“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 2)

November 17, 2025November 18, 2025soleil 7 Comments

^ 🎧 Now also available as audio! For the audio version, play the track above.

🙋🏻‍♀️ Hi everyone and welcome to a new post about my Sweden hike in September 2025!

Today’s post is about day two of my hike — a day with its fair share of challenges and a couple of mental thunderstorms. ⛈️ It’s not the brightest chapter of the hike, but it was part of the journey, and it deserves to be shared honestly.

So sit back, enjoy, relax and feel free to laugh at my chaos. 😁

Would you prefer to read this post in Egyptian Arabic? Then click here.

(Estimated read time: 35 minutes)

September 20, 2025 – Day 2
(Hike from Järna to Gnesta)

🍃 Part I – Greeted By Morning Dew, Warmed Up By A Golden Fog

05:30 AM. A gentle “By The Seaside” ringtone tries to nudge me awake – to no avail. Unless there’s an actual sea right outside my window, it won’t do the trick. Snooze.

05:39 AM. Second try. With one eye open, I look around me. It’s still dark, and it’s cold. I can’t imagine getting out from under these incredibly cozy blankets. Snooze.

This battle goes on for roughly another twenty minutes, until at 06:00 AM, luckily, I once again summon the question that hits the right nerve at the right time: Do you really want to hike 25 kilometers today without a proper breakfast and morning stretch? And do you want to miss your train? Clock’s ticking… Okay, okay! I’m up.

I push myself upright and sleepily walk to the window, curious to catch a glimpse of what I assume must be a beautiful dawn scene. But as soon as I open the blinds, I see nothing but an incredibly dew-filled window pane showing a blurry, dark terrace beyond it. I can also vaguely spot a couple of really big spiders floating in the corners. Mmm… let’s just keep the blinds closed for now, shall we?

A hot cup of coffee and warm porridge set the tone right for my usual morning stretches. I don’t have much time, so I multitask my way through getting dressed, stretching some more, tidying up, and packing everything as neatly and efficiently as my 6:00 AM brain can manage – preparing for the train ride and the long hike ahead.

Once finished, I calmly go over today’s plan in my mind: in a few minutes, I’ll walk to Trelleborg Central Station to take the first train to Malmö, then the second train to Södertälje, and finally a third one to Järna. From Järna, I’ll start a 25 kilometer hike all the way to a forest cabin in Gnesta. Intense, I know. But I sure am thrilled about the adventure awaiting me!

I open the blinds again – now revealing a lighter, though still incredibly blurry scene. I then swing my backpack onto my shoulders, slip into my shoes and say goodbye to my little sanctuary for this short night.

06:35 AM. I hear my hosts’ dog faintly bark as I leave the apartment. So friendly…

But as soon as I step onto the street, the place already feels miles away. It’s incredibly quiet, filled with that magical morning freshness, just as the light-blue sky begins to playfully turn pinkish. I take a deep breath, inhaling the cool, humid air, feeling relieved and happy to be here.

The streets give off a bit of an American Beauty vibe – you know, the movie. Cute houses, each with its own well-kept garden. Long street. Quiet, peaceful. Trees lining up along the pavement.

07:13 AM. A few unplanned detours and small panic moments later, I finally reach the station. Google Maps had guided me through streets that are actually closed off for construction, forcing me to jog my way through longer routes just to make it on time. But once there, I realize I still have seven full minutes to spare. Win!

I get enough time to make a photo showing a beautiful sunrise scene playfully reflecting off the trains.

*Quick pre-boarding platform snapshot*
*(my train’s on the right)*

07:20 AM. The train leaves right on time, with me sitting in a comfy corner seat. Relief washes over me as I realize I’ve made it. I enjoy the emptiness and calm around me – it’s just me and a couple of other passengers.

I lean back and watch scenes of vast, golden fields slide by, embraced by morning fog and glorious sunshine, offering me a quiet kind of comfort.

I keep going over today’s plan in my head, while double-checking the train tickets on my phone. The conductor appears within the first few minutes, requesting to see the first one of them. I’m comforted by his smile and polite tack (“thank you” in Swedish) – a small confirmation that I’ve got the correct ticket. Now I can relax a little.

🍃 Part II – In Transit, In Thought

07:52 AM. Thirty-two minutes later, we reach Malmö, and I find myself in a station that immediately confirms I’ve entered a big city. I follow a few passengers up the escalator, before stepping into a current of hundreds of people through the upstairs halls.

Knowing I won’t have much time to stop at a supermarket for water later on in Järna, I head into the first service store I spot and impulsively buy three bottles of water and a banana. You can’t have too much water!

Five minutes later, I’m inside the train to Södertälje, happily finding my reserved seat right away. I get cozy, greet the Swedish ad that will stare me into the face for the next five hours, and watch the platform drift away, as we begin our journey on time at 08:07 AM.

The mood on the train is quiet and at ease – everyone’s either sleeping or reading. As I’m now fully awake, I take a moment to become mindful of my surroundings: a young man in the four-seater next to me is immersed in a book, shoes off, legs stretched comfortably across from him. In front of me, a sweet-looking couple leans their heads together; a few minutes later, the woman spots the empty seats and moves to lie down there, continuing her nap. Sweet.

The sun pours gently through the window, soft and golden, adding to the warmth of it all. I stretch my own legs across the seat beside me (no seat neighbor, yay!) and put on my beloved audiobook The Disappearance of the Universe by Gary Renard, filling the air with its mind-opening spiritual-philosophical musings. With amusement about the time and place I find myself in right now, I immerse myself in thoughts about the universe, hugged by this quiet morning between strangers. I sink into a kind of meditative stillness, recharging my energies – at least until a hundred new passengers board the train a few stations later.

11:15 AM. The steady motion of the train begins to make me feel a little dizzy, so I decide to get up and walk to the bistro in search of grounding – and coffee. A few wagons, some hallway balancing acts, and a queue of ten customers squeezed into a one-meter-wide corridor later, I return with a hummus wrap and a steaming cup of coffee, both of which I enjoy gratefully back at my seat. Outside, the sun has disappeared and the sky has turned hazy, which is a bit of a bummer for my hike… but I stay optimistic. The forecast promised clearer skies later. Little do I know that will be the least of my worries in just a few hours.

12:12 PM. An announcement mumbles something in Swedish, and it’s by pure luck that I catch the word Södertälje. How is it possible that I almost missed my stop? Oh, dear…

Hastily, I pack everything up in the remaining three minutes — headphones, hummus wrap, the three impulsively bought water bottles, banana — and put on my jackets in the planned order. I can do this!

At 12:15 PM, I’m standing on the platform in Södertälje, relieved. I take a deep breath, before walking off to find the next train.

🍃 Part III – The Big Slow Beginning

The station is small, with just a few people scattered around – and a somewhat sleepy vibe to it. Finding the next platform turns out to be trickier than expected. The signs don’t help, and the app doesn’t show which platform my train to Järna departs from. None of the screens display the train number I’m seeing on the app either. Hmm. Am I at the wrong station?

I look around, my eyes scanning my surroundings for someone I can ask, but there’s no one particularly approachable – and no information desk, just another service store. Two men glance at me with a smirk, which I take as my cue to just go anywhere else but stay here.

Finally, with great relief, I spot a small hidden sign at the far end of the station that says Pendeltåg (commuter train) – exactly what I’ve been looking for! I follow it down a long hallway, then an even longer escalator that carries me to a hidden open-air platform. This must be it. And the train won’t arrive for another twenty-eight minutes. Cool.

For a moment I consider walking instead – it is just one stop after all. But a quick look at Komoot confirms it’s a definite NOPE. It’s a four kilometer walk. An hour on foot. Not worth it. At least not prior to the 25 kilometers awaiting me… And so I stay and practice patience.

Once seated, I let the pre-hike calmness settle over me, taking in the small sounds that greet me – the rustling of leaves in the wind, the occasional announcement echoing through the platform, the voice of the only other passenger murmuring on the phone. I mentally revise today’s route, sending a quiet wish that it won’t be as difficult a route as I fear it will be.

But a demanding one it shall be — 25 kilometers with around 400 meters of elevation — and what I hadn’t realized before booking all my accommodations and trains: the sun now sets at 7:00 PM. Back in Germany, hiking in early September, I’d had a full extra hour of light. That difference might seem small, but today, it could make things… well, adventurous. Let’s just call it that.

*My view while I mentally revise today’s route*

01:01 PM. The announcement voice repeats for the fourth time that the train is about to arrive — it’s been saying so every minute for the past four minutes. At 01:02, it finally does.

I step in and notice with happiness that the wagon is empty, with plenty of space. Even though it’s just a seven-minute ride, I will take any rest I can get before the hike. I’ve managed to attach my backpack in juuust the most comfortable way I could figure out, but it’s still heavy. I find a seat near the door and let the bag rest on the seat beside me.

01:09 PM. Järna. Finally! How long did it take me to get here again? A day and a half, if I count yesterday’s journey. And now I’m here. I take a deep breath in, as I take the first steps onto the platform, looking for the stairs. My navigation app points to an exit on the right, up a steep set of stairs. Ugh! Stairs already? I spot a ramp on the opposite side and decide to walk toward it, hoping it’ll lead me around somehow — but no.

I find myself under a heavy grey sky, next to a street, a bus stop, a few small houses, and immediately realize that I’ll have to walk back. The ramp leads nowhere useful; the only way to the other side — the one the stairs would’ve taken me to — is up a busy, elevated road, and then across, costing me a good 500 meters of effort. No way around going back and taking the stairs. Still, I can’t help but wonder what people in wheelchairs do here. That’s a cruel detour to have to take.

I spot a pair of teenage girls watch me curiously, while I think. It must be my hiking poles… or my braids… or my backpack… or just EVERYTHING mixed with my clueless face, I think to myself with an inner laugh. What’s up with this cluelessness anyway? I ask myself. I do have a plan after all, but a small part of me feels reluctant to begin — that familiar pre-hike unease.

I realize I need some grounding before I start. I walk toward a nearby bench, drop my backpack, unclip the poles, take a sip of water, and peel off my fleece jacket — the humidity is rising, and I’ll be sweating soon enough. I put my phone on silent, so as not to be disturbed.

A few deep breaths in and out, and it’s definitely time to move. It’s already 1:15 PM. I pull myself together, swing my backpack onto my shoulders again, and head toward the stairs I’d been trying to avoid.

🍃 Part IV – Finding Rhythm Amongst Mental Battles

As soon as I take my first steps, the outskirts-industrial vibe clings to me: wide streets, spacious grey pavements, and monotonous bland commercial buildings with bad typography. I decide this is the perfect chance to practice using my hiking poles — my very first attempt. Clumsily, I try to balance being overly self-conscious and out-of-place with finding a rhythm that works… but I fail spectacularly.

I try to find inspiration and support in the sight of a little senior woman walking towards me, with poles in her hand. She moves effortlessly, yet she holds the tips at ear level, which makes… no sense to me at all. I notice I’ve got no “theoretical” clue on how to approach this, should’ve watched a YouTube video, and decide to just stash the poles away for now and try again later. I can’t afford to let anything slow me down now, and it’s hard enough with the constant stream of cars rushing by.

Around a kilometer and a half later, Komoot guides me to a hidden left entry – and just like that, I finally step onto the Sörmlandsleden. I can now say my hike has officially started!

The Sörmlandsleden spans rougly 1,000 kilometers of hiking trails across Södermanland, south of Stockholm, weaving through nature reserves, cultural sites, and historical monuments. The section I’m on leads mainly through untouched greenery.

Soon enough, I find myself gliding over long, lush-green grass, surrounded by thousands of trees. The air smells fresh and humid. And funnily enough… like mushrooms. Intensely so. Curiously, I take a deep breath in, smiling at the novelty of this experience. And as the elevation rises, I find my hands intuitively reach for the poles. Indeed, in this entirely different setting, I can figure out how to use them. While naturally leaning forward on the incline, they offer support just when I need it, and to my big relief, I notice it’s actually helping a lot!

A few steps later, I encounter a group of four young men lounging on the grass at the edge of the path, one of them half-leaning into it. Awkward… I prepare a friendly hi, but they don’t give me any attention and remain immersed in their conversation. Oh well, probably for the best.

I walk further, noticing the trail is changing: stoney ground, much of which is covered in thick moss, surrounded by hundreds of trees. And the mushroom smell gets even more intense. The air feels more humid now, reminding me to thank my past self for following my intuition and taking off my jacket. I take a moment to pause and let my eyes wander over the fresh green.

*One of many gigantic mushrooms I’ve spotted*

Moments later, as I shortly stop over a bridge, I hear human voices. I look back and spot the same group of young men catch up to me. Am I that slow?! I try to quicken my pace, but they are still much faster. As I’ll just be in their way, I just let them pass me, flashing them with as confident a smile as I can muster. They thank me briefly and move on. Damn, they really are fast! And they’re not even using hiking poles… impressive, but also slightly intimidating.

My worry grows, as I check Komoot after what feels like an hour of walking. Expecting five kilometers, I see I’m only at 3.25. With still over twenty kilometers remaining! The reality, that this will be much more difficult than I expected, hits. Elevated ground slows progress much more than I’m used to.

However, I remind myself to stay focused and disciplined: take fewer photos, shorter breaks, regulate your pace and most importantly – don’t doubt too much.

*The route awaiting me after the bridge*

However, the “don’t doubt too much” part proves to be the most challenging. My mind takes this as an invitation to launch a relentless assault of doubt, spamming me with thoughts like:
“This will never work. What were you thinking?”
“This is so exhausting. You’re not well-rested and your backpack is so heavy. Poor planning!”
“Wasn’this supposed to be this fun, amazing experience you’ve been planning for months? Doesn’t look fun to me…”
And the worst one of all: “What if you don’t make it? What if you have to spend the night in the forest?”

Whenever I notice that pattern of useless thoughts, I take a moment to stop and take in my surroundings, letting the silence comfort me. Sometimes it works well, sometimes not so much.

2:40 PM. At 4.5 kilometers, I take a 15-minute break to give myself some damage-control self-talk. I’m familiar with such moods, but aware that the difficult terrain makes this one extra tricky. I remind myself: nobody forced me to go on this hike — this was my decision. Even if it turns out to only be an unpleasant experience, it’s still an experience I chose. I remind myself it’s okay if this day turns out badly, and that every challenge is valuable. And there’s still time. I close my eyes and take in the perfect silence. There is no sound but my breath.

A few shoulder stretches and a couple of energizing snacks later, I feel a little steadier. But I know the challenge won’t vanish; keeping this mindset will require work for the hours ahead.

🍃 Part V – Jazz And A High Chance of Cloudy Thoughts

3:00 PM. Today is clearly not a day to embrace silence – a realization that hits me while my thoughts continue to provide a rough symphony to my steps. I seek comfort in my Spotify daylist, which decides it’s time to bless me with some jazz. SURE! I’ll take anything.

With music coming out the pocket of my trouser, I continue navigating the Sörmlandsleden, following the faint voice of Komoot that only works sporadically. The trail winds through trees, orange markings guiding me, moss-covered stones underfoot, challenging every step.

*The route is marked by orange circles around tree bark*

Using the hiking poles has become intuitive and automatic by now. I find comfort in the support they provide and silently thank my past self for buying the poles at the last minute, one day before leaving. While reviewing everything, I realized with a face-palm that I forgot to buy hiking poles. In the comfort of my home, exhausted from the workweek, that little voice in my head almost won: “Ah, let’s just risk it.” Luckily, I didn’t take that risk. I still shudder at the idea that I’d be climbing up this rocky terrain without the poles. My knees would’ve rebelled immediately.

Every 300 meters or so, I take a short five-minute break to lay down the backpack, rest my shoulders, eat some nuts. I put on a timer, so as not to lose track of my strict schedule. I feel tired, and the situation is frustrating. The time pressure prevents me from slowing down and enjoying my surroundings or enjoying a proper meal. But the most frustrating thing: I’m still too slow for my actual plan. The humid, slightly windy air strains my breathing, but there’s no choice but to continue onward. And so I do, trying to find solace in the beautiful surrounding.

*Yes, I did walk in the wrong direction at first…*

Every once in a while, I find a pair of wooden boards laid over puddles (or sometimes “mini-swamp” is more like it). A small aid to help hikers cross over without getting wet. The boards, however, eaten by water and humidity, are soft and unstable, usually only one at a time sturdy enough to cross. I balance carefully, knees shaking under the weight of my backpack, but making it through. Thank you, yoga mornings – at least a small win. But adrenaline spikes anyway.

*One example of wooden boards spanned over the water*

*This chunk of soil, attached to a fallen tree,*
*tricked me into believing it’s a bear from the distance at least five times*

3:54 PM. Extremely freaking exhausted, I claim a longer break atop another stoney hill. With a big sigh, I collapse onto my backpack, allowing my body to rest fully. With a metal fence on my left, and endless trees, moss and stone on my right, I stare into the sky. Breathe. Slow, heavy breaths. Yes, I’m slower than expected, but I’ll somehow make it.

To my surprise, the clouds part and the sun emerges gently. Even now, in such a moment of exhaustion, this simple sight comforts me and gives me a small boost of energy. I look forward to capturing the trees bathed in light, though all my body can think of right now is: WARM BED. MASSAGE. NEVER DO THIS TO ME AGAIN.

Reluctantly, I strap the backpack back on, push myself upright, and step forward. Knees in pain, lungs heavy, I continue the hike, looking past the protest of my body toward the trail ahead.

🍃 Part VI – That Forest Might Be Comfortable For The Night, No?

05:00 PM. The sun lights up the forest in golden hues, comforting me slightly, reminding me to look ahead and keep believing I’ll make it. Despite the exhaustion through my legs and the slow crawl of a bad mood, I still find myself stopping every so often to take in the beautiful scenery around me – a few short breaths of calm between all that effort. In the end, why am I doing this if I don’t give myself this chance? I ask myself, standing in the middle of a heathland beneath a giant transmission tower that hums quietly above me.

A few steps later, a wide puddle of water interrupts the path. Damn. No wooden boards to cross it, no way around. I decide to balance my way along the stones at the edge of it. It looks doable. I tell myself: you can do this, as long as there’s something solid to step on. Carefully, I start inching forward, holding onto the stones, pretending to be some spontaneous climber version of myself. It works — until it doesn’t. The walkable stones suddenly disappear, and I spot a small mound of soil in the puddle that looks firm enough. I take the leap, swing my left foot onto it, and immediately realize: that was a mistake. The ground sinks beneath me. My foot plunges into the muddy softness. Oh no.

*Post-accident documentation of the accident :D*

Luckily, my shoes are water-resistant enough that my socks stay mostly dry. Still, the incident gives a heavy blow to my mood. I try to clean off the shoe with a tissue, but my patience is wearing thin. Eleven kilometers down, fifteen still ahead. Sigh.

