Salt made Lüneburg, and the town looks as though it knows it. For more than a thousand years the brine springs under the old town were boiled down into white gold, which was carted to Lübeck and shipped across the Baltic to preserve herring, and the profits built a city of tall brick gables, grand merchant houses and a town hall that grew by accretion across six centuries.
The salt that made the city also threatens it. The ground has sunk in places, as the brine was pumped out, and a few streets near the old salt works lean at odd angles, with houses tilting and church towers bent. The effect is surreal and charming, and it adds to the sense of an old town that is constantly shifting. The old harbour district, with its brick crane and its gabled warehouses, is the prettiest corner, and a cafe by the water is a good spot for a coffee.
Lüneburg is also the gateway to the Lüneburg Heath, a wide landscape of sandy hills, junipers and purple heather that is one of the best known in Germany. The heather blooms in late August and September, and the heath sheep, the Heidschnucken, graze among the shrubs. The town's cuisine reflects that: roast Heidschnucke, buckwheat cakes with local cranberries, and heather honey. The roads around the heath are straight and quiet, with the surface mostly good and the traffic light, and a ride at dawn, with mist over the heather, is a memorable experience.
Reppenstedt, four kilometres away, is a large village with supermarkets and fuel. The Elbe is a short ride to the north, with its dike roads and ferries, while to the south the heath rises gently towards the Wilseder Berg, the highest point in the region. The old town is partly pedestrian, so leave the bike on the edge and walk in. In the evening, the brick glows in the low sun, and the lanes fill with students from the university. Stay for dinner, and linger.