A 357 km loop from Hamburg north-west edge
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Flat, windy, wide and much better than the map suggests. The best part sits around Büsum harbour stop, St. Peter-Ording beach edge, Eider barrage viewpoint, while Itzehoe fuel gate and Husum food stop keep the day practical instead of turning it into a fuel hunt.
Rellingen and Halstenbek lie on the north-western rim of Hamburg, in the Pinneberg district, and for anyone heading toward the North Sea they are the last of the city before the land opens out. This is tree-nursery country: Halstenbek and its neighbours form one of the largest centres for growing trees and shrubs in Europe, and in summer the fields are filled with orderly rows of young oaks, beeches, rhododendrons and roses, which gives the district a clean and scented feel.
Rellingen has a curious claim to fame. Its church, built in the 1750s, is a Baroque Protestant church of unusual elegance, with a bright interior and a high tower, and it is considered one of the most beautiful in Schleswig-Holstein. A short ride away is Pinneberg, a town with a small castle and an old centre, and further south, Wedel offers a view of the Elbe and its ship greeting station, where passing ships are welcomed with their national flag.
The ride's real subject, though, lies a hundred kilometres to the north-west: the dikes of the North Sea coast and the great flat sands of St. Peter-Ording, a seaside resort on the Eiderstedt peninsula whose beach is several kilometres wide at low tide. The road runs across marsh and farmland, with sheep on the dikes, tall skies and the smell of salt. The riding is easy and open, with long straights and plenty of wind, and the beauty is in the light and space.
Getting out of Hamburg is the challenge. The suburbs are dense, traffic is heavy at rush hour and the main roads are full of lights and cameras. The best plan is to leave early, before the commuters, when the roads are empty and the mist lies on the fields. Speed limits are low in the towns, and the Autobahn A23 carries a lot of heavy traffic.
Fuel is easy here, with stations on every main road and supermarkets in each village. Bakeries open early, and a rundstück, a crusty roll with ham, is a good start to the day. Be sure to fill up before leaving the built-up area, because the marshes have fewer stations. North German weather is changeable, so carry a rain jacket. A bright, windy morning in May or September is an excellent time to head west.
Itzehoe does not have a famous skyline, and that is rather the point. It is a solid town of about thirty thousand on the Stör river in the flat marshland of Schleswig-Holstein, and its job in this ride is that of a gate, the last reliable fuel and breakfast before the open country of the North Sea coast. The town sits some sixty kilometres northwest of Hamburg, and the name goes far back, with a fortress called Esesfeld said to have been built here in the early ninth century during the wars of Charlemagne against the Saxons.
The Stör is small but important, a tidal river that winds toward the Elbe, and it gave Itzehoe a role as a trading and market town in the Holstein region. The old town has several brick churches, a former convent that is still used, and a few quiet squares. It is not a place of must-do sights, but the people are friendly, and the bakeries open early, so a cup of coffee and a roll before the day's ride is a pleasant start.
The riding that leads out is flat, open and honest. West of town the roads cross Dithmarschen, a landscape of dikes, drainage ditches, sheep and wind turbines, and the horizon is huge. There are no hills, no real corners, and the main variable is the wind, which on the North Sea coast can be strong enough to push a bike sideways. Check the forecast, and lean into it. The dikes, built over centuries to keep the sea out, are a quiet and slightly eerie part of the scenery. Roads along them are narrow, and sheep graze on the slopes, so take care and obey signs that restrict access.
In summer the weather is mild but changeable, with sun, showers and cloud sweeping across the sky within an hour. In autumn the wind brings clear light, and in winter the roads can be icy. Ride out early to avoid the traffic heading to the beach resorts at St. Peter-Ording. Itzehoe itself has plenty of fuel stations, supermarkets and a few simple restaurants, and the mix of fish rolls and rye bread is the local taste. Fill the tank here, because stations get thinner as you head toward the coast.
Theodor Storm called Husum the grey town by the sea, and he meant it kindly. The poet and novelist, who was born in the town in 1817, wrote about the dykes, the fog and the wide, grey skies of the North Frisian coast, and the phrase has stuck. His house is a museum, and his novella The Rider on the White Horse, about a dyke-builder fighting the sea, is the great story of this coast.
The town, with about twenty-one thousand people, has a pretty harbour with old warehouses and fishing cutters that still land North Sea shrimp, and a market square with a fountain and a tall church. In March, the park around the castle is carpeted with purple crocuses, a spectacle that draws visitors. Fuel and food are easy here, with petrol stations, supermarkets and a number of fish restaurants along the quay. Try the Krabbenbrötchen, a bread roll with fresh shrimp, which is the quintessential Husum lunch.
The riding out here is flat and open, with long, straight roads across marshland, often on top of a dyke, with sheep grazing on the grass. It is not twisty, but the landscape is huge, with an enormous sky and a horizon that curves. Wind is the main factor. It can be strong, particularly from the west, and a crosswind on an exposed stretch can be tiring. Keep your speed steady and your grip relaxed.
In summer the days are long and bright, but the weather is changeable, and a sudden shower can sweep in from the sea. Autumn brings migrating birds, and in the winter the geese arrive in large flocks. The Wadden Sea, the tidal flats of the North Sea, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and a short ride from the town will take you to the dyke, where you can watch the tide come in.
The beach at St. Peter-Ording is so wide that the sea is sometimes a long walk away. The sand stretches for about twelve kilometres along the west coast of the Eiderstedt peninsula, up to two kilometres wide at low tide, and is one of the broadest in Germany. The restaurants on the beach stand on tall wooden stilts, like something from a fairy tale, because the tide and storm surges can cover the sand.
