Hello everyone, it’s been a while. 👋 Once again, another unplanned delay in continuing this series, but life is full of unplanned delays, so that’s okay. Over the past few months, it’s been really difficult to even imagine coming back here and continuing to write anything related to my hiking trip, let alone remembering it. The world has been quite dark lately, and it’s been challenging to find a way to accept this darkness and still move forward with my life. However, amidst my various attempts at coping, a sudden desire to return to this blog and resume writing emerged, and I chose to embrace it immediately. As a means to heal, my Soul yearned to recall my little adventures on foot, walking through the most beautiful places, forever captured in my heart, and luckily, also on camera. And the Soul knows best, doesn’t it? So, here I am. Attempting a restart. And I am genuinely excited about sharing more and more with you. ✨

So set yourself up in a comfy setting, make a tea or a coffee, and join me on the 4th day of my hiking adventure. 🌿 🥾

I suggest listening to David Helpling’s album “A Sea Without Memory” (Spotify / YouTube) , while reading. 🌊 Also, make sure to watch the videos in 720p or 1080p.

Part 1 – Shadow Plays and Dry Porridge

09:00 AM. I open my eyes, immediately captivated by a sweet shadow play on the curtains. Plants cast their shadows, as they dance with the wind, and I listen to the sound of little songbirds, greeting the morning sunshine. Oh, what a beautiful day.

Despite waking up at 9 AM, which is much later than planned, I feel excited about the day. At the same time, I realize I haven’t slept enough; my body craves more rest. Nevertheless, knowing I’ve got a long day ahead of me, I know I must get up. I’m sure that once I’m on my way, I’ll feel better and more energized. So, come on, let’s do this, I tell myself.

I make myself a coffee, enjoying the first few sips, as I gaze outside, my heart welcoming the sunshine I am about to bathe in. It’s so incredibly calm – nothing but the melodic sound of birds and the occasional passing car. In that moment, Berlin and its noise feel so far away.

I notice that the sun is shining at quite a high angle already, due to it being almost noon already, which means it will likely be very hot during my hike. I reassure myself that it’s going to work out somehow. Let’s try to wake up early tomorrow then, shall we?

10:00 AM. I start doing my morning stretches, breathing in the calmness before today’s adventure. But while I begin to pack, a wave of stress overcomes me, as I realize that the clothes I had hand-washed last night haven’t dried yet. Dammit! Frustrated, I hang them by the window in a haste, hoping the sunshine will speed up the process. After all, I need to wear several of those pieces today. But knowing I have to head out in half an hour, I realize it won’t make too much difference and that I’ll probably have to put them on in a slightly wet state. Oh well… In the meantime, I continue packing and reluctantly finish eating yet another serving of way too dry porridge. Ugh.

I attempt to calm myself down by recalling that Anne, my host, assured me I could check out whenever I choose to, because she and her husband won’t be around at this time, and there’s no one scheduled to arrive after me. So, chill, okay? Besides, I still have half an hour left anyway, with the usual checkout time set for 11 AM.

10:45 AM. I come to terms with the fact that the clothes aren’t going to dry off in time, so I decide to wear them as they are. After all, it’s a very sunny day, and I’ll be exposed to the sun for extended periods during my hike. They’ll dry off eventually. I use the remaining time to clean up and pack things up neatly. I briefly contemplate whether I should apply the sunscreen, but realizing it’s almost 11 AM, I choose to head out instead.

11:02 AM. Standing outside the door and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, I immediately realize that it would be idiotic to start the trip without sunscreen and ending up with a sunburn in the first half hour. Hmm. So I put down my heavy backpack, and begin applying sunscreen. Outside the door of the house, where I could’ve easily spent ten more minutes doing just that… what was I thinking? Why didn’t I just take advantage of the situation that allowed me to flexibly check out and apply sunscreen like a normal person? I mean… there’s no one here, after all. Slightly amused by this anxiety-induced unnecessary action, I take my first steps into this new day. After all, there really is no one around watching me anyway!

