Tag wanderlust

“And Then Sweden Happened” – 8 Days of Dreaming, Walking & Wandering in Sweden (Day 3)

soleil 2 Comments

^ 🎧 Now also available as audio! To listen, play the track above and at the beginning of each chapter.

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

Today’s post is about day three of my hike — a day that’s slower than yesterday’s adventure, but much lighter on the soul (and the knees). A day of slow mornings, careful steps, (b)rain fog, moments of quiet wonder, and unexpected humor awaits you.

So sit back, relax and wander with me through all those little moments that make a hike unforgettable. And as always — don’t hesitate to laugh at my chaotic moments. Absolutely no hard feelings there! 😁

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

(Estimated read time: 20 minutes)

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September 21, 2025 – Day 3
(Hike from Gnesta to Väsby)

🍃 Part I – Attempts To Reconcile With My Muscles

03:00 AM.
What’s happening? What am I doing here?
Darkness surrounds me, as I open my eyes in confusion, trying to make sense of where I am. My body answers before my memory does: I feel a heavy, aching exhaustion that reminds me of the adventure I had only just survived a few hours ago. Oh right, that!

But what time is it now?
I grab my phone to check and realize with quite a shock that it’s still 03:00 AM. Oh my… there’s NO way I’m waking up now already. I bury myself deeper into the blankets like a human burrito, trying to calm the anxious thoughts racing through me. It’s vital that my body recharges before the next hike.

It’s okay, just close your eyes. Things are fine.

When I open my eyes what feels like a few minutes later, the room is already much more lit. I stretch an arm towards the phone resting on the wooden cupboard opposite the bed. 07:00 AM. Oh, thank God.

As I sit up, the memory of yesterday’s experience comes back in vibrant flashes: the horror of the most demanding hike of willpower I’d ever embarked on, the desperate limp into the cabin at 10:00 PM, the collapse onto the couch before forcing myself upright fifteen minutes later to eat something, anything. I remember shuffling around like a malfunctioning robot, moving the spoon into my mouth with a level of exhaustion and low mobility I didn’t know I could feel. And then, the surprise I’d just needed: discovering that the bed was on the top bunk, which I had to climb steps to reach. With every step, I genuinely wondered whether I’d ever be able to walk again normally.

So, while driving down memorylane with my head still on the pillow, the big question comes to mind: how am I actually feeling today?

With hesitation, I push myself forward to the edge of the bed, carefully place one foot down the ladder, then another, carefully descending the stairs with baby steps… and I realize, miraculously, that I do feel much better!

Sure, there’s the constant pain in my ankle, the swelling in my hip joints, which refuse to believe it’s time to move again and the incredible tension in my shoulders. Nonetheless, this really is at least 60% improvement compared to yesterday. And that’s enough to give me a little hope that today might be gentler.

My thoughts, however, are still foggy and uncooperative. It takes ages to make coffee and a simple breakfast, and my eyes keep drifting back to my phone in that meaningless way that says “I refuse to start the day, and I’ll do everything useless that I can do to waste my time”.

And when I finally do manage to make coffee, I somehow spill coffee grounds everywhere and need to start again. Attempt two goes a little better, but I can now definitely confirm: It’s going to be one of those days.

I peek outside a small window above the kitchen sink and see the sky is heavy with clouds. It must have just rained, as the wood of the floor outside is glistening wet. Still, I need some fresh air, so I decide to take my coffee outside. My short excursion outside shall also serve as a proper low-key test to the weather, before I start my hike. Let’s do it.

Once outside, I drop into a cushion-less dark rattan chair and just… stare quietly. The air smells of rain — fresh, cold, but alive. No one else is around; the campsite is silent.

My eyes wander to a tree standing calmly next to the cabin, and I spot a pair of blue chickadees, a chaffinch and two wood pigeons hopping around the branches. To my surprise, they seem totally unbothered by distant gunshot noises echoing through the forest.

Well, if the birds can remain unbothered, so can you, I try to convince myself, as I on the other hand, feel quite annoyed. But watching them is the most beautiful and calming meditation and works wonders after a few minutes. They remind me of that childhood version of myself who once wanted to become a birdwatcher. After “vet” had been the front-runner for years, “birdwatcher” finally made it as my standard answer to what I’d like to be when growing up. And sitting there, with the coffee warming my hands, feeling grounded and calmed by those sweet birds, I wonder why I ever abandoned that passion. Maybe I’ll take it up in the near future again… well, let’s put a mark on that.

Then, my eyes wander to the outdoor shower — yes, there is an outdoor shower! — and I wonder whether I can muster the courage to have one in this weather. I’m very tempted to give it a try. I mean, look at all that green around it!

Honestly, I had completely forgotten this Airbnb had one, before I spotted it outside, and I briefly wondered what on earth my past self had been thinking, booking this for the end of September. Then I remembered: Past me booked this cabin while in Egypt, chilling by the sea, surrounded by 35°C heat. Well, mystery solved! 13°C was just not fathomable to her in that moment…

🍃 Part II – A Steamy Panoramic Forest View

09:00 AM.
Feeling more energized by the coffee and the outdoor freshness, I finally make the decision to try out the outdoor shower. It’s 13°C and the air fills my lungs with the most beautiful scent: wet pine leaves, fresh grass and moist soil. And I just can’t resist the chance to take a shower, while I’m surrounded by those wonderful smells and that panoramic view of the trees being hugged by the sky.

