67 km through Sassnitz and Garz to a campground at Altefahr, Germany.

Truly a bizarre day as I left the comfortable familiarity of Sweden for the twilight zone of East Germany. It was as though I had entered a time warp and been transported 50 years into the past.

On the four hour ferry ride from Trelleborg to Sassnitz I had my first encounter with the East German "service industry". With my final three Kronors I had played the slot machine and managed to win 50 SKr (although a few of the coins had turned out to be Polish 10 Zloty coins, worth a fraction of a penny). When I went to cash in these coins for Deutsche Marks, the snarling cashier literally threw the zloty coins at me and then short-changed me several Marks on the remaining Kronors. This turned out to be the normal type of service I soon grew to expect throughout eastern Europe.

Despite the brilliant afternoon sunshine, Sassnitz was one of the dreariest places that I had ever seen. The buildings were all made of slabs of concrete and were in serious need of repair. The streets were narrow, bumpy bricks filled with broken glass and debris. The traffic was bumper to bumper, with horns blaring and motors racing on the rundown Ladas, Skodas and Fiats. There was none of the Swedish middle class egalitarianism I had become accustomed to; rather there was a lumpen-proletariat feel about the people--in fact they dressed and looked more like me (a slob) than the Swedes.

My first priority was exchanging more currency so I searched out the one bank in town. This bank was a tiny two room building that had thick bars on all the windows and an elaborate security system which required that I go through two metal doors before I got back to the teller. The teller was working at a desk covered with paper, with only the aid of a 1950's vintage adding machine. Everything was done with pencil. I went up to the teller and said "Guten Tag". She didn't respond and just looked at me like she wanted to spit. But eventually she did manage to cash a traveler's check and she gave me the proper amount.

As I left the bank, I made a turn in front of a car and was hit with a string of expletives. I responded with the international "up yours" signal, which only increased the fury of the driver. So I raced away on my bike; I've got to control myself a little more in these situations or I'll get killed one day.

By this time my only desire was to exit Sassnitz as soon as possible. So I headed south on the road to Binz. The traffic was heavy and the roads narrow with no shoulder. The first 25 kilometers was extraordinarily rough and pot-holed. This included my first encounter with a "rock" road, which consisted of embedded rocks about 6 inches in diameter. Over this entire stretch I was not able to ride at more than a walking pace, and, in fact, I did have to walk much of it. Fortunately, the roads were so bad that the cars could not exceed 20 kph, so I was not in real physical danger. After Binz the roads became a more tolerable broken asphalt and the traffic lightened as well.

There was a great deal of construction going on everywhere along today's route. Each town I passed through had a new supermarket and a new car dealership. Everything else was either very rundown or in the process of construction. I stopped at a couple of the supermarkets and found them to be Western style with reasonable (i.e. similar to American) prices. I got a wonderful loaf of French bread and some pastries at one of these markets, and was pleased with the thought that I might be able to expand on my bland, overly price-conscious, Swedish diet.

I saw many German touring cyclists along the route--more than I had seen in the past two months. The Rügen peninsula, where I am cycling, is apparently a hot tourist spot for east Germans. I found this fact quite astounding as, despite many forested areas, I found little beauty in the area. The intrusive nature of this form of Socialist Realism was too evident here.

I stopped at a small building called a "Bibliotek" (library) in Garz. The door was open, and although nobody was there, I walked in and began to peruse the shelves of books. After a couple of minutes, a woman wearing an apron rushed into the room screaming at me to get out. I have no idea what the problem was, but I left. Well Excuuuuse me.

Once I got on the asphalt roads the riding was more pleasant. The Ladas and Skodas are not particularly threatening cars as they are slow and their engines sound more like a moped (or a big mosquito) than the type of cars I am used to. Also, most of the roads today were tree-lined which provided shade from the hot afternoon sun. For some reason, all the trees along the road had large white stripes painted on them. Apparently this helps with visibility.

I did notice a couple of distinct changes since my last visit to eastern Europe in 1970. First, when I crossed the border my passport was not even checked. I simply walked through and nobody paid any attention to me. Secondly, I have seen no police at all.

One thing I am much more concerned about here is theft. In Scandinavia I often left my bike unlocked and unattended for long periods while I was shopping or doing other things. I never felt any particular anxiety about doing this. Here it is clearly different and I will need to be more careful.

I am camped at a large campground on the outskirts of Altefahr. So far as I can tell, all the campers are German. Since I am not feeling particularly sociable tonight, I picked a somewhat isolated spot to pitch my tent.