Part 2 – The Calmness and the Confusion

The first part of my hike takes me from Surendorf, the village where I spent the night, towards the North, along a straight road surrounded by some fields, ending up at the Baltic Sea. All the exhaustion and sense of doubt I felt about not making it today vanishes, as I immerse myself in the tranquility around me and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. There is not a single person around, just a few houses, with no sign of anyone around them.

Moving forward, I enjoy the wide grassy field-like areas that start to surround me more and more. Up a small hill, I spot a row of houses surrounded by trees, and I pause for a moment to take my first photo of the hike.

A few steps later, the road takes a curve to the left, and I come across some cows calmly grazing on a small field, unaffected by my presence. On my right side, there’s a fenced-off area that gives off an industrial-military vibe somehow. A vibe I don’t perceive as very welcoming, so I try to move away as fast as I can. Still, not a single person is in sight, and all I hear are the trees rustling loudly in the wind, which is blowing quite strongly today.

I continue walking until I reach a confusing, bushy area by the sea. It seems like there are different paths I can take through the bushes, but they all lead to dead ends or the sand. Komoot, my navigation app, keeps telling me to go left, but where?! I see no exit and no clear path. I panic slightly at the thought that there might be no path available and that I might have to walk on the sand, but fortunately, I decide to walk back and take a second look at the original path. Indeed, I spot a very small wooden stairway, barely visible between the bushes, leading to a path through an arch of trees, which cast a deep shadow on it. Oh okay, phew!

What is not so reassuring is the realization that I have to walk around half a kilometer, exposed to the sun on my left side, while the bushes, which could provide excellent cover, are on my right. Great. That must be an amazing path in the midst of a sunny winter day, but today it is not. However, I have no other choice, so I hold one of my water bottles in my hand to easily take a small sip every 100 meters and walk ahead.

I know that I can do this, if I stay focused and resist the temptation to stop every few meters to take a photo. So, I maintain my focus, glancing ahead at the upcoming trees where I can find some shelter from the sun for a few minutes.

Soon enough, I reach a tiny, dense forest, providing me with much-needed relief from the heat. Every few steps I take, I pass by spots where one could theoretically go swimming, but they are filled with stones and are quite swampy. And they sure smell swampy. One of them, a particularly tiny spot, is even marked as a dog beach. LOL.

As the sun’s heat has already drained quite a bit of my energy, I linger by the dog beach for a few minutes, savoring the cool, humid air, while just resting. I keep the break short, since I’ve only covered 2 km so far, and it’s already 12:30 PM. It’s not too bad, but this day is going much slower than I anticipated, so I know I can’t afford to take too long of a break. Also, I can foresee that the upcoming path will be a difficult one, as most of it seems to be going along the beach with barely any shade to shield me from the sun.

Fortunately, a few steps later, as I approach Jellenbeck, a small village, I spot a little bench, facing the sea, partially shaded, and decide to sit down for a proper break. I get out a sandwich and some blueberries from my backpack, and start stocking up on some energy. An elderly couple passes by with their dog and greets me shyly. They are probably like the third and fourth person I’ve encountered today.

Having stocked up on some energy, I get up, swing my heavy backpack onto my shoulders, and keep going. Just as I’m about to approach Jellenbeck, an older man with a bike stops me and asks me if there is a beach coming up. I, totally caught off guard by the question (and genereally always getting nervous when someone asks me for directions, even if I live in the area), totally blank out. “Umm, I’m not sure, but I just passed by a dog beach… but it’s not really a beach… but if you walk further towards, umm… ummm…”, and I totally blank out on the name of the village I just spent the night in. “Umm, what is it called, I was just there… oh yes! Surendorf. You might find a spot there, but it might just be a dog beach…”, I try to help out desperately, but I can see the man already half-stepping away, thanking me and preparing himself to continue on his way, realizing I’m not the help he expected. How embarrassing.

Oh well, I continue. I walk along a big green, beautiful field, with the beach to my right. Sun still burning my skin on my left side. Ugh, this is going to be a tough one. But at least it’s not raining, and I can appreciate a really glorious view. I enjoy the feeling of the high grass and the little flowers brushing against my legs, as I walk through a narrow path, surrounded by dense bushes.

