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.