Canyon to Rapha — a bikepacking tramp across Germany: Part 5
Day 4 (Sankt Andreasberg -> Möckern)
Distance: 167km
Terrain: 1200m mountain, flat open fields with harsh headwinds.
Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/1574391428
It’s Day 4 and despite my kits having been hung up (and wrung dry with my tiny towel) the night before, they are still pretty wet. But it promises to be another scorcher so it doesn’t bother me too much.
Breakfast consists of a cup of tea sans milk and a bag of ‘Studentenfutter’ (mixed nuts and dried fruit). I’m up early and eager to finally get the mountain-sized monkey off my back. It’s been a while since I climbed anything taller than 80m in height, so all 1200m of the Brocken is something I am really looking forward to.
I set off up the hill that I’d escaped from the night before and soon find myself on the busy ‘State road’ that I’d been a little concerned by when I saw it on the map the day before. I was right to be concerned. It’s a rather harrowing experience and as I begin to ride up it as quickly as humanly possible, all I can think about is how glad I am to be riding this now and not in the dying light. It’s incredibly busy and, with a lane closed, huge lorries are flying past me with mere inches between us. This stretch is frankly, very dangerous and I’m relieved when I find a single track at the top of the hill running parallel to the road. Fear now turns to fun as I weave in and out of the woodland at speed. Whoever made this — I applaud you. Single tracks like these can quickly grow over if they are not ridden, so I like to think I have contributed to keeping it visible and ridable for others who find themselves in the same situation..
I get to Braunlage in one piece and grab a coffee outside a newsagents before heading towards this morning’s main event. The Brocken is somewhat of an anomaly as Northern Germany is not renowned for its mountains. Despite being small compared to those of alpine passes it still has its own microclimate — with the peak capped in snow through the winter months. It must have been a strange place during the separation of East and West Germany as it lay close to the border. The railway station at the top even became the home of the ‘Grenztruppen der DDR’ (border patrol). I wonder if any of them cycled up to the top to help cope with the boredom of waiting for nothing?
I wouldn’t have blamed them as what follows is sublime. The roads are smooth, the traffic is relatively light and the scenery is simply stunning. The road up to the Brocken is car-free and as I pass through the entrance I’m thankful for being able to enjoy this ride without that added concern. The gradient is perfect: not too steep and not too shallow. I begin to make my way up and through the densely wooded base of the mountain. Eventually the radio mast comes back into view as I turn a corner that seems to connect the part I was climbing with the peak. In the distance I can hear the hooting of a steam train as it slowly chugs its way up the mountain. Unsurprisingly, the very last section is the steepest part and I’m mentally prepared for this final slog. Jubilant, I crest the summit where I’m immediately blasted with bracing winds. I don my gilet and set about taking the obligatory pictures. This is a monumental part of the trip. so I allow myself a little longer to soak it up.
My original plan had been to descend back down via a path of ‘Panzerplätte’ (godawful concrete slabs with holes in them), but considering just how steep the road section had been I decide to change course again. I descend down on the road back to the corner where I had first seen the radio mast re-emerge. Here, I’d spotted a gravel track that according to Komoot promised to dump me out near where my original route is. In hindsight, this was another excellent decision. This descent was truly epic and seemed to last an eternity. Again, I‘m glad to have the Grail as this upper part of the path is super steep and loose, and really best enjoyed with a mountain bike. My disc brakes are undoubtedly glowing red as I cling on for dear life. Eventually the gradient eases out and I happily chase the ever widening spring next to me. Before too long, I‘m at the bottom — that’s the last of the hills!
Just outside of Wernigerode, I come to a ford where the river consumes the road. I’d proactively added this to my route as I thought it would be “cool”. I get off my bike to inspect the crossing. It’s sketchier than I thought — with a big drop either side. Not being one to back down from a challenge I go for it. I make the first drop okay and ride carefully through the water. At the other side I pull up on the handlebars to lift the wheel up over the lip — only that it doesn’t clear it. Boing, the bike bounces backwards and of course, I tip over into the river, banging my elbow on the rocks in the process. Bollocks. I kind of knew that was going to happen. Looking up, I can now see a footbridge 20 metres upstream. Sod’s law! I pick myself up and inspect the damage: I’m wet and the kit that was drying on my bags is wet, but that’s about it. My elbow has a few cuts but I’m not too bothered and I know that I’ll soon dry off in the baking heat. What an interesting morning it has been!
