36 years ago, the Wall came down and the border between the GDR and FRG opened. For 40 years, a closely guarded border wall ran through our country, from Priwall on the Baltic Sea in the north to the border triangle with Bavaria, Saxony and the Czech Republic in the south (GDR, FRG, CSSR).
And the GDR border troops patrolled along this 1,300 kilometre-long border and made it ever more deadly. Border towers, multiple fences, guard dogs, bunkers, automatic firing systems, anti-tank barriers. And a patrol route that followed the entire course of the border, consisting of simple perforated concrete plates on which military vehicles could drive.
From the death strip to the Green Belt
This border line followed no particular logic, but cut up the landscape as if arbitrarily determined. This meant that the patrol route followed the border, regardless of any obstacles in the landscape, resulting in uphill and downhill stretches of more than 30 per cent. As long as the NVA troop could get up, everything was fine.
After reunification, the border was partially dismantled and the land around it was turned into a nature reserve. Today this is also known as the Green Belt, which is a fantastic idea, as nature was able to develop almost undisturbed in the former border area and preserving this is a great reutilisation of this former inhuman stretch of land.
The birth of the Grenzsteintrophy
A few years ago, Gunnar Fehlau rediscovered the old border paths and developed the Grenzsteintrophy, a bikepacking route that follows the border as closely as possible. And every year since then, a handful of undaunted cyclists follow the call of the ‘Platte’ and set off on 17 June, either from the border triangle to the Priwall or, as has been the case since last year, in the new mode, from the Priwall to the border triangle, where they meet on 17 June at 17:06. This is to commemorate the workers’ and peasants’ uprising of 17 June 1953 (‘Volksaufstand’), which took place in the GDR and was put down by the Soviets.
My motivation: A personal journey into the past
I turned 50 this year and to mark the occasion I wanted to take a look at the Grenzsteintrophy. I spent my youth in the GDR and I was 15 years old when the Wall came down. So I grew up in both states and wanted to take a trip back in time and combine it with my passion for bikepacking.
What the route really means
However, the Grenzsteintrophy is no easy undertaking and I had and still have a lot of respect for this route. Because one thing is the pure data on altitude metres (20,000) and length (1,300km). But that says nothing about the effort and the nature of the route. The only thing that is clear is that it is demanding and it runs along the perforated plate as often as possible.
This still characterises the route very strongly, is often quite passable, just as often less good and broken, or overgrown and only to be guessed at. And these long holes in the slabs are also the reason why the Grenzsteintrophy is not gravel bike-friendly terrain. The holes are so long and wide that all tyres up to 2.4 inches just fall into them. It only becomes more comfortable and, above all, safer from 3 inches upwards. It’s not just the cushioning provided by the wide tyres that is crucial, but also the width that goes over the longitudinal holes and thus enables safe rolling on the track.
I had to ride with 2.35 inch wide tyres at the front (2.6 inch at the rear) and it was no fun, because the perforated plates are often washed out and the front wheel can slide unhindered into the longitudinal hole. This damages the tyre in the long run and can cause a crash on a descent. I fell once because of this. Another time I simply slipped off because the edge of the plate was not recognisable in the deep grass and the front wheel got stuck due to the wetness and mud.
Then there are the climbs: Very often it’s very steep uphill for a few kilometres and then very steep downhill again. So a lot of pushing and a lot of braking downhill. The Brocken is a section where you can cycle up normally, but otherwise it’s always short and crisp up and down.
As you can see, the GST is anything but a normal bikepacking route. I also tend to say that the Grenzsteintrophy is not a route you should choose if you just want to ride your bike. At its core, it’s quite a slog and a lot of effort with a lot of pushing.
And in my opinion, it also requires technical skill, as the track is often very demanding and requires full concentration and riding ability. That’s why there’s a lot of storytelling around it and the GST is positioned more as a pilgrimage. That’s all true, but you should consider this beforehand. In any case, it is a great adventure and has nothing to hide in the concert of the big ultra routes.
However, I don’t see it as a German Tour Divide; the Trans Germany, which is also supposed to be more rideable, would be more suitable.
A planless adventure – with realistic expectations
My plan was not to have a plan. I wanted to see what the route was like and how I was doing. But of course I wanted to ride the whole GST. However, I’ve always had problems on such long distances in recent years and wasn’t able to finish a few events as I’d hoped.
