Slupsk and Ustka, then and now

Our long hike ended in the Baltic towns of Slupsk (Stolp) and Ustka (Stolpmünde). My granny was born in Slupsk, though she grew up in the Masurian Lake District, which was then East Prussia. Ustka was where my granny and my mother boarded the ship to the West when they fled in '45.

Friendly seagull in Ustka

Some of my relatives are buried in Ustka and perhaps also in Slupsk, but the old German cemeteries have been destroyed and replaced with a new Polish one. There's a newish memorial at the cemetery in Ustka to all the dead. I placed a flower there in memory of some family members who died on the refugee trail, or were deported to labour camps, or shot themselves when the Russians arrived. 

There's no doubt that the end of the war was terrible for the Germans here, from the snowed-in refugee trail to the mass rapes and killings by the Red Army. On the other hand, it annoys me that this has turned into such a big political issue in modern-day Germany, with certain groups campaigning for a memorial and museum in Berlin for the Germans who were displaced from the East. I've also met quite a few Germans here who insist on referring to all the towns and regions by their old German names. It's understandable if they're elderly people, but as for younger Germans who keep talking about "Ostpreussen"... come on guys, it's Poland now!

Having said that, I feel that Polish-German relations have generally improved a lot. The locals have even restored some of the German inscriptions in churches, like this one from 1764 in Darlowo, which is nice.

German prayer in a church in Darlowo (Rügenwalde).

Walking through Slupsk and Ustka was also a reminder of all the horrors that happened before the arrival of the Red Army, and which some of the old-homeland-nostalgia crowd are less keen to remember. The synagogue of Slupsk, for example, was destroyed in 1938. Half of the Jewish population emigrated, and most of the others were deported. There's no longer a Jewish community in Slupsk, nor in any of the dozens of Baltic towns I passed on my two-week trip. 

Memorial where the synagogue of Slupsk used to be

Memorial to the deported Jews of Slupsk

And then there's the suffering of the Poles. When I was looking for my relatives' graves, I started talking to an elderly Polish lady who spoke excellent German. She was very friendly and tried to help me find the old part of the cemetery. I complimented her German, and she said rather drily: "I had very thorough schooling from '39 to '45." She was from the Polish corridor that used to separate East Prussia from the rest of Germany, and which was brutally occupied in '39.

Promenade in Ustka, beautifully restored

Ustka shore in the 30s

So… lots of sad history, but a hopeful present. The best moments of this trip were not about the past, but about new discoveries and new friendships. We met such warm and friendly Polish people along the way, saw stunning scenery, charming villages and beautiful gardens. It's been really nice getting to know this country, which is so full of energy and hope. Oh, and I finally learned a bit of Polish! Look forward to practicing it next time I shop at a sklep in London.

Day 11 on the Baltic trail: Osieki - Darlowo

Day 11 on the Baltic trail. Osieki - Darlowo. Yesterday's theme was Back to Beauty. After another sore-footed 20k along a dusty road, the light turned golden and we walked past gorgeous old farmhouses, lots of friendly storks and lush flower gardens.

This is particularly nice as we're now in one of my family's old hometowns. It would have been such a downer to finally arrive and find that it's so much uglier than the rest. Instead: prettier.

My great-great-great-grandmother is apparently buried in the town where we are now, Darlowo (Rügenwalde). We'll try to find her grave later, though I'm not sure the old German cemetery still exists. I think most of the old cemeteries have been razed. Yesterday we tried to find a Jewish cemetery that was on the map, but in reality someone had planted a field over it.

We also passed quite a few spooky, abandoned farmhouses and mansions. This one looks like no one's set foot in it since the German owners ran away in 1945:

Quite fittingly, one of the villages on our route, Iwiecino, is known as the Village of the Apocalypse. Apparently that's because the inside of its church is painted with scenes from the apocalypse. The church was locked so we couldn't see the crazy paintings. Oh well.

As we move east, the churches' names are becoming noticeably more creative and poetic, like something out of The Tin Drum. Iwiecino's church is dedicated to "The Mother-of-God, Queen of Poland". It used to be a Protestant German church but was converted into a Catholic Polish one in 1946.

Iwiecino of the Apocalypse

This stork may look like the one we saw a few days ago, but it's actually a new stork. I think we saw it in Iwiecino. Apocalyptic Stork.