After 75km I hit Halberstadt where I park myself at a bus stop to eat a poor man’s lunch consisting of a petrol station sandwich and cheesecake donut. Bus stops are a bikepacker’s best friend and I sit staring at this otherwise uninteresting part of town. In fact, I‘m sure my presence is the most action this area has had in a while!
Halberstadt is surprisingly horrible. I thought Harz was supposed to be stunning throughout the region? But now I‘m in what would have been East Germany. It’s astounding the clear difference between the two sides — like night and day.
The best thing about Halberstadt is leaving Halberstadt. That’s saying something as leaving also means riding along a bike path next to a motorway for several hours into a brutal headwind. There is nothing around except some very efficient wind farms and vast fields of crops. The monotony makes this strip incredibly soul destroying and is easily the worst part of the trip.
After 100km, I trade the motorway bike path for a long cobbled street. This is also worth avoiding in my book. Of course, it dumps me back out by the motorway for another 15km where I continue slogging along for a small eternity. I make mental noted to highlight these sections on Komoot with a big label that reads ‘AVOID LIKE THE PLAGUE’.
Eventually, I arrive in a small town called Egeln where I stop for a rest in the market square. I remember that I’ve not eaten any ice-cream on this trip so far, which is quite frankly insanity given how hot has been. I get some blue Smurf-flavoured ice-cream and soak up some rays in the quaint little market square. It’s a cute spot so I don’t mind staying here a little longer.
As this is my last night on the road, I’d decided that I wanted to camp again. This gives me a bit of freedom to ride for longer and I’m feeling good with gthe ravitational pull of home spurring me on. The more kilometres I can cover today, the less pressure there will be tomorrow.
After 138km I enter Schönebeck and cross the Elbe for the first time. The familiarity of the river’s name is welcoming. Riding along the riverbanks, I wonder If I could get away with pitching my tent here. I’ve noticed on this trip that after about 5pm my brain begins to analyse my surroundings for suitable places to stop, even though it is always too early to do so.
I stop at a Penny’s supermarket to get some bread, cheese, fruit and beer. Today’s dinner is going to be far from gourmet. I don’t have enough space to carry both cans of beer so I drink one in cthe arpark by the trollies. It’s funny to think of the contrast between this morning and now. I flick through my emails and see one about a job I had been approached for. “Thanks for your application” the note from the CEO reads. I’m a little annoyed that I’d allowed them to waste my time but I’m in a good mood so I laugh it off. I finish my drink and get back in the saddle.
It’s now 7pm and I have 150km under my belt. In a small town called Gommern, I find what looks like a Railway Museum and plonk myself down on a bench in front of a disused steam train. I build up my sandwiches and consume them immediately. I hadn’t felt hungry when I bought the ingredients but by now I am simply famished.
With dinner now done, I decide to continue cycling on until I find the perfectish spot — balancing a desire to keep cycling with that of finding somewhere good to stop. 15km later and I see the first signpost of the trip that lists ‘Berlin’. It’s hard to describe how amazing that feeling is. I know Berlin is still a full day’s ride away but home feels closer than ever before.
Just outside of Möckern, I find some quiet woodland and pitch up for the night. I’ve learnt from my mistakes on the first night and this spot is perfectly quiet and I presume, ‘tickless’. We’ll soon find out in the morning I guess. I’m keen to get an early start so go to charge my phone and set my alarm. I can’t find my charger cable anywhere — dammit, I must have left it in the hut! I will have to trust that the sunlight and my body clock will do its job to wake me up — there is no way 5% battery is going to last. I decide to sleep in my kit to help save some time when I need to pack up in the morning.
Whilst there is no traffic or loud music to deal with there is the overwhelming fear induced by the cacophony of constantly snapping twigs around my tent. I know it’s not humans but probably deer or boar. OR A BEAR!
My tired body soon pulls me away from the madness towards the peace of sleep. Tomorrow will be the final day. It’s hard to believe this journey will come to an end.
