The best traffic-free bike rides around Groß Kreutz (Havel)

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According to an old historical tradition, the villagers meet every May 1st to bake together.

According to old tradition, the Oven Festival takes place every year on May 1st.

After years without any visible progress, a successful exhibition facility was built in 2015 and 2016 in the heart of Schenkenberg on the site of the former telegraph station, a lasting landmark for the entire town. Indispensable for this were the highly dedicated instigator Wolfgang Groch and a large number of selfless volunteers who lent their hands intensively and donated substantial sums of money.

Deetz Landfill (Class I Landfill) The Deetz Landfill is located in the Potsdam-Mittelmark district and covers an area of 112 hectares. It was commissioned in 1974 for the disposal of construction rubble, excavated soil, and dredged material from the former West Berlin. Disposal of the old landfill body was completed on July 15, 2009, and securing and remediation work began. Source: Senate Department for Mobility, Transport, Climate Protection and the Environment

There are stretches where you feel as if the horizon is getting a little closer. The Trebelberg section of the Havel Cycle Path is such a place – a vast, open space between sky and Havel, land and air. Those who cycle here don't simply cycle – they glide, carried by the light, the wind, the gentle rhythm of the landscape. The incline is hardly worth mentioning, but it's enough to gradually reveal a different panorama: fields, ploughland, rows of trees in the distance. And at some point, when you reach the top – that view. Not a spectacle, not an Alpine spectacle. But a vastness that doesn't impose itself, but invites you: to stop. To be silent. To marvel. The Trebelberg itself, at 68 meters, is no giant, but it has a bearing. It doesn't make a thing of itself, but a lot of you. The view goes back over the Trebelsee, across to the Havel, which stretches silently through the countryside like a drawn line of patience. Along the path: fields, sometimes hay bales, sometimes a tree stand. And always patches of shadow between the rays of the sun. The air is clear, the path narrow – and yet you feel far away. Up here, you might understand what cycling in Havelland really means: not to be faster, but closer. To the countryside. To the light. To your own breath. The Havel Cycle Path at Trebelberg isn't a postcard scene, but a quiet camera angle on the essentials. And sometimes that's exactly what's needed to arrive.

Beyond Deetz, where the cycle path winds through fields like a carefree thought, lies a small swimming spot. The sand is soft, the water shallow and clear, the willows hang low, as if they were listening. And anyone who goes into the water—or simply looks in—sees her lying there: "Fat Elke." A houseboat? An art installation? A wink at the village life? No matter. Elke lies there, painted, inscribed, sedately beautiful. She's not a yacht, not a designer piece, but a floating living room with a sense of humor. People sometimes sit on the jetty in front of it, drinking coffee or beer, playing guitar, or simply passing the time. The Havel gurgles gently, dragonflies buzz, a dog barks somewhere. This place doesn't take anything seriously—and perhaps that's exactly why it's the perfect place. Anyone who takes a break here quickly realizes: Even the most beautiful cycle path can end sometimes—as long as Elke is in sight.

There are cycle paths that lead somewhere. And then there are those that simply lead through – through a piece of landscape that doesn't impose itself, but rather invites you. The cycle path through the reed meadows is one of those. On the left the reeds, on the right the reeds, in between the sky, a few trees, and a smooth strip of asphalt like something out of a textbook for cycling pleasure. The path stretches in a straight line between waterways and meadows; sometimes you cycle in thought, sometimes you just keep going. Suddenly the Havel appears, wide, blue, quiet. It smells of summer, even though it isn't. And somewhere in the greenery a heron stands and watches us.