90 km through Stralsund and a host of tiny villages to a forest spot outside Dargun.

What a day! I started off by cycling the 7 km into Stralsund, a major city of @100,000. First I had to wait half an hour, along with several kilometers of cars, until the draw bridge into the city was opened. Then I entered a city that looked like Beirut—with gray, dreary, abandoned and decrepit buildings. Broken glass and garbage strewn over the horribly rutted stone streets. But when I entered the city center it was as though a miracle had occurred. Suddenly I was immersed in the delicious sound of Bach being performed on an electronically enhanced organ by a street musician. The center two block shopping mall was alive and pulsing with activity. Besides the organ player there were numerous other musicians, including a group of South American Indians, performing. I found an excellent bookstore as well as many kiosks serving all manner of foods. Surprisingly, no one paid much attention to me, and I was able to soak in this atmosphere without a hint of self-consciousness.

I bought a German/English dictionary (a tiny volume about 2 inches square) and also purchased a detailed map of eastern Germany. I had already realized that the maps I had copied in Sweden were of too large a scale to be adequate--I had discovered that the major routes are definitely not the way to go. As I was preparing to leave Stralsund, I noticed that one of the streets was named "Judenstrasse" -- apparently this had been part of the Jewish ghetto during the war.

I finally set out about noon with some concern about the first five kilometers, which were on a main road. My concern was well-founded, as the stretch was horrific. There was a line up of cars that stretched more than 5 kilometers on their way into the city. The traffic leaving town was lighter, but much more dangerous, as the drivers drove recklessly along the narrow, pot-holed filled road.

The map I purchased divides the roads into four classes. By this time I have had enough time to clarify that division: The first class roads provide a good surface but are narrow and shoulder-less. The traffic is extremely heavy--I would say the life expectancy of any cyclist foolish enough to try these roads would be about two hours. The second class roads have fairly good asphalt surfaces, but are also narrow. The traffic is lighter, but these seem to be the road of preference for truckers and so are dangerous routes for cyclists. The third class roads have broken asphalt and fairly light traffic. These are the roads of choice for cyclists. The fourth class roads have unbelievably bad surfaces--stone (unridable), soft sand (unridable) or broken concrete slabs (very bumpy). One of the fourth class roads I was on today had 6 different surfaces in one 5 km stretch, including a section of concrete triangle wedged together (this was one of the many roads I was on that were designed specifically for tanks). But the worst surfaces are the stone roads, which consist of 6" inch pieces of rock embedded in the road. These are so teeth rattling that I have a hard time even walking my bike on them. Almost every village has this type of road going through it. So I need to ride on the sidewalk (also very bumpy) or on the sand bordering the road. Several times I have ridden through the fields paralleling these roads. Needless to say, I will not be doing any high mileage day anytime soon. My job now is to find enough 3rd class roads to get to Berlin. This will cause considerable zigzagging across the map.

The countryside I am travelling through now consists almost entirely of huge tracts of wheat. There are no individual farmhouses, but instead everyone lives in small villages which are located every few kilometers. Some of the villages consist of small houses, but most have two or three large, ugly concrete apartment buildings where the people live. Many of these buildings appear abandoned. I've not noticed much air pollution, but several of the ponds I've seen were covered with a thick green slime. One stream was obviously an open sewer. I also saw some less than appetizing swimming holes, but since it was a very hot day, a lot of people were making use of them. Unlike Sweden, I saw no topless women, but I did see a few nude men!

Most of the roads I have been on are not sign-posted. Moreover, the map is not entirely accurate as I have already discovered several errors. Therefore I have had to ask directions of a lot of people. They were invariably helpful and (surprisingly) I am discovering that I have a fair comprehension of German (strangely, I can understand German much better than Swedish, but I can speak Swedish better than I can speak German--I think it is because German is so much more clearly enunciated than Swedish). I had a long "conversation" with an older woman in Nehringen, who was astonished to find an American in her village. She told me about her aunt in Chicago--almost everybody in Europe seems to have a close relative in America.

