I make camp in a small forest of birch trees just before sunset. There are several farms nearby but I don`t expect any problems wild camping like this. Not like the inhabitants of the nearby farms will phone the police and I`ll end up sleeping on the hard wooden bench of a German police office holding cell on charges of vagrancy.

One of these farms is actually so nearby that I can hear the clatter of storches that live on a nest overhead the farm. I have heard that storches are soundless, that their throats can`t produce sounds so instead they clapper their beaks together.

They fly to and fro their nest carrying half a forest for nest building purposes and in the last of the day`s light I see them mating, a quick and rowdy affair with feathers flying around and the male repeatedly slipping off the female`s back due to his long legs.

The farmer`s children watch the whole proceedings with just as much interest as me if not even more. Even the farm dog is looking up with keen interest in his canine eyes

When it is all over the storch couple rearrange their feathers and continue working on their nest. Small and bigger pieces of wood, branches and boughs are moved from side of the nest to the other. the nest itself is on top of a man made construction on top of a twenty-five meter tall wooden pole.

Slowly working on my cans of Weissen brew my mind wanders back to my childhood in the south of Holland, to a time when storches where still plentyfull with every farm having a similar storch nest construction, each farm having its own storch couple - sometimes even two storch couples. People used to believe that having storches inhabiting these nests would bring them luck, People used to believe they would bring fertility to the farmer`s wife.

Even today it is custom in Holland to put a wooden storch in the garden when a baby has been born.

Human superstition which served the storch clans well but eventually the storches stopped coming to Holland and became extinct in our country due to extensive hunting during their winter migration routes.

Like always mankind can be a blessing or a curse to the world around him/her!!!

written by  heraclio on March 28, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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Ever since I left Eastern Germany`s dark-green forests behind me, goodbye to the weird fairy tale land of the brothers Grimm, things have turned for the better.

I cycle all day under a nice spring sun. No more rain and sleet slashing into my face all day. No more cold wind whipping against my frame trying to slow down my hard work on my bike, instead I experience a nice but easy breeze in my back gliding me along all the way back to my beloved Amsterdam.

Gone are the nearly abandoned ancient German villages where the aged left-over population looked downtrotten with dull eyes that betrayed no hope for the future, whose clothes where moth eaten, old people sipping Schnapps while waiting for eternity`s bony fingers to come and get them. Instead I cycle through small cities that are full with life, , the hustle and bustle of a hard working population, where people hurry to and fro, where the stinking exhaust fumes of passing cars invade my nostrils making me cough.

I cycle through countryside dotted with farms where locals are busily plowing the earth with massive tractors, fields with grain and maize glide by while my legs do the work....up and down they go on the pedals of my bicycle.

Small little roadside cafes and bars provide me with the occasional cup of strong coffee and disapproving looks from the other clietêle. I`m a drifter and these are frowned upon by the highly organised culture of the economic powerhouse called The German Republic.

Ordnung soll es geben and Befehl ist BeFehl.

Their obvious but quiet disapproval does not bother me...in mere days I`ll be back home, back in my own appartment where I can shower and shave off my bushy beard, where I can step out of these smelly cycle clothes, visit a hair salon and get my disheveled hair cropped....but then I mere days I`ll be like them again...a working stiff having to slave away for a dominant boss to pay my rent, my bills and my taxes.

written by  heraclio on March 27, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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Having my breakfast in a small McDonalds roadside restaurant I realise that my time of cycling through these dark-green and mysterious Eastern German forests has come to a definite end. Long and solitary days on the bike cycling under overcast skies that never promised anything positive, endless showers of sleet and rain, thunderstorms at night with flashes of lightning lighting up the inside of my tent at night.

Ancient small nearly deserted villages where time seemed to have come to some weird sudden end, devoid of young people, where old people looked like they were under a strange and mystical spell, live energy gone from dull old rumy eyes.

The sounds of animals at night adding to the overall feeling I was in some sort of fairy land cunjured up by the brothers Grimm.

So now I sit here in this German version of the American born McDonalds, an unruly week old beard covering my face, disheveled hair that could use a serious visit to a hair salon, smelly old clothes, drinking inky black strong McDonalds coffee and eating greasy omelettes contemplating this confined world of an american fast food joint on German soil.

People hurriedly entering and impaciently queueing up while dragging nervously from Marlboro sigarettes, no time to sit down and relax while having a bite...instead they hastily eat their hamburger on the way to the exit, unsure of sipping from a cup of hot coffee or having another drag from their still burning Marlboro provided cancer stick, preparing themselves for slave driven life at the office.

Shappy dressed teenager girls gossiping about the hottest looking hunk at school, giggling while they sip their strawberry flavoured milk shakes with bright red lipsticked mouths.

