Lübbenau is the front door to the Spreewald, and the first thing it will tell you is that this is a landscape of water. The Spree breaks up here into hundreds of small channels, called Fließe, that wind between meadows and alder woods, and for centuries the only way to reach many farms was by flat-bottomed punt. Tourists still glide through on long wooden boats pushed with poles, and the postman used to deliver by boat in the old days.
The town has about seventeen thousand people, so fuel, supermarkets and a good run of bakeries are easy to find. The old centre sits near the harbour where the punts start, and the restaurants around it serve the dishes the region is proud of: Spreewald gherkins, which carry a protected name, with linseed oil and boiled potatoes, smoked or fried fish, and horseradish in everything. A few pancake and cake places do a thriving trade at the weekend.
This is also the edge of Sorbian country. The Sorbs, a Slavic minority who have lived in Lusatia for more than a thousand years, keep their own language, costumes and customs, and in some villages the road signs are bilingual. In spring, Sorbian women paint Easter eggs in intricate patterns, and in some villages girls wear the traditional headdress on feast days.
Riding here is gentle. The roads are flat and straight, with the occasional bridge over a channel, and the surface is generally good. Traffic is thick on summer weekends, when coaches and cyclists crowd the lanes near the harbour, and it is better to arrive early. Avoid the middle of the day if you can. In the early morning, mist hangs over the water and the light turns the alders gold.
A boat ride costs a modest sum and takes you into a world with no engines. It makes the road feel loud afterward.