Some observations on East Germany: the churches are always the most impressive buildings in the towns. They are usually bricked shut and most of the windows are boarded or broken. I've seen only one monument written in Russian with a red star on it--otherwise there is no immediate evidence of the Communist past. Even the DDR car identification has almost disappeared--I've only seen a couple. The clearest evidence of the change is found in the supermarkets, which are often brand new and stocked with a good variety of food and other merchandise. I have noticed a lot of men who just seem to be hanging around, evidence of a bad unemployment problem. All in all, I find this to be an extraordinarily hostile environment for humans. There is no evidence of anything that would indicate a concern for the psychological welfare of the individual. If this was the worker's paradise, give me laissez-faire capitalism any day. It is as though someone intentionally set out to make a social environment that was utterly hostile to the needs of human beings.

I stopped in Dargun because it supposedly had a campground. But after walking 5 km on a stone road and not finding it, I decided to camp free in the woods. I have a nice open spot, well off the road, but I am not entirely comfortable as I know that free camping is illegal in Germany. As I am writing this there is an air raid siren wailing away--it has been going for the last 10 minutes.

86 km through Waren to a nudist campground near Zwengow.

Another fine day. I can hardly believe it, but with all its trials and tribulations (i.e. the roads are horrible beyond belief) I am really starting to enjoy cycling through East Germany. I think it is the uncertainty at every turn which I enjoy.

I woke up late (off by 7:00) because I had a problem sleeping. The forest floor where I had camped was covered with a thick layer of leaves, and so I could hear every movement within a hundred meters of me. Unlike the Swedish forests, this forest was alive with animals, and I heard all variety (including a weasel which scampered in front of my tent) of them during the night.

I was concerned about the first 40 km because it looked like it would be a busy route. But in fact the traffic was light (and no trucks) so I whizzed into Waren by 11:00. This was another shell-shocked industrial city which had a lively and interesting center. What I liked best was an organ/synthesizer player (again, playing Bach)--the sound permeated the whole mall and was marvelous.

I went to a bookstore and drooled over the maps, and ended up purchasing a "bike map" for the Muritz National Forest, which was along my route. I had not intended to go through this area as my map showed that they were all fourth class roads. But since there apparently were all these wonderful bike routes I decided to go for it--What a mistake! The so-called bike routes were roads covered with two inches and more of soft sand that was impossible to ride on, even for mountain bikes. I walked about half of the 30 km on this stretch.

About half way through the Muritz forest I met Peter and Isabel, two cyclists from Stuttgart. They were on a three week vacation and had been riding several of the routes that I had done. We had a great time comparing notes--they had mountain bikes but were having to walk through the Muritz "bike route" anyway. When they found out I had no food and had 15 km of sand ahead of me, they gave me two rolls, some Swiss cheese and three sausages. As it turned out, I never did find a market that day, so their gift turned out to be my supper.

I stopped at a campground near Zwengow and the surly operator wanted to stick me in a horrible spot and charge 10 DM. I went for a swim in the lake and then left the campground. I saw a signpost for another campsite so I set off in that direction. After a two km walk on a sand road I arrived at the site. I noticed that the proprietor looked at me oddly, but he took my cash (8DM) and indicated I could camp anywhere. So I wheeled Burton into the clash of tents and found a nice spot to pitch my tent. It took a couple of minutes for it to register that something was a little odd here. I then noticed that many of the campers were nude, especially the men. Apparently, this is one of the many campgrounds for nudists that are found all over eastern Germany. I didn't strip, but I was feeling great. There were no mosquitos, I had a nice site and my fellow campers were friendly. What more could I want?

I really appreciate the diversity of the people in Germany. There is not the same homogeneity that one finds in Sweden. I also like the relaxed atmosphere of the towns--especially the street music. Finally, I appreciate the anonymity that I feel in the cities. I have not been harassed, and, in the cities, I am generally ignored--which is fine with me. I think this is because there are a lot of German cyclists out on short tours.

81 km through Ravensbruck and Furstenburg to a forest spot outside Lindow.

A day of survival, as it rained most of the night and most of the morning. I started out about 8:00 in a steady rain. A few kilometers down the road I ran into three characters right out of the Great Depression. One was in a broken down wheelchair which the others were trying to repair. They motioned me to stop and then asked if I had any tools. So I lent them my crescent wrench, and soon they were off and rolling.

I then rode the 13 km into Neusterlitz, a truly dreary city made all the worse by the dark gray morning sky. On a hill in the center of the city was a thirty meter monument to the Russian Army. All streets led to this monument, like the spokes on a wheel. I could find no supermarket here so I had to get my food in an open market (something I try to avoid because of the crowds). I bought a half chicken and ate it under a tree while I waited for the rain to let up.