Adding to that, my muscles are desperately craving the feeling of hot water for some release, highly in need for anything that could loosen yesterday’s tension. Obsessively stretching can only do so much.

So, as you can guess, there’s really no way I’m saying no to this shower!

With big excitement, I prepare for this small adventure. The only entirely unexpected obstacle: I can’t find any shower towels… How is that possible?

A quick double-check on Airbnb confirms it — this listing does not include towels. Or bed linens for that matter. Umm… wait, what? No bed linens?

A glance at the bed and pillows confirms: yes, no linens. I should have brought my own. Well, oops…

I consider myself lucky that I was so exhausted the night before that I actually didn’t notice. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up sleeping on the couch. Sorry in advance, host and next guest…

Back to the shower endeavour: what do I do now? It’s too cold to just air dry! So, I look around again… and find that I have no choice but to use two tiny, barely 30 cm large hand towels that are included in the listing. Okay! I can make this work. Surely that’s better than drying my skin with toilet paper, right?

Ten minutes later, I’m standing under the shower, feeling utterly blissful. The hot water relaxes my muscles and my soul incredibly, and I feel held by the sight of the sky and the trees surrounding the cabin. In the chilly air, the hot water creates a dreamy cloud of steam around me. I close my eyes and take my time, letting the warmth massage every tired part of my body — truly, a much needed sensation after yesterday’s hike.

Surprisingly, the water also has quite the interesting smell, one I’ve never encountered before. The closest description I can think of is: freshly ironed linen with a hint of nature. Don’t ask me why. But that strange, yet comforting smell, combined with the occasional gentle breeze, gives this whole experience the feeling of a much needed warm hug. So worth it!

After finishing, I dry myself off with the two tiny towels, somehow still feeling warm despite the low temperature, and I head back inside — half awkwardly, half amusedly covering whatever the two towels can manage to cover… then I realize, there isn’t anyone around who could see me anyway. And even if — who cares?

🍃 Part III – Carefully Prepared, Carefully Resistant

10:20 AM.
Back inside, I continue preparing for the day ahead — way too carefully. I notice how much time I need for even the simplest tasks, with the exhaustion from yesterday still weighing heavily in my body, but I accept it. It was tough, and I want to start today’s adventure feeling as well prepared and rested as possible.

My original plan is to walk 21 kilometers along a section of trail I had been genuinely excited about. But yesterday taught me to be realistic and gentler with myself. So, with quite some resistance, I sit down and adjust the route to 17 kilometers instead. That’s four kilometers less — not much, but that saves an entire hour of walking. And when you’re tired, that difference really matters.

As part of this improved preparation, I decide to give that peculiar invention called kinesiology tape a try for the first time. It’s an elastic cotton strip with acrylic adhesive, designed to support muscles, joints, and soft tissues without restricting movement. Athletes and physiotherapists use it to reduce pain, improve circulation, and assist muscle function. At least, my Perplexity search says that.

I had never used it before, but I packed some with me just in case. And today definitely feels like a day worth trying this out!

With a vague memory of a YouTube tutorial I’d watched between the hecticness of packing a day before my trip, I apply strips to my shoulders, thighs, knees, and ankles. Even if they end up doing nothing, it’s worth a try. And at least I feel like a real professional now!

Just kidding…

10:30 AM.
To my surprise, the host of my next Airbnb offers to pick me up earlier with her car as soon as I mention that I’m coming on foot. My immediate reaction is resistance — it feels like admitting defeat. But a quiet, gentle voice manages to get through to me: come on… this is a little gift. You know it would help you greatly. Take it.

So, with quite some hesitation mixed with a bit of shyness, I accept her offer. We agree to meet in Rynäs, which is (just) 13 kilometers away instead of 17 — a good compromise! I still have some distance to walk, but not so much that I’m energetically back to square one by the end of the hike.

I continue to take ages to feel ready, constantly rethinking my plan. Maybe I should stretch again? Maybe another painkiller… What about a second breakfast? Or another coffee…

Also, just when I least need it, I get distracted watching two wasps fly into the cabin and completely fail to figure out how to leave again. I definitely cannot leave while they’re stuck inside and just hoping my host wouldn’t sit down on one of them hiding on the couch by mistake later on.

But then — finally — at 11:15 AM, I feel ready to head out.

Goodbye, little cabin. Thanks for keeping me safe after such a difficult day, I think silently, as I close the door behind me and return the key to the lockbox. I then take a deep breath in and head towards those stairs I climbed up with tears held back yesterday. We meet again…

🍃 Part IV – Gently, Gently Take Your Steps

Surprisingly, I find going down the stairs more painful than going up the stairs yesterday, even though I feel better overall. Sharp pinches of pain can be felt in my feet and knees with every step. But I do feel the tension of the kinesiology tape exert a gentle pressure on my muscles, as I go down every step, and I like it — it’s like a gentle background massage.

Once downstairs, I take a moment to look around. Still no one in sight. This campsite seems abandoned. But I’m not one to complain! I need all my energies focused on the path ahead of me.

The air feels slightly cooler now, and a delicate breeze moves through the trees. I press “Navigate” to officially start recording my hike on Komoot and follow a wide gravel path into the forest. After a couple of minutes of walking, I realize it’s the same path I walked last night in complete darkness and despair! How distant that version of myself feels, as I walk on the same ground, but now bathed in daylight.