Soon, I reach a camping site, Campingplatz Grönwohld. Luckily, it’s publicly accessible, and I can just walk on its asphalted road. It’s very quiet, with little activity happening around. I pass dozens of camping vans, many with dogs lazily sun-bathing outside. One dog lazily looks up at me, observes me for a couple of seconds, as I slightly smile, begging it not to bark at me… and it lays its head back down again. Phew.

I encounter maybe three or four people standing outside their vans, who greet me warmly. At least I don’t feel out of place walking through here with my hiking gear. I fit right in. I’m dying to make some photos, but I let it be, so I don’t bother anyone.

I’m amazed at how serene it feels here. I’m usually not fond of camping sites (in Germany you’re not allowed to camp just anywhere; you have to go to specific sites, designated for camping, and they’re often just full of vans closely packed together), as it would contradict the whole idea of seeking peace and solitude. But here, it seems relatively quiet and peaceful. But then again, I’m walking along the edge, close to the water and am not in the center of it…

A few steps later, almost at the exit, I come across a group of guys heading out to the sea with their surfing equipment. I walk a few meters parallel to them until we all reach the sand, and I realize I need to take off my shoes. Nooo. I’m way too tired and again in desperate need of a break. So a few steps later in the sand, I spot a tiny dune with some grassy bushes on it, and I decide to stop there, eat an energy bar, and just rest for a few minutes.

And just as I’m about to take off my sling bag, a small disaster strikes. The bag falls into the sand, and I realize while picking it up that I hadn’t zipped it shut. I see my brandnew camera, my beloved Fuji XT-5, and my wallet in the sand. Fuck. I take the camera off the ground and find it filled with sand, in every slit, in every hole, in every millimeter where sand could possibly fit in. In that moment, I feel like crying.

After letting out a long, frustrated sigh, I pull myself together and accept the situation. I can see that I am not focused today. But it’s the way it is; sometimes it’s just not the right day. I search for that iPhone sim card slot opener that I always carry in my wallet and use it to pick out every grain of sand that I can take out from the camera. Some blowing here, some blowing there, some picking here, some there. After around 20 minutes, I feel like the camera could be somewhat salvaged. Relief washes over me. I gotta be way more careful.

And next, as I’m packing the camera away and searching for that much-craved energy bar, my phone falls into the sand. 😊

Part 3 – Scorching Heat

After calming down and recentering around today’s purpose, I take a look at the upcoming path on Komoot (my navigation app) and mentally prepare. There is a nature reserve area coming up, with a path I can supposedly take. However, I can already foresee that it won’t work out due to my spiderweb phobia… (if you’re visiting me for the first time, some context: Ever since I was a child, I’ve had a deadly fear of spider webs. Not as much of the spider (but who likes spiders anyways?), as of the web. I have not yet found an explanation for it. Here is a very entertaining story of how intense this fear can get and what shape it can take, from my last hike. Scroll all the way to “Stage 5 – Sincerely fucking real terror” 😊)…and knowing these areas are usually very densely grown and spiderwebs will be blocking the paths.

An elderly couple passes through the dune I am sitting in front of, while I pack. A few minutes later, I find myself catching up with them, as I walk through the beautiful dune. The dune is filled with all sorts of grass, some of it blossoming. The dryness, the sand, the sound of cicadas give me a bit of a savannah vibe, which might sound like a strange feeling to have by the sea, but a feeling I very much enjoy due to its familiarity with Egypt, my home country.

I still decide to try out that path that Komoot is showing me and start heading towards it. I walk through more dunes, and I actually spot a couple of men in the nude, sunbathing between the bushes. How? The weather is so hot! But the sight gives me the feeling like I could be looking a painting… beautiful green and bushy dunes, surrounded by the sea on one side, and the forest on the other, and nude, human bodies spread all over them… surely an amusing sight.

As I get closer to the nature reserve, my fears manifest, and I can see that there’s barely a path to walk on. It’s overgrown with wild bushes, and the forest is quite dark due to the dense growth. Instead of wasting time, considering I still have about 15 km to walk, I decide to just take the sunny path along the sand instead. This will be tough, but I have no other choice.

