Alfonsas Kauneckis looks over the calm waters of the Curonian Lagoon and rummages through his memories. “Actually, I didn’t want to become a fisherman at all,” says the old man with a smile, “but it was one of the few options to avoid being sent to the kolkhozes after my military service.” However, the Lithuanian never quarreled with his unpredictable calling. “You are free out there.” At 83 years of age, his great-grandfather is the oldest on the Curonian Spit, who still goes out to fish at sunrise – almost like when he got into the boat for the first time in Juodkrantė, the former Schwarzort. That was more than 60 years ago.
The world was different when Kauneckis was born in 1938 on the other side of the Memel Lagoon. At that time, Lithuanians, Germans and Kurds lived together here, and a mixture of their languages determined everyday life in the fishing villages. “My parents spoke German. We lived only three kilometers away from the border with Memelland. I also remember an old man who still spoke Kurish,” says Kauneckis. The last spit cures that lived in the region fled with the Germans from the advancing Red Army at the end of World War II. With them, the language of fishermen and sailors, which had been at home here for centuries, disappeared.
Even at the age of 83, he still goes out into the lagoon with his fishing cutter: Alfonsas Kauneckis, here with his granddaughter Jovita, who runs his fish restaurant on the Curonian Spit.
(Photo: Eithan Reubens)
The time before the Second World War is still glorified by many Nehrung tourists as an era of artists and writers. At the latest when the National Socialists came to power, it was over. Thomas Mann, who had a summer house in Nidden and wrote his novel tetralogy “Josef und seine Brüder”, fled from Munich to Sanary-sur-Mer in 1933 and never returned to the Curonian Spit. The famous artist colony of Nidden, which once attracted painters such as Lovis Corinth, Max Pechstein and Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, lost more and more of its importance. Her works were branded as “degenerate”. Some pictures that survived the war years in the inn of the former patron Hermann Blode fell victim to the Soviet troops in 1945.
“The life of fishermen has changed immensely,” says Kauneckis after he sat down in his Žuvelė fisherman’s inn on the Juodkrantė riverside path and was served a fish soup. “In the 1960s we caught 300 to 400 eels in a day. Today it is three or four.” Of the 30 fishermen in Juodkrantė, only three remained. In front of the covered terrace of the restaurant there are groups of Lithuanian day trippers who have been drawn to the spit by the sunny weather. Because of the pandemic, the restaurant, which is now run by two of his grandchildren, had to remain closed temporarily. Today it is full of domestic tourists again. After Lithuania’s independence, Kauneckis went from being a fish seller to being a restaurant owner. But he still regularly goes out to sea.
Instead of the Germans, the locals came to the spit in the summer of 2020
The pandemic has changed everyday life on the Curonian Spit. “In the past a lot of Germans came,” says Lina Dikšaite, “now we almost only have Lithuanians.” The deputy director of the Curonian Spit National Park is currently on the Nagliai hiking trail in the Dead Dunes near Pervalka. “We had about the same number of visitors in 2020 as before the pandemic because a lot of domestic tourists came to the spit.”
It is an unusually hot summer day. Despite a fresh breeze, you feel like you’re on a desert hike between the almost vegetation-free sand hills. On the roadside, Dikšaite points out the remains of a settlement buried by the quicksand. The village of Nagliai was repeatedly overrun by shifting dunes and, like some other Kuren settlements, had to be abandoned entirely. If the lush green pine forests and the dark blue lagoon weren’t in sight at the end of the path, you would almost think you were on another continent. The dunes of the Curonian Spit were once called “East Prussian Sahara”.
Nothing but nature: View over the Great Dune to the bay of Nida / Nidden, where Thomas Mann once had his holiday home.
(Photo: Martin Bäuml Fotodesign / Imago Images)
“Many visitors probably hope to see moose and sea eagles on the spit,” says Dikšaite, “but the dunes are also home to rare species.” The common pipit, dune tiger beetles and mountain sand bells may not be of interest to tourists, but hikers are partly responsible for maintaining their habitat.
“With one million tourists in the national park each year, it is important to manage the flow of visitors and protect sensitive habitats,” says Dikšaite. “Even in July and August it gets too crowded here for me.” The 46-year-old is also constantly bothered by new construction projects. “The spit has become very fashionable. It attracts investors and a lot of money. This increases the pressure. Some locals have to move away in the meantime.”
