A 140 km loop from Buchholz
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Heather, pine forest and clean southbound rhythm without city crawling. 140 km round from Buchholz in der Nordheide - plan on about 2 h 25 of riding. It goes by way of Wilsede heath core, Lüneburg old town meal stop and Elbe marsh. It keeps to quiet secondary roads.
Buchholz in der Nordheide is not a place that anyone writes songs about, but it is a useful one. It sits on the southern edge of the Hamburg metropolitan area, where the suburbs give way to heath and pine forest, and it is the town where the Lüneburg Heath begins for anyone coming out of the city. With about thirty-seven thousand people it has everything: fuel, supermarkets, cafés and a station, and it is a sensible place to begin or end a ride from Hamburg.
The name Nordheide refers to the northern part of the heath, a landscape of sandy soil, heather and juniper that was created by centuries of grazing and wood-cutting. Without grazing, the heath turns into forest, so the local sheep, the grey horned Heidschnucken, have become a conservation tool as well as a symbol. In late summer, usually in August and September, the heather flowers purple and the country around Buchholz becomes a landscape of pink and violet.
The riding south and west of town is relaxed. Roads wind between pine woods and farmland, past thatched farmhouses and small ponds, and the surface is good. Corners are gentle, traffic is moderate, and there are several small villages such as Jesteburg and Bendestorf that offer cafés and a pleasant stop. On this ride the heath is a first act, before the long run to the North Sea dikes, where the land flattens out and the wind picks up.
Early mornings in autumn, when mist lies over the heath and the first light catches the heather, are particularly lovely. Midday in summer can be busy with day-trippers from Hamburg, and weekends fill the cafés. Take small roads where you can, and watch for horse riders and cyclists, which are everywhere in this region.
Buchholz itself is a pleasant but unremarkable town, with a pedestrian centre, a few restaurants and an easy-going feel, and it works best as a gateway. Fill up, grab a coffee, and then head for the lanes.
Few places in northern Germany are as carefully protected from people like us as Wilsede. The village sits in the middle of the Lüneburg Heath nature reserve, one of the oldest in the country, and it is closed to motor traffic. Bikes included. The sandy lanes leading in are for walkers, cyclists and horse-drawn carriages, and the car parks on the edge, at places like Undeloh and Niederhaverbeck, are where you leave the machine. Take it as a gift rather than a punishment. A short walk in boots, after hours on the saddle, is exactly the right pace for this landscape.
The heath itself is not wild nature in the strict sense. It was made by centuries of grazing, when farmers let sheep strip the woods and keep the ground bare and acidic. What grows back is heather, juniper and birch scrub, and the hardy grey-horned Heidschnucken sheep still keep it that way. In late August and September the whole thing flushes purple and the air smells honeyed and dry, and that is when the reserve gets crowded. The Wilseder Berg, at 169 metres the highest point in the northern lowlands of Lower Saxony, is a gentle hill that gives a view over this carpet. Go on a weekday morning in early autumn, when the mist is still hanging in the hollows, and the effect is closer to a painting than a landscape.
On the way in, the approach roads through the reserve's edge are what you will remember. They are narrow, mostly smooth, and follow the lie of the land through birch and pine, with sudden openings into heather. Speed limits are low and enforced with a certain friendly stubbornness, and there are horses and cyclists, so ride as if you were a guest. Which you are.
Services are not in the heart of the heath. Bispingen, about ten kilometres off, is the nearest town of any size, and Egestorf and Handeloh have smaller shops and cafés. The village inns around the reserve serve heath lamb and buckwheat pancakes, and the baked buckwheat cake is a local classic worth sitting down for. Bring a jacket, because the open sand and the wind will remind you that you are in the north.
Lüneburg got rich on salt, and the evidence is on every street corner. For a thousand years brine was pumped up from under the town and boiled down into what the Hanseatic merchants called white gold, then carted along the old Salt Road to Lübeck and shipped across the Baltic to preserve herring. The money built brick gables of tremendous height and swagger, a town hall with rooms that are still painted and carved to dazzle, and a harbour on the little Ilmenau river with a wooden crane that hauled barrels onto barges. The old crane is still there and worth a look.
The odd part is that the old houses lean. Centuries of salt extraction made the ground sink unevenly, and whole rows of buildings tilt as if they were listening to each other. Streets in the Sülze quarter bend and dip in ways that are not charming by design. The saltworks closed in 1980, but the old town was left largely intact, and the university and the students now fill the cafés that the merchants once filled with hogsheads of herring.
For a rider, Lüneburg is a straightforward and satisfying meal stop. It is big enough, more than seventy thousand people, to have fuel on the edges, supermarkets and a wide choice of places to eat, from fast bakeries to proper restaurants with heath lamb, local potatoes and the regional dish called Labskaus, a mash of corned beef, beetroot and potato that looks worse than it tastes. Parking a bike near the old town is usually easy, though the cobbles around the Am Sande square are rough, and the lanes inside the core are narrow. Go on foot from the first sensible place you find.
Coming in from the heath side the approach is calm, long and pretty open, and from the Elbe side it is flat and fast. Weekends in summer fill the centre, so earlier in the day, or a weekday, suits better. Allow yourself an hour to walk down to the river and back before you gear up again. You will see why people stay.
South of Hamburg the Elbe loosens into marsh, flat and open to the sky, with the river kept in place by a long dike that you can ride along or beside. The land behind it sits below the level of the high tide, and the old farms stand on little mounds, their fruit trees and thatch looking oddly protective. This is the Elbmarsch, close to the Vier- und Marschlande, and the horizon is made of sky.
The dike road is the place to be. It is narrow and straight, with the grass slope on one side and the fields on the other, and the surface changes from newly laid to patched. Sheep graze on the slope and move aside with some reluctance. Ride slowly and look at the river: container ships and bulk carriers come past silently, and from the level of the dike they seem to glide across the fields. The wind is the main character. On a clear, cold day it comes at you from the west with real force, and a heavy bike will feel it in the shoulders for the next hour.
The Elbe has shaped this area for centuries, and not always kindly. Great floods, including the storm surge of 1962 which hit Hamburg so hard, led to the raising and strengthening of dikes along the whole river. The soil behind them is rich silt, which is why the marsh is full of vegetable growers and orchards. In late spring you can smell blossom, and in autumn the roadside stalls sell apples and pumpkins on an honesty basis.
Nothing practical sits right at the dike. Drage is a village with a handful of services, but the sensible place for fuel, a proper meal and a rest is Winsen on the Luhe river, about four kilometres away, which has pumps, supermarkets and a pleasant old centre with a moated castle. The dike works best as the last scene of a day, with the light turning gold over the water and the long road back toward Hamburg ahead. Bring a windproof layer and be ready to be a little slower than you planned.
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