By early afternoon the rain had changed to a drizzle and I set out for Ravensbruck. I soon ran into the first of numerous map errors, which were compounded by inadequate road signs. With the help of several strangers I finally found myself on the right road. It was here that I first started seeing Russian soldiers and trucks. At Ravensbruck I passed an enormous Red Army base which was surrounded by a 5 meter high concrete fence. This was almost frightening in its bleakness. For some reason I was not particularly comfortable cycling by groups of bored, machine gun toting, Soviet soldiers, so I sped past into Furstenberg.

As I continued south I began to see signs relating to the Sachsenhausen death march (in April of 1945, the surviving Sachsenhausen concentration camp survivors were sent on a forced march during which 6,000 of them died). I was apparently following the route of that march as I passed through Klosterheide and Lindow.

When I arrived at Menz I discovered that neither of the two possible routes I had selected existed. After going back and forth looking for these routes, I finally found a rock road to Hindenberg which was among the worst I have encountered. It was so bad that a generation of drivers had plowed a road through the adjacent wheat fields. This alternative road was ridable in places, otherwise I walked for several kilometers.

I had a problem finding food all day today. After Neusterlitz, the only place I found open was an ice cream store which served micro-waved pommes frites. Then in Lindow I was able to get potato chips and chocolate--What a diet!

Riding in East Germany is utterly different than anywhere else I have cycled. In Scandinavia I was always looking for things to occupy my mind (songs, lectures etc.). Here I need to be 100% focused on the road at all times. There is no time for mind games--it is pure, basic survival. It's demanding but also enjoyable. I like the challenge.

Lindow was the first town I have encountered that had a western European appearance. The buildings were in good repair and there was a nice park (one of the few that I have seen).

Besides food, I have also had a problem finding water. There are no public toilets and the gas stations do not have restrooms. The public buildings, when I can figure out where they are, are rarely open.

I'm at my campsite in the forest and have been listening to cuckoo birds jabbering away. I've also been listening to a German radio station that has been playing Woody Guthrie songs for the past two evenings.

80 km through Kremen and Spandau to a "tent city" for travelers in Tegen, a suburb of Berlin.

There was heavy rain all night long. Puddles formed inside my tent and so my sleeping bag and most of my gear was soaked. Awoke at 3:00 and listened to a baseball game on Armed Forces Radio while I waited for dawn to come. I decided to tempt fate by riding on one of the main roads, so I was off at dawn and high-geared it toward Berlin. Because of the early hour the roads were empty and so it was very nice riding.

The closer I got to Berlin, the more "western" the villages became. I passed through several pleasant towns (Marwitz and Schonwalde were particularly nice) with tree lined streets, parks and well-maintained houses. I began to think I was in the former western section of Berlin until I ran across a Soviet army base. It also became evident that I had not entered the sector when I discovered that all of the roads, except the main highway, suddenly dead-ended.

I was concerned about cycling into Berlin as I did not have any sort of map, other than the 6 inch square section on the back of my big map. I decided to just bike in the general direction of the city and see what happened. In Falkensee I got on a bike path that paralleled the main road, and fortuitously, the path took me straight to the center of Berlin. En route I passed an endless stretch of apartment buildings, the enormous Sieman's complex (at least 3 km long) and what looked like a nuclear power plant with a containment tower.

Once in the central district I discovered the tourist office and was informed that there a tent city for young travelers located at the end of one of the subway lines. The cost was only 8 DM so I decided to stay there tonight, and spend the remainder of the day doing some touring. I cycled over to the Tiergarten (the large park in the center of Berlin) where I spread out all of my gear to dry in the sun. I then went to the Brandenberg Gate, the former border crossing into East Berlin. Here I saw an amazing variety of peddlers selling, among other things, Soviet army uniforms. I then followed along the Berlin wall, which was still standing in some places, but for the most part was a 200 meter stretch of open field separating east and west. The contrast between the stark socialist realism of the east and the gaudy consumerism of the west was startling. I then had some falafel and a döner kebap at one of Turkish fast food places which were everywhere in the western sector.

In the late afternoon I headed out to Tegel. I was able to bring my bike on the subway, so I decided to do so. Unlike in London, the Berlin subways were extraordinarily confusing. No fare information, inadequate maps and poor directional signs caused me to get lost, and it took some time to get to my stop.