Around a hundred meters later, a bridge guides me over a narrow canal, and I stop for a moment to look around. Water lilies spread across one side of the surface, while reeds dominate the other. I also spot some trees with protruding roots spread along the shore. In the distance, a small motorboat moves slowly with two people inside, who seem to be looking at something in the reed.

I continue walking, leaning on my hiking poles for support. Only now do I notice how sore my hands are from yesterday’s heavy usage. Maybe I shouldn’t use them today? After trying a few steps without, I immediately feel the additional pressure onto my knees and realize there’s no chance. I’ll need my knees more than my hands in the coming days.

Cars occasionally pass as I try to maintain a steady pace along the gravel road. I quickly discover that walking on the thin strip of soil at the edge is much easier on my feet than walking on the uneven gravel itself — a good learning. My body is still tired and slow, but I try to stay positive and take everything gently, at a pace that feels sustainable to walk.

11:45 AM.
Before long, I’m walking alongside long, wide fields — a typical countryside scene. But one I absolutely cherish! Open landscapes tend to make me feel less suffocated than I sometimes feel surrounded by thousands of trees, as beautiful as they are. On days with heavy thoughts, they can sometimes feel heavy, rather than relieving to be around. When I then encounter an open space, it feels almost like relief, like I feel more spacious inside, like I can breathe.

With that in mind, I pause for a moment to enjoy the view, looking forward to a day of walking, while mainly surrounded by fields. I let the lush green sweep into my eyes, along with the hay bales spread evenly across the field and cows scattered in the distance. I take in the view with a happy heart, and I do my best to ignore the light drizzle settling over and around me. It’s supposed to rain today — heavily, in fact. But that’s a later problem!

Continuing yesterday’s good practice, I decide to put on some music to stay motivated and keep my thoughts under control. Spotify’s daylist decides oldies with a hint of indie pop shall be the best soundtrack to this moment. Fine by me — getting out of my comfort zone seems to be the theme of this hike anyway. And this is definitely better than the sound of passing cars.

🍃 Part V – Catching My Breath With A Bit of Hay

12:15 PM.
The drizzle has now grown heavier, so I decide to take a super short break at a crossroads and put on my rain jacket. It would absolutely suck to get wet and catch a cold. That I know for sure by now.

At 12:18 PM, I continue.

12:30 PM.
After 3.5 kilometers, I reach a large red barn, next to which lie a few huge hay bales wrapped in white plastic sheeting. I admire the confidence the owners must have to leave the doors open like that, right by the roadside. The doors are huge — maybe four meters high. Inside, hay and all kinds of equipment are neatly arranged. I could just walk in. Take a little break there in a nook… *just kidding, everyone*

In front of the barn, to the left of the sidewalk, there is a small, well-kept garden without a fence, where a few stones lie under a willow tree. It is the perfect place for a short break to rethink my plan. I plop down on a stone and catch my breath for a few moments.

I’d agreed with my host to meet at Rynäs at 03:00 PM, but I still have about nine kilometers to cover, and I know I’m already much slower than expected. With only 2.5 hours left, I doubt I’ll make it. I contemplate accepting her secondary offer: to pick me up at the Vängsö Flygfält — the local airfield — which would save roughly four kilometers. But before taking her up on that offer, I decide to observe my pace a bit longer.

At 12:45 PM, I get up and continue. I am led through more fields and then into a small wooded area overgrown with bushes. I don’t encounter a single person. All I hear is faint car noises in the distance and some strange sounds the trees make every time the wind moves through them. Every time I hear the sound, I think a car is passing, and I brace myself — only to turn around and find nothing. It was just the wind playing with the trees once again.

Not long after walking two more kilometers, I find myself in need of another break. My body’s achy, in need of gentleness and patience. So I pick a quiet spot, next to a path, overlooking a field. A perfect place for catching my breath.

There’s a slight breeze, but it’s not too cold. The rain has stopped, but the air is very humid, and I can tell it’s a matter of time, before I find myself right inside another outdoor shower.

A couple of snacks and selfies later, I try to get up to continue my hike. And I’d really like to emphasize the part about trying to. For — to my pleasant surprise — I notice it’s a bit of a problem to push myself back up. My knees just keep loosening and I fall back down midway. But with some focus, I manage to push myself up the third time.

This hike is not making me feel younger for sure… I realize with the bit of humor I can summon in this situation. But more importantly, I make a mental note to sit in a position I can better get up from next time.

A few steps later, I’m delighted by more countryside scenery — horses peacefully nibbling at the grass, cows curiously following me with their gaze and spaciousness surrounding me everywhere.

2:15 PM.
Soon, I join a wider gravel path that skirts another large field with hay bales and another red barn. I now notice a pattern: all the barns I’ve passed are painted red, and I don’t know why. I make a mental note to look it up later.

Side note – I looked it up! A quick search using Perplexity reveals that Swedish barns are traditionally painted with Falu red, a pigment derived from byproducts of the Falun copper mine. This mine, operating for nearly a thousand years until 1992, produced up to two-thirds of Europe’s copper and became a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The iron-rich Falu red protected wooden buildings from rot and harsh Nordic weather, while resembling prestigious European red brick facades. Originally used on castles and manors, the paint became affordable for ordinary Swedes in the 19th century and eventually become a cornerstone of Swedish cultural identity.

I continue down a very long road, crossing two wide fields. My motivation is very low at this point, and my knees and hip joints ache. Every time Komoot announces, “Follow this way for one more kilometer,” I feel a wave of demotivation, reminded of the distance left and my painfully slow pace.