Once the worst of the mud is removed, I move on. The forest thickens around me again and moss covers every stone. Golden-greenish colors surround me, as the sun shines through the trees. Then, in the distance — I suddenly spot movement. A different color. People! With a closer look, I realize it’s the same group of guys I saw earlier. Oh, what a relief! It’s one of those moments I know well from other hikes — when the simple sight of other humans feels like the universe is handing you a bit of courage. You’re not alone. Someone else is walking this same path. And even better – I’m not much slower than them.

I try to keep them in sight, but they vanish behind the trees after a few minutes. Ten more minutes pass without a trace. How could this be? I start wondering if I hallucinated them out of sheer willpower — a small mirage to keep myself going. Who knows at this point…

05:32 PM. I reach a wooden shelter overlooking a small lake. The sun filters through the trees, giving the water that late-summer glow that always looks otherworldly. I walk towards it and just stand there. I come to terms with the realization that the sun will set long before I’ve reached my destination. There’s no way of denying this anymore. The only control I have is how quickly I can keep moving. I really don’t want to be inside the forest when night comes — I’m not experienced with this, and I can already feel myself shudder at the idea of walking through spiderwebs that shall be manifesting in the coming two hours.

*The shelter I seriously considered spending the night in*

For a brief moment, I wonder if spending the night here could be an option. The place looks calm, safe even. I don’t have a tent, but I have my emergency blanket, something that could pass as a pillow, food, water-cleansing tablets, and a lake shimmering right there. It’s tempting — until I picture how dark it will get. How alone it will feel. How I’d have to walk again tomorrow with no nearby bus, no road, no taxi to call. And my phone’s already attached to the portable charger and won’t make it through another hike tomorrow without a charge. I do have physical maps, but no… it’s just too risky. There’s really no way but forward.

I sit down for ten minutes, eat a few snacks, and remind myself of something that’s saved me many times before: It’s a matter of willpower. Pain is just pain. I can make it despite the pain. I can feel pain, but still keep going.

At 05:45 PM, I do a quick stretch and continue.

🍃 Part VII – The Trees That Finally Broke My Cool

05:55 PM. My energy is surprisingly steady, as I keep going. I’m at 13.5 kilometers now, walking at a decent pace. The forest still holds enough light to comfort me, and I try to focus on the music playing softly from my packet. Spotify has decided that hip-hop is what I need for the evening. Sure. Why not.

Then, I reach a crossroads — the Sörmlandsleden, my official route, continues to the left, while another trail, the Blå leden, veers off to the right. Both seem about the same distance, but the Sörmlandsleden leads downhill and along the water, so I decide to stay loyal to the plan.

A few steps later, something shifts. The forest thickens around me, the air growing heavy and dark. My eyes start to strain against the dim light and humidity, but I try to stay calm, one step at a time. Then I see it: three fallen trees lying across the path. Fuck.

*I still remembered to take a photo for this blog…*
*pats herself on the shoulders*

I climb over them slowly, every movement feeling like it costs ten steps’ worth of energy. Then another tree appears, surrounded by a chaos of dead branches. And further ahead — more. The path is littered with fallen trunks.

There aren’t really words for that moment. A deep wave of hopelessness just rolls through me. I stop, press my hands over my eyes, and let out a few small tears — half anger, half surrender. What the fuck do I do now?

Continuing feels impossible. I’m at 14 kilometers, with another eleven to go. If the rest of the trail looks like this, I won’t make it. And the thought of walking back uphill to the Blå leden makes me want to collapse right here among the branches.

I stand there for a while, quietly furious. I had checked the official Sörmlandsleden website before coming here — no mention of fallen trees, no sign of this mess. This isn’t some recent storm damage. How irresponsible is this?

Eventually, I take a moment to accept what I’ve been avoiding: This sucks. And I can’t do this alone anymore. My thoughts are too heavy, looping in anger and doubt, and I need an anchor. So, with reluctance and relief in equal parts, I call someone I trust. It feels like a small defeat — this is supposed to be my solo hike — but also like an act of sanity.

As soon as I hear a familiar friendly voice, I start talking fast, ranting, letting it all out. “I still have fourteen kilometers to walk, and I’m tired, I hate this, and none of this is worth it. Everyone told me I have to go to Sweden, I have to go to Sweden, but it’s not even that different from Germany! I fucking hate this.”

And within seconds, the pressure eases. I did the right thing. The weight in my chest begins to dissolve. I’m not alone anymore — at least not in the ways that matter. The thoughts that have been pacing in circles finally quiet down. My body still feels resistant to continue with every step, but I have no choice but to go on.

So, with a supportive voice on the line, I start walking back up the hill. Every step is a prayer — that the next path, the other path, will be kinder.

🍃 Part VIII – A Night Walk Nobody Asked For

06:30 PM. It’s getting darker, fast. Luckily, the Blå leden turns out to be much friendlier — familiar mossy stones, soft forest ground, a rhythm my body remembers. The sound of someone else’s voice in my ear helps work wonders, tugging me gently away from my spiral of bad thoughts. And slowly, my energy starts returning, and I find my arms swinging the poles with something close to enthusiasm again.

I stop to check my map, searching for an alternative route — something more open, less forested, even if it adds distance. I’d rather walk an extra hour than stumble through the dark forest, waving a flashlight at spiderwebs and fallen trees. Nope to that.

06:50 PM. Relief washes over me as I reach a gravel path. It adds another kilometer, but I’ll gladly pay that price. There’s still a faint shimmer of light left — maybe twenty percent — and around nine kilometers to go. Although with every step doubt lingers like a shadow at my heels, I hold tightly onto the belief that I can make it.

07:30 PM. Relief hits me again as the gravel turns to asphalt. An actual road. Who would’ve thought I’d ever be so happy to see cars? It’s another detour, another two kilometers added, but it beats walking through the forest in the dark. The sky has faded to its last thread of blue, maybe five percent light left. Cars pass occasionally, their headlights feeling surreal, like brief, alien visits.

I realize I’ve never done this before — walking alone in the dark. I’ve always wanted to try it, but definitely not like this. I tell myself it’s an experience, at least — a story in the making — but the thought lands flat. Everything hurts. My body feels like it’s running on reserve battery mode.

I decide that if a car stops and offers help, I’ll say yes. But none do. Not one slows down. Do I look like I know what I’m doing? I wonder. Probably. And truthfully, the thought of stopping someone makes me uncomfortable. Unless I collapse right here and my legs refuse to get up again, I won’t ask. I chose this path; I chose the risk. Being tired, angry, and sore is part of the deal. And even through all that, I still believe I’ll make it — angry, sad, exhausted, yes — but I’ll make it.

08:00 PM. Seven kilometers to go. I try to comfort myself: this is just like walking across Berlin. Easy. I’ve done that before. Just not with twenty-one kilometers already behind me, and a mountain for a backpack. Still, doable. This is just a walk across Berlin – I try to make it my mantra.

By now, the sky is ninety-nine percent dark, the last one percent borrowed from the stars. There are no streetlights here. I turn on my phone’s flashlight — both to see the ground and to signal to occasionally passing cars that I exist. My clothes have nothing reflective, so this tiny rectangle of light becomes my lifeline.

The trees look utterly different in the light of a flashlight. There’s nothing serene about them now — no dreamy moss, no magical sunlight glow. They’re skeletal, distorted, shifting shapes in the beam. There’s nothing poetic about them in this light. It feels like a horror film I accidentally wandered into. I try to focus on the road, but every few meters a road sign catches the light and flashes back at me — and for a second I think it’s a person. My heart jolts. Breathe, I tell myself. Breathe.

09:00 PM. Three kilometers left. It’s hard to describe the exhaustion coursing through me — it’s not just physical anymore. It’s something deeper, a full-body protest. Somewhere, far in the rational part of my mind, I know this will turn into a story I’ll value later, when it’s just a memory. But right now, it’s pure torment, a slow-motion test of will. I’ve been walking for two and a half hours straight, trapped in the loop of just keep going. I know if I stop, my legs will refuse to lift again.

Every little sound sharpens my nerves. A sudden rustle, a shape in the dark — everything sends a jolt of adrenaline through me. My energy is strained to the maximum, all of it channeled into movement and fear management. And my mind, being unhelpfully creative, starts digging up every horror movie I’ve ever seen, filling the night with imaginary monsters.

Still, I walk.

🍃 Part IX – The Longest Kilometer Of My Life

09:30 PM. One kilometer to go. The darkness of the trees has vanished, and I find myself beneath a vast, star-filled sky. It’s calm. I take a moment to stop, to grasp that I’m here, still standing upright, and to feel the awe of what’s above me. The pain in my joints is unbearable, but for a fleeting instant, I feel hugged by the serenity that surrounds me. It’s just me. The silence. The night. Thousands of stars shimmering, unaffected by my complaining self. A sight I’d neither see in Berlin nor in Cairo. And even though I’m in pain, there’s a flicker of gratitude.

09:45 PM. 600 meters left. With tears held back, I walk. A distance so small, compared to the rest of the trip, yet so cruelly infinite. Each micro-movement screams pain. My body has turned into one long ache, the last 5% of my energy is fully employed in this desperate choreography of walking. Almost there, I tell myself. Just keep going.

09:50 PM. Thousands of trees have swallowed me again. Darkness presses in from all sides. But thankfully, the gravel path is wide and well-maintained. I know the cabin sits by a lake, hiding somewhere in this quiet maze. Then in the distance, I see some faint lights. As I approach, I spot small, round lightbulbs strung along a fence.

My navigation shows I’m fifty meters away, but I don’t see anything. Then I realize I’ve fallen victim to my favorite rookie mistake once again: putting a “vague” pin as a destination, instead of the exact address. With a frustrated sigh, I adjust the destination, and with a very relieved sigh, I realize the cabin is only another 200 meters further…

09:55 PM. I can definitely recognize I’m at the campsite now, but I don’t spot a single person. Limping between wooden structures and vans, I notice how every bit of patience is long gone. I’m dying to lay down. As even the motion of reaching for my phone hurts, I try to find the cabin based on my vague memory of the Airbnb photos. I spot a small cabin that looks somewhat familiar — wooden, with stairs, maybe it’s this one. I climb up, whispering apologies to my knees with every step. But at the door: no lockbox. I shine my flashlight through the window, peering in like a desperate person. Definitely the wrong one. And luckily empty.

And then — something brushes hard against my leg. I jump back, heart in my throat, only to find… a friendly orange cat. Just seeking some attention.
“Oh, hello there…” I manage, half chuckling, half in shock. It rubs against my shin again, purring like it knows I needed this tiny distraction. I bow down for a second to pet it and let myself be comforted by its fluffiness, before apologetically dragging myself down the stairs once more.

10:00 PM. And there it is. The right cabin.
A Swedish flag hanging proudly from its balcony. My final landmark.

I climb up again — slowly, apologizing aloud to my joints. I punch in the code, open the lockbox, and when the key falls into my hand, I nearly cry. The door opens on the first try. And there, standing in the warm light of the cabin, I hang up the phone with a grateful heart, throw my backpack to the ground, let myself fall on the couch, and just lay there for what feels like eternity.

“I’ve made it.”

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🍃 If you’ve read this far, thank you — truly. I know this day was heavier and darker than most of my hikes, maybe even difficult to read at times. But growth and self-discovery are a big part of why I walk and put myself in challenging conditions, and that means learning to accept that not every trail is made of sunlight. And since honesty is the ground I try to write from, softening this story or polishing it into something neater would have felt wrong. But looking back, these experiences are always the ones that leave the deepest trace, the life learnings, the ones that quietly shift something inside me — so it’s with gratitude that I’ve written this chapter.

I promise the next ones will come with calmer skies and even some sunshine. 🌞

Thank you for walking with me — I’d love to hear what you think. 🙌

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Quick view of hike stats:

🥾 Distance hiked: 27.9 km
⏱️ Time in motion: 7h 12 min
🏃🏻‍♀️ Average speed: 3.9 km/h
⛰️ Elevation hiked: 370 m

More detailed stats on Komoot (click on the photo to go to route):

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The next post shall be up in 2-3 weeks – stay tuned!

🖼️ If you liked the photos and would like a print or to use any of them as a wallpaper, please feel free to reach out to me! 🫶

💛 If you enjoyed reading my daydreams and would like to support me or express a small thank you, maybe you’d like to buy me a coffee? ☕ I LOVE coffee, and be assured it’s a guaranteed way to give me a BIG moment of happiness. ☺️ 💁🏻‍♀️

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“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 1)

October 24, 2025October 23, 2025soleil 3 Comments

**🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾**

This time not in Germany – but in Sweden for a change! I’d been craving a hike that felt a little out of my comfort zone, something that would give me the jolt of newness I’d been missing. It could just as well have been Poland, Spain, or even France, but in the end, Sweden – or shall I say “Sverige” (pronounced as “Sver-yeh”) – won the casting call. And out of my comfort zone it ABSOLUTELY has been.

👋 Now, a small disclaimer before we set off: the first ‘day’, which is being described in this post, is actually my observant and dreamy travel day from Germany to Sweden. There’s no hiking in it. But since for me the buildup is part of the adventure, and this was my very first time heading to Sweden, it felt important to include a post about it. However, if you’d rather skip straight to the walking part, no hard feelings — you’ll find the real hike starting with Day 2, which is in the process of being written. 😌

🎉 For everyone else, buckle up for a ride full of dreaminess, some chaotic moments, excitement, mixed with a hint of clumsiness that is me. Let’s start!

(Estimated read time: 26 minutes)

🇪🇬 Do you prefer to read this post in Egyptian Arabic? Click here.

September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

I wake up around 6:00 AM, after repeatedly snoozing for a full half hour. Luckily the question of “whether I really want to risk snoozing one more time and ruining my full hike before even starting it” hits the right nerve, and pushes me to get out of bed.

Putting on the lights (yes, it’s still dark) and preparing the right cup of morning coffee starts giving this day the feeling that it’s here, and my hike is actually happening. Sweden, I’m less than 24 hours away!

I revisit today’s plan in my head, while I sip my coffee and do some routine morning stretches to wake up my sleepy body. Today’s plan goes as follows: I’ll be taking the train from Berlin all the way to Rostock (a German city by the Baltic Sea), and after a short transit stop, I will be taking the ferry (with huge excitement) to a coastal city called Trelleborg in Sweden, where I’ll be spending the first night. The next day, I’ll take a train to Järna (a Swedish city south-west of Stockholm), and from there I will be starting my official hike.

I pack up the last remaining things, expressing a big thank you to my past self for doing such a good job packing 90% of the things yesterday, so I wouldn’t have to worry about this now. I get dressed, excited to try on my upgraded hiking outfit, and I do my best to ignore the little shock I get while swinging the backpack over my shoulders and realizing how heavy it is. I comfort myself with the idea that it will get lighter with every passing day. Off we go!

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

07:45 AM. By the time I’m on my way to the train station, the sky is light and the day has started. The air feels a little chilly and damp in a refreshing way. Berlin’s streets aren’t crowded yet, but dozens of runners jog past me, training for the marathon that shall take place this weekend. I can’t help but smile — their determined steps feel like a kind of encouragement, reminding me that I’m not alone in this challenge I’m about to begin.

I notice my motivation’s still low, my legs feel a bit stiff, and I’m annoyed at failing to find a comfortable way of holding my not-so-light camera. But I remind myself that I’m familiar with this discomfort always being part of the “warmup” to the hike, and I’ll figure out a better way along the way, just like I always do.

At the train station, I jump onto an S-Bahn (urban rapid railway) that takes me to the central station. Happily, I realize I have a full half hour before the train to Rostock departs — a little luxury I take advantage of to get some snacks for the trip.

Halfway down the escalator to the right platform I clumsily try to take a few photos to document the start of this day, but it’s too busy and I’m too overwhelmed, so I give up after a couple of attempts.

*My clumsy overwhelmed potato quality shot…*

The platform is really crowded with what I assume to be at least 200 people. And not long after arriving, the first bad news announcement is heard: ten minute delay. Then, a couple minutes after: twenty minute delay. Really annoying, but… it wouldn’t be the German railway without a delay after all.

I remind myself to stay calm and use the time to people-watch instead. There’s a wide range to be entertained by — solo travelers in all styles and ages, with and without dogs, couples hugging each other, older people with neat little suitcases, big groups of students on their senior trips, reminding me of my older school days. It’s a miniature world to observe and daydream about, and somehow that lightens the feeling of waiting.

*Look again! That’s a reflection, not a real person.* ;)

When the train finally arrives (unsurprisingly at a different platform), the whole crowd surges into motion to board. Luckily, the platform is just opposite of the one originally planned, so there’s no need for me to heave my backpack up the stairs in a wild sprint… along with a hundred other people. A small victory — but one I’ll take!

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

09:10 AM. Boarding the train is its own small storm. Although I’m right near the front and have the luxury of choosing between several empty seats, my brain glitches and somehow decides to walk past them all, convinced there must be something better just ahead. Of course, by the time I realize there isn’t, the wave of people behind me has already occupied all the free seats. Why, dear brain, why?

With some luck, I spot a three-seater where only one older woman is sitting, her bag carefully guarding the seat in front of her. I ask, as politely as possible, if the spot is free. She hesitates, then admits only one is available, not both. “That’s perfect,” I reply with excitement, relieved to have somewhere to settle — and even some space beside me for my bulky backpack.

“It’s really full today, isn’t it?” she says to me, with surprised eyes and a dissatisfied expression.
“Yes, very much so,” I answer, offering her a sympathetic smile.

I watch her in amusement, as she repeatedly shoos away other desperate passengers from the seat she’s saving. The poor woman looks tense, and I can’t help but remember the last time I tried to guard a seat for a friend who was late and how stressful it was to turn people away while the train filled up so fast. Today, I’m glad it’s not my responsibility.

Around four stations later, the friend my seat-neighbour has been guarding the place for finally arrives. The two women look so alike in aura and manner that I assume they must have known each other for years. We exchange polite smiles, then return to our own worlds. Mine, for now, consists of daydreaming out the window, immersing myself in music, wandering between meditative questions about the universe and nervous excitement about my trip ahead, while Berlin slides by in its usual grey palette, softened only by trees and the occasional balcony overflowing with lush green plants.

The weather is cloudy, uninspiring, but then again — I won the snooze challenge, made it out of my bed and onto the train on time, and that in itself is enough to spark some motivation. The journey has begun!

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

Around 11:30 AM, the train pulls into Rostock. The next step is to take another S-Bahn to a station called Lütten-Klein, where I’ll switch to a bus that goes directly to the ferry terminal. As I know the station from past trips to the sea, so navigating through the crowds doesn’t throw me off, and I find the S-Bahn easily.

At first, I’m lucky enough to enjoy the comfort of a four-seater to myself for a few stations. But soon, two women join — one of them has sharply tattooed eyebrows and throws me a smile. I smile back, wondering how I must look with hiking poles sticking out of my backpack like antennae.

