Today we were headed to meet Peter for a walk along a relatively isolated stretch of beach he knows of. In Germany, you're never really isolated in the same sense as Americans think of isolation, in that there's always someone out walking along with you. We passed a hundred people on our walk today (probably twice that) -- and this was off the beaten path! But the walking paths here are so convenient and ubiquitous, I'm not sure which is better: few paths with no people, or more paths with many people? I think both are good.
Peter met us at the bus stop in Travemunde in his van, and drove about a kilometer north of Travemunde, where he parked at this restaurant and we set out on foot.
As we walked, Peter pointed out that the shore along the Baltic Sea is eroding at the rate of almost 2 meters annually, which is a lot of erosion. You can see the effects of it here:
I asked if this was due to sea levels rising from climate change, but Peter said no, this has been going on for a very long time. He said that when he was on this same walk twenty years ago, the house in the next photo was set well back on land, with a garden in front and another house in front of it, toward the sea, with a garden in front of that house at the water's edge. And now it looks like the photo below; the other house is long gone, as is the front garden of this house:
Next time we come, it's possible this house won't be here anymore, either.
... and something from one of my favorite Christmas carols, The Holly and the Ivy. They both appear to be full-grown:
Eventually we found a stairway leading down to the beach, where we walked for over two hours back toward Travemunde. Our iPhone app tells us we walked 7.4 miles today! That should work off that muzen and gluhwein we had at the Christmas market last night. Along the way we looked for bernstein (amber) and rocks with holes through them, the name of which I can't remember. We didn't find either one, but I picked up a lot of rocks I thought might be amber. (Apparently you can tell the difference between amber and a regular old yellow rock by trying to float it. The rock will sink; the amber won't.)
Here's a view of the house we passed earlier, from the beach:
Along the way we gathered a bit of natural clay for Gary's sculpting; it's there in abundance and will soon be washed out to sea.
We also saw these sights:
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| A guy standing out in the sea in waders, fishing for cod |
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| A tree recently washed down to the beach. They let dogs run freely in Germany without leashes. Imagine that! |
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| What's left of a brick building that has been washed out down to the beach Two and a half hours later, we ended up back at the restaurant where Peter's van was parked. We stopped in for some grunkohl suppe (kale soup) which was made with potatoes and was very good. We were among the few who took advantage of outdoor seating, even though it was balmy -- in the 40s Fahrenheit. All of the outdoor tables were decorated with boughs. 
Afterward, Peter drove us back to Lübeck, where Gary and I walked to a cafe nearby that Peter had recommended for a gathering of some old friends of Gary's tomorrow. We wanted to make a reservation for nine people, so I looked up the translation on my iTranslate app to run past Peter, to ensure it was fit for public utterance (I do not trust this app!). Peter said it was fine, so here's what I read off my iPhone to the young woman at the cafe: "Wir wollen eine reservierung machen, aber wir verstehen deutsch nicht," which means, "We would like to make a reservation but we do not understand German." It worked great: she asked if we speak English and very kindly made our reservation! Whew!
It was an excellent day, but our dogs are barkin'. These Germans sure do like to walk! |
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