Two young women at the other table eye me with disgust and when I give them my warmest smile look away with hauthy faces. I have no doubt that my bodily odour has a serious say in this matter.

Yes I`m back in the real world of mankind.

written by  heraclio on March 25, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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A brave but still weak sun greets me when I wake up and stick my head out of my tent.

I`m surrounded by literally thousands upon thousands of tiny mayflies buzzing around my head while I break down my tent, bury the five half liter cans of Kranenborger Beer I consumed last night in front of my tent and prepare myself for yet another day on my bicycle.

A real birth explosion of these tiny one-day creatures that are rumoured to live only one day. One single day of life during which they have to go through the whole process of creeping out of there eggs, find a partner and reproduce and then die.

Pushing my bicycle through the forest in the direction of the road I`ve to frequently navigate through huge spiderwebs that are hanging between the trees full with the early morning dew and unfortunate magflies trapped in the web`s sticky threats. For these unfortunates life was already over before it even started!!!

The masters of these webs, cross-spiders whose hairy backs proudly sport colorfull crucifixes, look fat and big though they too can only have been born recently.

I presume a diet of careless magflies must be good to a young spider`s physical development.

Not that I really care about magflies buzzing around my head or sticky spiderwebs blocking my way....I too have the early sun of spring in my head feeling happy at the prospect of cycling during what will obviously be a sunny day, with probably many yet to come.

Cycling under a german early spring sun during the day and sipping cans of Kranenborger beer in front of my tent at night, getting philosophical while keeping a small campfire going and eating german bratwurst bought in the Lidl supermarket.

No more nordic god Thor causing big thunderstorms while his magic hammer Mjölnir will light up the night sky with rowdy flashes of lighning forcing me to hide in my tent, smiling down on me with malicious content in the morning while I pull down my tent in pouring rain.

From now on these last five days of cycling back to Amsterdam will be absolute delight!!!

written by  heraclio on March 24, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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Flashes of lightning light up the inside of my tent while I work on a couple of cans of Weissen brew. The rain is once again coming down like a tropical downpour reminding me as always of my trips to Thailand and the little family I have there.

Thai voices ring inside my head drowning the steady patter of rain on top of my tent. I`m slowly getting into phylosofical mood brought about no doubt by the alcohol and several weeks of wild camping in German woods, living it rough, shunning human contact as much as possible, living a solitary life of cycling all day on a bare excistence, my only luxury of the day my runny eggs and stale bread served with luke-warm watery dish water that qualifies as hot coffee in these lonely Eastern German villages.

The rain is slowly subsiding and the sounds erupting outside my little one-person tent in this dark and mysterious forest are at the same time fascinating and scary bringing my farang mind back to the here and now from the far away Land of the Thais, from the sociable and always smiling Thais to my self chosen life of solitary.

I`ve spent all day cycling through the beautifull Nossentiner-Schwinzer Heide National Park with groups of sparrows and wood pigeons in the Fields, deer running away ahead of me, dozens of swans in a Field. An owl sitting on a barbed wire pole looking at me cycling by, a big brown buzzard sat only a few short yards away from me in the grass. I had no idea what he/she was doing there and when I stopped to investigate the bird flew away loudly shrieking his/her protestations.

Today I also reached the river Elbe which means I`m slowly leaving the former East German Replublik behind and am back on track to Amsterdam.

written by  heraclio on March 23, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
tagged BerlinCycleNossentimmerHeideNationalParkGermanyAmsterdam
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Flashes of lightning light up the inside of my tent while I work on a couple of cans of Weissen brew. The rain is once again coming down like a tropical downpour reminding me as always of my trips to Thailand and the little family I have there.

Thai voices ring inside my head drowning the steady patter of rain on top of my tent. I`m slowly getting into phylosofical mood brought about no doubt by the alcohol and several weeks of wild camping in German woods, living it rough, shunning human contact as much as possible, living a solitary life of cycling all day on a bare excistence, my only luxury of the day my runny eggs and stale bread served with luke-warm watery dish water that qualifies as hot coffee in these lonely Eastern German villages.

The rain is slowly subsiding and the sounds erupting outside my little one-person tent in this dark and mysterious forest are at the same time fascinating and scary bringing my farang mind back to the here and now from the far away Land of the Thais, from the sociable and always smiling Thais to my self chosen life of solitary.

I`ve spent all day cycling through the beautifull Nossentiner-Schwinzer Heide National Park with groups of sparrows and wood pigeons in the Fields, deer running away ahead of me, dozens of swans in a Field. An owl sitting on a barbed wire pole looking at me cycling by, a big brown buzzard sat only a few short yards away from me in the grass. I had no idea what he/she was doing there and when I stopped to investigate the bird flew away loudly shrieking his/her protestations.