However, Stork of the Day goes to this conference of storks:

Day 10: Koszalin - Osiecki

Day 10 on the Baltic Santiago trail: Koszalin - Osieki. Today we actually met some fellow hikers!! It was incredible. After 10 solitary days I'd basically forgotten that this trail is meant to be a major tourist attraction that will revive the Baltic coast from Rostock to Kaliningrad.

But there they were, four determined Polish-German women walking from Ustka (former Stolpmünde) to the border. Which is funny as I'm walking from the border to Ustka. They also had a Baltic family connection and were doing the trail properly - with shells dangling from their backpacks, some sort of rosary prayer scribbled on a piece of paper and stamps from different churches. Yep, they were actual Santiago pilgrims (or St. Jacek as he's called in Polish).

We on the other hand are total frauds. We're just using the trail because it happens to run through my family's old hometowns. I mean, we're not even Christian.

"Is there even a Jewish version of the Santiago trail?" I asked Dan as we walked on.

"Yes. The Jewish pilgrimage involves buying bagels on a Friday, walking over to my mother's place, sitting down, eating a nice dinner and then sleeping in a comfortable bed," he replied.

15k into another day of walking, the Jewish version sounded so much more appealing.

Day 9: Rest day at the perfect Polish home-stay

We'll be walking on to Koszalin tomorrow after a day at the most wonderful, idyllic home-stay near the little village of Komory. Our hosts, Hanka and Pawel Kujath, treated us to delicious food and lovely company in a cosy old house surrounded by fields, orchards and winding paths lined with blackcurrant bushes.




We spent most of the day relaxing in their conservatory, accompanied by Basil the cat… listening to the rain (first proper rainfall since the start of the trip). I'm reading 'Primeval and Other Times' by the Polish novelist Olga Tokarczuk. Hanka has given me a whole list of Polish novels to read in translation, from thrillers to romance to ghost stories. Thanks to Dan's Kindle I should be able to download most of them.

As much as I'd love to spend the rest of the week here, we've got many more miles to cover. Bye-bye Komory and thank you for a blissful stay!

Day 8: Kolobrzeg - Komory

On the road again! In Kolobrzeg I reunited with my favourite hiking companion = the husband. He arrived in Kolobrzeg by train from Berlin, I arrived on foot from Karnice, and we met at the train station. It's kind of incredible that this actually worked. Thank you, Internet. 

Today was an incredibly hard day as we got lost again and ended up walking about 30k. I wanted to see two of Poland's oldest trees, 750-year-old Warcislaw and his older brother, 800-year-old Boleslaw. One highlight was telling a helpful local lady that we were looking for Warcislaw and Boleslaw, and she actually knew what we were talking about and directed us to the forest.

Unfortunately there were many many many trees in the forest and we didn't find the two really ancient ones. Instead, we got lost.

However… when darkness fell… and we felt thoroughly sore-footed and broken-shouldered… we arrived at a RUSTIC POLISH INN. Precisely the kind of place I've been yearning for, for about a week now. It's in the middle of gorgeous countryside and the lovely owner fed us home-pickled gherkins and red wine. Pictures tomorrow.

Over dinner, the owner told us that this house is actually an old German house. In 1990 or so, an elderly German man turned up at her doorstep. He had lived here as a child, and hid in the communal bread-baking house with his six siblings when the Russians came. He then walked from here to Rostock, which must be about 150km or so, working for farmers along the way to feed himself (he was 13 at the time). Anyway, he came back to see if he could find any of his siblings here, and to look at the old house. He said he was happy for the new Polish owners to live here, as it was theirs now, but just wanted to see the old pear tree his grandfather had planted in the garden. He stayed under the tree for a long time and prayed.

The Polish owners then became friends with him, and their daughters even spent a month in Germany with his family. Apparently it was strange for many Poles as well to live in these vacated houses with other people's plates, cutlery and furniture (the Polish families were also forcibly relocated here at the time so it wasn't their choice). 

Well, here we are, old/new Baltic people happily swapping stories over wine and pickled gherkins. It's really nice to see these old houses to beautifully restored and filled with life. I wonder who lives in my granny's old home now? We've got another week until we reach Stolpmünde/Ustka.

Stork of the day: sighted near Strzepowo.

Note the little birds on the wires. Every stork's nest has them, they seem to live as tenants in the bottom of the nest.

Day 5: Karnice - Gryfice - Kolobrzeg….

Rebuilt town hall in Kolberg. 95% of the town was destroyed in the battle for Kolberg in March 1945.

Karnice - Kolobrzeg...

