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!