18th of August 2019
The next day I decided to rent out a bike and ride over the island towards the little village Joudkrante which was about 25km east of Nida.
When I was heading out, it was a beautifully clear and sunny day on the Corunian Spit which offered the best conditions for a nice experience. At this point I did not know that this experience should turn out to be a bike tour of hell.
But more to that later.
I was riding my bike alongside the coast, with the colourful fishermen houses on my left and the – from the sun glistering – sea on my right in which ducks, seaguls cranes were floating among the reeds.
It was a very romantic atmosphere and when the bike road turned into a pathed road through the forrest I decided to stay next to the shore by taking a small mountainbike/hiking trail as my route.
This was my first mistake.
This is not to say the way was not beautiful. I was now driving literally through the trees, still having the sea next to me. This offered me an even more close contact with the nature of the island and at a certain point I even came to a bird watch tower.
The only problem was that this path was probably not made to be rode by bike – or at least my bike was not made to ride this path. Apart from probably doubling my time on this issue, I also lost my sense of orientation, which is not the greatest to start with.
Therefore I was relieved and happy to see a pathed way emerging infront of me, after around an hour of driving through the pinetrees of the Corunian Spit without an idea where I would end up.
This state of happiness was immediatly curbed when I saw a watchdog appearing behind me, (since I was appearantly located on a private property) that seemingly made it his goal to hunt me and my bike down till I would return back to the Netherlands. The adrenalin-kick I received, enabled me to escape from him but cataputlet me into the next source of danger.
Coming out of the private property onto the main bike path (yay) with high-speed, I nearly crached into a Lithuanina grandma that was having her afternoon bike tour.
I turned around and looked at her with a smile, in the hope that this would communicate my remorse of the situation.
I think this strategy did not work.
She said some things in Lithuanian to me and I avoided saying anything because I feared that me speaking in English would make her even more angry.
Looking back at the situation, it was not the smartest move, because she got angry nevertheless and even though I did not understand any of it I am sure she communicated some Lithuanian insults to me at a certain point, while she was cycling behind me.
Eventually I de-escalated the situation by cycling away as fast as I could.
Even though I made the way unnecessary long by taking some new forrest trails, I eventually arrived at the first stop of my journey:
The Dead Dunes
The Dead Dunes are probably the most remarkable sight of nature on the Corunian Spit. Next to the shore, a desert of dunes is stretching up to 60m in height and over 260km² in all cardinal directions, leaving space for nothing but sand and the burning sun.
When you are walking through this landscape you sometimes are found in a chilling silence and understand the depressing name.
After walking to the top and back for about 45min I continued my tour towards Joudkranté.
Without bigger complications I eventually arrived (two hours later than expected) and met Felix – who I already knew from Gdansk and Vilnius. Together we decided to take a walk towards the centre of Joudkranté, which was located on the other side of the island, and I locked my bike at the beach because I did not want to carry it all the way through the forrest.
This was my second mistake
Joudkranté is a cute village and especially the wood carved sculptures in the forrest gave the place a special charm.
I was only dissappointed when I could not find Cepelinas (as I already ate in Vilnius) and had to eat overprized fish instead. Felix needed to leave soon after and we said our goodbyes.
This was the last time I saw him during the travel and I wish him all the best for his semester in North Finnland (even colder than Estonia…).
So from that point I decided to go back to my bike since it was already 17:30 and I needed to return the bike till 20:00.
Going through the forrest I was not sure which way we took when we left from the beach so I just decided to follow my instincts.
Third mistake
I took some time but eventually I reached the other end of the island which was occupied by a few houses. Since I was a bit off-road, I needed to climb through a building side to reach the shore but eventually I arrived where I wanted to be.
Except that I did not.
Looking around me I found it strange that the town looked weirdly like the other side of Joudkranté, from which I just departed. Looking around more and watching for some trademarks I got suspicious and eventually it dawned on me: I was excactly where I left off.
So I gave it a second chance and after another 30 minutes and blood sweat and self pitty I eventually arrived on the other side of the island. Now my challenge was to find my bike.
So I walked alongside the beach, looking for my bike – certain that there is nothing that could go wrong … right?
Wrong.
After some time I looked around me and got the feeling that this was excactly the way I already cycled when I came to Joudkranté earlier this day. At this point I lost all faith in myself and consulted Google Maps, hoping for salvation.
And indeed I walked around one kilmoter in the wrong direction. So I turned back and eventually arrived at my bike at 18:45.
Still in hope that I would be able to return more or less in time I called the bike rental and they gave me a tolerance of one hour.
This was my sign of motivation and I was going with high speed back home.
For the following incident you need to know that there is one bike path and one main street in Nida. And they are never one and the same.
So when I found myself on the main street after around an hour of cycling I became a bit suspicious of the situation. I drove towards one of the forrest paths in hope of finding getting back onto the bike path.
Instead I ended up in the dunes, where – to my luck – a Lithuanian girl was just having a walk in the evening. We got into a conversation and she appearantly knew her way around the island.
I told her about my day and asked her for the directions towards Nida.
Till this date I cannot explain how it happened. As I said, there is only one bike path which has no intersections and actually a quite limited number of turns.
This just added to my surprise when she answered my question by pointing in the direction I just came from.
I made my fourth (and last…) mistake
At this point I just wanted to start crying. Seeing it positive, I at least had a good conversation with her and she told me about her experience of teaching Chinese at the Univeristy of Vilnius.
Eventually after one hour of doubting the meaning of life, I saw the lights of Nida appearing back on the shore. Of course I was way to late to return the bike – I think it was 22:30pm – but at this point I could not care less.
I rode probably 70-80km instead of 50km. I doubted my own capabilities of surviving in the modern world.
But I am still alive. I survived. And I still don´t believe in maps.
jakobtravels 