At some point, I realize I’m moving at around 2.5 km/h — even slower than last night, with 27 kilometers behind me. In the middle of what feels like an endlessly long path, I stop, feeling small and tired. I can’t help but ask myself: Why is this trip so painful? What am I doing wrong?

I find no immediate answer, but I remind myself that I have to do everything in my power to recharge properly today and make sure the rest of the hike is easier somehow.

2:30 PM.
I take my next break in a little grassy area at the edge of a field, just after passing another red barn. I find a small gap and let myself collapse onto my backpack, staring into the gray sky. A much-needed rest, suspended between surrender and the desire to give up. I close my eyes for a minute, letting my mind float.

With pressure mounting to meet my host, I decide to just message her and accept her offer to pick me up earlier at the airport — roughly 1.5 kilometers away. I know I won’t make it to Rynäs (our originally agreed upon meeting point) by 3:00 PM on foot, and taking this chance to rest feels wise. To my relief, she replies within a minute that she’s totally fine and could even be there in fifteen minutes. And she won’t have signal as soon as she’s in the car. Which I assume she is now. Oh God! Okay, okay. That’s all the motivation I need to get and move now!

🍃 Part VI – Rain Fog To Spice Things Up

With backpack tightly strapped and hiking poles in hand, I pick up a steady rhythm and continue walking. Out of nowhere, I find a group of cyclists passing me, all riding in a neat line. The one at the front flashes a cheerful “hej,” and the last one gives me a peace sign. What is a mere instant of an encounter gives me quite a good boost of energy.

And just a few seconds after, it starts to drizzle… just what I needed. But I’m almost there! At least, that’s what I keep telling myself — mainly as an excuse not to stop and put on my rain jacket, if I’m being honest. But within thirty seconds, the drizzle grow heavier and denser. Fast. And just like that, it turns into a full-on shower. Wonderful, just wonderful!

I quicken my pace towards a tree I spot fifty meters ahead and immediately take shelter underneath it. A little stress creeps in: my host must already be waiting at the meeting point, so I pull the raincoat from around my waist and put it on as quickly as I can. And just like that, another surge of energy hits me, as soon as I take the first step. I find myself walking fast and keeping up a steady rhythm, despite the pain I feel in my legs. The rain lashes down around me like a fog made of water. Everywhere I look, it’s just painted white with rain.

Finally, I spot the little street crossing I’ve been waiting for: a couple of two-laned streets joining, with fields stretching out on every side. I head toward the intersection and, to my relief, spot the yellow houses my host had mentioned as a meeting point. Okay, that’s five minutes away. I quicken my pace, scanning all passing cars, wondering if one of them could be hers. I really can’t be missed in this outfit, but I realize I should’ve asked which car she drives. Too late now.

As I approach the intersection, I see a car pulling out of a parking spot and driving toward me. Could this be her? A right-turn signal flashes, indicating a stop — oh, what relief! She then honks loudly for at least a second, which slightly embarrasses me, but honestly, the relief overshadows everything. I walk toward her with a wide smile, the rain shower drumming all around us.

She steps out of the car, completely unbothered by the rain, and greets me with a hug, while laughing at the downpour. I love how she just stands there, shirt wetting more and more with every passing second, totally at ease. I laugh, she laughs, and I apologize profusely in advance for getting her car wet. She assures me it’s no problem — it’s her friend’s car anyway. I jokingly apologize to her friend, which sets her laughing again.

Success!

🍃 Part VII – Sure, Let’s Call It A Sea View

As soon as we’re on the road, I proceed to thank her what feels like a thousand times for her help, before turning into a total blabber-machine about the chaos of yesterday. She listens amusedly, with a laugh here and there, and then asks me why I’m going on such a hike alone. A question I’m so used to hearing, yet every time I find it difficult to answer. Still, I tell her that I like having space for my thoughts, walking at my own rhythm, and that it’s always an adventure, which helps me grow. She asks if I got scared when it got dark, and I answer honestly, though with some resistance: yes, I got a little scared. But I immediately add that I was comforted, when I called someone for support and that the fear didn’t last too long. I don’t know if she believed me.

I also tell her it’s my first time in Sweden, which surprises her tremendously. With wide open eyes, she exclaims, “What?! This is your first time in Sweden! Well… Welcome to Sweden!,” and she adds that this is the Swedish S ummer. I laugh and admit that I came at not such an ideal time, and that I probably deserve this little discomfort.

We drive to the house, and I feel comforted by her light spirit and easy-going nature. She tells me that she works with older people and that she also does foot treatments. “Ah, Podologie!” I find myself exlaiming in German, like my mouth has a brain of its own. I proceed to tell her that I love what she does and admire her work. She smiles and says that she loves doing it very much herself.

She then asks me a couple more questions about my trip: what path I’m taking, where I’ve stayed, and where I’ll be going next. I try to pronounce “Sörmlandsleden” with as much confidence as I can, failing epically, but she gets it on the second attempt. She briefly wonders if she could take me along tomorrow, but then remembers she’s going in the opposite direction for her swim training. I say it’s totally fine — the plan still is to hike after all.

Soon after, we turn onto a small pebbled street leading to a house, then curve left through a path surrounded by dense bushes, all the way to the back. From there, she walks me across a wide grass-filled space to the cabin I’ll spend the night in. Dreamily, I follow her, amazed by the surrounding and wondering what it’s like to live here, trying to keep my “wows” under control. Still, one or two manage to escape.

She unlocks the door, and I set my soil-covered hiking poles aside and slip off my shoes. Immediately, the cabin’s coziness comforts me. I can tell I’ll have a good time here.

She starts showing me around, saying I can sleep upstairs or downstairs, whatever I like. But I know for sure I’m not climbing any more stairs today…

Opening another door, we’re led to a back terrace of the cabin, and she opens her arms to present what she excitedly calls a sea view. I match her enthusiasm, but inwardly, I chuckle — it’s more of a “sea glimpse” than a sea view. A tiny strip of lake peeks over a field, barely visible. But sure, let’s call it a sea view. I absolutely love it — and seeing horses in the field makes me even happier.

As soon as she leaves, I sink onto the couch to rest my legs. It’s only 3:15 PM, so I have plenty of time to enjoy the day in whichever ways I desire.

I know I’ll definitely want to enjoy that view. So first off, I preparte a small treat — some vanilla-flavored porridge with peanut butter and chocolate pieces to set the mood straight. I take the bowl outside, wiping some rain off yet another set of rattan furniture, and sit down. Oh, finally… I can now breathe.

To my surprise, the weather feels a little warmer now, and the sun starts slowly peeking out from behind the clouds. I recall the weather forecast showing that tomorrow shall be sunny — perfect! I look forward to using yet another outdoor shower tomorrow before my next hike. Yes, I’d also forgotten about this one here…

The rest of the day is simple bliss — eating, resting, napping under two blankets, comforted by a couple of hot water bottles. I unexpectedly wake up for the sunset, and — of course — I use the chance to take a photo.

And other than that, I spend a lot of time letting the quietness calm me. I only hear the sounds of birds chattering and trees swaying in the wind. The outside mirror clinking against the wall adds a small, unnoticed rhythm. And funnily, the trees sound a little like waves — so much that later, the sound transforms into an actual sea just outside the cabin in a dream that visits me. But when the deep night hits, there’s only the sound of my breath and my pulse. Other than that, absolute calmness.

And with that, I say goodnight for the day.

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Quick view of hike stats:

🥾 Distance hiked: 9.61 km
⏱️ Time in motion: 2h 9 min
🏃🏻‍♀️ Average speed: 4.5 km/h
⛰️ Elevation hiked: 110 m

🏅 Distance hiked overall (day 1 & 2): 37.51 km

More detailed stats of today’s trip 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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Day 4 of “I am doing this again” – Surendorf (Schwedeneck) > Eckernförde

soleil 2 Comments

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

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

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

Part 1 – Shadow Plays and Dry Porridge

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

Shadows know I love their play

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

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

A serene view from my window

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2 – The Calmness and the Confusion

Beginning of my route towards the sea

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

A calm scene that feels like a dream

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

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

Cows unaffected by my presence

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

Hard to find paths

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

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

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

The dog beach

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

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

My break spot

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

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

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

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

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

A satellite view of the camping place Gröhnwald

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

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

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

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

Part 3 – Scorching Heat

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is reed. And this photo was taken by Tao Yuan on Unsplash.

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

Part 4 – A Sea That Is My Own

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

The sea calls for me

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

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

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

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

And then I continue.

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

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

Part 5 – Of Lost Places and Golden Hour

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

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

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

3 kilometers in the sun

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

Of lost places that I’m lucky to find

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

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

Proof I’ve made it so far with a smile

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

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

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

A sea of geese

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

Them golden hues!

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

Places I could spend lifetimes in

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Today’s completed route:

“A” is where I spent the night (Surendorf), and “B” is where I decided to end the hike and take the bus towards “Eckernförde”

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

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

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

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

soleil 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

Morning in Altenholz

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…

A secret path

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.

Horses wherever you look

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.

My view while taking a break

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.

Finally, a sea view

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.

A sunbathing couple

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.

View of the harbor from the distance

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.

A lovely spot for a break, no?

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.

Yum.

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.

View from the lighthouse spot

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

View from below the cliff

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.

A beautiful view from the top

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

soleil 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.

View outside the window

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.

View outside the window

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…

A gigantic cruise ship
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.

A ride on a pirate ship, anyone?

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.

You don’t see this view everyday

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
Castle view, anyone?
Find the jogger

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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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

soleil 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.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

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 6 of “I am doing this” – Rerik – Neubukow

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Today’s route from Rerik to Neubukow

Okay, today was a really tough day. I’m tucked up in bed as I write this, so I can look back and be really happy about the impressions I could collect today.

First things first. I wake up again before my alarm rings, using the chance to get up and pack in peace. Why not, when I have such a sweet view in front of me and the sun is already teasing me with its early morning rays? Some morning stretches/yoga help me get into the flow and physically prepare for the day.

View from my room in Rerik

Breakfast is awesome, the best one I had so far. No open buffet because of Corona and stuff, so a lady serves us through some sort of counter through the door, like at some canteen. When my turn comes, I tell her I’m a vegetarian. And hope nobody heard me. Something tells me vegetarians are a rare happening at this place.

After a short look of confusion on her face, she starts sweetly and generously offering me options from a whole variety of cheeses, salads, fruits and vegetables they have. She keeps putting vegetables on my plate without me asking. I am not so used to this here in Germany, but I am just thankful that I don’t have to push myself through with my wishes, as I am quite shy doing that. I end up with a very fulfilling plate, perfect for the long day ahead. And the coffee… my morning mazag, as we call it in Egypt.

My intuition about vegetarianism being a rare thing here was quite right. After serving me, the lady can’t let it go without making a comment about my being vegetarian after I sit down.

“More and more of today’s youth become vegetarians,” she says. After a short break she adds: “But I don’t think it’s bad. I think it’s good.” I find it funny that the comment is not really geared towards me. She just walks to someone else’s table while saying it, they talk about it, excluding me, and eventually they somehow end up talking about chronic sinusitis. *laughs*
I could’ve joined in on that conversation as an expert, too.

I have a whole table to myself, and I use the time to observe the people here. They are to 80% seniors, with only 2-3 women looking a bit younger. They all seem to already have met each other, probably from the days before. Two men keep throwing some curious looks at me, as they stand in line, waiting to get served. I don’t mind though. I understand that I might look a bit odd at this place, and all on my own to top that.

With a full stomach, full of gratitude, I head to my room. I enjoy the spaciness of the room, and I enjoy the excitement of embarking on today’s journey. For some change, as I pack up the last few things, I put on the radio that is standing on a shelf in this sweet little room, learning a new expression from some news channel – “corona chaos”. Some reporter asks someone if one can speak of Corona chaos happening in Austria. Okay. Let’s listen to something else. I settle for Blinding Lights by The Weeknd. A song I usually wouldn’t choose, but hei, it’s all about getting out of the comfort zone and stuff. And it really is uplifting.


Soon enough I am ready. Ready for what shall be another warm day, equipped with my new cap, a light T-shirt and sun screen. I give back my key and am given a very sweet goodbye by the lady who takes it from me. I go outside, breathing in the fresh, still quite chilly air, and instruct Komoot to start guiding me along.

Let’s go, Komoot tells me.
I head left, walk straight, am distracted by the way the sun shines through the tree leaves and the houses, but I get back on track soon enough. I am guided to the Salzhaff – the salt harbor. Said with a bit of dialect.

Morning sun and shadows
Seagulls taking a morning sun dip in the Salzhaff

I’m glad to get another chance to walk by it. Last night wasn’t enough. Little do I know about the surprises awaiting me later, but for now, I am still deeply in love with the Salzhaff. The color play of the water, the grass, the sun and the sky is mesmerizing. I enjoy every step I take.

Walking along the Salzhaff
Reed, reed, reed
Kind of like a glimpse of how you’d imagine paradise, no? At least my imaginations were similar to this… an endless garden…
Cat’s tail, or so I decide to call it

I spot some long blades of grass, the kinds with fluffy golden endings and I glide them through my fingers. They feel like the fluff of a cat’s tail and they give me a cozy feeling. I probably look weird doing this, but I don’t care.

My first break point

My first break is taken when I realize it’s time to take off my trouser extensions, due to the weather getting warmer. I take the chance to eat the first muesli bar, and I watch a lady walk in the water with her dog. They’d been walking for a long time and they’re about 10 meters in, away from the shore.

My mind feels very loud for the morning, and so I take the chance to do a grounding exercise, mentally noting 5 things I see, 4 things I hear, 3 things I feel, 2 things I smell and 1 thing I taste. The exercise feels so good in this surrounding that I keep noting even more than the required number of things. Especially the sounds I hear are beautiful: singing birds, waves at the shore, cicadas, rustling leaves, footsteps, the wind.

Path parallel to Salzhaff

I move forward, enjoying the calmness of the path, despite it being taken by many people. Every few minutes, cyclists need to pass me or I greet morning hikers with a smile. I’m in my own world though.

A seashore aster (aster tripolium) according to PlantNet

Soon enough, the path starts getting emptier and emptier, until I end up walking through a forest that feels like it’s entirely mine. There is a paved path, I am surrounded by trees, and all I can hear is the sound of the wind.

I take a short break, having another muesli bar and then I keep moving. I love the calmness and the green surrounding me.

Soon enough, I reach what feels like an obstacle but is actually not. I reach a tiny metal fence, blocking the way. It’s really tiny, so I could also just jump over it, but in order to make sure I am not trespassing, I walk along the fence for a while, realizing that the wire connecting the fence posts is electrocuted (it is of course not a life-threatening electric voltage, but you still don’t want to touch it). Hmm. How long do I keep walking? I decide to just go back to the door and jump over it or something. But let’s try opening it first? That I do, and the door is… open. I sigh at myself and laugh at myself. Why am I such a good, overly careful girl?

After having passed the door, I realized I should take a photo of it for my blog. There you have it. And this wire you see on the right side is the one that is electrically charged.

I am led along some fields, which are absolutely beautiful. I start listening to Eddie Vedder’s soundtrack for Into the Wild again and find real pleasure in every moment. I am so immersed in it though that I actually barely take any photos. Walking along fields on a path shared also by cyclists, while looking at this endless space and sky made me feel like I’m in another universe.

A little field panorama – look at all this space…
I love the color of the tree bark against the green of the grass.
A tree I liked – it might have been a mountain-ash (Sorbus aucuparia (lat.); Eberesche (German)), but I cannot be 100% sure
And then I pass this endless field of purple!
And the SMELL! I could smell these flowers all over…
According to PlantNet, they are called Purple Tansy (Phacelia tanacetifolia) :)

After passing this field of purple, I am led through a really tiny village called Teßmannsdorf. It’s really tiny. I barely see any houses.

Me walking through Teßmannsdorf – it took me just about 15 minutes to get through it.

