Klaipeda to Nida · one way, about 154 km back to the start
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From Kaliningrad it runs 154 km to Nida; allow about 2 h 12 of riding. On the way it passes Zelenogradsk and Rybachy Curonian. It crosses from Russia into Lithuania - carry ID and check vignette or toll rules. A steady touring day rather than a sprint.
Kaliningrad was once Königsberg, the capital of East Prussia, and what happened to it explains most of what you see. The city was heavily bombed in 1944 and fought over in 1945, then passed to the Soviet Union, its German population was expelled, and it was resettled and renamed in 1946. Today it is an exclave of Russia, cut off from the rest of the country by Lithuania and Poland, with its own character and a population of about four hundred thousand.
The great philosopher Immanuel Kant lived and died here and is buried against the wall of the cathedral on Kneiphof island, in the middle of the Pregel river. The cathedral was a ruin for decades and has been rebuilt as a museum and concert hall. Fragments of old Prussian gates and towers survive, and there are Soviet housing blocks beside them. The region is the world's largest source of amber, and the stone, fossilised tree resin about forty million years old, is sold in shops and displayed in a museum.
For riders the main attraction is the coast to the north and west. The Curonian Spit, a long, narrow sand peninsula, and the resort towns of Zelenogradsk and Svetlogorsk are reached by roads through forest and fields, and the Baltic is cold, grey and wide. Travel to and within Russia is subject to rules and sanctions that change, and anyone who might ride here needs to check entry requirements, border conditions and insurance carefully, since they may differ greatly from past years.
On the ground, the city has fuel stations and plenty of cafes. Local specialities include marzipan, which Königsberg was famous for, and fish from the Baltic. Summers are mild, winters cold and snowy. The roads are generally decent, though traffic into the city can jam. A walk around the island and the cathedral gives a sense of the layers of history in a place that has had many names.
Zelenogradsk was called Cranz when East Prussia was German, and it was one of the Baltic coast's best-known seaside resorts, a place where the people of Konigsberg came by train for the sea air and the long sand beach. Today it is a small Russian town of about fifteen thousand people on the Kaliningrad exclave, wedged between Lithuania and Poland, with a promenade, a pier and a scattering of old villas whose carved wooden balconies survive from the earlier era. Cats are the town's mascot, and statues of them appear in squares, on walls and on lamp posts.
It is also the gateway to the Curonian Spit, a narrow sandy peninsula nearly a hundred kilometres long that separates the Curonian Lagoon from the Baltic Sea. Created by waves and wind over thousands of years, the spit has dunes up to sixty metres high, forests of pine and birch that were replanted to stop the sand from burying villages, and a shore of pale sand with amber washed up after storms. UNESCO recognised it in 2000 as a shared Russian and Lithuanian site. The road south from Zelenogradsk runs along it between the sea and the lagoon.
Amber is a major theme in the region. The world's largest deposit lies along the coast to the west, at Yantarny, and for centuries it was gathered, traded and worked into jewellery, and the amber road of antiquity led from here to the Mediterranean. Small shops in Zelenogradsk sell it, and locals will tell you how to tell real from fake by a drop of salt water or a gentle heat. It is worth buying a small piece as a souvenir.
Zelenogradsk has about fifteen thousand people, and so has fuel stations and shops, and it is the last reliable place to fill up before the spit. The roads here are flat and straight, running through pine woods, and the surface is generally good, with speed cameras and police checks that are common. Traffic is heavy on summer weekends. The Baltic is cold, the beach wide and windy, and the weather changes quickly, with rain and fog rolling in from the sea. Bring a windproof layer. Travel to this region requires attention to current visa and entry rules, so check them well before you go.
Rybachy was Rossitten when this part of the Curonian Spit belonged to Germany, and the village is known in scientific circles for one thing: birds. In 1901, an ornithologist named Johannes Thienemann founded the world's first bird observatory here, and for more than a century researchers have caught, ringed and released millions of migrants as they funnelled down the spit on their way between Scandinavia and Africa. The spit is a natural bottleneck, with the sea on one side and the lagoon on the other, and in spring and autumn the sky fills with finches, thrushes and birds of prey.
The landscape is one of the most unusual in Europe. The spit is a ribbon of sand, no more than a few kilometres wide and in places just four hundred metres, built up by wind and sea, and the dunes, among the highest moving dunes in the continent, rise as grey-gold hills above the pines. The sand has buried villages in the past, and the forest planted to hold it in place is now a feature of the landscape. On a still evening the air smells of resin and salt, and the sea sounds like breath.
Nida, the main village on the Lithuanian side, lies about twenty kilometres to the north, and is known for the summer house the novelist Thomas Mann built in the early 1930s, now a small museum looking over the lagoon, and for the Parnidis dune, a high viewpoint with a sundial. A border crossing lies between the two settlements, and rules for crossing change, so check conditions and carry the right documents before you attempt it. Do not assume that a route is open.
For riders, the road along the spit is flat, straight and narrow, with forest on both sides and glimpses of water, and there is something calming about it. Speed limits are low, and there are checks for entry to the national park. Services are few. Rybachy has a shop or two and a handful of guesthouses, but fuel is scarce, and the nearest large town is Zelenogradsk, some thirty kilometres south, so fill up there. Mosquitoes can be fierce in summer, and in winter the wind is bitter. Early morning in May or September, when the birds are moving, is the best time to be here.
This part of the spit belongs to the Kaliningrad region, the village of Morskoye on the map, and the border at its northern end is not a crossing point for tourists, so a rider on the Lithuanian side cannot simply carry on along the road. Nida is where the Lithuanian part ends.
The spit itself is a thing of wonder. It is about a hundred kilometres long and in places less than four hundred metres wide, a ribbon of dunes and pine forest between sea and lagoon, shared by Lithuania and Russia, and listed by UNESCO in 2000 as a cultural landscape. For centuries the villages here fought the wandering sand. Some were buried and moved, and the forest that covers the spit today was planted in the nineteenth century to hold the dunes. The highest, near Nida, rises about fifty metres, one of the tallest shifting dunes in Europe, and from its top you can see lagoon on one side, sea on the other and, to the south, the Russian dunes marching away.
Nida is a pleasant fishing village, where Thomas Mann built a summer house in the early 1930s, where smoked fish is sold from stalls and amber from souvenir shops, and where the beaches are wide and white. The road along the Lithuanian part of the spit is lovely: a quiet, curving single carriageway through pine and birch, with glimpses of water, and an entry fee collected at the gate. Speed is limited and enforced, as it should be in a national park.
Nida has about sixteen hundred people, with limited services, so fill in Klaipeda, the ferry city to the north, before you cross by ferry from Smiltyne. Summer brings crowds and mosquitoes, and September has the best light. Winter is cold and windy, and the empty beach is bleak and beautiful.