Sand Bar of Doom

Trip Start Aug 31, 2007

Trip End Apr 19, 2008

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Flag of Lithuania Nida, Lithuania
Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Legend has it that Neringa, a motherly sea giantess, created the Curonian Spit, effectively a huge sand bar, stretching 100 km down Lithuania's Baltic coast and beginning just opposite Klaipeda, by carrying armfuls of sand in her apron to create a protective harbour for the local fisher folk. In actuality, waves and winds allowed the sand to settle in these shallow waters five to six thousand years ago. Massive deforestation in the 16th century started the sands shifting, absorbing 14 villages in three centuries. Reforestation efforts were begun by the first tree-huggers in 1768 and continue today. The sands are still moving up to 5 m per year, and shrinking, raising fears that one day the spit may be washed away entirely.

I spent a couple days in this fragile environment, in the charming town of Nida, 50 km down the spit. Each year, 50,000 tourists flock to this village of 1500, but fortunately for me, few of them choose to come in mid-September. Getting to the spit from Klaipeda requires a 7-minute ferry ride. The strait is quite narrow enough to allow a bridge to be built, but environmentalists worry that increased accessibility to the region would cause excessive environmental damage. Most transportation around the spit is by bus or bicycle. The ferries simply aren't built to handle cars.

My first day in the region was spent exploring the Parnidis Dune, the only freely moving dune remaining, and getting lost in the spit's lovely forest. A not so lovely side effect of such an adventure was almost wandering into Russia.

Bike Path

Though I'm sure few people know it, the region southwest of Lithuania is a little enclave of Russia known as Kaliningrad, and Nida is located only 3 km north of the border, as the souther half of the spit is Russian. While a dumb tourist accidentally crossing an international boundary would probably arouse chuckles and redirecting in Canada, I would not expect the same of Russian border guards, and was quite happy to meet a woman mushrooming (everyone on their brother is out mushrooming on the spit at the moment) who directed me back to town.

My second day in Nida, I rented a bike from a lovely old couple and rode north along a blissfully flat and paved path (I hate hills). I had originally hoped to make it as far as Juodkrante, 31 km north, but it never really stopped raining the whole day, my legs are no longer in their excellent July shape, and the bike left a few things to be desired in the form of gears and rust-freeness. I did, however, manage a respectable 35 km round trip through beautiful forests and quaint fishing villages. The ride was wonderful enough to make crossing the largest Baltic country twice, to get to this place and back to Vilnius, worthwhile.

In Nida, I stayed at a guesthouse arranged by the tourist office. Unfortunately, my host wasn't particularly friendly. I think he was irked that I bargained him down on the room price, but it's shoulder season. I saw him when I checked in and never again.