 kilometers from Berlin in five days, though it's been over 70 kilometers by foot. Funny to think we could have taken a train and been here in hours. Of course that's not the point; we could have just taken a train straight to Prague... and we may well still have to at the end, if we keep up this rate!

Before leaving town, we do find a butcher shop open serving lunch, and a discount store where we accidentally buy denture adhesive instead of toothpaste. 

We follow along the railroad tracks and into the woods, and out through the village of Klein Schulzendorf. Here a crazy (?) old lady tells us that we need to walk south to Prague, not east, and that we should probably just get a car. Maybe she's not all that wrong... but we follow the trail east, across the autobahn and along some farmland. Deb picks some stray greens, neglected in the last harvest. Are they mustard greens?

We're getting quite weary as we pass through the village of Lüdersdorf, but there's no place to have a rest! A notice posted in the town center agrees:

Our village needs benches, for resting, chatting, or just for pleasure. If you find a sturdy bench at a flea market or antique store, buy it and save the receipt. You will be reimbursed. Of course you are also welcome to buy it yourself as a gift to the village. It's ok if all the benches are different; that has a charm of its own.

I agree. Maybe our next visit to Lüdersdorf will include some good bench sitting. For now we pass on, but a friendly old man insists we take some apples... Just a couple! Just a few more! Lots of apples.

South of the village, back in the woods, we enjoy some bench time (plenty of benches along this trail really, just none in Lüdersdorf) and then before long arrive at a good spot for camping. Actually we went a little too far, too close to the next town, and now we can hear the road a little. Sorry, Deb!

Here's Deb with the day's spoils:

The greens cheer up our dinner sandwiches, and the apples will be dessert and breakfast.

Day 3 - Seven Peaks, and more!

[The title of this post is borrowed from the excellent book Wanderungen durch Brandenburg by Manfred Reschke, which has been our primary reference for this hike so far. Unfortunately only about the first half of our planned route is in Brandenburg, so we'll be left to our own devices in Saxony and the Czech Republic.]

A full 12 hours of sleep to recharge our exhausted backs and legs. Back on the trail at 9am. Soon we're delayed by train traffic - guess those distant trains we were hearing last night weren't so distant after all. The trail has its own railroad crossing!

Other than the trains, the forest is quiet and peaceful. Plenty of deer blinds but no hunters (or any other folks) or deer (or any other beasts.)

Our first peak is Grosser Ravensberg, not as tall actually as Kleiner Ravensberg but having a more spacious peak, large enough for a small forestry school. 

Then we're sent down and under the autobahn toward the town of Saarmund, looking forward to a nice lunch. Surprise, the trail has been rerouted and now goes through the Saarmund model plane airfield instead. No life here either - man, animal, or machine - just a few benches and a list of approved radio control frequencies.

Our second mountain, Eichberg, is very sandy, covered in scrub oaks and heather. Reschke informs us that this is typical Brandenburger geology -- "Sand, Seen, und Heide" meaning sand, lakes and.. Heide is usually translated as "heath" but it's something like a meadow or prairie. 

Seems this geology does not encourage springs and small streams, because there aren't any. Which is too bad, because that's what we like to drink. The lakes are still and are heavily used for recreation so their water is not too appealing. We have a filter pump, but still, yech. So where do German hikers get their water?

We pass over our five remaining peaks, each a little less impressive than the last, all shorter than 100 meters. They're pretty though, and a good workout since they don't bother with switchbacks.

We're so low on water now that we can't camp, so we push on to the next town, Blankensee, a very old and charming village. Among other delights, it has undoubtedly the most charming public toilet building I've ever seen:

This is a tiny place, and the bakery - the only store in town - closes just as we arrive. Following the village signs, we inquire with the bee keeper for lodging, who sends us on to her nephew, the fish smoker. He's installed a couple of very nice apartments over his shop, and luckily one is free. It doesn't smell like fish at all, and the tap water is delicious.