… by public transport. Yep, I cheated. I'm meeting someone important in Kolobrzeg (Kolberg) tomorrow. So I had the option of either running from Karnice and stopping at a homestay by a motorway that looked very unpromising on the Internet, or taking a bus to Gryfice and then a train to beautiful Kolberg. My feet hurt and I needed a better map anyway so I chose option 2.

Smoked fish stand in Kolberg

As for the map. A note to fellow hikers. Don't do what I did and rely on Oma's stories, a compass and the official 1:300,000 Pomeranian Way of St. James map to show you the route. The map is fine as long as you walk on the beach or a road, but as soon as you turn into those little paths that cut through the fields, it's easy to get lost.

I just bought a 1:50,000 "comfort! map" for Wybrzeze Srodkowe at the tourist information in Kolberg. I have great great hopes for my comfort map. Apparently the route will soon take me through a forest that's home to two ancient oak trees. One is 650 years old and is called Warcislaw. The other is 800 years old and is called Boleslaw. Boleslaw is *the oldest oak tree in Poland*. I'm so much more likely to find Warcislaw and Boleslaw with my new map!

Right now I'm sitting on a balcony close to the sea. I can hear:

1. Seagulls

2. Unidentified little birds

3. Storks. They make a sort of click-clack sound with their long beaks

Stork of the day:

Stork's nest in Karnice

Day 4: Kamien Pomorski - Karnice

Day 4 on the Baltic trail. I haven't met any other hikers on this path. Not one. Apparently the route was opened only about a year ago. Maybe there just hasn't been that much footfall? The last people who used the trail were probably the medieval pilgrims who gave it its name - Pomeranian Way of St. James, the Baltic part of the famous Santiago trail. It's incredible to think that people used to walk from here to Spain. And in medieval shoes!

Town hall in Kamien Pomorski (Cammin)

Colour blocking!

Today I wanted to cut myself some slack given yesterday's ordeal. My genius idea - yes, another one - was to use a 14km short-cut through a forest. It was so scary. Just me in the dark dark woooods. Ready to be strangled with the straps of my own backpack. I frantically waved at every passing cyclist so they could later identify me on Polish Crime Watch. Thankfully the second part of that short-cut was out in the open, through those beloved wildflower meadows.

Then I got lost and was rescued by a lovely Polish lady with a mobile phone. She directed me to my homestay. It's all been a bit chaotic but I can proudly say I've walked around 60km in three days. 

Whenever my feet start feeling sore, I think of the woman my granny met on the refugee train from Swinemüne/Swinoujscie. She boarded the train with her little boy, who had frostbite on both feet. They had walked to Swinemünde from Kolberg. Kolberg happens to be on my route: it's two more days from here. How did they manage to walk that far in the snow? Where did they sleep? Who knows. My granny gave the boy some aspirin she happened to have with her, for the frostbite. 

Cute houses and gardens in Kamien Pomorski, my favourite town here so far

I'm getting closer to the towns where my family used to live, and where some of my ancestors are buried. Apparently some of the German cemeteries have been restored in recent years, so I might even spot a familiar name or two on a tombstone. My other mini project is to find the sand dune that was named after my great-grandpa and allegedly kept his name even when the town became Polish. I know the rough location, but haven't figured out how to tell if it's the right dune. Unless they come with name tags?

Day 2/3: Miedzyzdroje - Wolin - Kamien Pomorski

Day 2 on the Baltic trail, which accidentally turned into Day 3. Today Poland was truly stunning and I take back everything I said yesterday about the miserable Baltic coast. The countryside is beautiful, full of wildflowers, orchards, golden wheat fields and fruit trees that just grow along the road. I even saw a stork.

I'm actually on the right path!

Today was a bit unusual because, erm, I had to finish and submit my manuscript this morning. That took a while. But it's done now! Then it was one o'clock, too late to start walking, so I cheated and took the train to the next town along the route, Wolin. But once I got to Wolin I felt lame about cheating and decided I might as well walk a little bit along the next leg to Kamien Pomorski. 

Genius that I am, I thought I would just find *a rustic Polish country inn along the way and spend the night there*. (Note the genius thought). I could actually see this inn in my mind. It was a red brick farmhouse with hollyhocks and roses in the garden, and beer on tap. The fact that there was no such inn on the map didn't dent my optimism. I was happily ambling along and eating Polish cherries I'd bought in Wolin.

This could have been such a great rustic inn, but it was just a barn.