At another stop, a group of eight middle-aged men pile in, luggage in tow, spilling across the remaining seats and blocking half the hallway. I already start planning how I’ll maneuver past them with my backpack without looking entirely ridiculous.

To add to my anxiety, the announcements on the train aren’t working, and strangely, the station names aren’t even visible on the platforms, no matter how hard I look.

“Well, you know what to do!”, I tell myself. I’ve been in this situation before and know a trick. I keep Google Maps open, tracking the little dot that is me, as I float through the map, while the train moves, all the way to my destination. All it needs is some focus and trust that I’ve got this.

One station before Lütten-Klein, I awkwardly heave the backpack on while still seated, trying to give the impression that I know what I’m doing – both to myself and everyone around me. One of the men catches my eye and gives me a warm, reassuring smile. It helps. I balance my way past their luggage (thank you, daily Yoga exercises!), squeeze through to the door, and step into the outside air with a deep sigh of relief. Mission accomplished!

12:00 PM. The walk to the bus stop is straightforward, though I groan when I realize the next bus isn’t due for another 20 minutes. Hmm. Continue standing in this bland greyness or go explore and see if I can grab a coffee somewhere? Easy choice!

I wander back to the station and spot a small service store. The cashier, a black-haired woman with strikingly blue eyes, greets me, and I ask — with all the charm I can muster — if there’s a toilet. She smiles, hands me a key, and I find myself in a basic little room, happy just to freshen up and check if my braids still look halfway presentable.

Afterwards, I return to the counter to give back the key and to buy a coffee. A self-serve filter coffee, nothing fancy, but the simple act of pouring it myself feels grounding. With the warm cup in hand, I head back to the bus stop. Ten minutes left. The platform slowly fills with people, who, by their quiet expectancy, are clearly waiting for the same bus.

*Waiting for the bus, this time with coffee!*

Then I see it: the bus has been sitting just across the street the entire time, only five steps away. But when departure time comes, the driver pulls out of his spot, out of the station, onto the main street, circles the block in a U-turn, and comes back around to park neatly in front of us. I can’t help but chuckle in disbelief.
Tell me you’re in Germany without telling me you’re in Germany...

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

12:20 PM. We board the bus and I settle near the back, surrounded by men in worker uniforms chatting amongst themselves. One of them has such a heavy dialect I barely catch half of what he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter — their banter is oddly comforting.

I stay alert for the stop announcements, since here you have to press the red “STOP” button or the bus won’t stop at your station, unless someone else is waiting for the bus there. The name “Seehafen Fähre” (lake harbor ferry) finally comes, and I press it in time, though the bus still takes a full ten minutes to arrive there.

Somewhere along the way, one of the men suddenly launches into a story about driving in Egypt and how cheap it is to get a license there. He swears you can do it in two weeks for 160 euros, though you can’t use it abroad. I laugh quietly to myself at the randomness of this conversation, as if Egypt has just stepped into the bus with us. He goes on about taxes and car prices in a way that makes little sense to me, but his confidence is entertaining enough.

12:35 PM. At last, the bus pulls into a wide industrial-looking area filled with trucks and scattered cars under a hazy sky. No sign of the sea yet. Everyone gets off, and I follow the men toward a reddish building that looks promising.

Inside, it’s quiet — just a few travelers, some self-check-in counters, and no visible staff. I look for “StenaLine,” the company I booked with, only to later discover today’s sailing is run by “TT-Line.” A hastily taped paper sign and a not-so-enthusiastic clerk behind a counter, send me back through another set of doors until I finally find the right counter.

There, an older woman with short white hair greets me with genuine warmth and enthusiasm. After the indifference of the first clerk, her friendliness catches me off guard. She excitedly checks my ticket with a big smile and wide open attentive eyes, confirms my cabin, does not bother checking my ID, and hands me a small boarding pass that also serves as my cabin key. Relief washes over me. My online reservation worked!

“One of those red shuttle buses will take you to the ferry,” she explains, while pointing to some neatly parked red buses outside. “They’ll come about half an hour before departure time.”

Since it’s still 12:45 PM and the bus should come at 1:30 PM, that leaves me with almost an hour to wait — enough time for a snack, a deep breath, and to notice that the sun, at last, is beginning to shyly show itself through the hazy sky. A small gift, right here at the edge of the sea, which to this moment I cannot yet see. Still, it’s a gift I’ll happily take!

*Unfortunately, I took this photo before the sun came out*

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

The time passes quietly, in that way waiting hours sometimes do, carried forward by little fragments of observation that turn into their own kind of meditation. At first it’s just me and another woman, but slowly the wind-shielded room fills with other travelers, each one adding their own small presence to the scene. Across from me an older couple occupies a bench; the woman is loudly narrating her discovery of how her phone works, as if each small revelation requires to be shared with such excitement, and I can’t help but smile. Right behind them another couple sits in perfect contrast — silent, companionable, nibbling on snacks with deep serenity.

Then a young man with blond hair rolls in with his bicycle and cycling gear. Without hesitation, he looks at the group and asks in the sweetest, most excited way if someone could watch his bike while he buys a ticket. “But of course!” I reply immediately, touched by the trust in his voice, that simple assumption of goodwill between strangers.

The waiting room continues to populate in this gradual, almost choreographed fashion. A trio of backpackers — two young women and a curly-haired man, who catches my attention with his colorful clothes and red-patterned keffiyeh — spreads itself across a corner. A young couple stands by the glass wall, locked in a loop of hugs, clearly preparing for a farewell. Three more female solo travelers appear, one with a dog and a backpack so large, I’m humbled by her capability to carry it, in comparison to mine.

1:20 PM. By the time a red shuttle bus finally pulls up, we’ve formed a short line, united by nothing more than our collective wish to finally be taken to the ferry. Everyone takes their turn, only for the driver to shake his head at each presented ticket with the same firm, but comically pronounced words: “Nein, auch nicht!” (Meaning: No, also not.) One after the other is turned away, and when my turn comes and I reluctantly show my boarding pass, I too earn my own “Nein, auch nicht!” — the sixth in a row — which sets the group giggling, myself included. There’s something oddly bonding in being rejected together.

We linger on the pavement as one bus after the other passes us by. Ten minutes stretch into twenty, and I watch a driver at another red bus wrestle with its door, prying it open with annoyed confusion. “Is that our bus?” I wonder, half amused, half worried, but of course, only time will tell. My gaze drifts unwillingly toward a group of four police officers nearby, busy stopping vans and cars that had just deboarded a ferry for spot checks. It feels uncomfortable to watch, but like everyone else I catch myself glancing over again and again, the collective curiosity too strong to resist.

And then, at last, our bus arrives — with a delay, but whole and functioning. We climb aboard in a flurry of relief, and just like that we’re finally on our way to the ferry.

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

1:45 PM. The bus drops us in front of a gigantic ferry, probably the largest I’ve ever seen. Boarding, however, turns out to be far less straightforward than I’d imagined…

I step down, camera in hand, torn between wanting to grab a few photos and the rising urgency of simply not losing my fellow travelers, as there isn’t a single person around to ask for directions, if I get lost. I fall in step behind three fellow travelers who seem, at least in that moment, to know what they’re doing. They stride confidently up the ramp that has been lowered for cars and trucks, and I, with no better plan, follow them straight into the cave-like garage — a space large enough to hold at least thirty trucks and hundreds of cars.

It’s there, wedged between this monstruously long line of vehicles, that one of the other women suddenly interrupts the silence: “Do you all actually know where we’re going, or are you just following?”

I admit that I was just trailing along, reassured by the bus driver’s lack of objection when he saw us on the ramp. To be safe, I call out to the trio ahead, asking as sweetly as I can: “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” One of them turns around, nods, says a quick yes, and keeps walking. But only a few steps later we’re caught in a dead end, pinned between trucks, with no sign of an exit.

The nervous traveler seizes the chance to give us an impromptu lecture on ferry safety — apparently we were supposed to board from the outside, through a ladder. With some awkwardness, we walk all the way back, only to find that no such ladder exists. Where to go? The woman starts nervously approaching a security cabin, seeking anyone to ask for directions, only to find it empty. We spot a couple of men wearing vests and guiding trucks into position in the distance, but they seem way too busy to interrupt. None of us have the nerve to walk across to them.

The woman who had first guided the way into the garage uses the chance to insist that this was the right way, and that’s the way she’s always done it. So, obediently, we head back into the garage. This time I notice, from a distance, a row of doors leading to stairways and elevators. I point them out, and our spirits lift as we head toward them, laughing at the absurdity of our situation.

At the door, the curly-haired man in the keffiyeh presses a large black button that looks more like a knob than anything else, and a sliding door opens. We stand at crossroads again – where to now? And is this even the right door? There are three other ones down the hallway…

As every person tries to make sense of the situation, I notice the giant letter signs above each door, matching the letters printed on our boarding passes. I try to draw attention to this logic, but I fail to get through to anyone, so I wave awkwardly and head toward the door marked with an “A” on my own, which is where my cabin is supposed to be.

Two weary-looking men in worker clothes glance at me as I wait for the elevator. Their mood doesn’t invite conversation and I don’t feel very welcome, so I choose to take the stairs instead. It isn’t until I’m halfway up that I notice I’ll have to climb all the way to level nine. I give the elevator another chance, only to find it slow and, when it finally arrives, already full. Fine. I’ll walk.

Step after step, past orange-painted walls, two men fixing lights in the ceiling, a couple of doors that lead nowhere, I at last emerge into a bright, super calm corridor. To my surprise the ferry feels less like a ship and more like a freshly polished, modern hotel — patterned walls, soft LED strips, soft rugged carpet underfoot. It’s incredibly quiet. I encounter just one couple wandering in search of their own room.

And then, in the middle of one insignificant hallway, the magic number appears: 9519. My cabin! I slip the boarding pass into the slot, wait for the green light, and feel a giant wave of relief when the door clicks open.

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

2:00 PM. I’m pleasantly surprised at how nice the cabin is. Clean, spacious, a lovely sea view — AND a bathroom with a shower! I’d expected a tiny crammed box where I could barely lay down my bags, so this exceeds all expectations and gives the vibe of a small sanctuary on this gigantic ship.

After taking the first set of photos and videos, I settle onto the bed and gaze out the window. We’ve started moving. The harbor glides past in slow motion, white-foamed waves forming around the ship, and I’m amazed by the height I’m looking down at the sea from.

There’s a constant white noise and light pressure in the air, which oddly soothes me. Along with the magnificent sea view, settling in proves to be incredibly calming, and I thank myself for spending a few extra bucks to book this cabin with a view.

2:40 PM. After some time stretching my legs and letting them relax after the stiff train ride, my explorer mode kicks in. Shoes on, grateful for some time away from the backpack, I take a discovery stroll around the ferry, a labyrinth in itself. Signs lead everywhere and nowhere — a sauna here (oh, how I wish I’d known beforehand!), three restaurants pointing in opposite directions, a shop somewhere — so I follow the subtle sounds of laughter and music coming from the distance instead.

The sounds lead me up some stairs, and then some more, until I I find around five different seating areas; one of them comes with a lounge-y vibe, the other feels more casual, the rest provides a mix of cantine-feeling and stylish bookstore. I really like the variety! And then, a few twists and turns later, I stumble onto a sun deck.

Stepping outside feels almost like a trance. Hazy sunlight filters through a soft, sleepy atmosphere. Two groups of men in work clothes enjoy large glasses of beer near the entrance; lounge chairs stretch out under the sun, mostly occupied with people lazily spread all over them, each in their own space. Wooden steps in the middle hold a few scattered seniors along with two young men, who are stretching in the sun. I walk slowly, taking it all in — the calmness, the warm light, the gentle movements around me.

I head back inside briefly for a hot chocolate. With the drink in hand, I return to the wooden steps, settle down, lean back, and close my eyes. The mix of euphoria, serenity, gentle observation, and warmth of the chocolate feels like the perfect pause in the middle of the journey.

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

3:30 PM. Eventually, reality calls me back and I decide to head back inside to eat. Vegetarian options are limited, but a vegan sausage with fries will do. I pick a corner seat in the cantine-style area, which gives me a bit of privacy, a glowing sea view, and a sweeping perspective over the rest of the space.

I savor each bite, fully aware that this will be my last restaurant meal for a few days. The first hikes will be solitary, remote, with no shops or restaurants and no capacity to cook sophisticated warm meals. Knowing this makes every fry, every bite of sausage, more precious.

4:00 PM. With about three hours left before docking, I wander back to my cabin for a rest and a short meditation. By the time I reach my room, the sunlight streams through the window, and I feel grateful for the peaceful space, letting the sunshine wash over me with warmth. I change into comfortable clothes, sit on the bed, and close my eyes. Ambient music fills the background as I imagine the sunlight as flowing love, filling me from head to toe. Slowly, I lay back, surrendering to one of the most serene sleeps I’ve had in a long while.

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

6:30 PM. The alarm nudges me awake, gently, as the ferry’s arrival looms. I linger in the semi-dream, trying to get a few extra minutes of sleep, until the crew’s loud announcement brings me fully back to the reality that I have to leave this cabin within thirty minutes, as we’re approaching the shore soon. Oh no!

Sunset spreads across the water, a quiet reward for being dragged out of that perfect sleep. I stretch, pack my things, and take one last look at the cabin in gratitude for this experience. I then make my way to the restaurant area, finding space by three massive windows overlooking the sea, settling in with my camera to capture the changing light.

7:00 PM. An announcement notifies us “travelers without a vehicle” that we need to wait by the restaurant area to be guided on from there. I stand up and head there. After a few more minutes, other travelers arrive — the curly-haired man and his companions, the dog-owning solo traveler, the blond woman who’d been hugging her partner all the time. And now we wait. 10, 15, and then 20 minutes pass… No updates, nothing. We’ve docked, but as pedestrians we’re not allowed to leave the ferry on our own.

7:20 PM. Countering the lingering boredom, the blond woman strikes up a conversation in German, curious about where I’m headed. I tell her it’s my first time in Sweden, and I’ll be hiking on my own, starting from Järna all the way to Eskilstuna (more on that in the next posts!). She mentions she lives in Sweden but still has a train ride ahead of her, and warmly expresses support for my solo hike. She also jokes about how slowly everything moves here, referring to the slowness of getting us off this ship. But can anything possibly be slower than Germany? I silently doubt it.

“This is a real patience test,” I say, as we hit the thirty-minute mark waiting, and a ripple of laughter passes through the group. Our eyes keep glancing at the staff — one of which is holding a walkie-talkie, clearly communicating with someone. The cashier glances at us with an almost apologetic look for the wait, continuing to clean and dry equipment. Then, suddenly, a man in a yellow vest appears out of nowhere, and everyone stares, wide-eyed and excited, only for him to vanish just as quickly behind a door. Sigh.

7:40 PM. Finally, a full forty minutes after docking, another young man with dark hair, a solid build, and a vest approaches, announcing that we’re ready to go. Sweetly, he asks if anyone needs help carrying anything. We all freeze, surprised by the offer, thinking we misheard. He spots the girl with the dog and her enormous backpack, asking if he should carry hers. With wide open eyes expressing her surprise, she excitedly takes the offer and hands the bag over. Seconds later, the whole group erupts in laughter as the man struggles under the weight, exclaiming in shock about how heavy it really is.

We follow him through hallways, across the sun deck that is now cast with a navy-blue evening sky, down a flight of stairs, and into an elevator. The girl owning the heavy backpack gets assigned to the second elevator group, so as soon as the doors close upon us in the elevator, the man again leads the group to a moment of laughter, as he again complains about the weight: “I don’t know what’s in that bag, but it’s heavy!” Once downstairs in the gigantic garage, we wait by the door, and I watch trucks rumble past, some of them loaded with brand-new cars. I again feel amazed at the sheer capacity of the ship.

He guides us to the shuttle bus and says a sweet goodbye, before the bus takes us to the port gate. Darkness has settled, but a gentle warm breeze keeps the air pleasant and my excitement for this adventure fresh.

As I rush through a door held open by a harbor worker, after getting off the bus, I get so absorbed in finding the right path that when I turn to wave goodbye, I notice the rest of the group has already moved on toward the train station. A feeling of sadness hits me, as I hope I haven’t given the impression of indifference — but now that the moment’s gone, I say my farewell on a heart level and choose to shift my focus on the quiet relief of having arrived.

8:00 PM. The city is quiet and its streets empty. A bus glides by, and a pair of teenage girls chatter loudly, each with a phone in one hand and balancing an e-scooter with the second. Darkness, calmness, and stillness wrap around me, and between rushed steps to the apartment I’ve booked for the night, I start feeling like I’ve arrived.

*I am pleasantly greeted with candy that carries my name… well, almost!*

8:20 PM. A couple of kilometers later, I reach the apartment and check in without much difficulty. As soon as I’m inside, I let my backpack fall to the floor with a sigh of relief. A warm shower follows, then a simple dinner, before I finally close the blinds, letting the day gently settle behind me. Grateful for a smooth start, I feel my curiosity stirring for what tomorrow might hold…

…and oh, it promises some surprises.

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If you’ve read this far, I’d like to express a deep, heartfelt THANK YOU. ❤️ It means so much to me that you’ve taken the time to accompany me from the first chapter of my journey, and I can’t wait to share the rest with you. The next post shall be up in 1-2 weeks – stay tuned!

🖼️ If you liked the photos and would like a print or to use any of them as a wallpaper, please feel free to reach out to me! 🫶

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Day 3 of “I am doing this again” – Altenholz > Schwedeneck

September 24, 2023October 8, 2023soleil 4 Comments

♥︎ Before you read this: This is a long post, a story, and I pour my heart into writing every detail of it. I appreciate it so much, if you read it when you have some calm time and the space to immerse yourself in it, away from the everyday hecticness, to take it all in as best as you can. I suggest you make yourself a warm cup of coffee, or a cup of tea, or a drink that sets you in a relaxed mood, go to a place you love, and immerse yourself in what you are about to read. Thank you, with my whole heart, for taking the time to read my adventure. ♥︎

Also, make sure to watch the videos in 720p or 1080p.

Part 1 – New Day, New Strategy

06:50 AM, I make up with one open eye on my phone screen. 9 more minutes before my alarm goes off… But just as I’m about to doze off again, I realize I feel quite awake already and that it would be a pity to not take advantage of that. And so I decide to get up. I must have had a very deep sleep. It’s the quiet, I realize, a quiet you don’t get on a single night in Berlin.

The morning sun shines softly through the tiny window next to my bed and motivates me to start this day. Today shall be an exciting and beautiful day. Today is the first day I’m hiking outside of the city. The plan is to walk out of Altenholz, the village I spent the night in, then to pass by a village called Schilksee and from there to walk along the coastline, all the way to today’s destination – Surendorf (Schwedeneck).