But bikepacking also means that there is no guarantee of success – no matter how well trained and prepared you are. Through social media, you are often in a world that only consists of ultras and finishers. The other stories often don’t take place there, the failure, the not making it, the disappointment.
But perhaps we need to change our perspective here, because bikepacking and cycle tours are not essentially competitive. They are first and foremost something very personal, an adventure, an individual challenge, but above all great fun! And if you look at it that way, there are no disappointments, only experiences and adventures.
My Grenzsteintrophy was just as much an experience. I’ve changed my training over the last few months and really got myself in shape. But that was the plan even without the GST, because I have now integrated almost daily cycling into my life in such a way that it has become crucial for my mental resilience as well as my physical health.
And the bike was also prepared accordingly. I had even fitted 2.6 inch tyres in line with the recommendations. Actually, at least 3-inch tyres are recommended, but I would have needed new rims for that. But with the 2.6 inch tyres it should have been fine. Unfortunately, a week and a half before the start, the bearing on my hub dynamo broke. And the repair took so long that I couldn’t get the front wheel back in time for my start. I therefore had to change to a front wheel with a narrower rim, which meant I only had 2.35 inch wide tyres at the front.
Off into the rain – and into history
And that’s not all: just in time for the start on 6 June, the weather changed and it became cooler, windier and rained. And so in the morning I stood in the drizzle at the famous naturist beach sign on Priwall and began my journey south.
Essentially, the Grenzsteintrophy can be divided into two halves: the northern half up to the Brocken, which is mainly characterised by the coast, the Elbe landscape and the foothills of the Harz Mountains. And the southern half, which is characterised by many climbs and medium mountain ranges.
The first two days went well despite the bad weather and I was able to cover a good 200 kilometres each day. I already knew the first stage well from the Hackenpedder.
As always, it was great to cycle through the border area between Schleswig-Holstein and Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania and discover border towers and markings hidden in the thicket.
The route often led across country, through deep grass and along places where you wouldn’t expect to find a path (and where there often wasn’t one at the end). But nature has reclaimed a great deal over the past almost 40 years, and agriculture now utilises many parts of the old border area.
There was still not much plate and it rolled quite well to Boizenburg on the Elbe. There the track followed the Elbe for about 90 kilometres, as the border ran along here. I always find Dömitz impressive, with the blown-up bridge and the still clear signs of the former separation.
From the Elbe into the headwind
I crossed the Elbe at Schnackenburg and from here it was uphill. Despite the forecast of rain, it stayed dry throughout the day, but shortly before my destination, a natural campsite near Oebisfelde, I was caught out by heavy rain.
But thanks to a hot shower and a fresh pizza, that was soon forgotten. 400 kilometres in the first two days was a good basis. But I realised that I was already having problems eating again. My body simply refused to take in solid food and so I tried to keep it under control with cocoa, gels and iced tea as often as possible.
I was already looking forward to day 3, as after 60 kilometres there was a stop at the former border crossing at Marienborn near Helmstedt. Until then, the route had taken me through deep forest and over very muddy sections of pavement in more or less heavy rain. Reason enough for a break at today’s motorway service station and a look at the former control stations.
The wind picked up and I continued towards Hötensleben. This section of the route was rather sparsely populated and therefore had few supply options. This was to pay off, as the route turned directly to the west for about 30 kilometres and thus into the strong headwind.
In addition, the track was overgrown with thorn bushes and stinging nettles. This was not only painful, as the thorns kept tearing open the skin, but also very exhausting, as you had to fight not only the headwind but also the slab, which was difficult to ride on.
This was the section that was the most mentally demanding and I was really exhausted when I finally arrived in Hornburg. Here I quickly stocked up at the supermarket before it closed for Whitsun and then rolled on to Vienenburg, where a room was waiting for me. On day 3, you simply need a fixed accommodation, also as moral support.
The physical limit: when nothing else works
Of course, I was caught out by heavy rain here too, which then spat me out completely soaked at my accommodation. I was already very exhausted and was looking forward to ordering my food. But with it came the old problem: I couldn’t eat anything. Every attempt to eat other than drinking was rejected by my body.
I tried to avoid the worst with gels and chocolate bars and at least get some calories in to regenerate halfway. In contrast to Stefan – a GST rider who, like me, had started on 6 June. We met up again and again along the way, including at this accommodation. He was ravenous and couldn’t get enough. And was therefore delighted with my food.