I reapply some sunscreen and set my mind to walking through without a break until I reach the cliffy area in about 2 km, which will be shielding me from the sun. So I gotta stand walking for about 30 minutes in direct sunlight, without a break. Well, this shall be an interesting experience, off we go!

Luckily, the shore makes it easy to walk on. It’s not too soft, and little pebbles make it easy to find a grip. I walk and walk, water bottle in my hand, taking a little sip after every 300 meters (that trick really works super well!). After a couple of minutes, I find another beautiful bushy area, with lots of reed along the sand.

I see more people nudely sunbathing, some of them standing between the reed and talking, and others lying on the sand, probably coming from another camping site right by the beach. It’s such a peaceful, serene scene, and my whole being longs to just lying on the sand and embracing this quiet as well. But I can’t afford to spend such a long time in the sun at this point in my trip, and so I keep walking. Feeling a bit awkward about the contrast between my abundance of clothing and gear, and the utter lack of it on everyone else, but funnily enough, barely anyone is even looking at me. And even if – so what?, I gotta keep reminding myself.

Part 4 – A Sea That Is My Own

A few minutes later, I finally reach a more cliffy, shady area. With quite some pride about my perseverance and good planning on how to get through the sunny area, I allow myself a short break, while enjoying the sight of the beautiful scenery, hugged by a slight haze, waiting for me to dive into it. And what was filled with dozens of people, is now utterly empty. No soul walking through but mine.

After walking in silence for the first few minutes, I choose to now embrace the beautiful energy of my most beloved hiking music companion – the album Treasure by David Helpling – which feels like wordless poetry in my ears, accompanying my spirit as I walk through those heavenly scenes. What was a pure coincidental find 4 years ago has not left my side since then.

And so, I walk, enjoying a slight breeze every once in a while, cooling off my skin, and smelling the scents of the salty seawater and the algae that dance with the waves.

The ground is filled with stones and pebbles, giving my feet a tight grip as I walk, which allows me to move in a sort of trance-like state, one step harmonically following the other, while I listen to the melodies surrounding me. My muscles hurt, but it’s a gentle pain, a pain that feels like a symbol of strength, like an honor to be having and surpassing.

A few minutes later, I encounter a man standing silently at the tip of the sandy ground, looking out into the sea. The sight warms my heart, and I choose to do the same, as soon as he leaves his spot. I put my backpack down for a couple of minutes, look out into the sea, and thank the Universe for sending me that man to inspire me to take a moment of quiet, to express my deep love for it and everything it holds, and to pray for more signs on how to grow and how to achieve union with my Soul. Like I feel I’m doing right now.

And then I continue.

Around 500 meters later, I find a little safe, sandy spot, so inviting to sit in for a few minutes, and so I give in to the craving and let my backpack fall into the sand and myself on top of it. Shoes and socks off, arms spread to the side. Oh, the relief!

As the spot is entirely in the shade, the sand is rather cold and serves as a perfect base to cool me down. Also, a light, chilly breeze relaxes me, and makes me realize what a difference it makes, when there is even the slightest bit of wind. I remember how yesterday I was also surrounded by a cliff, but how stuffy the air was and how it made me feel so suffocated and faint. But now, I get to just relax… with nothing in sight but the sea, and some grass dancing with the wind. A little piece of paradise, just for me.

Part 5 – Of Lost Places and Golden Hour

It takes an immense amount of willpower to get up again and not spend the rest of the day in my little spot. But I have to go. I’m sooooo slow today, my energies feel hard to keep awake. But I still got around 14 km to walk, and part of me is in complete denial about it. I can also see on the map that the upcoming 5 km I will be entirely exposed to the sun again, which worries me a bit. Lucky me with the sun, no?

