East of Kiel the coast flattens into the Probstei, a farming district whose name recalls the provost of the convent at Preetz, who once held the land. The fields are open and treeless, the villages built along old dike lines, and the Baltic sits low behind a grass bank with a long, wide beach in front. Schönberger Strand is the main resort, a sprawl of holiday flats, campsites and ice-cream stands that fills up in July, and it has some odd local names, since nearby hamlets are called Kalifornien and Brasilien, a joke by holiday-makers of earlier generations.
The sea is the thing to come for. The Baltic is nearly tideless and brackish, so the water is calm and gentle, and it warms up quickly in the shallows. Families paddle and play, and further out sails dot the horizon, with the big ferries and cargo ships of Kiel passing in the distance. The beach is sandy with scattered stones, and amber turns up on this coast after storms, though you would need good eyes and some luck. On clear days the light is wide and pale, and the horizon is a long, clean line.
The road along the coast is flat, direct and relaxed, with the sea hidden behind the dike for most of the way and revealed in gaps by the beach car parks. It is not a road for corners, but it is a good road for letting the mind wander, and the wind off the Baltic can be brisk. On summer weekends the traffic is dense and slow, with cyclists at the sides, so aim for an early start or a weekday. In spring the rape fields flare yellow behind the dike, and in autumn the wind blows the beach clean.
Services are numerous in season, with kiosks, cafés and fish stalls along the beach, but fuel is a different matter. The nearest town of any size is Laboe, about ten kilometres off, which is a small harbour town with a huge naval memorial tower, and Kiel is not far beyond. Fill the tank in town before heading out to the coast, and take a windproof jacket. The best moment is an evening in June, when the beaches are quiet and the sunset spreads across the water.