Curious about what the day holds, I prepare my morning coffee, do my stretches and realize that my body feels much better than I expected it would feel. I went to bed so exhausted yesterday, but it seems the good sleep really had an impact. This calms me, as today’s plan is to walk a full 21 km. At almost 30 degrees, exposed to a full sun in some parts of the route.

But I thought of a new strategy yesterday, regarding hair, feet, skin, water intake, break frequency, and am excited to try it out today:

Instead of walking around with my hair half clipped together, I braid it (pretty duh actually and done this way on my last trek 3 years ago, but somehow totally forgotten this time).

I take off shoes and socks, whenever I take a break and cool off my feet.

I wear sunscreen right from the start, reapply it every couple of hours. A cap stays on at all times.

I take a break every 2-3 km, not every 5 km, and I always carry a water bottle in one hand, while I walk, instead of keeping it in my backpack. This way, there’s less weight on my back and it’s easier to take little sips every few hundred meters, to stay well hydrated in between, instead of taking a long, big sip every couple of kilometers, which makes it harder to ration the amount for the rest of the trip. And it somehow feels more effective and hydrating to take little sips regularly than that one big sip after a much longer time.

However it goes, it’s all gonna work out somehow, I tell myself.

*A cozy kitchen with a warm morning sun*

I gotta hurry up, I realize, as I see it’s 08:00 AM already, and my check-out time is in an hour. I quickly prepare a porridge that I am not keen on eating at all, but I force myself to, while I pack and start cleaning up the place. I put on some jazz music, which keeps me calm, making my rushed packing feel a bit melodic, at least.

09:05 AM. Oops, five minutes too late. I take one last look at everything, swing the backpack on my back and start walking down the tight stairway of the house. I find my other host, Behnam, whom I’ve had all the messaging contact with, but haven’t met in person yet, standing there, greeting me and asking me if everything was alright. I find him to also be very sweet, just like his wife, Mona. He asks me about my trip, where it started, where it’s heading, and wishes me a nice time. I leave the apartment with a warm feeling around my heart and head out into today’s adventure.

Part 2 – Jazz in the Background

The sun shines through the houses and the trees from a very low angle, casting a glorious golden hue on everything within my sight. It’s indeed a beautiful day.

I happily take my first few steps, walking towards a very tiny forest area to put on my sunscreen, as I didn’t get a chance to do that in the rush of leaving in time for the check-out, and to eat a boiled egg for some energy.

A bench, still wet with morning dew, greets me, and I try to ignore all the spider webs around it, while I swing my backpack onto it. A few steps away, I spot a hidden pathway, which feels like it leads to a corner from heaven or something. I could spend hours lying there and reading a book, but sadly, I gotta get going…

Next stop is the supermarket, an ALDI, where I get myself a pack of cherry tomatoes and a small bottle of water, to have as an extra to the two bottles already in my bag. I am curious to try out the cherry tomatoes as another way to stay hydrated – a tip I read on a hiking blog, in preparation for my trip. I then head out on my official route.

*First part of the route runs along (and partly above) very busy streets*

First part of the route runs parallel to a very busy street. These are my least favorite parts, as they’re incredibly noisy due to the traffic. But I agreed with myself that it’s okay to just put on my headphones and listen to music in such areas, especially if it’s going to drain me, like it does now. And so, my beloved Jazz in the Background playlist accompanies me for a few more steps, which proves to be a wonderful idea.

The music gives me a fresh boost of energy and I find myself reaching a good, steady pace after just a couple of minutes. Suddenly, the cars become elements that just whoosh past me, like in a dream, with no power over my well-being whatsoever. And I feel like I am in a dream myself.

Luckily, it’s bit hazy, giving everything I lay my eyes on a beautiful softness. Every few steps, I stop and capture a view that grips my Soul.

*One of many views that keep making me stop* *to capture*

A field full of horses completely distracts me off my route (I love horses!). I stop every couple of steps to capture the view from another perspective. I am amused by the way the horses seem to evenly distribute themselves over the field. And I love how little they care that I am standing there like a creep watching them.

*They don’t seem to mind me watching them creepily*

A few minutes later, I force myself to come back to reality – you still got about 19 km to walk, girl – and keep walking. I hear the Komoot (a navigation app) navigation lady complain several times in my ear: “You have left the tour. Take a look at the map”, she begs me, but I am in too much of a blissful mood to care and I keep thinking it’s probably just a delay and the app is not syncing with my current position yet.

And then I do take a look at the map. Ooops. I have indeed left the tour. How could this happen. I was supposed to take a left… just about 50 meters back. Oh, that’s not so dramatic! And so I walk a few steps back, crossing the street, and heading into a very densely overgrown hiking path. Oh no. It’s early in the morning, it’s humid, the bushes are very thick… that means: Spider webs.

(Anyone who knows me well will understand right away what that means. Ever since I was a child, I have had a deadly fear of spider webs. Not as much of the spider (who likes spiders anyway?), 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” 😊)

Okay. I contemplate. I look at the map for alternatives. There seems to be an alternative closeby. I know it doesn’t make sense to try and still walk through this dense path, as I know how paralyzed I will get every few steps I see a spider web and how much time this will waste. Please, oh please, may this other alternative work, I think to myself, as I start walking back on the path I had just walked to reach the exit I missed.

Hi, horses. It’s me again. For the third time. Just passing through… trying to stay cool about it. Because if the other alternative doesn’t work out, I’ll have to take a third one, which is about 3 km longer, and that would suck endlessly. But it’s the way it is… Let’s just see!

I feel a hint of relief, as I reach the alternative path. It’s a very wide, asphalted path, surrounded by the forest, which should mean… no spider webs. Yes! At least not any spider webs cutting through the path. I take advantage of the shade the high trees cast on the path and allow myself my first break.

The cherry tomatoes really prove to be a good idea. They are a tasty snack and do indeed feel like an alternative to water. At least in this moment, when it hasn’t gotten so warm yet. I walk around my spot, enjoying how light I feel without the backpack, and suddenly, I hear a strange sound, like some sort of vehicle I can’t identify. And indeed, some sort of leaf and dust blowing vehicle pulls up from behind the curve of the path. Shocked, I walk back to my backpack, lift it up and start walking away, while the vehicle approaches. The driver lifts up the part which blows away the leafs, as he passes me, and I thank him awkwardly, while clumsily balancing cherry tomatoes, water bottle, headphones between my hands and chest. A couple of seconds later, I stop to re-adjust everything that I carried hectically in the rush, asking myself, why I didn’t just stay where I am. I could’ve just waited till he passes, but oh, well… my awkward shyness was a bit more dominant this time. That’s okay. I should anyway proceed.

Part 3 – Not a Soul, Not a Sound

The path leads through a beautiful forest, and I don’t see a single soul all the time. The forest gets denser at some parts, and I feel some anxiety creeping up on me. I laugh at myself, after realizing I put the music down, to be able to spot the spider webs better. Like when you put the music down to be able to park better. It’s anyway time to listen to the sounds of the forest now, I think.

Indeed, it is very quiet, and I just hear some birds and the sounds of the leaves rustling.

*Fields surround me and invite me to eternalize my memory of them*

I also spot some horse poop and chuckle, as I realize this comforts me to see. It means someone passed here with a horse a few minutes ago and broke any spider webs that might have been blocking the path. Amusing thoughts, as I start spotting an end to the path…

*The path unexpectedly turns into a bridge*

…amazed at where I suddenly end up. I see a bridge, leading through thick reed, over some sort of a very still body of water. I still can’t quite identify what I see, as I make my way towards it, but I can tell it’s picture-worthy and am already pulling out my camera.

On the way there, I spot a girl with a blue hoodie and white shorts, squatting next to her dog and talking to it in a calming voice, between some bushes, on the left side of the path. Wow. I admire her nonchalance about sitting there, knowing how densely populated with insects such bushes are. Also, what about the mosquitos? Those shorts can’t be suitable for that… but she seems to be a local, so I guess she knows what she is doing. And this just gives me more reason to admire her.

I walk further, finally ending up on that bridge. It feels, as if I entered a time that stood still. Nothing is moving. The water is incredibly still, there is not a single breeze. But luckily, it’s less humid than in the forest. And then I spot some ducks in the distance, excitedly munching their way through a very thick layer of yellowish-green algae.

As I walk down that bridge, I keep looking down, fascinated by the algae, actually fascinated by that whole place.

*Many worlds intertwine at this place that stands still in time*

*The algae could be mistaken for a landscape, shot from an airplane or something, don’t you think?*

I decide to sit there for a while and to have my next break. I’m at 5km now, so I allow myself to have a longer break now and to have a snack.

I notice the girl with the blue hoodie is now also sitting on the other end of the bridge, with her dog. She’s immersed in her phone and I barely hear anything from both of them. And so I am able to stay in my own bubble and enjoy the calmness this moment carries. At least, until I hear what sounds like kids in a school yard, screaming and making some sort of collective drumming noise. I can’t fathom what that could possibly be. But it doesn’t bother me as much as it makes me curious. And where could that school possibly be? This whole place is surrounded by nothing but trees, and it’s so hard to believe there’s an actual village just a few steps away.

Immersed in my fascination, I notice I’ve been sitting here for almost half an hour and that I need to get moving. Especially after my phone almost slips out of my hand, almost falling into the water, giving me a mini shock that surely wakes me up for real now. Okay, off we go.

Part 4 – With Every Sip I Dreamt of the Sea

During my hikes, it again and again amazes me how at one moment you could be walking through the most natural, densely grown forest and feel like you’re in the middle of an abandoned jungle, and then suddenly you reach a perfectly asphalted street, with cars and pretty houses, perfectly distributed along the pavement. This was such a moment. Just like that, I am walking down a clean, asphalted pavement, seeing first characteristics of the village I couldn’t believe exists just a few moments ago. Schilksee, here I am.

*The area on the left with those plant symbols and the number 1 is where I was sitting, and the “Schilkseer Straße” is the street that suddenly welcomes me into the village*

I notice a bus passing next to me, and as I take a look in its direction, I see a woman rapidly bumping the man next to her with her elbow, pointing towards me, and they both stare at me. Wow, am I that much of a spectacle? How amusing… As agreed with myself before, I stay in observer mode and do not let this unsettle me at all (oh, have we not come a long way, dear Soul?). I keep walking.

The streets are quite empty, most of the people I see are seniors. I see a senior woman, using a rollator, accompanied by a younger man, walking towards me. And as I pass them, I hear the old woman say, literally out of nowhere: “Some just have such nice, smooth legs”, guessing she refers to another woman, who was walking ahead of me and just passed them, with a dress that showed her smooth legs. LOL.

Soon enough, as I walk down a street, I am rewarded with a beautiful view of the Baltic Sea, awaiting me at the end of it. I’m standing on top of a hilly area, so I am reminded a bit of the sea view from Telal, Ain Sokhna, Egypt, which is always such a pleasure to lay eyes on, especially when you are at a much elevated position. In that moment, I miss it.

As it’s quite hazy, the water blends with the sky in a mesmerizing way, entirely blurring the border between the two. It’s very calm, I notice. There are people, but everyone is so quiet. I take a moment to rest on a bench, looking into the distance, re-adjusting my backpack and taking a few closer looks at the route that awaits me. I am surrounded by a few residential houses, some of them have a sea view. Must be lovely to live just a few footsteps away from the sea. A few people walk past me, a jogger, a woman with a big dog, a senior man, a man on a bike. I feel so blissful in the calmness this moment holds.

And then, I get up. There are some stairs leading down to the water every 50 meters or so, as the promenade kind of runs along the top of a small cliff. Some people are sunbathing (without sun), some are swimming, most are just relaxing, immersed in a book or a newspaper. I take in all the impressions with every step I take.

I realize I really need to pee. Luckily, there are bathrooms by the beach every few meters, but horrible signage. I keep walking back and forth, between two signs pointing in the opposite directions, until I realize I must walk down a ramp to get there. And so I do, hoping it will be a functioning and usable bathroom. Sigh, all is fine, I realize, once I get there. It’s a whole container with several stalls and the best thing – it’s for free!

I walk in, curiously observing a man standing outside of the stalls, with the side of my eye. He’s completely in the nude, except for a hat that covers his head, while he’s reading a newspaper, his suitcase open on the ground, with all his stuff exposed (including pans and a pot), as if he’s camping by that place or something. But there is no tent or anything. He stands in a very self-confident pose, and he doesn’t really look up from his newspaper at all. I am amused.

After I finish up, feeling like a relieved newborn, I walk past a little kiosk, about to open for the day, and I hear the two men, who are in the process of opening it, speak Arabic. Oh, the familiarity that keeps visiting me everywhere. I keep contemplating if I should already grab a coffee and snack here or wait till I reach the harbor, which is already within sight, and to check out a café I had marked on my route. I decide to keep going.

I am very fascinated by the harbor, the Olympiazentrum Schilksee. It’s not beautiful at all, but it’s like an everything-in-one harbor, which I later find out exists since 1972.

The architecture feels very heavy to me, very grey and a bit aggressive somehow. But I am so curious about it, never having passed such a kind of harbor before. It contains shops, a hotel, underground parking, cafés, restaurants, a bank, and all kinds of services (pharmacy, waste oil disposal, coin laundromat, engine workshop). And of course, every service you could need for your boat.

After making some photos, I decide to finally grab a much craved coffee and cake here. After some confusion on how to get up there (the café is on a higher floor), I find an elevator and decide to just take that. Some music, the kind you’d hear on your local radio or something, starts playing and amuses me. I never experienced that in Berlin. Maybe everyone would be feeling slightly lighter, instead of being yelled at by the elevator lady voice every floor you reach.

The elevator takes me to the floor the café is on

I reach the upper floor. The place is totally empty, except for the terrace of the Café Backbord, which is the one I am looking for. I walk through the occupied tables on the terrace, into the café, which is almost entirely empty, a bit shy at first, as it couldn’t be any more clear that I am not from here, but then immediately feeling at ease, after a very sweet and cheerful waiter greets me in a warm way. I walk to the display and find a wide choice of cakes awaiting me – cheese cakes, chocolate, berries, lemon tart, nuts, and whatnot – which the waiter happily recites for me. Hmmmm. I settle for Kalter Hund/Hedgehog slice, a very chocolatey-biscuity German sweet, that I love. And of course – a black coffee.

I wait, feeling warm and excited about my well-deserved treat, as the waiter prepares the coffee and packs the cake in a bit of a hectic motion, as if he’s constantly confused about something. Suddenly, he turns to me, and asks me if I don’t want at least a bit of milk? No sugar? As usual, I say no, with a sincere smile. He hands me the coffee cup and then lifts his finger remembering something. Do I not want a cover for the cup? Nah, I’ll just drink it right away, I reassure him. With a lot of carefulness, he wraps the cake for me. I pay and head out, thanking him a lot, wishing a nice day, and off I go.

Back to the elevator, back a few steps into the direction I just came from, I walk back to an area with some possibilities for sitting, with a view on a sandy area of the beach. The sky is still hazy, so the sun is not too rough. I choose to sit on a wooden block, big enough that you could lay down on it, if you like. Backpack aside, I choose to take off my shoes and socks, stretch my legs and to have my cherished coffee break, observing all that is happening around me.

I receive a message from my next AirBnb host, confirming that check-in is flexible and I can arrive whenever, which relieves me so much. That means I can take my time with this break and any other breaks awaiting me on this hike. And I guiltlessly do just that.

I enjoy watching the mundane happenings take shape around me in every way. I watch a senior man on an electric wheelchair, taking a break under a tree, looking around. I watch a woman and her daughter (probably between 7 and 9 years old or something), who is incredibly talented aerobically, doing all sorts of moves in the sand and asking her mother to look at her every five seconds. The mother tries to stay engaged, but you can see she really needs some space to read her book.

I watch enormous seagulls carefully looking for crumbs and awaiting that one moment of unattentiveness to steal away someone’s food. I watch a man accompanying his son by a swing. I see two older women sitting on another wooden block, having a lively conversation, and I see a man swimming in the distance… and I enjoy every sip of coffee I take and every bite of the cake, which has become incredibly messy, due to the chocolate melting in the heat.

Another thing that amazes me is the endless quiet, despite so many things happening. Everyone is so calm. Everything so peaceful. Can’t these moments last forever?

Part 5 – Scenes From A Summer Movie

After around half an hour of peace, I get moving, deciding to fasten my pace now, after my long energy recharge. And I do. I walk past all the boats. I see some boats getting prepared, being moved, being cleaned. Boats in different colors, sizes, ages, shapes.

I remember the Yacht Club in Cairo, where I used to have lunch with my parents what felt like every Friday for a while, suddenly feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me.

After walking one more kilometer, I see more and more people, people who don’t have much to do with boats. People taking walks, joggers, cyclists, and lots of people sunbathing by the water, in every possible spot imaginable. I see a couple sunbathing on gravel ground next to a boat, in a place that looks so uncomfortable and hot. I see people lying down on their towels spread out on rocks, immersed in their books. Some sit between bushes of grass, on dunes. Where there is sand, people sit on the sand. Accompanied by little umbrellas in every possible color. Some don’t have umbrellas. I am amazed at their tolerance for the really strong, burning sun on their skin. But all in all, I’m very warmed up by the mood. With music in my ears, I feel like I’m floating between all that is happening, my body moving in a comfortable rhythm, almost trance-like, pushing the exhaustion way into the background. And it’s all so colorful, like in some summer movie.

*Strandkörbe*
*(check out the link if you’re not familiar with this)*

A man is doing moves that I decipher as Qi Gong

I see many older women walk in duos, and I unintentionally pick up on parts of their conversations that usually have to do with food. One woman tells her friend she checks Chefkoch (a very popular German website full of cooking and baking recipes), and another woman talks about the meatballs with Béchamel, which her friend cooks. I am amazed at the energy these women have, several of them accompanying my hike for 2-3km.

I enjoy the asphalted path, which makes walking in a steady pace very easy. Now the sun shines from the South, falling onto my back, which makes it a bit more comfortable to walk. And the blue water to my right is so beautiful, as the sun makes it shimmer.

*The water to my side carries endless calm*

*I reach a spot with some stone sculptures*

I reach a spot with little stone “sculptures” and benches facing the vast sea, positioned in the sun. And I need a break. So I choose to sit down on a grass area in the shade, looking at the benches from behind. The grass is so cold compared to everything else and cools me off in an amazing way. It even gets a little chilly. But this cooldown is exactly what I need.