10km into the walk, the inn had still not materialised. I bumped into a local who was shooting at empty tins with a hunting rifle. He told me the next inn/hotel/hostel was in Kamien Pomorski, another 15km away.

At that point I realised I would either have to speed up or spend the night in a field. I finished the rest of my power cherries and zipped along as fast as my tired feet could carry me.

In each village I looked for signs of an inn or rooms to let. Nothing. The pretty scenery helped, but I was so exhausted.

I seriously considered the sleeping-in-a-field option, but Baltic nights can get pretty cold.

Long story short, I arrived in Kamien Pomorski at 9 o'clock in the evening.

JOY! RELIEF! HOTEL!

The first thing I saw was this rather striking ad for baked goods. There were several versions, some focused on the cleavage, others on legs and thighs. Sexy sexy loaf.

My feet and shoulders fell off somewhere along the way. It was such an ordeal and I'm a muppet for just walking into the greenery.

But at km 20, when I was ready to give up and just roll into a ditch, there was a raspberry bush with a single red, sweet raspberry. Just for me.

At the end of the day, I ate a giant plate of fried fish and snuggled into a soft, comfy bed in this lovely timbered inn (Pod Muzami). Not a country inn, but rustic nevertheless.

Town square in Kamien Pomorski

Good night! Better than a field.

Day 1: Swinoujscie - Miedzyzdroje

Day one on the Baltic trail. This old postcard shows my overall destination: Stolpmünde, which is now part of Poland and called Ustka. My grandma was born there, and I guess she must have kept the postcard and given it to my mother. At the end of World War Two, my granny, my mother and my great-grandmother fled the town to escape the Red Army. After the Germans' atrocities in the east, everyone knew that the Red Army's revenge would be terrible. My granny was only 25, and my mother was about three. My great-grandmother left a little bit later because she wanted to look after her sick mother, Lieschen. Lieschen was later expelled and apparently died on the road.

My granny and my mum hitched a ride on a defunct minesweeper boat to Swinemünde, now Swinoujscie. From there they took the train to Rostock, met up with my grandma's best friend and found shelter with an aristocratic family on a rural estate. However, the family were big Nazis and had lots of Russian and Polish prisoners-of-war working for them on the estate. They treated the POWs pretty badly. So my granny figured that once the Red Army arrived, the first thing they would do would be to hang the entire Nazi family and everyone associated with them. She and her friend decided to leave in the middle of the night with their kids, this time hitching a ride on a lorry.

They went to Rendsburg in West Germany, which to my granny's great joy was liberated by the British. The Brits and Americans were known to be quite friendly occupiers (my mother's first words in English were "give me please a piece of chocolate"). There they reunited with my great-grandma and lived as refugees for four years, until 1949, when they moved into a lovely, tiny flat in Berlin-Tempelhof.

My granny stayed in that flat for the next 50 years. I think she was done moving around. I still remember it - it was decorated with silver candlesticks and teapots which she had rescued from her old home.

So Swinemünde/Swinousjscie seemed like a good place to start my walk to my granny's hometown. I took the train from Berlin, a far more comfortable train ride then theirs had been (their train came under fire). 

Swinousjscie greeted me with a grey sky.

But also, with some beautiful restored buildings:

And hollyhocks.

I quite liked these historically aware bike stands, see below. They show an old photo of the street, from when it was called Lindenstrasse. Apart from these mini reminders, you wouldn't think the town had ever been German. The same goes for the other towns I've passed so far. They're just normal Polish towns now. I guess ultimately places as such - houses, trees, streets - don't have a nationality. It's the people and their language who give a town this or that identity. Well, the Poles have clearly put a lot of love into these places, there are nice gardens everywhere and beautifully restored facades.

After leaving Swinoujscie, I spent about 4 hours walking along the Baltic sea towards Miedzyzdroje. It was a grey, lonely and windswept day but kind of in keeping with the slightly melancholy theme of this walk. Then I arrived in Miedzyzdroje and it turned out to be a giant Soviet-style seaside resort. Kebab stands, karaoke, massage parlours, German menus in the restaurants, tinny pop music blaring out of speakers everywhere. What the hell! Such a shock after the calmness of the empty beach!

One of the main attractions was a WW2 bunker with a shooting range. I couldn't wait to get out of the place.

Next: Day 2, which turned into Day 3. Miedzyzdroje - Wolin, and then, rather surprisingly, Wolin - Kamien Pomorski.