If I couldn’t “read” Hermannsburg, then Munster was even odder. I discovered yesterday that I was confusing it with the Anabaptists’ Münster. That sorted out, I was then confused by the map: here was a small centre surrounded by lots of main roads. There was no off-road riding along sandy paths (no problems with that – I am heartily sick of them), but the route was nearly all beside those main roads. What was going on?
I’ve now found out. Basically there’s an enormous garrison outside. Those main roads are fit for tanks, the heath is off-limits, and the cycle-path tarmac is a dream. The tiny town of Munster – with its minimal sights dreaming of its bucolic past – is literally surrounded.
And now Soltau. The last time we were here we stayed slightly outside the town, so I had no recollection of passing through. This time we are in the centre; I may as well be in Bletchley, so charmless is it.