Laying awake in bright daylight at 5:30 on Saturday morning and suddenly everything went darker as the rain started. In no time at all it was really pouring, and so it continued until we got up a couple of hours later. As we packed our stuff before breakfast, there were a few distant rumbles of thunder. Not long afterwards we had a few flashes of lightning and the thunder was louder. Part of the breakfast room was a glass conservatory, and we watched the rain lashing down into the water pooling on the glass roof as we ate. Conversation amongst the English speaking contingent over breakfast was all weather related, because all we could think of was the fact that we were expected to go out and ride bicycles in lashing rain with lightning flashing around our earlobes, which no sensible person would ever want to do. Mike commented that we should just go back to our room and write today's blog entry without venturing out, under the title donner unt blitzen (German for thunder and lightning), but then another of our group, a woman from the Midlands walked in and said with Brit irony "turned out fine again" and we had a new title. We don't mind cycling in rain, but riding in lightning in foreign countries when you are supposed to be on holiday having fun is asking too much.
Luckily for us the lightning and thunder stopped, but unfortunately the rain did not. Well to be honest it did reduce from torrents almost to a drizzle, but still it continued for most of the morning even though it was warm enough that we both chose to ride without rain jackets. About ten o'clock we cycled into Gross Bressen, the home of a pottery studio and a B&B. The pottery studio serves coffee on the lawn so we stopped under an umbrella . Such a good decision as the next heavy shower arrived. The coffee was good, the home/studio a beautifully restored old brick building, and pottery I wanted to take home, but how to manage on a bike?
A short distance further on in another tiny village called Bellin we visited what our route guide described as a "gorgeous village church", which was exactly right. There was no date visible to indicate how old it was, but the main structure was of ancient stone and the tower, whether added or rebuilt later, was of brick. We were unable to go inside, although according to a fellow cyclist, a card on a door in German apparently informed us we could have collected keys from a nearby house.
We have commented several times this week how surprising it is that of the dozens and dozens of small hamlets and villages we have ridden through, there are almost no people visible, there are no village shops, no schools, no post offices (although we have seen postmen and post women), no bars, nothing except houses with neat gardens and cars parked outside but otherwise no signs of life. It is seemingly the village equivalent of the forests with huge piles of neatly stacked newly felled lumber every kilometer, but no hint of any people actually felling trees, cutting it to regulation length, or stacking it neatly. Nor for that matter, despite spending half our week in countless forest areas, have we seen a single piece of equipment or machinery that might be associated with such work. Curiouser and curiouser!
Today was a relatively short cycling day and we reached our overnight hotel on the side of a lake before lunchtime, but continued north a few kilometers into the town of Gustrow where we had lunch in an Italian restaurant before heading off to the 16th century Schloss / Palace / Castle for an audio-guided tour. The tower of the Schloss has been converted into a museum of artifacts from the Meckleberg area, paintings, religious pieces, and remnants of ducal life. Surprisingly there was no armor, weapons, etc. Impressive ceilings, floors, and wall decorations remained along with fantastic views out of the windows. We had paid to view the permanent collection only. At one point as we walked through a doorway we were accosted by a guard speaking rapid German. After much back and forth I got the message. Exit now before you get a glimpse of the temporary collection. The guard's name, Fred Meyer. After that we wandered the ornamental gardens before pedalling back to our hotel to check in.
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