Last of the three Baltic republics and home to one of Michele’s ancestors, Lithuania was high on my must-see list, and it didn’t disappoint. Unlike Latvia and Estonia, where we docked right in their capital cities, Lithuania’s capital, Vilnius, is inland, and we tied up in the country’s primary port city, Klaipeda.
Lithuania is the most populous of the three Baltic states, and its nearly three million citizens are twice the number living in neighboring Latvia. Klaipeda is home to 160,000 of that three million, and until 1919, when it changed hands in the Treaty of Versailles, the city was part of Germany.
Our focus today wasn’t on Klaipeda though, but on the Curonian Spit, the long, narrow peninsula Lithuania shares with Russia, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And when I say long and narrow I mean long and narrow. The Spit is 60 miles long and averages about a mile wide, with the only land access all the way down on the Russian end. The tip is quite close to Klaipeda, and it would be easy for the Lithuanians to put a bridge across, but that would increase traffic and endanger its status as a World Heritage Site. Instead, there are regularly running drive-on ferries, and that’s how our tour bus got us over to the Spit this morning.
There are a few smaller villages on the Spit and one larger one, Nida, that sits on the Russian border, and that was our destination. Nida started out life as a fishing village, and it still is, but it has also become a resort town and tourist destination, generating considerable income for the town’s 2300 permanent residents. Nida also started out life in a different location, but the town has had to move twice due to traveling sand dunes that engulfed it. Long story short, heavy logging in the 19th century stripped the island bare, allowing the sand blowing in from the Baltic to rampage unimpeded across the narrow peninsula, swallowing several small fishing villages in the process. Vigorous reforestation efforts, combined with a semi-man made barrier dune along the Baltic shoreline have arrested the traveling dunes and allowed villages to establish permanent homes, all on the opposite side of the Spit from the Baltic on what’s known as the Curonian Lagoon. The reforestation and barrier dune work continues to this day.
Anyway, we had a walking tour of Nida, which turned out to be a pretty, seaside town, with wonderful flower gardens in front of many of the homes. We saw examples of old fishing boats and toured an amber museum. Amber mining still goes on here, but it used to be big business, and there are amber shops and amber kiosks all over town. You can even get amber tea and amber liqueur in Nida, and elsewhere on the peninsula, as it turned out.
After some free time, during which we grabbed premade sandwiches at a grocery store for lunch, the bus took us almost to the Russian border to see what remains of the massive dunes that almost swallowed the peninsula. From the top of the highest dune, imaginatively named the Great Dune, we could see the expanse of sand stretching all the way down to the lagoon. We could also see dramatic evidence of the reforestation efforts, with a dense pine forest slicing into the dunes. And we could also see Russia, less than two kilometers away, with two of Putin’s watchtowers standing above the trees and delineating the border. The whole thing was genuinely fascinating, and I really enjoyed that stop.
From there the plan was to head back to Klaipeda, with a stop along the way to see the barrier dunes on the Baltic side of the peninsula that have been created by a unique man/nature partnership. However, fate intervened, and happily so, when our bus broke down on the way. I say happily so because it broke down within walking distance of an amber gallery, where we were treated royally while we waited for a new bus to arrive. The proprietor regaled us with a first rate lecture on amber, and we were offered free samples of both amber tea and amber liqueur. We had to stand in line for a while to pay for our purchases, so I would say our unplanned stop was mutually beneficial to all concerned.
And that was doubly so, because despite the hour long wait for a new bus (in glorious weather, I might add), we still got to go to the Baltic beach and see the barrier dunes. These dunes were created by stacking brush along the beach to catch and trap the sand blowing in off the Baltic. As soon as the sand reached the top of the brush more brush was added, and the process was repeated over and over for many years. As time went on grass and bushes started to grow on the dunes, and today the barrier dunes are as high as 90 feet in some places, preventing the Baltic sand from blowing across the narrow peninsula and attacking the villages hugging the nearby lagoon. It’s a great example of a man/nature partnership, and the work continues today and will go on indefinitely.
We returned to the ship an hour late but exceedingly happy with our day in Lithuania. Seeing what has been done to restore this unique natural environment was a real feel good experience, and the woods are now so deep on much of the Spit that foxes, wild boars, and even moose live there. Klaipeda isn’t a city most people find themselves in unless it’s by conscious design, but if you ever do and have a free day to explore, I’d highly recommend getting out on the Curonian Spit. It requires a ferry ride and a park fee to get to Nida and the Great Dune, but it’s worth it.
Tomorrow we’re on the small Danish island of Bornholm, where we’ll have a totally different experience, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it, so stay tuned.
Look carefully. The dead trees on the Curonian Spit are full of cormorants. Their droppings are so acidic that they kill the trees they frequent.
Lithuanian crows are gray and black.
In Nida. In the far upper left you can see the (hopefully) no longer traveling dunes.
Closer up view of the traveling dunes from Nida.
Front yard of a home in Nida. They take their gardens seriously.
Curonian weathervane display. The top row is personal to each fisherman. The lower part tells which Curonian village the fisherman hails from.
An old flat bottomed fishing boat. The Curonian lagoon is shallow, necessitating flat bottomed boats.
An amber ship in the amber museum in Nida.
The amber museum.
Statue in Nida.
Statue of Jean-Paul Sartre, who visited Nida and the traveling dunes during the Soviet era, when Lithuania was occupied by the Russians, who our guide said, “forgot to leave,” after ousting the Germans in World War II.
The traveling dunes, with a good look at the pines planted as part of the reforestation program.
The amount of sand that blows in from the Baltic is mind boggling.
Memorial to the French POWs who were made to work on the reforestation program.
Another look at the traveling dunes.
That narrow spit of land in the background beyond the dunes is Russia.
Sundial at the observation area on top of the Great Dune. It’s very sophisticated and takes the month of the year into account. You just have to know how to use it.
When our bus broke down near an amber and weathervane gallery I made the best of it by sampling their amber liqueur. The things I do for my readers.
Two fisted drinker. Michele tried the amber tea and generously donated the liqueur to me.
Amazing tree carving outside the Lutheran Church just across the street from the gallery.
Cute cottage nearby.
When the new bus arrived we continued on to the Baltic side to see the barrier dunes that are preventing sand from swamping the spit and engulfing the villages that lie beyond. The barriers, created by man and nature, now are as high as 90 feet in some places. Here we’re climbing up to the top of one.
On top of the barrier dune. That’s our bus down there, which gives you a good idea of just how high the dune is.
It’s also a pretty spot. The beach lies just beyond on the other side of the barrier dune.
On the beach.
The barrier dune from the beach side.
On top of the barrier dune. All they do is pile dead brush on top every year, and nature does the rest, blowing sand up that gets caught and trapped in the brush, increasing the height of the dune. The dunes do have to be repaired more aggressively occasionally when a big storm damages them.
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