He had all the advantages on his side, because the next day was a real challenge: Now we were heading into the Harz Mountains and, of course, over the Brocken, which was the site of a military surveillance station in GDR times. The route up to the summit was very scenic. And the weather was also passable after all the rainy days.
I tried to conserve energy and at the same time consume calories and slowly cranked my way up. After three hours, I reached the summit and actually wanted to eat something there. But it was cold and windy and everything was full of tourists. So I decided to keep rolling – and finally sealed my doom.
Battle through the Harz Mountains – and my own reserves
After three days without eating properly, my body was slowly shutting down. After 130 kilometres, it was time to stop and I set up camp for the night in a roadside hut. I tried to eat and drink something, but then quickly fell into a deep sleep. At 5 a.m., an alarm siren from the village in the valley woke me up, I packed up and rolled on. My legs were already empty and my heart rate too low for the effort.
Here, the track only goes up and down – and it really does. 10 km in an hour is normal and I can’t count how many times I’ve pushed up steep ramps only to roll down them again just as steeply, only to start all over again a few metres later.
What’s more, the slab here was often washed out, the longitudinal holes were exposed and I had to be careful not to fall in with my front wheel. The Grenzsteintrophy doesn’t just mean being physically fit, but also being alert at all times. That draws energy.
Forced stop and plan B
After 60 km and around 1,700 metres in altitude, I realised that I couldn’t go on like this. I couldn’t get up any more hills, had to keep pushing even on easy climbs and was short of breath with chest pressure like asthma. So I needed a break and decided to get a room in Bad Sooden-Allendorf. And something to eat. Then everything should work again!
As soon as I got into the room, I fell asleep immediately. Not a good sign. I was able to eat something in the evening, but it was already too late. There was a short flight of stairs leading up to my room, but these few steps alone were enough to make me pause for breath at the top.
So plan B: I wanted to switch to the Iron Curtain Trail, continue on it to the Rhön and then return to the GST track at Fladungen. The weather also improved and the sun finally came out. A real relief after all those days of rain and strong winds.
The realisation of failure – and why that’s okay
And so I rolled on southwards on the best cycle path, but my body was in tatters and even the small climbs on the route were too strenuous. After 70 kilometres, I made the decision to end the tour.
I turned off at Herleshausen and rode to Eisenach railway station. There I took a train back to Hamburg. But after all, I had travelled around 800 km on the Platte – and to be honest, I would have liked to ride it to the end.
GI shutdown: When the body no longer wants to
Now, two days after my return, I’m still ailing, but I know what the reason is: ‘GI shutdown’ or gastrointestinal failure. I fell into a classic malnutrition which then knocked me out.
With a daily requirement of more than 6,000 kcal, I only consumed 1,000-2,000 kcal via liquids. This depleted my glycogen reserves after just 2 days. After that, muscle mass was metabolised (catabolism) and my heart rate response dropped, even though the load increased. This also explains my symptoms such as a feeling of pressure, shortness of breath and a drop in performance.
In addition, I lost almost 5kg in the 6 days of the Grenzsteintrophy. That’s bad in this case and a clear sign that something has gone wrong.
Borderline experiences and what I take away from them
But I’m clearly not alone with this problem, as I’ve received lots of messages and tips from fellow sufferers on Instagram. Of course, there are many ways to change this: I need to practise eating on the go, adjust the way I ride accordingly and approach things like this differently. It would be good if I not only had energy for 500-700 kilometres, but could also ride longer tours again – and have fun doing so.
So if you have any tips, please let me know in the comments.
Fancy the Grenzsteintrophy?
And if you’re interested in the Grenzsteintrophy, then I recommend taking a look at the website. There you will find all the information you need and lots of videos and reports. Unfortunately, the track is not public, but you can make a donation in return.
So if you are looking for a pilgrimage with lots of pushing and dodgy route design, then the GST is definitely something for you. However, you can’t blame Gunnar for this, but rather world history, which brought this absurd and deadly border to our country – and fortunately made it disappear again.
In any case, the GST is an adventure – regardless of whether you drive all or part of it. And maybe – but only maybe – I’ll come back again and ride it to the end.
Grenzsteintrophy 2025 – Ride data
Here you can find the ride data and profiles of the 6 days I was on the road:
