The Château is taking a summer break!

After the last, once again quite chilly weekend in May, we are putting the caravan away.

With a trip to the Altmark, the caravan says goodbye to a well-deserved break. Kalbe an der Milde proves itself worthy of the finale, a town adorned with several additional names: City of a Hundred Bridges, Little Venice, Artists' Town. And yes, it is definitely worth a visit to see which of these names hit the mark.

The river Milde, which changes its name here and there along its path to the Elbe, reminds one of a canal in Burgundy, only the Pénichetts are missing. Well, there are certainly more natural and wilder waterways, but Pirol, Nightingale, and Barn Swallow chirp at us, and all the walkers stop for a chat, so that the afternoon flies by and we are up to date with the Altmark.

But now it is time for the mini camper, the temperatures are pleasant and I no longer have to freeze at night. Yes, I let myself be spoiled by the caravan with warm water and evening heating, but that's over now! Now it's summer, the outdoor season is inevitable and begins.

The first trip doesn't take us far, namely to the Elbe. On the way, we discover a small castle in Bebertal, which is probably overshadowed by the neighboring Hundisburg, but is definitely worth a detour.

Unfortunately, the acacia avenues are not yet in full bloom, as we are a few days early. But to my surprise, we come across poppy fields, fields of blooming purple poppies. Unfortunately, I cannot find out quickly what the opium poppy is grown for, I assume it is used for the cake that Zappa greatly appreciates. I also do not try the detailed description that I find on Wikipedia to extract other substances from the plants.

During our Saturday walk, we encounter a young man pushing his S50.

I know that feeling, in my youth I often had to operate my mother's borrowed Schwalbe with muscle power. However, this young man asks if we could push him, as the moped won't start anymore. Zappa is very helpful and rolls the two-wheeler over the sandy path as fast as his no longer so youthful legs allow. But in vain! The Simson won't start. Another attempt, the guy sits on the vehicle and kicks the starter while the experienced man pushes the two-wheeler through the sand. Despite all the exhausting efforts, it is in vain.

Zappa is sweating, the boy under his helmet probably too. I stand aside and am about to be a know-it-all and mention that the spark plug is often the culprit with these vehicles. The boy has already had that idea, but as always, Zappa is smarter than all of us put together: the spark plug connector is loose, he holds it tightly and the young man can kickstart it again - hurray! Now the rider can merrily make his way to his destination.

However, I cannot resist complaining that when I was 15 years old, I used to push the heavy Schwalbe all by myself and without any help, and most of the time it started again once the crust was removed from the spark plug. Well, young people...

At the lake in the Elbe meadows, there is a lot going on this warm Saturday, one family after another comes to swim, everyone knows each other, the atmosphere is relaxed, the children are happy and play in the water.

Grandpa comes by on his bike, he manages without electric assistance through the sand. He watches the activity for a while and then turns to us with a smile, as we are just brewing our coffee.

The senior reports that a few days ago, he sat on a tree trunk with his legs in the water a few meters away and observed the carp spawning. It was incredible, these huge fat carp, entwined with each other and loving each other, they reminded him a little of small crocodiles. When he got on his bicycle, he noticed the many large, round red spots on his legs, the leeches had feasted on him.

But well, now the lake is so stirred up by the bathers, the bloodsuckers will probably have scurried away...

The evening at the lake is reserved for the village youth, they are brought by their mothers and despite the impending thunderstorm, the young wild ones first enjoy a beer before setting up their tents with some effort and missing poles.

We leave them the space and the stinging mosquitos, as we still want to travel towards home this evening.

Because the first flea market in half a year is on the agenda! Joy - Excitement - Jubilation!

But oh dear: Sunday morning wakes us with raindrops, gray, wet, windy, and exceptionally fresh - so no flea market mood...