Of course, there is always a chance to stop at the nearest village, take the bus and end the hike for the day. But where is the fun in that? Even with such difficult conditions like today, I find it hard to make this decision, feeling like I’d be giving up. We can do this, I tell myself and all entities within me that are doubting today’s journey. So after some proper studying of the map, I decide to walk through very focused, to not interrupt the flow of walking by stopping to make any photos at all. I shall only stop to reapply my sunscreen every 2 kilometers, that’s all. And if I find a bush with some shade, I may take a small break. But judging by the looks of it, there will be no chance, so staying focused is key, if I want to make it.

Indeed, I was right. There is not a single shady spot for the next 3 kilometers! Just sand and very few trees, which are too far away from my walking path, so their shade doesn’t reach me. But my plan seems to be working, as I manage to find a flow of walking that makes it bearable. What amuses me and confuses me at the same time is that I again find dozens of people lying in this scorching sun, tanning, while I just wander through feeling like I’m burning, trying to avoid the sun at any costs. I feel a bit awkward, always feeling like someone is judging me for the way I look with all my stuff, probably knowing how to do it better. But I try to focus on the music and reminding myself that I am doing great. I have made it this far after all.

After 3 km of walking and convincing myself I am not going to die today, I find a small abandoned, decaying building that is surrounded by lots of trees and bushes, a little off-path. With enormous relief, I find a shady spot in the grass, and I just let myself fall, without even taking off my backpack. Phewwwww!

I cannot even find the words to describe the relief that overtakes me. I basically just spend the first five minutes doing nothing but lying down and resting with no motion at all. Just listening to the cicadas (again: savannah vibes!) and the grass moving with the wind.

I feel my body cooling down and resting with every passing minute, and after a while, I find the strength to start taking pictures again and to get out something to eat.

I choose to eat some blueberries, which give me the feeling of staying hydrated, so I can lay off the water for a bit. And then I just do the usual – reapplying sunscreen, checking the map, enjoying the surrounding. I get up and look around for a little bit, taking a closer look at this building. It seems like there’s been some activity here, judging by the empty beer bottles lying around, a mattress, and shards of glass everywhere. Needless to say, it is also filled with spiderwebs, so I don’t get too close.

Time to keep going. It’s almost 5 PM, and I still got 2 km to walk in the sun, until I find the next forest to seek shade in. But I’m excited about the upcoming part, because the scenery changes a bit, going along a lagoon and some fields, and I will have some asphalted ground to walk on.

And so, I get ready and head out. I walk towards the lagoon, enjoying the sight of the calm, glistening water. The first 800 meters of the sun-filled path are luckily asphalted and go along the lagoon. The area is a little busier than what I’d been walking through before. A couple of cars pass by, and lots of cyclists pass me. It’s tough to walk with the sun shining directly at me again, and I can feel that I’m still feeling low on energy, but I try to enjoy every moment as best as I can.

At least the area is mesmerizingly beautiful. After I pass the lagoon, I am greeted by high bushes of grass and reed of all forms and colors. As it’s basically golden hour already, the sun shines through the grass in a beautiful golden hue, giving it such a warm tone, while the cicadas fill the air with their melodies, beautifully accompanying the music of Empty Jar by Phaeleh, another hiking favorite of mine.

Suddenly, I see a couple of people stopping with their bikes in front of me, while looking at me. With some confusion, I take off my headphones and realize the woman is the host of my last Airbnb, Anne! She introduces me to her husband and tells me how they were heading for their Feierabend-swim (“Feierabend” is a German term referring to the end of the workday and the start of leisure time, or literally “celebration”). She points out with some curiosity that I didn’t get very far yet, which upsets me a bit, but I just tell her that it’s very hot and it’s been difficult to walk in this sun. Still, I enjoy this unexpected sweet encounter that somehow energizes me a bit, making me notice how unenergized I was the moment before.

That is one thing that is a challenge about hiking. On the one hand, it’s an incredibly precious setting to have the quiet and this immense space just for yourself, and to walk and do everything in your own pace. On the other hand, if you’re having a bad day, it can turn into a bit of a very draining setting, with your thoughts sucking out all the energy that you are fighting so hard to maintain. In such moments, I do miss the human interaction that can serve as a little refresher in between. But I also consider it a meditative, self-induced endurance test, a chance to see how you really feel and think about yourself and the things you have in your life. And it’s always amazing to see how your thoughts take on a different form after a few days of getting used to the the calmness and the absence of endless impulses usually surrounding you.

