The Elbe River near the German village of Lenzen was a favorite crossing point for East Germans trying to flee to the west during the Cold War. They even had a name for it: the Todesstreifen — the death strip. But today, the same notorious stretch of the river is becoming a lifeline for wildlife and nature lovers.
“When this was still East Germany, they would tell the bus drivers here to be on the lookout for young men with luggage,” remembers Heiko Bölk, a manager at Biosphärenreservat Flusslandschaft Elbe-Brandenburg. “They would try to cross the Elbe here and swim to West Germany.”
The best time to cross the Elbe was in November, when fog obscured the visibility along the river. Refugees had to endure freezing temperatures, scaling barbed-wire fences and hiding from soldiers on patrol. Getting caught meant a one-way ticket to one of East Germany’s special prisons — if you were not shot.
Today, you can bike past the eerie reminders of this dark past, like the crumbling old barracks where soldiers lived, or the border guard towers that loom over the landscape. The impermanence of these structures, contrasted with the enduring river, is a reminder of history’s ebb and flow.
But the political act of sealing off the border — essentially locking the area down — meant that the land was not cultivated in any way. Politics, in a strange twist, became directly responsible for the protected area that now exists. Germany’s division preserved the Elbe’s floodplain.
A river reborn: from strip of death to lifeline
After the Iron Curtain fell, the Elbe began a remarkable recovery. The old East German factories, which once dumped chemicals into the river, stopped polluting almost overnight. With their decommissioning, the Elbe’s water quality improved dramatically. Now, you can safely go swimming in the river.
One of the best ways of seeing the transformation is by bike. That’s where you’ll get a view of the dike relocation area, a one-of-a-kind flood control initiative. The project, which stretches 1,037 acres across wetlands, is a direct response to the devastating floods that have plagued the Elbe. Two recent floods — one in 2002 and another in 2013 — were considered 100-year events.
“But we’ve been having these 100-year floods every five or six years because of climate change,” explains Bölk.
The solution? Give the river more space. By taking down part of the old dike and building a new one farther back, the project has given the river some breathing room, expanding the floodplain. It’s a design that also protects fish from being washed out of their habitat in the wetlands.
The impact of this engineering marvel stretches far beyond the immediate floodplain. Bölk says that communities as far as 20 miles away now experience less flooding during higher waters.
Nature returns to the Elbe
The Elbe’s transformation goes beyond flood control. Today, it’s also a vibrant hub of biodiversity. As you cycle through this revitalized landscape, you might encounter wild horses roaming free in the area, with minimal human intervention – just a yearly veterinarian visit.
Perhaps most impressively, there’s a concerted effort to restore the area to its 18th-century state, when it was entirely forested by hardwood trees.
What’s particularly notable is the funding model for much of this ecological work. While the new dikes are funded by the federal government, the extensive reforestation efforts are privately covered by a non-governmental organization.
Preserving history and tourism along the river
The Elbe’s modern narrative isn’t just about natural regeneration. It’s also about preserving history. The omnipresent border guard towers, once symbols of division and surveillance, now serve a surprising new function.
Some of these towers, which originally housed six guards at any given time, have been imaginatively converted into vacation rentals. It offers a unique — if somewhat stark — accommodation experience, allowing visitors to literally sleep in a more historical context.
The human stories from the Cold War era also add depth to the visitor experience. Bölk recalls one East German border guard who was an amateur ornithologist. He started to record the birds he encountered on patrol, but soon realized that his activities would be considered highly suspicious by his superiors. So he hid his records at his mother’s home and, after reunification, published an authoritative guide to birding along the Elbe.
It’s not the only way the people here show their passion for nature.
At Germany’s largest vegan hotel
Another layer to the Elbe region’s transformation is the Ahead Burghotel, which is contributing to the area’s sustainability as Germany’s largest vegan hotel.
It’s spread across two buildings on the property of an old castle within a historic village. Plant-based diets are becoming popular in Europe, and particularly in large German cities like Hamburg and Berlin, both of which are within driving distance of the Burghotel.
The hotel’s commitment to sustainability goes beyond a vegan menu.
“We emphasize sustainable materials, water saving and energy savings,” says co-owner Jonas Mog.
The Burghotel grows some of its food onsite but also relies on a network of organic farmers to supply its food. In addition, it supports digitalization, striving to be a paperless hotel by moving all of its check-in procedures to a tablet computer — still a rarity in Germany.
A sustainable future along the Elbe
The Elbe River region, once a symbol of the Cold War’s harsh divisions, is an example of environmental resilience, innovative climate adaptation, and the burgeoning market for sustainable tourism.
This former death strip has been reborn, and it shows how history, nature, and human ingenuity can converge to create a sustainable future. From large-scale dike relocations and repurposed border towers, to quiet reforestation efforts and the pioneering vegan hotel every element in this landscape tells a story of transformation.
But many challenges remain. For now, this region of Germany remains a hidden gem known mostly to Germans. Yet this part of the country is already gaining a reputation for its sustainability efforts. The Elbe is a living laboratory, where old scars have become the fertile ground for a new, vibrant ecosystem.