The view from my spot I’m taking a break from on the grass

The path is very busy, with people regularly walking or cycling past me. Two older women sit on one of the two benches, and two other women sit on the remaining bench. All of them immersed in a very lively talk, which I don’t hear anything from. However, suddenly, one of the older women starts laughing uncontrollably, with such intensity. Every time she tries to stop, she bursts out laughing again. And then, after a while, she gets up, and as she and her friend are about to walk away, she turns to me and says, while still laughing: “So, tell me, the Earth is flat, isn’t it? (laughs) And the mountains would fall off, if it wasn’t, right? (laughs)” I awkwardly mumble something I don’t remember, trying to match her energy, as they walk away. So that’s what was so funny! She must not spend much time on social media…

*A view to the back, as I walk towards the lighthouse*

Another 10km left. Halfway through! I can make it. I keep walking, noticing it is getting a little emptier, as I move away from that village. It is so sunny, which I especially notice, as the route takes on a curve towards the East, making the sun shine on my right side again, instead of on my back. But it’s okay. I keep walking, knowing I am about to reach the lighthouse, at the “tip” of the land.

*The “tip” and the lighthouse are where the number 6 is*

*Lucky me gets the only bench in the shade*

And before that, I find a tiny piece of “forest” and a bench protected by the trees, with a wonderful view over the sea. I sit down and take a longer snack break this time, making some notes about all I’ve experienced today, before I forget anything.

*A woman takes her time looking at the stones*

I watch a woman’s silhouette, while she walks along the beach, carefully looking at the stones on the ground. She never picks anything up, though, so I never get the answer as to what she’s looking for. The whole time I’m sitting there, I see her continue her search. Maybe she’s just admiring the stones.

Time to continue. I walk the few steps left to reach the lighthouse. The area gives you the possibility for a beautiful panorama view. It’s emptier than I expected it to be, and I realize I actually prefer all the other views, which I walked by before, much more. So I shortly capture a couple of photos and continue my way. I can see the cliffs in the distance, very keen on getting there.

I walk towards a mesmerizing view, thankful with every step I take, that I get to see this with my own eyes. Amazed at the beauty this Earth holds. Sad that this is not accessible to everyone.

A few steps later, I walk up a cliff, into a thick forest, relieved to be surrounded by trees and some shade. A woman passes me with a scooter. She suddenly stops and looks very attentively behind her. I don’t understand what could be grabbing her attention so much, and I start to think that she’s looking at me, until I see a big black dog sprinting from the distance. It is running in such a straight line, with such a tunnel view, that it only avoids running into me in the last second, because I get out of its way. It runs to her and she drives down the hill, with the dog chasing her. So that’s what she was looking at…

*I find shelter and shade in front of a small bush*

After I reach the end of the first part of the cliff, around 14km, I realize I am getting tired and walk down to the sand to rest a little. I am now very close to the water. Sheltered by the shade of a small bush with little pink flowers behind me, I lay down a plastic bag to sit on, which I only coincidentally remember I have and take a few deep breaths in. I watch the people walk by the water, try to mentally recharge and get up to continue after a few minutes again.

*Shoutout to my fellow Egyptians out there who will smirk seeing that plastic bag – يستخدم خامة صديقة للبيئة* 😂

Getting up to walk the second part of the cliff, which I know is entirely exposed to the sun, with no trees, only fields, I spot a sign, which states that access is prohibited. It’s the nesting period of the larks, and they should not be disturbed, it says. Apparently, the official hiking path, the E1, which I am supposed to take, goes along the water, underneath the cliffs, it claims. Ignoring this can end up with a hefty fine of several thousand euros. Signed by the mayor. Okay, that would end up to be a very expensive trip.

It annoys and confuses me so much. I contemplate and contemplate. If I walk underneath the cliff, I know it will be double the energy, because I know walking on sand slows you down incredibly. On the other hand, underneath the cliff there is shade… As I see no one else taking the path over the cliff, I decide to obey to the clearly very hiker-friendly mayor and to walk back. Underneath the cliff it is.

Part 6 – Leave the Horror Here

What I didn’t know before and realize after a few steps, is that the air is very, very humid underneath the cliff. And there is not a single breeze to cool me off. The air feels very stuffy. And I am sweating and sweating. But what makes up for it is the amazing view. And that there is almost no one else. Which is always nice, and at the same time a little worrying. What if something goes wrong or the path gets cut off?

*I love being close to the water, but the sand is such a pain to walk on*

But I decide to focus on the solitude that surrounds me in this moment, and to embrace the challenge. The challenge of navigating through the changing terrain. At the beginning, I find myself walking very close to the water, further away from the cliff itself, basically where the waves touch the sand, because this is the most comfortable area to walk on, and the sand right underneath the cliff is way too soft. Then, the sand by the water gets too soft, and I move a bit further, walking over dry algae instead. Then, the whole beach gets very rocky, and I have to balance myself over rocks of all sorts of shapes and sizes, which requires a very deep focus with every step.

*An endless beach, all to myself* *and my little adventure*

However, with some pride and inner strength, I notice that I have indeed grown stronger over the years, my legs and my whole body, and that balancing myself has become something very natural to me.

I especially notice that in a moment when my foot slips off a rock, but my body just counter-acts the slip automatically and I balance within a millisecond, without getting the chance to even feel a shock. Wow. And I acknowledge the investment I made in my hiking shoes back then being so worth it, as they have the best grip ever (except on wet, slippery ground). The first and only hiking shoes I ever bought myself. 70 euros, discounted. Back then, feeling like a fortune to me, which I could barely afford. But gladly realizing the amount of joy the buy brought me, not regretting it for a single day.

I start to feel a little light-headed due to the stuffy air, but I don’t want to take another break yet. Maybe some music will help. I put on Spanish Sahara by Foals, a song that always holds such power over me, especially if I listen to it by the sea. It tells me to leave the horror here, forget the horror here. (The video holds such symbolic meaning to me, especially on this trip.) And with the bliss and power it makes me feel, I walk the steps I need to walk, and push myself through, as required, to make it through this part.

Suddenly, what feels like it’s out of nowhere, I spot a woman walking down some stairs in the distance, towards the water. Never in my life have I experienced the relief of seeing another human being, like when I’m hiking. That means there is an exit here, that means I wouldn’t have to walk all the way back!, I think. Because worst case scenario, if I end up not finding an exit, I’d have to either attempt climbing up a very steep cliff, probably fall and break an arm, or walk all the way back. And we don’t want either of these scenarios to happen.

The woman sits down on some rock, and I greet her while passing her. She seems a bit unhappy that there is someone else here, too, and I totally get that. I keep on walking, keen on getting further as well, but after a few steps, I realize that the stuffiness is getting to me and I’m starting to see stars. Okay. Let’s just sit down, while I’m still feeling fine, shall we?

*I don’t know why I thought of making a “selfie” (if that accounts for one) while seeing stars, but I did, so here it is :D*

And so I do. On some random rock, I allow myself to lay down, backpack aside, looking towards the sky in relief that I’m taking a break. It’s so quiet. I allow myself several minutes of pure rest, surrounded by the sound of waves, the cold rocks, and the silhouette of the woman in the distance. A military helicopter randomly passes over the water, with a soldier dangling their feet from the door (yes), ruining the quiet, but fortunately, it’s over within a few seconds. I realize with some curiosity, that the rocks are quite cold, and I hold one onto my face to cool it down. Which also works great on my neck, my collarbones, my wrists. Wow, I learned a new hiking skill!

The view to my left

The view to my right

Despite my best efforts not to, I do scare some seagulls

Part 7 – All For The Soul

Luckily, just a few hundred meters later, I reach a very high stairway, leading to the top of the cliff. As I see some people coming down and going up, I figure access is not prohibited anymore. I reach the stairs with what feels like strings pulling against my feet (so tired), and I walk up, feeling like I’m growing a year older with every step I take, sweating insanely. Just keep going.

And then, I reach the top. And I turn around. And I look at all that beauty. A glimpse of paradise, in all directions I could possibly look. And I let myself fall on a bench, again taking a break, admitting utter exhaustion, while my Soul falls in love with the beauty. It’s all for you, dear Soul.

*The continuation of the path that awaits me*

After a few minutes, I start walking again. I am completely exposed to the sun, and it’s very hot. I decide to take a break the next chance I get. But till then, I walk through fields and fields of flowers, beauty surrounding every meter I cover. And despite the heat and the exhaustion and the craving to finally arrive, I stop at what feels like every meter to try and capture it, with not a single picture doing it the justice it deserves.

*These round things are called balers and they’re usually made of hay*

I encounter an old man and what looks like a teenage girl, as I walk. They keep stopping at some bushes and identifying some flowers in a sweet way. I hear her telling him with a sweet laugh: “Schafgarbe, you told me it’s called, not Schafsgarbe, right?” It amuses me that she, as a German person, also makes that mistake. It also took me a while to realize that the name of that specific flower, the Schafgarbe (achillea, in English), she is referring to is pronounced without an s. And I still forget that sometimes.

*The old man and the teenage girl talking about achillea*

I spot another bench. Yes! Shoes and socks off, I lay myself down, feet spread out on a wooden box… which breaks the very instant my feet touch it. Oops. Luckily no one saw this.

Another beautiful view, some shade, I recharge and try to put myself into the mindset that I’m going to make this somehow. I still have about 5km left…

I take a look at the map and am relieved to know there is the option to take a bus in Dänisch-Nienhof – a village I’m about to reach – if I can’t make it further. I already walked 17,5km after all, I tell myself. And it’s so hot!

But maybe it will get better, once I reach the forest nearby. So I manage to push myself, get up and to keep walking. The path is getting a little busier again now, as there is a street leading to the spot I am in. I walk a bit further, still admiring the landscape, despite my tiredness, keen on reaching those woods I can already see in the distance.

And then I reach the forest, first passing three women, who are walking super slow and talking a lot. I greet them and continue on my way. Once I reach the forest, I immediately feel the relief of being in the shade again. But then… I see spider webs, veeery close to the path. That means no one has walked through this forest in the last couple of hours. Why, oh why?! I am so confused, as it seemed on Komoot like the path is one that is taken a lot.

I still try to walk a few steps further, but then I reach a part, where I can see a spider web kind of hovering over the path. I could just duck down and walk through… But then I realize I would still have another 3km to walk through that forest and I neither have the time nor the energy to do this at every spider web that passes me. Gaaaaaaaaaah, this is so annoying.

Counting in the risk that at some point it could get so dense and bad that I would have to walk all the way back. Nope! Might as well just walk all the way back now.

And so, I walk back, luckily only 300 meters till the next exit, leading away from the shore, into the village Dänisch-Nienhof, which is where I’m taking the bus from. I could walk it from here instead, but I’m already at 18,5km, and it’s getting dark, and I’m tired. So I just calmly walk to the bus station.

Part 8 – A Day Passes Revue

It’s golden hour, and just like in the morning, a glorious golden hue falls on the trees, the grass and the fields. I pass by a horse stable on my way, watching a woman riding, being guided through her training by another woman. On the other side, I admire the beautiful, healthy horses, standing around and eating. The day is ending where it started, I realize.

I make my way to the bus station, realizing it will come in another 20 minutes or so. I sit myself down on the ground, away from the spider web infested seating area, which doesn’t seem to bother a woman who talks very loudly and aggressively on the phone. I can see she’s had a few drinks. Well, I’m just as happy on the grass.

I am in disbelief at where the day started, and where I am now. I let the images flow like snapshots in my head – my host waiting downstairs, while leaving the last apartment, the jazz soundtrack to my first steps, the girl with the blue hoodie, the coffee and cake, the old woman laughing uncontrollably. Wow.

The bus arrives, and I get on it with another girl. It’s only the two of us. I look out the window, at everything passing me in incredible speed, relieved that I didn’t choose to still walk all of this distance. My God, that would’ve been bad.

Five minutes later, I finally get off at Surendorf, the village I’m staying in. It’s 07:15 PM. I realize I’m very close to a supermarket – a Netto – and I decide to just head there to get something to eat, instead of ordering food, which is what my plan would’ve been. I really take my time choosing, so relieved that I have basically arrived.

I pay and stop for a minute outside in the parking lot to put the stuff into my backpack, distracted by the loud laughter of a couple sitting on the pavement, a few meters away from me. I see that they look at me, staring at me provocatively, especially the woman. And just as the wolf inside me is about to attack, the very tired… horse? in me silences it on time. Not today. I am way too tired for a meaningless fight. It’s clear they’re bullies with a lot of time at their hands and I’m not letting them feast on my energy. So I give them a mean look instead and walk away.

Finally, I reach my shelter for the night. The sun has already set and the sky has a very navy tone to it. Anne, my host, greets me with a lot of warmth and an incredible amount of curiosity about my hike. I am very honored and at the same time disappointed that I am unable to match that level of excitement and to share all I would have loved to share about my experiences as a solo hiker, keeping my answers way too vague. But I try my best. She’s amazed that I am doing this on my own and asks me what it’s like. She is seriously contemplating doing that next year, she says. I say that I can definitely recommend it. And I tell her a bit about my first hike, three years ago.

For the second time today, I hear “you are so lucky with this weather”, and I tell her that I thought the same, but that it was actually too hot. But now… I guess, thinking of the amount of pictures I could make and the breaks I could basically have anywhere, at any time, without any worry of getting wet, that in the end, despite the sweat, the pain, the stuffiness, yes, that was indeed a lot of luck. :)

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Today’s completed route:

*“B” is where I took the bus from, till “Surendorf”, towards the West*

Trip stats:
approx. 20,5 km – 4 hrs 36 minutes (in motion) – 4,5 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

Day 2 of “I am doing this again” – Kiel > Altenholz

September 16, 2023September 21, 2023soleil 3 Comments

*A purple blue sky greets me, as I open my eyes*

I open my eyes, embraced by the comfiness of very soft covers. My eyes wander towards the window, and I see the light navy sky being lit up with early morning sunshine. Do I really have to leave this comfy bed? Is it too late to change the whole plan? My mind procrastinates meaninglessly for a couple of minutes, and then finally decides to start this day. Damn, it’s cold, I realize, as I pull my legs out from under the cover, remembering that I was way too sleepy yesterday to put some pyjama pants on. Let’s first make some coffee.

Excited to take advantage of a very spacey kitchen, I prepare my morning cup of coffee and walk back to the bedroom to do some stretches, facing the interesting view outside. I contemplate about how I will physically feel, once I reach my destination today, as I stretch my legs. After I finish, I sit on the side of the bed and enjoy my coffee, looking outside the window. There’s a beautiful morning haze that makes some buildings softly fade into the sky. It calms me down so much to just look outside, to watch the doves on the top of rooftops, and I don’t realize I spend almost half an hour just doing that.

I take ages to find the energy to pack and go. It’s still the second day and I haven’t found my way to an efficient packing routine yet. I realize that with every hour I waste it gets hotter outside. But it’s okay, I try to comfort myself. It’s all just starting and it’s the way it is.

Finally, after checking a hundred times that I didn’t forget anything, I leave the apartment and walk down, excitedly taking my first steps of today’s trip. The sun shines in a heartwarming way, and the city is much livelier than it was yesterday. The plan is to walk along the shoreline of Kiel – Kiellinie, until I reach a super high bridge – Prinz-Heinrich-Brücke, to cross over to the other side of the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal (North Baltic Sea Canal) and continue walking towards Altenholz, today’s destination.

*The sunshine makes the water look like liquid silver*

After ten minutes of walking, I reach the shoreline. The young day’s sunrays fall on the water in an angle that makes it shimmer. A very busy street, Kaistraße, runs parallel to the water, with lots of cars driving past me and dozens of other people sharing the sidewalk with me. Even though it’s quite noisy, I choose to take in all the sounds and to not start listening to music already. Part of my intention for the hike is to be as grounded in the moment as possible, and that includes being present in the comfortable and the uncomfortable.

I am surrounded by many tourists, which somehow makes me feel less awkward walking through the city, kind of being a tourist myself, even though one can still see I am there for another purpose than sightseeing with a tour guide.

I pass by an enormous building, the Schwedenkai, a harbor pier on the Western side of the Kiel fjord, which fascinates me with its size and its position right by the water. I can’t help but stop and capture it on video, using the chance to hide in some shade.

It’s very, very sunny and warm. And a few minutes later, after some meaningless stubborness about not needing sunscreen – what I also like to call meaningless Egyptian pride – I give in and stop to apply sunscreen on my arms and face, and to also wear a cap. I underestimated the intensity of the sun and realize it would be stupid to get a sunburn on my second day. That wouldn’t make up for a good story now, would it? And this surely makes the hike feel more official, or at least a bit more professional, now.

I spot a gigantic cruise ship from where I sit and watch a group of tourists take some photos of the ship from the distance, while waiting for a ferry. I get up and keep walking. The closer I get to the ship, the more tourist groups I encounter, many of which are accompanied by a tour guide.

Apparently it’s a sightseeing spectacle, and I am amused at the fascination others are showing for it. Most of the tourists are seniors and English, it seems. I wonder why, but I know I am not going to get an answer on this day and keep walking. The ship indeed fascinates and scares me at the same time. It has so many floors, and I wonder how much fuel it takes to operate that ship. And I try not to think of other scary scnearios…

I count eight floors… 😨

Oh, well. I walk ahead and walk some more. I realize I got stuck in a parking lot, missing an exit about 100 meters back, just as I am getting into a good pace, and I still can’t deal with the heat. I start walking back. Can I make it? I am annoyed that I am already doubting myself and remind myself that I have a plan, and that it’s all gonna work out somehow. Worst case scenario, if all fails, I have other ways to reach my destination.

I walk next to a very noisy part of the street, a bit distant from the water, keen on reaching my next waypoint, where there should be a little park awaiting me. I pass a young man, holding some sort of rolled up print, and the anxiety with which he walks makes me feel like he’s about to hold a presentation at a university seminar or something. For a moment, I am also back at university, remembering the anxiety pre-presentation as well as the relief post-presentation. I also remember a certain sort of energy, an energy that was easier to take advantage of and to form however I like, than the energy I feel now. But none of it makes me want to go back. I am rather relieved that kind of anxiety is over.

Finally, after walking through a path surrounded by some trees, I see the beautifully glowing water again. It’s so calm, with people sitting in the sun, or cycling through, and I immediately take out my camera to capture part of it. Just as I do, I see a police car passing on the promenade, and I get annoyed at the part of me that flinches and starts to pretend I am not taking a photo. But as part of me already knows, the police doesn’t give a fuck and doesn’t even look at me. Oh, Egypt and its traumas… are you ever going away?

A few steps later, I give in and take a break. I’m still at 3km, but I remember that it is more important to take several small breaks, than to push it too hard and take a longer break, after I already hurt myself too much. A beautiful tree embraces me with its shade, as I sit on some sort of rectangular piece of concrete, take off my shoes and stretch my legs over my backpack. I enjoy the ease I find myself doing such a simple motion with now and realizing the shyness holds less power over me than it used to. I rest for ten minutes and continue my walk.

The police is having some sort of gathering by the pier, some officers excitedly walking down the stairs towards a boat of some sorts. Must be nice to have to do this, whatever this is, on such a sunny day, I think. I am again amazed at how little they care, as I walk towards one of their parked cars to throw away something into the trash can next to it. No one even looks at me.