Today I also reached the river Elbe which means I`m slowly leaving the former East German Replublik behind and am back on track to Amsterdam.

written by  heraclio on March 23, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
tagged BerlinCycleNossentimmerHeideNationalParkGermanyAmsterdam
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It has been raining every night now since I left Berlin but with enough dry hours during the day time to manage my 80/100 km. a day, though last night it was hail that was being sent down to me by those divine beings that are rumoured to inhabit the clouds above my mortal head.

In the early light of a not so brand new day I break down my tent which is still wed from last night`s hail. The stretch of open agricultural land in front of me is covered by a fine whittish fog but I can still discern the small herd of deer munching away on the first sprouts of Spring grass. They eye me curiously keeping a safe distance but seem otherwise unconcerned by my presence.

A completely white - albino? - peacock is hopping busily around and among the deer proudly showing off his huge white tail every so often. Is this bird trying to impress the deer with this halo of white feathers - I mean I see no female peacocks anywhere - ,if so he is not doing a good job of it.

I`ve always thought peacocks to be native to the Indian subcontinent but these german forests seem to contain a sizeable population.

Packing my gear together and on the back of my bicycle I leave this macho bird behind quietly hoping he`ll eventually see the error of his ways trying to impress a herd of deer instead of female peacocks. His changes of getting laid the peacock way are very slight this way.

written by  heraclio on March 22, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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In the difuse light of the small bar where I have breakfast I try to make sence of the Berliner Zeitung I found on the table and which is several days out of date - to say the least - and a touchy bit yellowish.

The runny eggs with stale bread that seems to have to rule the menu in these Eastern German villages, has already gone down to my starving belly. The watery and luke-warm cup of coffee is still waiting for consumption. Not that I expect to really wake up seriously from this low cafeine brew that looks more like dish water then anything fit for human drinking purposes.

I`ve no doubt that an impoverished Indian or a Thai individual from the poor north of the Thai Kingdom would consider this breakfast a once in a life time five star restaurant delicacy.

However I'm far from being an impoverished Indian or a poor Thai and need my food desperately in order to do my daily 100 km. of cycling.

"Darf Ich mich vielleicht ein moment mal bei Ihnen setzen?".

Being disturbed in my mental ponderings about bad food and weak dish water I look up into the roundish and wrinkled face of a rotund old woman, maybe somewhere in her late sixties dressed in faded jeans and a woolen sweater that once must have been red but has discolored to a darker sort of brownish color with age.

Her face is open and honest betraying curiousity.

She introduces herself as Die Kerstin coming from the nearby village of Brüel having been married to a local man in this village called Dabel. "Er ist aber schon seit vielen Jahren tot und unsere Kinder sind alle ausgeflogen zum West".

Husband died many years ago and the kids have moved to the Rich West. She seems in a serious need to tell me her life story and wants to hear all about my travels across the globe....she tells me she can see from the look in my eyes I`ve seen many places....have been to the corners of the world.

"Ich kenne nur diese Wälder, war sogar noch nicht mal in Berlin, noch nicht im Leben im Zug oder Flugzeug. Das war in meiner Zeit gar nicht möglich, lieber Herr". "Die Partei gab kein Erlaubnis und jetzt bin zu alt zu reisen".

Basically she never has been anywhere in her life, no permission from the former communist party and now she is too old to go anywhere but enjoy her small pension.

I offer her a Schnapps feeling genuinely sorry for this gnarled old woman who is obviously still in the possession of all her wits drinking one myself as well mentally considering the fact that she has probably been eating runny eggs and stale bread, drinking weak dish water all of her life.

One Schnapps turn into several and while the heavy german rain drums away on the opaque windows of this little run down bar with its disfused light and stale air inside, while the habitual clientêle slowly fills the five tables oppressing the already laden air with old men`s farts and the smoke of cheap tabacco, Fraulein Kerstin tells me what it was like to life under the communist yoke. With a Lächelchen - a smile you knowe - she tells me how it feels like to be the Mum of children who have left and have Keine Zeit für ihr Mütterchen heute. No time for Mum today.

Trying to get my act together after all the Schnapps I expalin my life in Thailand, my trips to India and South and Middle America, my cycle trips around Europe.

Half drunk on all the Schnapps and with the German rain having come to an end I apologise and stagger out cycling through dark green Eastern German forests where the animal world is feeling happy with the onslaught of Spring and most definitely much more sober then me.

written by  heraclio on March 20, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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In the difuse light of the small bar where I have breakfast I try to make sence of the Berliner Zeitung I found on the table and which is several days out of date - to say the least - and a touchy bit yellowish.

