ハーフェラウエのおすすめツーリングルート

橋と湖の眺めが調和しています。

フェルヘーシャールからゼムリンの遊泳場所まで、素晴らしいライディングです。遊泳場所自体は常にレジャーの楽しみです。

ビーチには美しい木彫りの座席があります。

Ferchesar、静かで穏やかな場所です。ここでの滞在は快適でした。

A beautiful and well-maintained bivouac site. There's a portable toilet (even shaded) and a nice swimming area. The price for an overnight stay has now risen to €5. The fee is collected by the mayor personally.

Round trip of just over 20 km through the forest around the Ser

The village church of Rhinow not only stands as beautifully as churches in Brandenburg do – it also tells stories. Of fire and reconstruction, of piety and nobility, of organ builders and sculptors, of pilgrims and the Pietà. Built in the 13th century from Brandenburg fieldstone, then burned down in 1735, and rebuilt by 1740 – it bears all this with the calm of one that has seen much. Inside: a horseshoe gallery like a Baroque viewing balcony, a Lütkemüller organ from 1848 that still plays on Sundays. The wall features coats of arms of the von Hagen family, and a golden sun hovers above the altar – a symbolic God in the countryside. It is especially quiet down in the tower, where a carved Pietà from the 15th century stands: Mary, holding the dead Christ in her arms. A scene as old as human compassion. Those who dismount their bikes here may feel the long-lasting impact of history – and be happy to find a bench in the shade, a drink of water, and a sense that pilgrimage can be not just a path, but also an attitude.

Between Rhinow and Strodehne, cycling becomes a time of looking, marveling, and being silent. The path runs as if drawn with a ruler through a landscape that doesn't impose itself, but rather reveals what it has: XXL skies, ditches with cattails, birch trees in the wind, grazing cows – and in between, the silence that roars in your ears like the sea once did. A lone bike at the side of the path, its pannier dangling as if to say: I'm staying here. In front of you: only the horizon. Behind you: nothing urgent. Those who cycle this section should take their time. For the rustling in the reeds. For the glittering surface of the water where ducks migrate. For the wind that tells stories if you let it. And for the realization that there are places where nothing happens – and that's precisely the best part.