As I walk ahead, I spot a woman standing by the edge of the pier, facing the sun, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment. At another spot, I see part of the pier turned into a bathing area, which would be so tempting to join on this hot, sunny day. The light reflects so beautifully off the water, giving it a lovely silver hue. On the other side of the pavement, I see people sunbathing, with a drink or coffee or ice cream in one hand, and I almost give in and join. But I still got over 10km to walk…

There’s a lot of construction works at one part of the promenade, making pedestrians have to walk in a wavy form, switching between one side of the pavement to the other. It’s a bit annoying and monotonous, so I put on some music. pov: ur in an 80s film driving at night, it is, and I immediately fall into a dreamy, blissful mood, as I hear Starshine and Outlaws (this one I highly recommend for anyone, who likes synthwave/retrowave music, that makes you feel like you’re in outer space – absolutely beautiful).

As soon as I realize that I am now past the harbor and much closer to the water, I forget about any annoyance. No boats or anything block my view anymore, I am just a jump or fall (please no) away from the water. At some point, I reach a beautiful panoramic view of the water and I stop to take it all in. Oh, how much I would just love to swim.

I realize that I am getting hungry and need another break. I sit myself down on a bench, protected by some shade and have a snack, as joggers and cyclists whoosh past me. I am not so satisfied with my pace today and realize that the heat is taking a heavier toll on me than I expected. I need to reduce the weight of my backpack and I need to wear lighter clothes tomorrow. And I need to find a solution for my hair. I accept that it is not going as well as I planned at this point and decide to cut the next part of the route, till the big bridge, by taking a scooter. It feels a bit like cheating, but I realize it makes more sense to use the energy I have efficiently, than to be stubborn.

And so, a scooter it is. Thank God there even are scooters at this part of the city. The plan is to reach the tip of Schleusenstraße, and from there to cross the bridge. Off we go.

I reach a very industrial area, with almost no one around. Some electric buses are charging, and I stand next to a big wall of what I later find out is a boat yard. I walk a few steps, and from a distance, I spot the bridge.

Oh my God, is that high! I suddenly remember the photos of the view from up there, which I saw on Komoot, while preparing my route. And it suddenly hit me how high the bridge must be to get that kind of view. And I’m supposed to get up there somehow? Okay…

I walk towards the bridge, and I pass some sort of fuel storage farm, directly on the shore. I don’t like the area at all, but I like seeing which purposes the shoreline is being used for.

A few minutes later, I am standing under the bridge, purely amazed at the height of it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a high bridge before (it’s 42 meters high). I can’t wait to see the view.

To get there, I pass through some sort of little forest underneath, with a zigzaggy path, and then I have to walk up a very steep ramp, which leads me to a stairway. I notice I am sweating insanely, as I take a short 1-minute break, upon reaching the top of the ramp. Fuck, it’s humid. At least, the view is already a little more rewarding…

A few tired steps later, I reach the top of the stairway and finally find myself at the beginning of the bridge. Success! I take a deep breath in, put my backpack down for a couple of minutes to readjust myself and get some fresh air through my wet tshirt, and then continue walking.

I notice that there is some construction on the bridge, and there are almost no cars passing at all. And there is a chest-high concrete wall dividing the sidewalk and the street, which is an enormous relief, as it immediately makes me feel less visible and like I have much more privacy. And indeed, I am amazed at the view, which needs its time to enjoy.

Every few steps I take, I stop. It’s very windy up here, which is a perfect combination with the sun on my skin. I love that I can see an endless sky from up here, and so much blue underneath. As I am the only person up here for minutes and minutes, I feel like I am in some sort of movie somehow, a sci-fi, and I am about to discover I can fly or something. I spend a few very happy minutes up there and surely have my share of photos…

*I love the endless sky and the emptiness*

After taking in as much as possible and capturing it in my heart, I walk further, heading down on the other side. A very hidden path leads me through some trees, away from the street, and into some sort of green back alley, next to some farmers’ houses (or so it feels). It’s incredibly humid at this area, but I keep walking.

I realize I am about to walk parallel to some vast fields, and I see a bench, half of it in the shade. I decide to take my next break there, surrounded by mesmerizing green, beauty, which energizes my Soul and makes me feel like I have arrived into this hike now.

I lean back, enjoying the calmness, which is sadly destroyed every few minutes by some sort of planes, which pierce the sky and the rawness of the scene. I don’t know what they are exactly, but I know it’s some kind of hobby or a sport or something. They are not travel planes, and I realize with amusement that travel planes sound much nicer. These ones sound like some sort of old motor that is struggling to keep going. Ugh, what a pity. But after a few minutes, I fortunately manage to zone out from the sound and to enjoy the moment again.

Some bicycles pass by my precious hiding spot every once in a while, some parents with kids, some loners, like me. Some greet me, some continue in silence.

After I get enough break time, I get up and continue walking. I know there is a forest and lots of shade soon, so I look forward to that. I encounter a man, who had just cycled past me, sitting on a bench with a beer in his hand, and I say hello. Moin, he says. A greeting I am still too shy to use. (It’s a local kind of greeting in some parts of Germany, here’s more about it.)

The forest immediately hugs me with lots of trees and feels at least 5 degrees colder than a few steps before. I’m almost there. A couple with two black labradors walk ahead of me, immersed in a lively conversation I only hear snippets of. I watch the woman’s curls bounce with her movements, as she talks, and I am jealous of her light dress and sandals, which I’d love to put on right now, instead of my black hiking pants and sweaty t-shirt. But I’m almost there.

I pass a very swampy area, which Komoot made me think would be a lake. LOL. It’s basically a pond of water so thickly overgrown with algae, birds can probably walk on it. Nonetheless, I like to stop by it and to enjoy the shadows of the tree leafs falling on the surface.

I walk further and encounter a woman, who seems a little overwhelmed with three big dogs she is trying to get to listen to her. Good thing they’re on a leash, I think. She smiles shortly and in a thankful way at me, as we pass each other and as I let her walk through with her dogs first.

And then, I finally reach the village. Altenholz. With such relief, I seek a park, where I can take a break, until my check-in time comes at 4 PM. It’s still 3:00 PM, but I don’t mind, looking forward to a long reading break, which I immediately take advantage of, when I spot a bench in a shade.

Oh, the quiet. How beautiful. And the sun. And the fresh green of the grass… I extend my arms over the bench and lay my head back, breathing in and thanking the Universe for this moment.

Some little girls sit on a bench, talking to each other excitedly, they must be still in 5th or 6th grade or something. I enjoy watching the lightness they talk with and the simple things they are fascinated about. On another note, I see a teenage couple, lying on the grass, underneath a tree, making out without a single care about anything around them. How sweet, I think, trying to embrace some of their lightness of being in this moment, as well.

I pull out my little yellow Reclam book, Aus dem Leben eines Taugenichts by Joseph von Eichendorff, this time intending to finish it and to take my time reading that challenging old German. I had tried to read it like 3 or 4 years back, and I got a bit frustrated with the level of German it’s written in, but I am amazed that I can understand it much better now, and that I am enjoying the poetic character of it. And I embrace the protagonist’s energy – a wanderer, a dreamer, walking out into the world with his violin and childlike curiosity and wonder, getting hurt, feeling awe, and experiencing the bittersweetness of love. Just, as I pull up my legs on the bench, I spot a woman with a dog and an interesting energy walking past me, saying Moin, with a smirk. Hallo, I say back meekly with a smile, a bit unsure, why I feel so shy.

The time passes, and 15 minutes before it hits 4 PM, I start packing up my things. A group of little kids hangs out on top of the grassy hill in front of me, listening to very annoying, in my ears extremely disharmonic music, which keeps cutting off and suddenly going on again, like a broken signal,ruining the last minutes of silence. Probably for the best, I think, as they make me get up on time, and letting go of this moment much easier.

I walk through little streets, past cute little houses and reach the house I will be spending the night in. A sweet host, Mona, greets me and what seems to be a Maltese dog, barks at me. But after exchanging a few kind words and extending the back of my hand for the little dog to smell as a sign of peace, she stops and lets me pet her.

I am guided up to the little apartment, upstairs, and immediately feel at ease. Mona, who I am sure is Arab, like me, but I am too shy to ask, makes me feel at home, and leaves me to settle in.

A warm sunlight shines through one of the windows, and little welcome snacks in the kitchen make me smile. I look closer at one of the tea sachets – شاي … it says, and I smile once again, at a sweet, unexpected reminder of home, and with warmth in my heart, I allow myself to arrive.

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If you like this post, I’m happy if you like it, share it or drop a comment below. 😊

Today’s completed route:

Trip stats:
ca. 12,6 km (not including the Scooter part, of course) – 2 hrs 42 minutes (in motion) – 5,4 km/h (average speed)

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

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1292708155

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Day 1 of “I am doing this again” – Berlin > Kiel

September 4, 2023September 18, 2023soleil 6 Comments

Part 1 – The Train Tales

I’m sitting here and it’s really happening now, I think to myself, as the fresh morning air blows through an open train window two seats ahead of me. Berlin whooshes past me with its familiarity and empty streets, a rarity to be cherished on Sunday mornings. I take a moment to feel gratitude, at the same time excited and anxious about the trip that awaits me.

Today’s plan: taking a Flixtrain to Hamburg Central Station, where I’ll switch to the regional train RE70 heading to Kiel. There, I go on a city hike and spend the first night there – a soft, welcoming start to my 6-day trek, before it gets intense. Part one, check. I made it to the first train that leaves at 07:56, and I did not oversleep.

As we reach the outskirts of Berlin, the feeling starts to settle that I’m on an adventure, another one that awakens body and soul. My favorite kind. What will I take with me this time? What won’t work out? What will I laugh about later?

I enjoy thinking that this time I approach things that don’t work out with open arms, accepting that there is always something that doesn’t go after plan, and there are things that go way well above expectation. Universe, I challenge you to challenge me.

I use the calm alone time to write some notes, to read and to listen to some music. Maasai by Surma accompanies me with its strangely warming and playful lightness, and I dream away, as I write and watch the beautiful fields we pass through. So many white butterflies at this time of year.

A group of other passengers interrupt my calmness with their laughs and their loud talks every once in a while. One of them is standing in the hallway with a beer in his hand, leaning on the seats of both aisles and facing his friends. They’re annoying me. But somehow I don’t care as much as I usually would. I remember earlier times of travel where this would cause me great anxiety and give me the feeling that the whole experience is ruined. I enjoy that somehow I seem to have grown a much thicker skin over the years and can zone out, if I choose to… But is it cool that they are kind of drunk already, when it’s barely even 09:00 AM? Well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting all the way in the back.

As I watch the details flow by in incredible speed, I contemplate how sometimes this feels like a symbolic passing of my own life. And I feel my heart overflowing with love for all that is and all that’s ever been. The blissful and the most painful. And it gets so intense that my heart fills up with so much awe for life, that I could cry. Especially with Empty Jar by Phaeleh playing in the background. And then I start asking myself how I could make this feeling last and how it’s possible that this feeling is so rare compared to all the anxieties and the melancholy I feel so often. And I hear a voice softly saying: “You don’t have to make it last. Just enjoy it while it’s there.” I like that and I feel it comforting my heart.

As we approach Hamburg, I feel the excitement grow stronger. I pack my things, swing my heavy backpack towards my back and get into let’s do this mode. I walk towards the exit area and hesitate, spotting two men, both clearly very wasted, standing there. Hmm. I choose to just walk back to my seat and wait there instead. But as I’m about to walk back, one of them opens the glass door dividing the two sections for me, saying “it’s clear you want to pass, young lady, come on”, and I notice it’s one guy I already had several encounters with, in which he chose to tell me I’m dressed nicely and am the prettiest woman on this train. I get a bit anxious at what he will say now, but luckily, he seems to be mainly focused on talking to his friend. And we’ve just entered the Hamburg Central Station anyway.

And then everything happens so fast. There is an incredible amount of people, a mass, a wave, swallowing everyone who might accidentally fall into it – like me – and heading into one direction. I am swallowed and walk with the crowd, totally uncoordinated on where I’m supposed to head. I spot a kiosk and run into it, anyway needing some water, as I thought of everything in the morning today, but filling up my water bottle.

Relieved to get the chance, I get a bottle of water and head out of the shop. The crowd is smaller now, I notice with even bigger relief. I can even make a couple of short videos, a new format I want to integrate as a sort of documentation on this trip. I watch everyone pass by, with all their different bags, clothes, ages, destinations. Everyone heading somewhere, chasing some purpose. Like me. Well, what is my next purpose? I don’t know, but I know I need some coffee before the next train…

I spot an empty coffee booth in the middle of the platform and am served by a very friendly woman, who lifts my already overwhelmed heart. She’s a bit surprised I want my coffee purely black, with no sugar or cream. This surprise moment I encounter so often always amuses me. I thank her, and just as I’m about to find a spot to enjoy my first sip, I find that the train already waits on the platform. Why is it only two wagons? Fuck…

Yes, fuck, indeed. The small train is completely overfilled, I notice, as I walk through, desperately trying to find a seat with my big backpack. I remember all the news I heard about the 49 euro ticket / Deutschlandticket (or “Germany ticket”, a subscription public transport ticket introduced in May 2023, valid in the whole of Germany, for all public transport), which I now own myself, causing very big amounts of people to take advantage of the regional trains and that it’s a very stressful situation. Like it is now. But part of me is happy to see it actually makes that difference and that it makes more people take public transportation, as it intends.

I keep walking and suddenly spot a 4-seater occupied only by one man. I ask him in hopeful desperation if these seats are free. He shrugs and says he doesn’t know, he was also walking through and weirdly found all 4 empty, and doesn’t know if they are reserved or what. Oh, okay. Well, let’s give it a try, I say, and he adds that someone has to tell us, if they are occupied. Sounds like a plan. I sit down on the seat opposite of him. It’s like our guardian angels kept those seats free for us or something.

I notice the seats are next to a bathroom. Well, maybe that’s why they’re empty? We’re not gonna get any quiet today, I think. But I don’t care, I’m just curious what form the journey will take and have no expectations of any sort of comfort I normally would seek. Next thing, a big man spots the remaining empty seats, too and asks, if he can sit next to the other man. The other man, while looking at his phone, surprises him by saying he anyway has to get off the next station, and gets up completely. The man sits down opposite of me and puts down a beer on the table we share. He’s completely dressed in a black Rock’n’Roll style, wears a light green tie, loosely tied around his T-shirt, a black cap and his hair is dyed in red. Interesting. He seems tired and a little confused.

It keeps getting fuller and fuller, some people don’t try to board the train anymore, others just sit down on the floor and give up looking for seats, and a young group of friends approaches our area. Annoyed at the situation, they choose to sit down next to us, two take the remaining seats, the other two sit down on the ground, blocking the path to the bathroom. I hear the train conductor, for the first time ever in my life, announce that the train is filled at maximum capacity now and everyone else should take the next one (which comes every hour). Phew. Lucky me.

I can feel the excitement and nervousness of everyone in the air and try to zone out by putting on my headphones and listening to some music. But there’s too much happening, and the group next to me laughs and talks with each other in a way that makes it difficult to zone out. I am also kind of curious about what they’re saying, but after a while, I get bored and put on some podcasts. The trip is not so long anyway, just around an hour and a half to go.

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

We finally reach Kiel. The Rock’n’Roll guy and I say goodbye to each other in a sweet way. We didn’t exchange one word all trip, but I thank him for standing the weight of my backpack against his knee during the whole trip, after he smiles in a sweet way, while I take it away. He wishes me a great time, as he leaves, and I wish him the same. I like such endings to random encounters.

And then I leave the train, again overwhelmed by the crowd, stopping for a minute and looking around, until the area clears a bit. I feel my Soul excited over seeing a new station and city for the first time. And then, I take my time slowly walking out of the station.

Still not used to the weight of my backpack, I walk with quite some discomfort. The area around the central station is very full and I’m a bit annoyed at some people staring at me. After a few minutes, I reach an emptier street, full of construction works, so zero cars. I walk up what feels like an endless hill to the apartment. Fuck, I forgot to check how hilly this area is. I also notice I’m quite tired already. And I’m hungry. And my back hurts. Okay, just a few more steps…

I reach the address, take out the key from the lockbox, open the entrance to the house. It’s an old house and I like its aesthetic. Excitedly, I try to open the apartment door… without any luck. The key doesn’t fit somehow. I try again and again. This can’t be happening. Am I stupid? I go out and sit down on the porch, thinking what next step I should take. I write my host and try to call her with no luck. I go into the house and try again. I check the name on the doorbell what feels like a hundred times, cross-checking that it’s really the same name attached to the keychain. I start closely looking at the form of the key and the lock, and see that they clearly don’t fit. Wonderful. Things are going wrong now already?

I turn to the Airbnb support and a nice agent tells me to go sit in a café, as we figure this out. Coffee’s on them. Alright. I find a sweet coffee shop called Campus Suite and sit down in relief at getting some rest. The place is really nice and cozy and very empty, what a relief. And with a hot chocolate in my stomach, everything seems a bit less absurd. The agent helps me find another place, a much better one, I realize with a tiny bit of excitement. And one that is not so far. He cancels my old booking, and I’m ready to go.

Tired of walking (what a good, promising start, I think to myself), I find me a scooter and take it to the new place. It’s much closer to the Central Station and the location seems much more interesting. I take the key out of the lockbox, walk up a very tight and steep stairway, up to the third floor, and just as I open the door, I hear Hip Hop music. Oh no, is someone here? I walk in carefully, look around and realize it’s just some radio playing off a loudspeaker, as some sort of welcome music. That’s sweet. But it’s a bit scary at first. And then the relief hits me. I put down my heavy backpack and walk around, exploring the apartment, happy and amused at the way things worked out and being aligned with a much better place after all. I lay myself down on the couch and sigh in relief. Arrived.

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

After what feels like two hours wasted resting and writing an official complaint to Airbnb to speed up the compensation process, I manage to find enough motivation to still make something out of my hiking purpose for this day. I almost doze off on the couch, but then a tough voice reminds me I get only this one chance to make the best out of my visit, and if I choose to stay on the couch, that’s a very bad start. That does it. Okay, I’m getting up.

Of course, the route I had originally set out to walk is a lost case by now, but I still want to have seen a bit of the city, before I leave tomorrow. So I spontaneously plan a new route on Komoot, take some snacks, my camera, a book and head out. First, I walk past the Central Station, still a bit sleepy and confused from my day. I don’t feel very comfortable in the area. Very macho men keep staring and smiling at me every few meters I walk, which confuses me. Also, it’s very full and noisy, and the vibe is not the most uplifting somehow.

I keep walking up the street Sophienblatt, until I reach a park, Moorteichwiese. Immediately, I feel different. The area is much calmer and there’s barely anyone walking the streets. The sun shines through the trees, casting a beautiful, playful shadow on the houses. I pull my camera out and shoot my first real photo of the trip.