It turns out that there are at least a hundred people staying here tonight in 6 large circus tents. The travelers consist almost entirely of young backpackers on their summer holidays. Had a hard time finding anyone mature enough to get into a real conversation with. I spent most of the night talking to Nikao, from Tokyo, and a Swede from Lulleå. Both were on short, whirlwind tours of Europe. There were a lot of American backpackers here, but they seemed almost childish to me. I guess I was not too different when I traveled here in 1970.

Spent an ultimately exhausting day walking around Berlin taking care of errands. One thing stands out about Berlin, and that is that everything seems to be on a gigantic scale. The buildings, stores and streets are so huge that they are overwhelming, especially when you are on foot. Because of the devastation of World War II, the city was clearly re-designed to accommodate automobiles (the city appears easy to get around by car or, because of the extensive bike path system, by bicycle). There are none of the narrow streets that one finds in other European cities, but rather, many 8 and 10 lane boulevards which are a major challenge to cross on foot. The bike lanes form part of the sidewalk and are distinguishable from the pedestrian sidewalk by the use of different colored bricks. It took me awhile to figure this out, and I very nearly caused several accidents when I inadvertently crossed into the bike path.

I was still not clear on visa requirements for other parts of Eastern Europe, so I headed over to the Amerika Haus to see if they could help me. This place was, more than likely, a CIA front, and I had to go through a stringent security check just to get into the building. I was not able to find the information I needed in their library, and so asked where the American consulate was. The clerk gave me an address of the closed down embassy in East Berlin. Fortunately, this error was corrected by a bystander before I wasted my time going to it.

I then spent some time at the gigantic maze of the Stadt Bibliotek (library) researching maps, before going to several bookstores and finally purchasing maps of southern Germany and Czechoslovakia. I also purchased the Lonely Planet Guidebook, which was priced $15 below the Swedish price. Finally, I toured KaWaDa, a 6 story department store that covers a large city block. It bills itself as the largest department store in the world, and I do not doubt it. The book department had rows of shelves that were more than 100 meters long.

West Berlin is unquestionably a consumer's paradise. There are so many markets and stores with such an enormous choice of merchandise that I found it overwhelming. As in most big cities, the pace of life is very fast, and the people are generally rude. Despite the evident enormous wealth I saw a lot of down and out people on the streets. The backpacking tourist crowd tends to congregate in the center near the Hauptbahnhof, but outside of that area you still find a strong counter-culture flavor. I saw a lot of 60's style hippies (in appearance, anyway) throughout Berlin. This was in strong contrast to Scandinavia.

My sense of Berlin is that, despite its counter culture aspect, it is a sterile place. I think this is in part because its Jews, who provided genius and vitality, were destroyed. It is a Goy city now--clean, sterile and spiritually empty as its inhabitants wallow in the modern hell of consumerism.

I am back at the tent site tonight and feeling uneasy. For the first time in 6 weeks I am surrounded by people who speak my language, and yet I have little desire to talk to them. I have become comfortable in my solitude. Perhaps that is one of the most important things I have discovered on this journey--that I can experience joy in solitude. At the same time I sense that this can be a pathway to madness, and sometimes I think I am on that path.

Later on in the evening I was drawn into a conversation with a group of Dutch students. It was quite funny because I had been listening to them converse for some time, trying to figure out what language they were speaking. I told them I had thought they were Polish, which got a huge laugh. We were later joined by a strange Finn who spoke English with a distinct American inflection and who used idiomatic expressions so comfortably that I could not believe that he was not American, or had not lived in the US.

Windy and pouring rain in the morning, so I decided to stay another day. I decided to play the tourist today and visit the Red Army Museum in East Berlin and the Sachsenhausen concentration camp in Orienenberg, north of Berlin.

The Red Army Museum was interesting primarily for its gruesome close up photographs of all the executed Nazi war criminals. Sachsenhausen was a sobering and profound experience. And it was an adventure just finding the place. I took the subways and trains into the eastern sector and needed to make multiple switches. The east and west sections of the Berlin subway have not yet been fully connected, so I had to exit the train at the old border and find the station on the other side. Once in the eastern sector, it was difficult knowing where you were because all of the station names associated with communism had been removed or changed, and these changes were not reflected on the subway maps. Once I managed to get to Orianenberg, I had to ask several people where the camp was. I went to the city hall and the clerk refused to direct me, as did a couple of people on the street. I guess I would be ashamed of what happened there too, if I was German.