The runny eggs with stale bread that seems to have to rule the menu in these Eastern German villages, has already gone down to my starving belly. The watery and luke-warm cup of coffee is still waiting for consumption. Not that I expect to really wake up seriously from this low cafeine brew that looks more like dish water then anything fit for human drinking purposes.

I`ve no doubt that an impoverished Indian or a Thai individual from the poor north of the Thai Kingdom would consider this breakfast a once in a life time five star restaurant delicacy.

However I'm far from being an impoverished Indian or a poor Thai and need my food desperately in order to do my daily 100 km. of cycling.

"Darf Ich mich vielleicht ein moment mal bei Ihnen setzen?".

Being disturbed in my mental ponderings about bad food and weak dish water I look up into the roundish and wrinkled face of a rotund old woman, maybe somewhere in her late sixties dressed in faded jeans and a woolen sweater that once must have been red but has discolored to a darker sort of brownish color with age.

Her face is open and honest betraying curiousity.

She introduces herself as Die Kerstin coming from the nearby village of Brüel having been married to a local man in this village called Dabel. "Er ist aber schon seit vielen Jahren tot und unsere Kinder sind alle ausgeflogen zum West".

Husband died many years ago and the kids have moved to the Rich West. She seems in a serious need to tell me her life story and wants to hear all about my travels across the globe....she tells me she can see from the look in my eyes I`ve seen many places....have been to the corners of the world.

"Ich kenne nur diese Wälder, war sogar noch nicht mal in Berlin, noch nicht im Leben im Zug oder Flugzeug. Das war in meiner Zeit gar nicht möglich, lieber Herr". "Die Partei gab kein Erlaubnis und jetzt bin zu alt zu reisen".

Basically she never has been anywhere in her life, no permission from the former communist party and now she is too old to go anywhere but enjoy her small pension.

I offer her a Schnapps feeling genuinely sorry for this gnarled old woman who is obviously still in the possession of all her wits drinking one myself as well mentally considering the fact that she has probably been eating runny eggs and stale bread, drinking weak dish water all of her life.

One Schnapps turn into several and while the heavy german rain drums away on the opaque windows of this little run down bar with its disfused light and stale air inside, while the habitual clientêle slowly fills the five tables oppressing the already laden air with old men`s farts and the smoke of cheap tabacco, Fraulein Kerstin tells me what it was like to life under the communist yoke. With a Lächelchen - a smile you knowe - she tells me how it feels like to be the Mum of children who have left and have Keine Zeit für ihr Mütterchen heute. No time for Mum today.

Trying to get my act together after all the Schnapps I expalin my life in Thailand, my trips to India and South and Middle America, my cycle trips around Europe.

Half drunk on all the Schnapps and with the German rain having come to an end I apologise and stagger out cycling through dark green Eastern German forests where the animal world is feeling happy with the onslaught of Spring and most definitely much more sober then me.

written by  heraclio on March 20, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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I cycle - like yesterday - all day through pine forests interspersed with deep blue colored lakes that abound with water fowl, ducks, geese, coots, spoonbills and more swans as I have ever seen before in my life.

The trees of the forest surrounding me are awash with noisy finches that fly ahead of my bicycle for a while before disappaering back into the dark-green curtain that line both sides of the road.

At open places I experience the occasional bout of "Wind in the Face", every long distance cyclist`s nightmare apart from heavy rain and snow.

But this Gegenwind as the Sauerkraut and Bratwurst people in this part of the world, call it does not dampen my enthusiasm. Quite the opposite actually, I take in huge gulps of the still crispy cold air. Like the flora and fauna kingdom around me I too can feel and smell the coming of spring in the air which is hightening my spirits, heightening the dopamine levels inside my dutch skull.

It has been a good decision to up here instaed of hanging around in Berlin for another 4 or 5 days.

The smells that penetrate my nostrils is that of pine forest and lakes, what my eyes see is pine forest and lakes. Yes, I enjoy this trip a lot!!!

At some point during the day I notice the tracks of deer in the mud along the road. Getting off my bike to investigate, maybe make a quick drawing of them in my sketch book, I discover some more tracks, more sinister and ominous in character reminding me of the weird howling I heard a few nights ago.

They look like the spoor of dogs but I seriously doubt the presence of stray dogs in these dark forests. Dogs tend to stay around human habitation even when going stray. I have a strong suspicion I have stumbled upon the tracks of a very different type of canine here.

I make a photo as well as a sketch. Another photo of the greyish and very smelling droppings I discover a few meters further on.

I will have to check up on this once I get back to Amsterdam. I really like to know whether or not I`ve been in the presence of wild wolves.

written by  heraclio on March 19, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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