The place is a spa and seaside resort, with about four thousand people in the village and many more in summer. Kitesurfers, windsurfers and sand yachts use the wide beach, and the wind is a constant. The village has fuel, food and hotels, though for a larger choice of services the town of Tönning, about twenty kilometres away, is the nearest with more than five thousand people. In some places cars are allowed to drive on the beach for a fee, but check the rules on site before taking a motorcycle onto the sand, since it can be soft and the tide moves fast.
The ride here crosses the Eiderstedt peninsula, a low, flat land of dykes, sheep and wide skies, with thatched farmhouses on their artificial mounds called Warften. The road is straight and exposed, and the wind makes it a physical ride, with crosswinds that push the bike across the lane. Spring and autumn are quieter, and the light is excellent. In summer the beach is crowded, and the road in is slow at weekends.
The tidal flats are part of the Wadden Sea National Park, an important area for birds, and in spring and autumn huge flocks of waders gather on the mud. A walk on the sand at sunset, with the light low and the sea a thin silver line, is the best way to finish the ride. Bring a windproof jacket, since the breeze can be chilly even in July.
The Eider barrage is a piece of engineering that most people drive across without noticing, which is a pity. It closes the mouth of the Eider river near Tönning, on the west coast of Schleswig-Holstein, with a line of huge steel gates that stay open for the tide and slam shut when a storm surge threatens. It was built in the years after the great North Sea flood of 1962, finished in the early 1970s, and it shortened the dike line along the coast by a considerable margin while keeping the Eider's estuary alive for ships and wildlife.
You can ride across it, and you should stop at either end. The road runs along the structure with wide water on both sides, wind shoving you gently around, and gulls hanging in the gale like kites. On the seaward side the Wadden Sea opens out, a landscape that changes by the hour: at low tide it is mud, sandbars and seals, at high tide it is grey water to the horizon. The whole area belongs to the Wadden Sea national park and is a UNESCO site, which explains the birdwatchers with long lenses you will see on the dike.
The riding in this region is very particular. Roads are flat, straight and exposed, with long views of dike lines, sheep and wind turbines turning in the same direction. Crosswinds are the one real hazard, and a gust on the barrage or an open stretch of road can nudge a light bike sideways. The weather is changeable, and rain can come in horizontally, so a waterproof layer should live in the pannier. Summer evenings, when the light goes long and yellow and the tourists have gone, are the best.
Practicalities are simple. The nearest proper town is Tönning, a few kilometres off, with fuel, a harbour with a pretty old timber crane, and plenty of fish sandwiches. Garding and Wesselburen are smaller but have supermarkets and cafés. Out on the barrage there is not much beyond a car park and a tiny visitor building, so bring a drink and layers, and take your time. A cold wind straight off the North Sea is part of the deal.
Büsum is where Dithmarschen meets the North Sea, a small resort and fishing port that spent a few centuries as an island before the sea gave up and the land joined it to the mainland in the sixteenth century. These days it is a cheerful and slightly salty place, full of day-trippers and holidaymakers, with a harbour that still has a working fleet of shrimp cutters. The little grey shrimp, known locally as Krabben, are the thing to eat here: sold from stalls on the quay in paper cones or stuffed into a bread roll, with the smell of diesel and seaweed thrown in free.
The harbour is the heart of it. Red and blue cutters lie against the quay, nets hang drying, and the gulls watch everything with professional interest. When the tide goes out the area around the harbour shows its true nature as a stretch of Wadden Sea mud, and a walk to the dike will show you the long, flat coastline that never quite decides whether it is land or water. Seals and many wading birds use these flats, and on the right day you may see a seal trip from the harbour heading out.
Getting here is half the point. The roads from Heide and Meldorf run dead straight across the flat farmland, between ditches and dikes, with wind turbines for company. It is easy riding, but on a bad day with a strong westerly it is also tiring riding, with the front wheel nudged constantly. Summer weekends bring queues and crowded parking, so plan for midweek or an early start. The cobbled bits and sandy edges near the harbour need a little care.
For services the town is small, with fewer than five thousand residents, but it has what a visitor needs: places to eat, shops and parking. If you need a proper fuel station, remember the nearest bigger town is Meldorf, fourteen kilometres away, and it is wise to tank up there before the coastal detour. A late afternoon here, with the tide coming in and a hot fish roll in your hand, is a good way to end a day of dike riding.
Pinneberg, Halstenbek and Rellingen lie just north-west of Hamburg, and between them they make up one of the largest tree-growing regions in Europe. For miles on end the fields are filled with rows of young trees, shrubs, roses and rhododendrons, grown for gardens and parks all over the continent. In May, when the rhododendrons bloom, the whole district turns into an unlikely riot of colour, and the roads between the nurseries are some of the most pleasant on the edge of the city.
Rellingen has a church that is a famous example of north German Baroque, built in the middle of the eighteenth century for a Protestant congregation, with a centralised design and a bright, airy interior. The town itself is a quiet, tidy suburb. Pinneberg, the district capital, has a pleasant old centre, with a moated residence called the Drostei, now a cultural centre, and a handful of cafés on the main street.
This is where the ride finishes, back at the edge of the city after a long day on the coast, and it feels like a gentle landing. The roads here are flat, with slow bends and few surprises, and the traffic picks up on the approach to Hamburg, so stay alert. After the open dikes and big skies of the North Sea, the neat hedges and garden fences of the suburbs feel almost cosy. The wind drops, the air gets warmer, and you can finally take your gloves off.
Fuel is plentiful, with stations at every roundabout and big supermarkets in Pinneberg and Halstenbek, a town of sixteen thousand. If you want a good place to rest, the nurseries sometimes have cafés, where you can have a coffee among the plants. Check the opening times, since they change with the season. Hamburg is a short hop away, and the first sight of the harbour cranes on the horizon tells you the day is nearly done.
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