I finally found the camp, which was located in a residential area (houses, which were surely in existence during the war, went right up to the wall of the camp). As I entered the camp I passed by a single women sitting in the office reading a book. She did not look up as I entered. There were no information booths or signs, only a single page map of the camp. The weather was gray and dreary and there were only a handful of people wandering through the camp. Except for the barracks (only 2 of 18 remained) the camp was intact. It was about a 1 km triangle within which I saw the crematoriums, the buildings where medical experiments were done, the morgue and execution pits. The camp also had several museums which had a display of holocaust photographs and documents. Many of the documents dealt with the Wannsee Conference, where the decision on the Final Solution was made. I only wish my German were better so that I could have analyzed these documents more thoroughly.

Within one of the museums was an "encyclopedia" of Jewish history and anti-semitism which was in English. Sachsenhausen was not one of the "death camps" (the Nazis put these camps in Poland), but rather was a work camp where many nationalities were imprisoned and usually worked to death. Nonetheless, more than 100,000 people were murdered here, including 18,000 Russian prisoners in 1942. The museum information also included mention of atrocities committed by the Russians, who continued to use Sachsenhausen as a prison camp for several years after the war.

To be within the walls of this place where so much evil had taken place, was a profound experience. It was made even more profound insofar as I was able to tour the camp at leisure, alone with my thoughts and undisturbed by others, on a bleak dark day. In my opinion, this memorial was set up exactly as it should have been--no tourist pamphlets, no tour guides, simply the camp as it existed with a minimum of explanation. That was enough.

98 km to a wildlife preserve near Bresdau.

Finally, back on the road again! I feel great. I was starting to feel oppressed by hanging around a hundred 20-year old kids.

I called Mom and found out that Jon had purchased a ticket for Frankfurt for July 31. That's great news! It will be nice to have some real conversations, rather than the truncated ones I've been having with non-English speakers and vacuous backpackers.

East Germany continues to surprise me. After riding a bike path for the first 6 km out of the western sector, I knew immediately when I had entered the east. The path disappeared and I found myself on a narrow road with extremely heavy traffic. It was too dangerous to ride on the pavement so I spent most of my time on the dirt and grass alongside the road. When I got off this major thoroughfare I ran into two detours caused by collapsed bridges (at one of these, a group of construction workers were very helpful and pointed out an alternative dirt road). After getting past these obstacles I took a wrong turn and rode four km before I discovered my error. I then had a series of unridable sections, including one three km stretch of tough walking. All of this was normal East German cycling, including map errors and missing signposts.

Suddenly, about 40 km into the ride, I got a stretch of smooth asphalt roads with no traffic. This lasted the rest of the day and was wonderful! Not only that, but the villages I rode through were pleasant and friendly. What a shock. I wonder if this will last through the rest of East Germany.

Several people were really helpful today when I asked for directions. Unfortunately, I could not understand a lot of what they said, but I usually got the gist of it and generally got on the right road. This has been real pleasant after the general nastiness of Berliners.

I am free camping in the woods again tonight. I had not intended to do so in Germany, but it does not seem to be a real problem. I just need to be extra careful in finding a secure hiding place.

110 km to a campground at Pulsnitz. I passed through 39 separate villages along the route.

A very good cycling day; high clouds and cool. I picked good, primarily smooth roads with light traffic. Even the towns are starting to have asphalt roads (all the towns in the north had rock roads, which required walking or sidewalk riding) and I am able to zip through them if I wish. Each town seems to have its own distinct ambience. In many, the people were friendly, going out of their way to help me (I was frequently standing on a corner, map out, with a confused look on my face). An elderly couple in Steina was particularly helpful in pointing me to this campground. In other towns (Kamenz, particularly) people looked at me like they had just swallowed a pound of shit. I just got out of those towns as quickly as possible.

At Kamenz I finally started to hit the foothills of the Oberlausitz Mountains. I should have some real climbing to do in the next few days. I also found out from my guidebook that my intended border crossing is not a crossing for highway traffic, so I will need to adjust my route and head east a few kilometers.

I saw my first functioning factory (other than in Berlin) since I've been in Germany. It seems as though almost every industry (except farming) has gone out of business as a result of unification. I heard that unemployment is about 50%, and I would judge this to be true. Also, it is clear that a lot of people have left, as there are obviously vacant buildings in every town I go through.

I spent less than 20 DM today, which makes this my least expensive day yet in Germany. I am at a very pleasant campsite tonight. There are showers and a large swimming pool (actually, a cemented-in pond) as well as a commons room with a tv. The caretaker was very kind, as he gave me a guided tour of the entire facility when I arrived.