🌾 Photohike Krickenbeck Lakes

Lars-Henrik Roth
Jul 28, 2025
3 min read

Updated: 7 hours ago

A Silent Search by the Water · by Lars-Henrik Roth

Right at the parking lot, the contrast begins: a modern building with a glass façade, seating areas, and stylized leaf forms marks the information center of the Krickenbeck Lakes Biological Station. You immediately see: this is a place where nature conservation is practiced with up-to-date methods.

And yet, this photohike begins with a memory – of Sophienhöhe, that other place where humans once destroyed nature and now try to restore it. Here too, in the Lower Rhine region, this was once a peat extraction area, disturbed and thrown out of balance by human hands.

But already in 1938, the area was declared protected – and to this day, efforts continue to return nature to its original state.

With these thoughts in mind, I start into the early morning.

Sunrise over Glabbacher Bruch at Krickenbeck Lakes, framed by lush greenery and tree branches, with a golden reflection on the calm water. — Framed by nature’s embrace – a quiet sunrise over the still waters of Glabbacher Bruch, captured during a peaceful morning at Krickenbeck Lakes.

Gentle Glow over Glabbacher Bruch

After just a few minutes, I reach the long dam crossing two of the lakes. In front of me lies the Glabbacher Bruch, completely still – perfectly aligned to the east.

A faint orange glow begins to color the horizon – more a simmer than a blazing sunrise. I try hard to extract something from the scene using telephoto compression. Lines, layers, calm.

Then I hear voices – bicycles leaning against a railing. I expect a group of nighttime revelers. Instead, I meet three cheerful men from the Lower Rhine, in their forties, sitting on a bench with smartphones, eagerly trying to capture the light.

We start talking. And I’m touched – by their love of home, their sincerity, and their desire to preserve the moment, without any fuss about gear. I leave them a business card. Maybe later, they’ll see what I saw.

Missed Moors, Enchanted Forests

I move on. Past Krickenbeck Castle – invisible behind the trees. I aim for a small access point to a moor, but the path is overgrown, soggy, impassable.

Instead, I’m gifted with a section of ancient oaks and beeches, widely spaced, with ferns at their feet. A fairytale stillness lies over the forest.

Old beech tree with multiple trunks standing among green ferns in a dense, sunlit forest. — Ancient beech tree surrounded by vibrant ferns in the lush forest of Krickenbeck.

Birds, Teles, and Conversations

Things get livelier again. I reach the area of the bittern project – a wetland restored through rehydration efforts, now a habitat for these elusive birds.

Here, older men with white hair and massive telephoto lenses gather – ornithologists or academic photographers? Maybe both.

With my modest telephoto and a search for non-fleeing subjects, I feel a little out of place. Still, we exchange a few words – short conversations full of passion and focus. I leave more business cards.

Maybe that’s what it’s all about: staying in conversation.

A great crested grebe swims with a striped chick riding on its back, while a second grebe splashes in the background. — Great crested grebe carrying its chick on its back, while the partner shakes off water in the background — a tender moment of parental care on the lake.

Asphalt, Pastures, Horseflies

The final part is less romantic. The sun disappears, the light grows harsh and flat, the air turns humid. On paved paths between meadows and grazing land, I try to escape the relentless bites of horseflies.

Motifs are rare. I feel tired. This tour wasn’t physically exhausting – but emotionally draining.