As you see on the map, I am led through another forest afterwards. It’s this big green spot on the map. I am a little freaked out, because it’s quite late already and I am afraid to face any more spiderwebs, but thankfully the paths are all well-paved and I see one more human (a man picking mushrooms with a stick and bucket) and am relieved. I then face a little challenge, which then turns into an enormous challenge. Take a look at the screenshot showing my path below…

Do you see this very messy walking pattern of mine before I walk up towards the water? Yeah, that is me reaching the end of the forest path and wanting, according to plan, to walk the path leading up to the water. Guess what? Again, no path! It is only a hint of a path that is by now fully overgrown with reed. Oh man…

I try to take this black marked path, but it is so full with trees and I get again my very intense anxiety about spiderwebs (read day 1 to understand what my problem is with spiderwebs), and decide to let it be. But I don’t want to walk the whole way back and take a path running parallel to the street again. I had been looking so forward to walk by the water. So I pull myself together, grab a tree branch and start walking through the overgrown reed path. I am prepared to break spiderweb after spiderweb, but I don’t spot any big ones. I only feel a thread every couple of steps on the skin of my legs, and then around my arms, and eventually it becomes so much that I just decide to start running, eyes half closed, aimed at the water. I can do this, just keep running.

And eventually I do get there. PHEW! Well, what else would have happened? I would have surely not been killed by the spiderwebs, but you know… me by now. Hopefully.
Well, now I am there.

A beautiful view on the water is my reward! And you hear nothing – only a couple of SUP-paddlers nearby, gliding over the water. And then I look to the left, in the direction I am supposed to walk. And something tells me this is not good. The sand seems to be ending after about 30 meters or so… Oh no.

I realize that there is probably no path, no sand to walk on, as I would have expected looking at the map. In satellite view it shows sand along the whole coast, but the satellite shot must’ve been so outdated in this moment. So I am left with two choices: either I walk back (through reed, through the forest, back to the street) or I take the risk and eventually walk through the water. What do you think I go for?

Maybe this picture is a hint?

Of course, I decide to walk through the water. I figure I could use some cooling down of my feet. It is quite the adventure though, as I am constantly afraid that eventually it really becomes un-walkable for some reason and I have to walk all the way back. Still, I do it.

My view at the beginning. Still all good – all just sand!
And the water is crystal clear and fresh…
And then I’d find more and more such surprises…
Really looking forward for such breaks in the middle, finding more sand…
And then this is what I am left with…

So as you see on the photos, the path starts with sand, and then the reed (this plant you see on the photos) would take over, and you’d really have to walk in the water. I have very mixed feelings about this. On the one hand it’s very refreshing, as the water is cold (man, am I lucky with the weather!), and on the other hand, it’s full of algae and stones. So I have to be very conscious about every step I take, in order not to fall and not to hurt myself. I consider it a balance and mindfulness test. It’s actually fun, after the initial anxiety phase is over.

My view on the water, which looks more scary than it actually is – this dark part is just normal sea algae, it’s not depth.
See this dried algae on the ground? Walking on this becomes your first choice (due to the softness of it), instead of walking on the stones you can see in the water.

Eventually, I find this couple walking behind me in the water. I am so relieved! It means that I am not doing something entirely crazy and that there will be a way out of here. I still have many kilometers to walk after all. And I am tired. And the sun is hot, and I don’t want to get sunburned.

They walk so fast, and I think damn, they must have these water shoes on. I get afraid, wondering if it’s realistic to reach my destination on my bare feet like that. But as they approach me, I realize they walk barefoot, too. I talk to them shortly, asking them whether they know if I can find a beach soon. The man tells me that there is no beach, but that I will find an exit through the bushes. I tell them they seem to be used to this path, to which they smile. Off they go, and I take care to follow them soon enough, as their presence comforts me. I still can’t believe this is happening, but I am so glad to be going through an experience I shall definitely not forget soon.

A view on the water

Eventually, with a big sense of relief I reach the escape. I feel such relief, and at the same time a sense of achievement that makes me very happy. I decide to take a break under a tree where the escape is. Overall, I had walked 1,3 km in that water.

Thank the mastermind inventor for trouser extensions you can just unzip

I crave a coffee. And I decide to give my portable stove and the gas can another try. I can turn them on easier this time – success! But of course, as I expected, now I get it confirmed that the bowl I bought to heat water in is not made for heating (check day 1 to understand why this was no clear). It is plastic after all. :'(

So, once again…

I have to still my craving with this espresso chocolate – still yum!

And a ladybug visits me :)

I sit there for about half an hour. I love the sun reflecting off the water and I keep thinking how I would have been feeling in heaven, if I wouldn’t be so tired and if I wouldn’t have to leave again soon. So I try to close my eyes and feel in heaven for a bit.

I close my eyes and I listen to my surrounding, I observe the way I feel, I am just in the moment – the trick being not to judge anything that is happening. Not to judge my thoughts, the things I hear or the things I feel. In a way I am doing Vipassana Meditation, but I wouldn’t want to label anything. It’s something anyone can do. It feels liberating, because for just a few minutes you don’t feel stuck with any bad feeling or with the feeling that you’re obliged to do something about your situation. For a while, things are just the way they are and you are watching them happen within you and around you. A state of ultimate Zen I tell you!

So after experiencing my Zen, I get up to keep walking. I have to walk over a field that seems like many people have already walked over. You’re not allowed to walk over fields, but I just do it. There is not a single person to see anywhere anyway. Part of the field is filled with red plants that are beautiful.

In a way, they look a bit like desert plants or something. I want to stay longer and admire them longer and feel them, but I have to keep walking.

Here you can see how I have to adjust my path after realizing that there is no sand to walk on. From the beach, I walk into the light green area, where the fields are and then manage my way from there.

The sun is really strong. Again, I express my inner gratitude and relief over having bought this black cap.

I do slowly realize how much energy walking through the water had taken from me. Every part of me is tired, especially my left knee. But I gotta keep walking. Something about the pain feels good (please hear me out?), because it keeps me focused on my physical feeling, instead of stressful thoughts in my mind that sadly won’t have mercy on me despite all the beauty surrounding me. And so I feel into my knee, embracing the pain with every step I take that gets me closer to my destination.

I cherish little findings that pass me on the way and I stop every few minutes, taking all the scenery in.

Little findings like this super-dry skeleton of a leaf
I had never seen something like this in my life

I pass through little villages, one of which is awkwardly empty. Many of the houses are entirely closed down.

Like this one here. All closed down…
And then there is this blank house with the tree shadow falling on it so nicely

I walk and walk, exhausted as fuck. At some point, I walk down a street and look to the horizon on my left. I realize that I had just walked down that whole street I see in the horizon, the one that has trees on its sides.

And in the far distance I see the water I had to walk through…

I spot a mailman in the near distance, I pass him and keep walking. A few minutes later, I see him pulling over in front of me again, delivering more mail. I keep walking. A few minutes later, he pulls over behind me. So funnily, I have the same pace as the mailman. I am not that slow.

I keep looking at the map every two minutes it feels. Am I close yet? I am hungry and tired and my knee hurts. Although only 5 km are left, it feels like an endlessly long way. It’s also exhausting to keep walking parallel to a street. The sound of the cars gets very exhausting after a while, even though you don’t hear a single honk. Just them driving over the asphalt so fast is stressful in itself. So when I reach the entrance of Neubukow, I am left with a choice…

This is for you to see how long I had to walk parallel to a street. That’s about 3,5 km.

My choice is whether I want to keep walking along the street – here it would be Buschmühler Chaussee – or if I want to change to the hiking path in the green, called Jakobsweg. I had originally planned to walk on that hiking path so I decide to go for it, although my feeling tells me the street is safer.

And I should have listened to my feeling. -.-
Because the hiking path is beautiful and all, but it turns out quite steep and full of tiny obstacles. And I am tired.

Still, I am happy to be surrounded by trees and a stream. The air is also getting chilly, now that the sun is not shining on me anymore. I take some photos… taking breaks every ten minutes.

This is what it basically looks like walking through that tiny forest.
There are many little games made out of wood, like this wooden xylophone. Yes, I tried it out… :)
Another game, where you can guess what tree it is judging from the bark. No, I did not have time for that one.
It’s funny. Passing this part of the path here, I get a strange feeling. Only looking back, I realize why. It’s because there is no fence. Why? The fence is broken. Judging by the way it looks, someone fell on that fence, falling down that hill… funny that my subconscious picked the creepy feeling up, without me really realizing why.
The sight of this windmill gives me incredible relief. It means I am almost there!

And so, I am finally in Neubukow. I already like the way the houses look and take a few photos.

Neubukow
Neubukow

And I have less than a km to walk… 800 meters… 500… 200… my knee, we almost made it, just stay strong!

And I do. I arrive at a hotel that looks exactly the way I expected (I was too tired to make a photo of the hotel) – with a restaurant below. I go in, spot a tiny fountain (yes, inside, but it’s kind of a portable fountain) and a counter with many flyers and whatnot. I do not spot a single person though. I also do not see a cash register or anything, so I must be standing at the wrong place.

I open the door to the restaurant area on the left, walk in and spot a lady with long black hair, dressed a bit in a rock ‘n’ roll style, drying beer glasses. I ask her where the check-in is and she tells me to come to her. She’s wearing a mask, above which her incredibly blue eyes really strike me. I guess she’s wearing colored lenses. A young man appears, also in a bit of a rock ‘n’ roll style, and the lady leads me to my room. The stairs are incredibly steep and tiny, and there is so much red everywhere. She guides me through the little room, letting me know I can go to her if I need anything. She’s nice.

My room in Neubukow

Now I cannot believe I am actually in my room. I made it, dammit! With my swollen knee and my tired feet and my sun-kissed skin. I sit down, unsure what to do next, as I am tired and hungry. Do I take a break, then go eat? Do I take a shower first?

I check Google Maps and find that there is an Asian restaurant just 3 minutes away. I walk there, order some rice with vegetables and peanut butter sauce and then impulsively order a second meal, while they are cooking my ordered meal. I am so hungry and can imagine eating anything right now. I order noodles with vegetables. And then I walk back.

One last look at the nice view, loving the way the sun sets… and the panorama perspective I have on this tiny city center. And then I take a long warm shower, change into my comfy clothes, stretch a bit and eat, eat, eat. Tucking myself under the cover… waiting for the day to end, hungry for my next journey.

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Trip stats:
20,9 km – 5 hrs 4 minutes (in motion) – 4,1 km (average speed)

If you’re interested to see the path I walked on komoot, follow this link:
https://www.komoot.de/tour/264151291

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

soleil 2 Comments
My route today, roundtripping Mirow

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.

An alley next to the hotel that I like

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

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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.

Breakfast room

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. :-)

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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