I keep walking, letting the golden sunlight warm my skin. I walk through a park, down a hill, I pass by a couple sitting under a tree, enjoying the sunlight, and two girls unlocking their bikes off the fence. I take it all in, still feeling a bit restless, and keep walking.

There seems to have been a festival or something, I notice, as I see a fenced area the size of a football field, being cleared out by lots of people and families. There are a lot of kids, playing, running around, screaming. I walk past two women, one of which suddenly yells at her daughter, who keeps whining around, and I notice two festival organizers watching from a distance, with a very attentive and serious face. I walk on, wanting to get out of here.

Next, I again walk down Sophienblatt, towards a bridge. This time, fascinated by the sunrays lighting up the street and the houses. I am also fascinated by the aesthetics, colors and shapes of the houses and use the chance to make many photos.

I proceed to the bridge, Gablenzstraße, and enjoy the spaciousness of the pavement, and the view over the rails. I love that no one bothers me, as I stop and make a couple of photos from the top.

A few steps later, I find myself walking through the parking lot of a public indoor swimming pool, Hörnbad. I enjoy the calmness that grows with every step I take, moving away from the loud street above.

A child happily runs over white circular markings on the pavement, while its mother tries encouraging it to come back.

On the other side, I see a seagull and a raven competing over a crumpled up paper bag, which is obviously empty, but they haven’t reached that realization yet. A young man with a green shirt and white pants walks past me, and I love the way his outfit complements the surrounding so nicely.

The sun is setting and I admire the warmth of the light highlighting the tree tops. I realize that I’m really tired and decide to cut the tour in half and make a short break in a park I’m about to enter and then to start heading back, while passing the harbor. And so, after several failed attempts of passing a drunken trio of friends with two dogs that take up the whole pavement, and one of them being nice enough to notice I need to pass and letting me pass – “gosh, the woman needs to pass, let her pass, shall you” (laughingly)– I sit down in a rounded area of stairs and let the sun warm up my face.

A calm couple sits a few meters away from me and a group of teenagers sits above me, on another level, much higher. I try to find the calmness to read a book, but my mind is too scattered and my soul too agitated from the day, so I choose to just have a snack and to edit some photos from the day on my phone.

Let’s continue. I walk up some stairs and go left, down Bielenbergstraße. Through some bushes, I spot a very old woman, wearing a light pink outfit, walking with her dog, very slowly, on a very narrow path, standing out in the midst of the dark bushes and trees around her. And just as I am about to pull out my camera to capture her, she looks at me. Dammit. I know some photographers have the guts to still take a photo in that moment, but I am always too shy and too scared to make the person feel uncomfortable. Or worst case scenario, to have them come screaming at me, like I experienced so often in Cairo, without me even taking a photo of the person directly. Damn those annoying scars.

Well, I enjoy watching her walk in her calmness, without taking a photo. It seems more to me like the dog is guiding her, not the other way around. I admire the groundedness with which she walks, despite clearly being unable to walk well anymore. And then I move on.

As I reach a traffic light, I spot three antennas casting their shadows on a house in a beautiful way. I also love the way the golden light just warms up the whole scene.

Walking ahead, I reach Elisabethstraße, which feels like an old alley, with many old, cute houses. The sun casts its remaining light on the roofs of some houses, and some windows reflect the sunlight, casting it on the street. I live for such details.

I take my time walking through, capturing all I can capture, and taking it all in in awe. I realize I feel much more energetic and fulfilled than I did half an hour ago.

A few steps ahead, I spot two old men hanging around a kiosk and smiling at me in a creepy way, as I approach. Ugh, why does this keep happening? I actually change sides and walk to the other pavement, upset that I have to do this, but I don’t feel like getting into any sort of conflicts today or having anyone ruin my precious time. I keep walking, proud of myself that I can shrug this off much quicker than I used to be able to. At least something positive about it. Although 18 year old me would strongly disagree that this is something positive.

Crossing Karlstal, a big street, I start seeing more and more people, many of which are young boys, hanging out in little groups of 4-5, scattered all over the place. I then hear lots of noise – kids screaming, people talking in big numbers, scooters and bicycles driving across, and I notice with surprise that I’m entering a square – Vinetaplatz – with lots of activity going on. And I hear lots of Arabic. Many families with children running and screaming around a playground, women conversing, men speaking loudly, almost like they’re yelling, but they are not, as they gather in groups, standing around in corners of the square. I smell shisha. I feel overwhelming familiarity, as if I am back in Egypt. I choose to enjoy the familiarity, at the same time craving for the calmness I am seeking on my trip and walk ahead. I can imagine it turns into a very lively square once it gets dark.

Soon, I walk down another pavement, surrounded by trees, next to a church. Pastor-Gosch-Weg. The light blue sky painted with pinkish hues awaits me at the end of the path. I walk and walk and face a beautiful surprise.

I find myself at the top of some bridge, with a lovely view over the city. Something about the vibe of it reminds me of Cairo. Like I’m in Heliopolis, looking over the city from a high building or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I enjoy the feeling this strange association is leading to, and I enjoy the fresh evening air cooling down my skin.

The city seems quite grey from this perspective, I think. But even all this greyness looks lovely from the top. Seagulls squeak non-stop, circling above me, landing on the top of houses, only to continue gliding through the air a few moments later again. I walk, until I reach some stairs. It’s very calm, a pure enjoyment after a lot of noise.

I can spot the harbor, and I look forward to reaching it and to slowly put an end to this long day. Walking down the stairs, I see some young seagulls fighting over a styrofoam plate with some leftover crumbles and sauce. I am amazed at the size of these birds, which really feel like flying dinosaurs to me. I am relieved that they are seemingly the ones scared of me, and that they are not aware of the power they have.

A few steps later, I reach Germaniahafen, a small part of the harbor, with small ships docked. I stand there for a couple of minutes, watching a diversity of people walk by, while some skateboarders whoosh past me.

I decide to walk by the water, passing a couple with a brown dog curiously looking at me, with its ears lifted, and a person without a home, preparing to settle in their spot for the night.

I reach the Hornbrücke, a folding bridge, by now also a tourist attraction in the city. Sadly, I don’t get to see it folding this time, but I embrace my tourist persona and make many photos and videos, while standing on top of it. I enjoy the vast view over the water. I dream of taking the ferry that commutes between Kiel and Oslo from that harbor next time. I never really traveled by boat before and am curious how that would feel. But for now, I just enjoy the soft evening twilight.

I again reach the central station, pass quickly by a supermarket for some first day reward treats and dinner, and as I get out, I spot a fascinating reflection of the sunset on a building. Despite the messiness I carry everything with, I stop and fiddle around for my camera, capturing that beauty. I even inspire another person to stop next to me and make a photo as well. How lovely. With gratitude and fulfillment, I walk through calm side streets leading to the apartment, settling into the relief of things working out today after all and curiously anticipating the adventure that awaits me the next day.

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Route walked:

Trip stats:
6,34 km – 1 hrs 12 minutes (in motion) – 5,3 km/h (average speed)

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

https://www.komoot.de/tour/1292110278

Day 3 of “I am doing this” – Mirow – Waren

September 24, 2020October 5, 2020soleil 2 Comments

Up she gets. All on her own. No alarm required. Cause she’s exciteeeed.

It’s a new day, and the sun is shining, and a tight time schedule is waiting. A schedule waiting to be figured out at least.

I shall not try to make another failed attempt at a coffee today. I shall just go down to the breakfast that awaits me.

I go to the breakfast door and in the midst of confusion am told to sit anywhere I want. The woman comes back again, after finishing up with another couple, and realizes that the table I chose is not clean yet and seats me somewhere else. But I wanted to sit by the windooow. Okay.

I am the only person who’s alone. I kind of expected that. But it’s a bit awkward to be sitting in a 4:11 ratio (women:men) and being a woman on her own. Especially that that table of men over there keeps looking at me. For whatever reason. Ugh. I’m too happy about everything to care though! I just give them a look and don’t look back.

Breakfast is lovely and simple. Bread, butter, cheese, jam. A hard boiled egg. Coffee. Enough to suit my morning needs. What is causing me anxiety is the planning of this day, as I figured out yesterday that the bus I was planning to take to reduce the distance does not drive on Sunday.

Once I head back up to my room and retry planning the trip on a bus-base, it fails entirely. No matter what bus I take, the distance will still be too long to cut in a day. An option would be to take a risk and hope I reach a certain area and take a bus from there. But I don’t even know 100% if that bus will actually be there. So with some sadness, but also with relief, I admit to myself that the best way to go would be to take the train. And to just have a round-trip here instead. The train leaves in the afternoon. I plan the trip very fast, very spontaneous, so I might be in for some surprises.

I head out at 10:00. Checking out, the man at the desk is sweet. He asks me if I am taking the Pilgerweg (the pilgrim’s path). It’s not what I’m taking, but it crossed roads with me so often that I want to explore it further in the future.

I first want to see a tiny bit more of the city. I think it has charm, and on komoot a certain Liebesinsel / “love island” is recommended by a lot of people. I take a look at it, make some photos and watch a couple taking photos of each other.

I admire the morning sunlight reflecting off the water, but I honestly crave to see more than what I am seeing. So I proceed on my path soon enough.

First, I am led along a very long and busy street, which eventually leads me to a hiking path parallel to a field. It’s so hot that I have to stop and change into a T-shirt. It’s the first time I walk with a T-shirt on this trip. I deeply regret not having my cap with me, but I am optimistic about the rest of the trip. After this short break I use to also eat up some snacks, I keep walking.

I pass many health resorts, and many playgrounds by the water, with kids running and screaming. I feel a little out of place, but I don’t care so much as much as I care about the heat.

My temptation to swim is still very present, but I tell myself that another opportunity on another day shall arise.

Eventually it gets calmer and emptier. I am led through forests, where I don’t see anyone for a long time. I enjoy the rustling of the trees, mixing with the music of Ruby by Ali Farka Touré and Toumani Diabaté.

A field in the distance, showing through trees, was glowing so strongly with sunlight. It was beautiful.

This is what it looked like once I reached it. I stood there for a few seconds, breathing in deeply, taking a moment to let it all sink in, feeling connected with the Universe around me.

In other spots, you often find freshly cut trees stacked up together. I was amazed at the amount of trees here, as well as the pattern they show all stacked up together like that.

Since there are barely any possibilities to make your own coffee, let alone sit comfortably on a bench, I am trying this method to relieve my coffee cravings during my walks. Why not? It seems like the perfect situation to use this in. And I sure enjoyed the first bite, as much as the second bite, as much as the aftertaste.

On the way back I passed by this part full of bushes of yellow flowers. It was heavenly. I stayed there for a few minutes, watching happy bees doing their work, lucky enough to catch a picture of one.

At the end of my energies on this hot day, walking the last kilometer, I pass by this part of the city which has an outskirt “American” feeling to it that I can’t quite explain. I felt like I’m in a street from American Beauty.

With a big sense of relief and a craving for shadow, I reach the main station, a very shabby, old place I sadly didn’t make any pictures of and end up taking this old, charming train, full, loud, hot, but cute somehow. Everyone is tired, but the kids have endless energy and don’t stop excitedly talking and jumping from one seat to the next for a minute. They’re also not wearing any masks.

I change trains at Neustrelitz, where I end up in one of the modern trains, which is empty and air conditioned. I get a chance to spread my legs and eat up a yoghurt I had bought (don’t ask me what I was thinking buying it).

Finally, we’re at Waren, where I fortunately only have to walk a few meters to reach my hotel. Check-in is fast and simple, and I’m led to my big, spacey room with character.

It’s the nicest one I had so far. I like the light green walls and the wooden furniture. I also love the fact that it has three windows, which let in so much light.

I’m starving after this long day though – I find a pizza place over google maps and go for a takeaway pizza to eat up by a spot by the water that I also discovered over google maps… and figured it would be very nice.

I was right. Look at this beauty.

And a pizza all to myself. I couldn’t eat it up in one go though. So I carried the rest with me all the way home. Where I landed in bed like a chunk of wood. I’ll be staying at this city for 2 nights, which means… I can sleep in tomorrow… :-)

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Trip stats:
16,4 km – 3 hrs 21 minutes (in motion) – 4,9 km (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/262292274

Day 2 of “I am doing this” – Rheinsberg – Mirow

September 22, 2020April 7, 2024soleil Leave a comment

My route today from Zechlinerhütte to Mirow

Tucked up under what feels like a warm, soothing cocoon of bedsheets that I shall never abandon, I wake up several times at night. I don’t really know why. I assume my mind was exposed to so much that it’s trying to process in desperation. I remember waking up and feeling like it’s almost day, but looking at the clock and realizing it’s still just 1 AM. What? Okay, well it’s still really dark after all.

Before I know it, I’m back to sleep and then actually being awakened by my actual alarm. I had set it to 7:00 but only got out of bed around 07:30. In disbelief over the fact that I have to walk again so far today. And completely excited at the same time.

To pack or not to pack before breakfast? I decide to risk it and just go have breakfast and pack later. I have to head out at 9:00 latest to catch a bus at 09:30 to a place called Zechlinerhütte. I cannot miss the bus under any circumstances, or I’ll have to wait till 11:30 for the next one to come. Nope, not happening!

But the desperate need for coffee is really strong… stronger than any logic my mind would’ve come up with at 07:30 in the morning. My desperate need for coffee is so strong that I already decide to have one of these sachet Tchibo coffees – and since I definitely cannot use the gas cartouche in a house that is (literally) made of wood, I decide to use the hottest faucet water possible.

And once again: fail! The water takes ages to get warm, and then it doesn’t even get warm enough to take a shower with. Okay… just… no coffee now then.

I walk down to the breakfast room. A color palette of mostly red, brown and yellow gives me a warm feeling. I am anyway happy to be able to have a warm meal and a hot coffee in my stomach. It’s still empty, everything is chill, and I slowly prepare mentally for the day.

I get all cozy with my coffee and food, realizing hmm, maybe I should hurry up a bit and indeed, it’s good that thought dawned on me, as packing everything up again was quite a challenge. Mostly it was the fear of forgetting anything, but also the challenge of having to figure out in 3 minutes what to do with all the food I impulsively bought yesterday after a long day of endless walking.

Okay, no panic. Focus. The cheese goes there, the muesli bars stay there, this bottle is useful, keep it. Done. This Rucksack really is badass spacey!

I run down and walk quickly towards the bus station. It’s 20 minutes away by foot. After I walk quite fast-paced for a while, I realize I have no reason to worry anymore. Slow down. Take it all in. The morning chill, the sunshine. And so I do.

Part of me is anxious, because I couldn’t figure out where to buy the bus tickets the day before. I had decided to figure it out today, and part of me expects that I can just buy it from the bus driver right away (in Berlin you can’t anymore due to Corona).

Still, maybe I’ll find a ticket machine anywhere. I see the main station getting closer. Yay, still got lots of time to spare. Oh, and it looks like there’s a ticket machine right over there! Let’s go to that. Very casually… pretending this man and woman smoking over there and standing like they own the place don’t make me feel unsure about myself. Yeah, no big deal, just going to buy some ticket. Phew… wait. It’s not a ticket machine. It’s a cigarette machine. Cool.

Makes sense why I thought these two look like they own the place. They probably do! Because this is not even the station. It’s some building with a restaurant or a game place or something. Huhhhh.

I spot a bus driving in. “Ich hab Feierabend” (basically: I’m done with work for today) is lit up on it. I decide to just ask the driver, although I’m shy. I don’t wanna disturb his Feierabend after all… okay, here we go.

“Darf ich Sie kurz was fragen?” (May I ask you a small question?) I’m already prepared to get an annoyed answer back, as the guy is just uttering “Ja, aber -” (yes, but) will he say “Ja aber schnell, ich hab Feierabend”? Nope. He was just nice and said “Ja, aber selbstverständlich!” (yes, but of course!)

Oh, Berlin. What have you done to me?

After I ask him if I can buy the ticket from the bus driver, it becomes clear that he will be driving the line that I want to take and he offers me to get into the bus already. I get so happy about the relief of it all working and sit back into the chair, the bus all empty around me, as he says “ich geh ne roochen.”

I only understand what he said when I see him lighting a cigarette outside. Okay, now I hear it.

So realizing that again everything worked just fine and I’m so relieved, I get into a bit of bliss, awaiting the trip to start. I see a bus stopping and people getting off, and I sit another hiker, just like me, with his big rucksack. I’m still so overwhelmed by myself doing this that I wish I could just go and high five him or something.

Okay, trip starts. Such a tiny city. Such a cute bus. Every time the driver brakes, the brakes screech very loud. And every time we reach a station, he calls it out to the people who wanted to get off there. How sweet!

My turn comes. I’m the last one in the bus, as he tells me we’ve reached Zechlinerhütte. I thank him nicely and wish him a nice day, and as I walk away we even wave to each other again. How very mundane, yet uplifting an experience.

What a great feeling to have saved me these 6 km of walking from Rheinsberg!

I’m standing at the side of some crossing, where there are construction works. They (the construction works) are even marked on komoot. As komoot itself is still waking up too, I get attracted by this old building with “Zechlinerhütte” written on it, both on a sign and again in mosaic.

It does not solve the mystery of what the Zechlinerhütte actually is, but I save the answer for another day. I want to see more now!

Like this fantastic view on the Schlabornsee…

…or this beautiful enormous tree, blending perfectly with the surrounding.

And so the walking starts, in very good spirit. I enjoy the feeling of nature itself still waking up to a new day, as the early morning sun rays fall on the trees, the fields, and layers of cobwebs… that from a distance I like to admire.

A bridge leads over a nice canal… Zootzenkanal. I get to be part of a conversation between a mom and her kid about mopeds for just a few seconds… realizing that I misunderstood what a moped is all my life long.

I’m led to walk on this path, between very interesting trees. Part of their roots are above the ground, and I wonder if that’s just their kind or if something happened to cause that. For some reason I keep hearing crying trees in my head. They have something… tragic about them.

I’m already in love with the path. Every few meters it looks entirely different. And the sun.

And before I know it, after having walked through the quietest forest, I am at the first lake of the day: Giesenschlagsee(n).

Basically they are three lakes which are connected and they’re all called Giesenschlag, but there’s a small one, a middle one and a big one or something.

This is what they look like on the map.

After the first hour or so, I’m already taking my first longer break. Today, I do feel the 25 km from yesterday.

At least I can have a banana-chocolate yoghurt I impulsively bought yesterday in peace… and shortly close my eyes and meditate on the trip.

Oh, how I would’ve loved to swim already!

I made it here, too!

Has anyone ever seen a black snail before? That sure was my first time.

I am really overwhelmed by the beauty of the path. It’s well-paved this time and every few meters I see a “long-distance-path” sign. I am relieved, knowing that this is a popular path, and I have it confirmed by seeing overall three people during my walk in this area. That is a soothing effect I would have never expected to have from seeing people. But hei, it’s good to keep surprising yourself.