After a few more steps, I finally reach the cliffy foresty area. Amazingly, I see lots of people with horses by the water! I’ve never seen this sight before and remember my childhood days, where riding a horse in the forest or by the water would have literally made me the happiest person to have ever lived.

It takes me a while to find the path leading up the cliff, and after some short moments of panic, I am relieved to find myself walking underneath the trees, protecting me with their shadows. Ah, what relief!

It takes a bit of effort to walk through for two reasons; it’s quite hilly, and there’s the usual spiderweb slowing down issue. I notice with every step I take that I am more and more tired and my motivation is at 10%, and I can’t find the strength to talk myself into pushing through the last 10 km, acknowledging that it’s already 6:30 PM. So I sit down to take a last break and decide to make the difficult decision of taking the bus instead. I try to comfort myself by remembering that the 10km I walked in the sun today should be counted as double the amount, considering the amount of energy it cost me. Also, it’s just not my day today, and that’s okay.

So I choose to try and enjoy the break, looking out at the sea, and preparing to walk the last 2 km through the forest, to the bus station. It’s getting dark, and I crave a warm shower and the chance to rest my tired legs.

Starting my route back, I try to find a path that is void of spiderwebs, and am amazed that I find one relatively easy. But after taking a few steps in, I feel like something is off about this part of the forest. I wonder why it’s that empty of any spiderwebs. And why it generally feels so empty and lifeless somehow. I try not to give it too much thought, but then I randomly spot some green spots on the bark of the trees surrounding me, and it dawns on me that this part of the forest must be sick somehow. Wow. Humbled by the moment, I walk through in silence, looking at the sick trees, amazed how very subtle signs and observations awakened my intuition to something being off here, before I could really see anything.

Finally, in utter exhaustion, I reach the exit of the forest, which shall lead to the bus station. Immediately, I feel overwhelmed by the sounds of the cars driving by, feeling so violent, next to the peacefulness of the forest. I spot the lonely yellow pole that is supposed to be the bus station, seeing it devoured by enormous spiderwebs and spiders, trying to read the bus schedule from a slight distance. Oh no. The bus will come in 20 minutes, I read with some disappointment. Totally not a fan of the idea of standing there waiting, being an entertaining sight for car drivers, I decide to walk back into the forest and sit by the side of the path. With quite some anxiety that I might miss the bus, in case it comes too early, I keep my eyes glued to the exit, keen on spotting it and running like my life depends on it, if it comes.

But luckily, there is no need to do that. I walk to the station early enough, the bus comes on time, and a bad-mooded bus driver studies my unfamiliar transportation ticket, before motioning with his hand for me to go in. I sit down, so relieved about my decision. After all, I walked 16,3 km and that’s really not bad.

Reaching Eckernförde, the city I’m staying in, is a very interesting experience. It seems like a quite elegant city, and I feel a little odd with my messy appearance after the hike, as I walk towards the house I’ll be staying in. It seems like a quite fancy neighborhood, with big villas and high fences. I’m amused by the difference in surrounding I suddenly find myself in.

I finally reach the house I’m staying in and am very warmly greeted by Elke, my host, whom I will be sharing her apartment with for the night. It’s a very artistic apartment, put together with a lot of love and eye for detail, and I feel comfortable in it right away. A tidy, sweet little room awaits me, with two big windows, a fridge, a kettle and some cute Christmas lights and candles. I am so tired that I forget to make any photos and instead immediately head to the shower. Hugged by the hot water, muscles relaxing, and the sunscreen and sand all wiped away from my tanned skin, I feel so relieved to have made it, letting the day pass revue with a deep sense of gratitude… and deep excitement about the adventure that awaits me the next day.

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Today’s completed route:

Trip stats:
approx. 16,3 km – 4 hrs 05 minutes (in motion) – 4,0 km/h (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1294552276

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