My Rescue -Helpter Lake- Friedland

The rain at 7:00 AM lets me drift back to sleep one more time.

Unfortunately not for long, as a glance at the weather map subtly warns me: It's going to be a hot 30 degrees with a cloudless sky today.

But first, I enjoy breakfast in the former classroom. It's the best I've had on my journey so far, and I highly recommend it. Here, the sausage isn't displayed all morning on the board but is fresh and local. Today, there's also pickled trout. Super tasty. The star chef Daniel Schmidthaler is personally cooking here. I don’t know him yet, nor have I seen him, but what is offered here is delicious.

Moreover, when you are greeted by the kitchen boy by name, you know you are welcome.

I drink my cappuccino on the terrace, and then we're off. It's already 10:00, darn it.

I put on a jacket, hat, and gloves (socks repurposed) just in case.

The route takes me over Tornowhof-Lichtenberg-Neugarten-Grauhagen-Göhren. The hills in this area are wearing me down. Only the downhill rides compensate a little. My biggest worry, however, is losing my cap. My helmet is safely hanging on the handlebars. 😬

The milestone of elevation is, however, far from reached, as I will later learn from my own experience.

Around 12:00, I want to give my bike a break. By then, I should have reached Woldeck.

There, I inquire about a swimming lake. The local one has poor water quality. No chance or a good sign. I seem to have left the Feldberger Seenlandschaft behind. I try again, and this time a cyclist stops next to me and gives me the tip to head to Helpt. However, with the warning ⚠️ that I would have to conquer a mountain. “Young man, do you know how many mountains I have already left behind?!” “So, this one mountain should be manageable.”

He, however, doesn’t clarify things for me, and together we ride towards my midday destination. Perhaps it’s a guilty conscience or genuine helpfulness that makes him accompany me for a while. I will never find out. Just before he says goodbye, I ask for his first name. I do this to include people in my blog.

In that moment, as he is just about to turn, he seems a bit overwhelmed to me; he starts wobbling with his bike, and for a brief moment, I worry he might crash into something. “Eberhard,” he quickly says, and just like that, our paths separate.

The route to Helpt isn’t in my plans but seems shorter again and thus a hidden gem.

I am really looking forward to the cooling off because I’m already sweating from every pore of my jacket.

Suddenly, I catch sight of a slight rise ahead of me, which, of course, only reveals itself as a significant ascent around the curve. Great… and at lunchtime, no less. I feel like I’m getting off every 10 meters to drink something. When I finally accomplish it and turn around, I can hardly believe it myself. As proof… a photo. My drinking water just about sufficed, but I'm still not at my destination. Where can I refill my water bottle in this little town? No one willingly steps outside in this heat. Only crazy cyclists.😚🚴‍♀️

At that moment, I see a woman smiling at me from a garden. She must have been sent to rescue me.🙏🏼

I ask for some water and am invited inside.

Elena is from Transylvania but has lived in Germany since 1992. Instead of water, she offers me a glass of water with ice cubes. At that moment, I could hug her out of sheer gratitude.🥹

After I’ve returned my body temperature to normal, Elena explains to me about the “rise.” “You’ve actually overcome the highest elevation in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern at 179 meters.”

Silence.

I am of course completely stunned. Eberhard, thank you for leaving me in the dark.

Maybe I shouldn’t have opted for this kind of “shortcut.”

We say goodbye and exchange phone numbers.

By the way, Elena transforms her beautiful garden into a café every Sunday.☕️🏡

A small note humbly hangs from a tree in front of her house.

Thank you very much for your hospitality.🙏🏼

I reach Helpter Lake in 800 meters and cannot believe my luck 🍀. I'm alone, and the lake belongs only to me for the next two hours.

With a blue cap, white ring, a proud drake swore loyalty. Mrs. Duck believed it. But the rascal lost love and patience.

As the lady sat on the eggs sweating and gazing into the water, the handsome drake zipped into the reed and was suddenly gone.