Easy hikes and walks around Boleszkowice

with tower café

Snack bar and café with a terrace overlooking the Oder River and a garden. Selling regional products and souvenirs.

The church was built in 1885 on the site of an older church, dating back to the times of the Templars. The steadily deteriorating condition of the old church prompted its demolition and the construction of a new one. In 1845, its tower collapsed, prompting the decision to demolish it. The project was completed in 1852.

One of the few shelters on the trail. Crowded by cyclists.

A beautifully landscaped spot practically on the trail. I even found a great swing!

Anyone arriving by bike briefly thinks they've landed on a film set. A tall tower, old railway carriages on the bank, sun loungers dotted around the place – and behind it: the Oder, calm and clear as a poem. Stay overnight? Absolutely. But you should call first: for a spot at the top. A deluxe view – just without an elevator. Those who carry luggage also carry stories. And at the top, they'll be rewarded with a view that silently takes your breath away. The food? There's food – but not à la carte. Rather, it's a surprise. One for everyone, freshly cooked and of the quality you'd hope for but rarely get. If you're lucky, you'll sit by the water in the evening, a glass in hand, your bike leaning against the wall, and you'll wonder if you'll ever want to go back to a regular hotel. Across the street, the Café im Turm – an insider tip, like something out of a travel guide that only insiders are allowed to read. A spiral staircase leads up, narrow and slightly vertigo-inducing. Upstairs: a room with a panoramic view. One floor higher: tables. At the very top: a vacation apartment for the brave with heart and wanderlust.

Anyone pedaling along this dike path isn't just leaving a place—they're changing their pace. Because here, where the Oder winds through the flat land like a silent thought, cycling begins to flow. No pushing, no shouting, no "Beware of oncoming traffic"—just you, the wind, the river, and maybe a few sheep looking curiously but saying nothing. On the German side, the border post; on the Polish side, the same blue sky. The Oder-Neisse Cycle Path isn't a path for those in a hurry. Those who cycle along it shouldn't consider the chirping of larks a distraction, but an invitation. The border? Visible—yes. But it acts like a silent contract with the landscape: You're allowed through here. But only if you listen. If you see. If you feel what a gift it is—this peace between two countries that were once hostile to each other and can now remain silent together. Past Oder floodplains, vast wetlands, small villages with bell towers and vegetable gardens, the path leads through a no-man's-land full of stories. Sometimes flat like water in a calm, sometimes slightly hilly when the dam rises. Sometimes the wind pushes, sometimes it slows – but that doesn't matter. Because the path carries you. If you cycle here, you should keep an eye not only on the speedometer, but also on the grass, which moves in the light as if it were secretly dancing. And perhaps at some point you'll realize: The real border doesn't run between states, but between "I must" and "I may." And on this dyke, you're allowed to just be.

Beautiful, flat landscape. Great if you want to watch birdlife or just clear your head.