Where once rare birds used to breed, there is now a container village for kite surfers
On the opposite side of the spit, Boris Belchev packs his telescope and camera into the car. The nature guide sets out on a bird watching tour along the east bank of the lagoon in the Memel Delta. He has already identified more than 320 species in the region. The 35-year-old Bulgarian is critical of some of the latest developments in his adopted country. He has just passed the new water sports center in Svencelė. This weekend the sky is full with the colorful kites of the kite surfers. Where previously rare bird species could retreat to breed, a chic container village for surfers and sailors has been pounded out of the swampy ground in recent years. “Rich people who want to get even richer,” says the biologist. “If there is enough money around here, concerns about nature conservation are quickly thrown overboard.”
From Svencelė he continues south, past dilapidated farmhouses, through sparse forests and swampy cattle pastures. Belchev’s favorite places on the Curonian Lagoon are not in the travel guides. He gets off at a Seggenried. A sea eagle flies over the near edge of the forest. The cheering of the larks is in the air. But Belchev has pointed his telescope at the blades of grass on the meadow and is listening for the chatty chirping of a far more inconspicuous singer.
A narrow strip of land that separates the Baltic Sea from the lagoon: the Curonian Spit
(Photo: Michael Runkel / Mauritius Images / Westend61)
“Many of my guests come here to see rare species like the reed warbler,” says Belchev. The sparrow-gray bird is one of the rarest in Europe. Because the sedge meadows and moors, which are important for its breeding, have disappeared almost everywhere, the songbird, which once lived in large parts of Central Europe, has only a few territories left in Eastern Europe.
“It’s sometimes sad to be a bird watcher these days,” says Belchev, “some species can only be seen as they go extinct.” The biologist has lived in Lithuania for 15 years and is one of the best bird experts in the country. Cranes, golden plover and double snipe – Belchev knows where they can still be found in the Memel Delta.
“To widen this road here, centuries-old trees were felled,” he says, “the deforestation of forests and the destruction of moors just go on.” Even if many are now aware of the importance of the moors as carbon stores for climate protection, they are still being destroyed in the Baltic countries.
There is Baltic peat in almost every head of lettuce in the EU, for which peatlands are destroyed here
Very few consumers know that when they create their vegetable patches or simply eat lettuce on a daily basis, they contribute to the disappearance of wetlands in the Baltic countries. “Baltic peat is in the production of almost every Spanish greenhouse tomato and 99 percent of all heads of lettuce eaten in the EU,” says Nerijus Zableckis from the Lithuanian Nature Conservation Fund. According to BUND and NABU, German companies such as the industry leader Klasmann-Deilmann also earn money from peat extraction in Lithuania and Latvia.
Not far from the reed warblers, a flock of black tern flies. They too have become rare due to the destruction of wetlands. “So let’s let them brood in peace!” Says Belchev. At the end of the bird watching tour, the biologist takes his guests to the island of Rusnė. Belchev’s house is the last one on the banks of the Memel. From his balcony he can see over the Kaliningrad Oblast, where two fishermen have just cast their line. A Lithuanian border patrol floats on the arm of the Memel, which today separates Russia from the European Union. On the narrow strip of land between his garden and the Russian headland, Belchev watches the passing birds, including red-throated divers, gray shrike and cranes. “Today the river is impassable for humans,” says Belchev, “only the birds are not aware of border controls.”
Travel information
Getting there: For example with Lufthansa (lufthansa.de) or Air Baltic (airbaltic.com) non-stop from several German airports to Vilnius or Kaunas. A rental car is recommended for visiting the Curonian Spit and the lagoon.
Accommodation:
That belongs in the former fishing village of Juodkrantė Prie Ąžuolo to the most beautiful accommodations, prieazuolo.lt
From the Vila Elvyra just outside of Nidden you have a wonderful view of the Curonian Lagoon, vilaelvyra.priejuros.lt
Not only bird lovers will find it on the Mėlynasis fisherman’s inn Karpis near Kintai the ideal quarter for exploring the Memel Delta, kintai.lt/turizmo-kompleksas
Restaurant: The best place to try fresh fish from the lagoon is in the restaurant Žuvelė in Juodkrantė, jovila.lt/zvejo-uzeiga-zuvele
Nature tours: With Alcedo Wildlife Boris Belchev offers guided bird and nature tours on the Curonian Lagoon and in the Memel Delta, alcedowildlife.com
Travel arrangement: Geoplan private trips puts together tailor-made trips to the Baltic States and has the most important national parks of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia in the program, Tel .: 030/34 64 98 10, geoplan-reisen.de
General information: lithuania.travel