And I took another break…

And another one. This time taking off the extensions of my trousers. It was suddenly so hot. As soon as you’re out of the shade and into the sun, everything feels at least five degrees warmer. But I didn’t care, because the path was beautiful. It was half bike path, half hiking path, and it went along a field.

A little art project?

This sign says that this field is grown organically. No pesticides are used. It made my soul happy.

The next longer break I took at a viewpoint over Vilzsee. I absolutely loved it and the path. In some part of it, you walk along a forest-y hill and below you see the water with canoes in it. And once I was up there, it felt so much like I’m at the sea, I really had to constantly remind myself that I am not. Yet!

Realized after getting up that I’d been sitting on a heart all this time. <3

Do you see me?

Views over Müritz-Havel-Wasserstraße

I passed through some village called Fleeth. And these chicken were following me everywhere. And this poor black chicken had feet which didn’t grow well, but then it did something funny. It pushed its head so far through this metal fence that I really think it thought it could fit through. It made me chuckle loudly and decide it’s best I keep walking before I let that chicken kill itself.

I don’t know what these fruits were, but they were all over the ground, squished, squished, squished.

Another tree that caught my attention. It’s like an abstract natural manifestation for suffocating love.

And lastly I found myself walking next to a sea of corn… the plants were bigger than me. I had never seen them so up close, but I appreciated getting the chance to look at corn precisely. This one here is a special example of a rather imperfect one, one that, again, caught my attention.

Despite my somewhat slower pace, I arrive to Mirow well on time. Tired, hungry, but fulfilled and happy. I make a mental note to myself: double check that you entered the correct hotel address as a destination. It is not fun to read “10 m” left, only to realize the hotel is in an entirely different street… at least it was not an entirely different city. :-)

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

Trip stats:
19,1 km – 4 hrs 3 min (in motion) – 4,7 km/h average speed – 170 m elevation

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on Komoot, here you go:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/261430178

Day 1 of “I am doing this” – Berlin – Neuruppin – Rheinsberg

September 21, 2020October 5, 2020soleil 3 Comments

Yes, I am finally doing this. On a journey of exploring, growing and healing the self, I have found myself – basically from one moment to the next – incredibly intrigued to explore the idea of hiking solo for several days. Where to? The sea, of course.

And so the planning started. Overall a couple of months, and a couple of weeks of discovering a world of wanderlusting… starting full of questions, ending with a lot of excitement of counting down the days to the actual trip. Where to start? What to wear? What to eat? Where to stay? How to stay out of danger? All questions that suddenly seemed ages away, as I stand in the station of Berlin-Spandau, enjoying the warm early sunshine of 7:00 AM, waiting for the train that shall take me to my starting point… of day 1: Neuruppin.

Stage 1 – It’s happening

I was in a quite euphoric state. I am doing this, keeps going through my mind. People around me, if you only knew what journey I am about to embark on!

Such were the kind of words going through my head, as I watch beautiful sceneries pass me by…

…a sight I have never quite seen in that intensity before.

…appreciating the chilled atmosphere in the empty train and the (not to be taken for granted) friendliness of the train personnel.

Anxiously, I await the last station of the train’s journey. The first station of my journey – Neuruppin Seedamm. We arrive at 9:24 AM.

Stage 2 – A lost old lady (with cookies)

I already can’t stop taking pictures. I know I still have 20+ km to walk, but since I know myself, I anyway planned my official start at 9:50 AM, so who cares if I spend the first half hour just taking photos?

Funnily, I’m already put in the next interesting situation. I had heard a nice guy asking an old woman with walking aid if she’d like to cross the street. Then, between some mumbles I hear ‘well, do you know where you want to go?’, but I don’t pay much attention other than noting to myself that this guy is very nice for stopping and asking.

A view after my first few steps taken in Neuruppin

And then, a few minutes later, as I’m stuck taking the photo above this paragraph from different angles, I find this guy approaching me and the old woman slowly coming up behind him. He talks to me: “I am having a bit of an awkward situation. This woman doesn’t know where she wants to go. And she doesn’t remember anything.” Oh!

I am a bit overwhelmed, because I’m not from the city myself and was never put in such a situation before, but of course I try to help and talk to her. I ask her if she knows how long she’s been walking. She mumbles but doesn’t respond. “That’s what I mean. I guess it’s dementia or something”, the guy says. Considering the seriousness of the situation I am calmed by his lightness in the way he talks to her. I keep suggesting answers to her: half an hour? Ten minutes? Just an estimate is all we need. 30 minutes? “No, no… not so long” I manage to get out of her. She’s still very confused, so of course I can’t trust her answer entirely. I then get the idea of asking for her ID, to check her address. I try to keep my questions shorter from now on, as I get the feeling long sentences confuse her more. “Address?”

I am relieved as she starts fumbling around her stuff after a few seconds of not responding at all. The guy tries to help by looking into her trolley with her. I chuckle on my inside as he comments out loud “you have all possible things here… cookies, sweets…” Finally, she grabs a very tiny squished up wallet out of her pocket and picks out a piece of paper…. with an address on it! And a name. Phew! As I already grab my phone to check for it, the guy points out happily that he knows the street. “Straße des Friedens, that’s over there, but how did you get here, there’s a very stoney road, how could you pass over it with your trolley?”

He seems to enjoy teasing her and so I take it as a queue that I can leave while feeling relieved she’s in good hands. He really was very cute with her. But the poor woman! I kept wondering if that happens often, or if we just witnessed a very rare situation, which ended lucky for her…

I go back to myself, enjoying walking the streets of that tiny, old city…

That sight had something idyllic about it for me…

Stage 3 – Arriving

Everyone who passes me greets me so nicely or wishes me a good morning. It’s a pleasant feeling. I enter the first forest I shall encounter today and stop by the Alter Rhin for a not so quick break already.

*Alter Rhin*
I wished I could go swimming

After getting enough sun, I keep walking. I pass Alt-Ruppin, admiring the charm of the houses…

A few minutes after crossing and passing busy streets and getting barked at by the first guard dog, I’m led to the backyard of a house I don’t see a single person in. The whole area is so quirt. I am really overwhelmed by the absolute quiet that could exist at such a place. And by the view I was looking at…

After walking a few steps further, I realize that the path that was being shown on Komoot is basically just grass. My mind goes yay, closer to nature and then the grass keeps getting higher and I think hmm and then I reach a dead end, while komoot tells me to go straight onto the street. HMM! Okay… no panic. I make a detour…

I eventually realize that “hoping” to find a road to lead to the street is too much to hope for considering I still got 3/4 of the distance to go. And so I just walk through the trees (as you see this strange turn on the map) and “elegantly” walk down to the street, pretending that this is not awkward, no.

Phew! Time for my first snack. I happily get out an energy bar from my fanny pack (first time I use this word ever!), and just as I am about to open it, I stumble over my own shoelaces… and kind of fall down, aaaaand push myself up so fast as if nothing happened and keep walking. Roots, grass, fallen trees, I can pass anything! And then my shoelaces do it. Ah well…

Soon enough, I forget all about the detour issue, because I am happy to see a new tiny city called Neumühle. I love the color of its houses and enjoy walking through the very green forest…

Wise words from Neumühle: *Better Run Naziscum*

It was quite a thing to walk for minutes and hours and see only a couple of people. I loved it (till then), and every few minutes I would stop in my tracks and listen to the silence around me, interrupted only by wind making the leaves of the trees sing their songs…

Eventually I realized that I wouldn’t mind actually listening to some music during the experience. I let my phone play in my pocket on very silent loudspeaker. And it’s been two tracks that I have listened to on repeat since then… one is Ruby by Ali Farka Touré & Toumani Diabaté, and the other one is called Manitoumani by several artists: -M-, Toumani Diabaté, Sidiki Diabaté & Fatoumata Diawara. Both songs have grown so dear to me over the last few days, especially Ruby feels like the whole world’s soul is in its music…

Doesn’t it look like some dragon or snake or something drinking out of the lake? I know… very cliché…

I stay very curious as to what is coming next so my breaks aren’t very long at the end. And so I proceed… and reach some more beautiful scenery that I couldn’t help but stop and capture basically all the time.

I love golden fields… they feel like the sun shining out of plants. They had something very Toscana-like about them, because they were so dry, and you could hear these cicada-like sounds.

What was very interesting was how much the scenery constantly changed… so one minute I’m walking next to this field, and the next minute I find a resting place by Molchowsee that I recognize from a visit years ago.

Here I take the first big break and have a mini-lunch, as I sit in the sun, looking at the stillness of the water.

Stage 4 – Overcoming challenges

A bit later I face a similar issue with komoot like at the start. It first leads me along a field, which is beautiful, but then somehow the road gets lost, and I have to walk in high grass along the field again. At least I get to make some more photos.

Actually it was my fault, as I decided to change route spontaneously, because another field parallel to this one looked lovely and I wanted to walk along it and it showed there’s a path on the app but there was not! It was quite a challenge, especially with the sun, but I just tried to focus on the beautiful butterflies flying around me and away from under me..

Here you see my sad attempts at trying to walk into the forest to find a path.

Thankfully I trusted my gut and did not do it. The forest (the green area) was going down steeply and there’s no sign of a path. It was the right thing to keep walking along the smaller field (the darker yellow one).

Eventually I got out of this challenge and found another opportunity for a break. With a swan view! (See photo) I also liked watching these boats pass by. Everyone said hi, which was sweet. Also what seemed like a couple of an interesting sports combination passed by – the girl was on a SUP board (stand-up paddle board) and the guy was in a canoe. They were pedaling next to each other.

This is the perfect spot for a coffee, is what I kept thinking. I had bought this gas cartouche only so I can make coffee on the way – but damn, was that a fail! First, I was extremely anxious about even putting it on. I connected it to the “stove” or however you’d call it, and as I was screwing both together whoosh! the gas started leaking out the opening and making this sound. I jumped back (lol!), my heart beating like crazy, unsure what to do next, hoping nobody sees me, as I wasn’t even sure I’m allowed to use this thing. I could hear the sound get quieter, and so I approached it again and tried to screw both together stronger and then it stopped. Well, I eventually figured it only made that sound because of the high pressure it was on, while it was closed, and because I hadn’t screwed them together properly in the first place! Okay… so time for a coffee.

I get out this plastic pot I got from Decathlon to cook and eat in and then think to myself: plastic? Won’t that melt? Although it says 100 degrees C on the pot, I don’t trust it. I must be getting something wrong. But hours later I think to myself that it would’ve probably worked just fine.

What about the coffee though? I ended up drinking it cold.

I do not recommend it… but hey, it tasted like (some very sour) coffee.

Off to see more fields!

Ravens which I loved looking at and then got creeped out by. Because they were circling on top of me and making sounds and then I remembered this funny video of these people getting attacked by crows. I’m not here to hurt you! I tried to telepathically tell them. Maybe it worked. They kept to themselves at the end.

Stage 5 – Sincerely fucking real terror

So what happens next? Why this very dramatic title? This shall be a funny story for everyone reading this but me. Maybe it will be funny for me one day, too. Actually it already kind of is. Okay. Look at these beautiful trees down there…

It’s like a dream, isn’t it? So it felt to me too. But then komoot took my love for trees very seriously and started leading me again into the forest. Surprise: no path. Just grass. No problem. I don’t mind. Closer to nature, I think again. I walk, and walk, and I feel a little strange with time, and then I get why. It’s clear that nobody’s walked that “path” in a long long long time. It’s clear because it’s full of spider webs. Everywhere.

Anyone who knows me well will understand immediately. Maybe silently has already wondered, but was too afraid to ask me: what will you do about all the spiderwebs?

To everyone else I say shortly and clearly: ever since I can remember I have had an incredible fear of spiderwebs. I don’t know why, and frankly I expected it to be way less intense than I experienced in that moment. But it was just too much too fast too unexpected.

All that happened was me slowly realizing that I need to change my paths to avoid walking into small spiderwebs. And then they’d get bigger. And harder to avoid. And then I realized as I looked around: there was a spiderweb between every two trees I could see anywhere. And I was surrounded by trees! Just like you see in the photos.

What would sound like a metaphor quite frankly isn’t: it was a nightmare come true. I actually dreamt that before. Kind of.

Anyway. Look at my recorded path.

You see around the top that my path started becoming “more crooked”. That was me trying to avoid them. And then going right, following komoot’s instructions, and then realizing I am sooo running out of options to avoid them.

This section is probably way too long for the actual seriousness of the situation, but I can only try to describe what I felt: a heartbeat of what felt like 120 per minute, sweat, goosebumps, the need to whine out loud at every one I spot. Ugh!

I was already laughing at myself on the inside. I tried to think of ways to deal with the situation. One attempt was to cover myself up entirely. Scarf covering face and hair, jacket, gloves, and walking straight into them without even knowing. I prepared myself for that. And could not move my feet a single step. Frozen, entirely.

Option two: google what happens when you walk into a spiderweb and try to rationally have a conversation with myself because nothing will happen simply didn’t seem to do it. I just couldn’t move. But thankfully there was no signal anyway, as I doubt the answer would’ve calmed me down.

Option three: grab a fucking branch and break them one by one and pass. Ohmygod, I wince internally. I cover myself up again, but eyes stay free and prepare myself in a Star Wars Warrior with light saber pose to fight off my enemy. Seriously? I hear you ask. Oh, yes.

Yes, you could say I felt like that. Minus the snow.

And so I moved step by step. Breaking one spiderweb after the other and crying out loud every time. Part of me was happy nobody was around and part of me was dying to find somebody to just be my savior, walk ahead of me and I’d walk behind. And part of me thought I must be the funniest creepiest strangest hiker to ever pass this place…

And so, eventually you guys, I found an emptier spot and saw that there is a field nearby to walk along. And so I desperately walked to that field and it worked. No spiderwebs there. I walked to the first big street I could find, took a deep breath and decided I won’t go into “natural” paths for the rest of the day. I had intentionally after all planned the path to be as natural as possible. I walked on an official street for cars till I reached the last village before my destination.

You can see how far I walked taking the street here.

To close this chapter and answer an obvious question: why did I do this trip despite knowing I have this fear?

I simply did not expect such a situation to happen. I didn’t think the app would lead me off paved roads, and then I didn’t expect this kind of intense exposure compared to the exposure I am used to from Berlin and surrounding areas. I never experienced spiderwebs in the middle of unofficial roads like that, at least not in that intensity.

But I learned a lot from this situation. I learned to properly look at the planned roads in the future, properly estimate if they are really there or not, and I also learned to try and do something about this fear again. Still, I keep thinking: what would a normal person do? Surrounded by hundreds of spider webs? Would they just walk through them as if they are a minor discomfort? I can’t imagine it at all. I truly wish I had someone with me in that situation.

Still, I refused to let it ruin my mood, although it took a long time (approx. an hour) for the adrenaline to get out of my system. Only then could I start enjoying the surrounding again..

Stage 6 – Reaching my first destination

Some trees celebrate Autumn already.

The last village I passed before reaching Rheinsberg was Zechow. I sat there by a bench for a few minutes, my shoes taken off (got me some curious looks) and trying to realize the fact that I am almost there.

I let the day flow through my mind again, remembering the morning, waiting in Spandau for the train. It all seemed so far. I remembered the few issues I faced and managed and realized that in comparison to the spiderweb topic, I basically managed just fine. It worked! I was about to reach my destination…

I encountered one last sweet incident before reaching the pension in Rheinsberg. I was walking on a path shared by passengers and cyclists. I heard a bike bell being rung at me. I looked back, seeing an old couple approaching on their bikes. I keep walking, knowing they have enough space to pass, but they ring again. I turn around, annoyed, ready to have an argument, but all they did was say a very sweet “hallooo, hallo!”, to which I couldn’t help but smile and greet them back. The old woman adding “so ganz alleine hier…?” (So entirely alone here?) both made me laugh and realize that I am indeed here alone. And that I can pat myself on the back. Both for making it work but also for being here in the first place.

A nice uplift it was, as I did my last few tired steps, seeing the pension a few meters away… again, admiring the surrounding.

Until, after I nicely get greeted by a lady and her dog, I finally get the chance to lie down…

…in my very authentic rooftop room at the outskirts of Rheinsberg.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

Trip stats:
25,8 km – 5 hours 26 minutes (in motion) – 4,8 km/h average speed – 230 m elevation

If you’re interested to look at my actual path on Komoot, here you go:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/260957507

Walking with Wolves

Personal Visually Engaging Stories About Hiking

Tag Travel

“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 2)

September 20, 2025 – Day 2
(Hike from Järna to Gnesta)

“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 1)

**🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾**

September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

Day 3 of “I am doing this again” – Altenholz > Schwedeneck

Part 1 – New Day, New Strategy

Part 2 – Jazz in the Background

Part 3 – Not a Soul, Not a Sound

Part 4 – With Every Sip I Dreamt of the Sea

Part 5 – Scenes From A Summer Movie

Part 6 – Leave the Horror Here

Part 7 – All For The Soul

Part 8 – A Day Passes Revue

Day 2 of “I am doing this again” – Kiel > Altenholz

Day 1 of “I am doing this again” – Berlin > Kiel

Part 1 – The Train Tales

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

Day 3 of “I am doing this” – Mirow – Waren

Day 2 of “I am doing this” – Rheinsberg – Mirow

Day 1 of “I am doing this” – Berlin – Neuruppin – Rheinsberg

September 20, 2025 – Day 2(Hike from Järna to Gnesta)

Share this:

🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾

September 19, 2025 – Day 1 (Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)

✨ Part I – Morning Weightlifting

✨ Part II – Cheered On By Marathoners

✨ Part III – The Seat Challenge

✨ Part IV – You’ve Got This

✨ Part V – Egypt Pays An Anecdotal Visit

✨ Part VI – Rejected Together

✨ Part VII – The Labyrinth Of The Ferry

✨ Part VIII – Blissfully Afloat

✨ Part IX – Dinner And Golden Light

✨ Part X – Patience, Patience And Some More Patience

Share this:

Part 1 – New Day, New Strategy

Part 2 – Jazz in the Background

Part 3 – Not a Soul, Not a Sound

Part 4 – With Every Sip I Dreamt of the Sea

Part 5 – Scenes From A Summer Movie

Part 6 – Leave the Horror Here

Part 7 – All For The Soul

Part 8 – A Day Passes Revue

Share this:

Share this:

Part 1 – The Train Tales

Part 2 – A Messy Greeting

Part 3 – Kiel, Show Me Your Secrets

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

September 20, 2025 – Day 2
(Hike from Järna to Gnesta)

**🙋🏻‍♀️ Hello everyone and welcome to a new series of my long-distance hiking adventures! 🥾**

September 19, 2025 – Day 1
(Train & Ferry Trip from Germany to Sweden)