The Curonian Spit is a nearly 100-kilometer stretch of white sand, dunes and pine tree forests on the Baltic Sea coast on one side and the Curonian Lagoon on the other. Though this area is shared almost equally between Russia and Lithuania, there is a striking difference between the two parts.
In Russia, the Curonian Spit is more or less a conventional resort destination for residents of Kaliningrad, boasting all the customary (and not necessarily welcome) attributes of such a place: crowded beaches, loud discos and heavy road traffic.
In Lithuania, the mystic and desolate part couldn’t be more different.
Despite the sunny weather and comfortably warm water of the Baltic Sea, the human presence on these white sandy beaches is insignificant. It’s all the more surprising since some of the local beaches boast the Blue Flag, a prestigious international award given to beaches with quality and safe water.
My presumption that most of the tourists were hanging out at numerous local seafood restaurants also proved erroneous. In Juodkrante, where I stayed with friends, getting a table by the seaside at the nicest local restaurant was easy and didn’t require any reservations. In fact, the place was often half full.
A local hotel manager also proved to be pleasantly nonchalant about money issues. He kept saying he was too busy with other things, so I ended up almost pressuring him to charge my card for the room. This, I have to admit, was a refreshing change compared to a recent holiday in Crimea, where the local hotel demanded that the full amount be paid in cash literally at the doorstep as I walked in.
It was probably at that point that I had given up searching for the answer of why this area, on par with any world class resort destination, was so strikingly empty. I simply decided to enjoy the place as it was. Perhaps, one of the reasons why my curiosity vanished was the language barrier. Personnel at restaurants and hotels, not to mention the local residents, had trouble communicating in Russian or English. My own Lithuanian, in turn, is non-existent.
The Curonian Spit is first and foremost known by its gorgeous sand dunes that earned Lithuania and Russia places on the UNESCO World Heritage List. In fact, some of the dunes that currently are part of the local Nagliai Nature Reserve were so powerful and treacherous that villagers in the 17th century living in their vicinity were forced relocate, leaving their houses to be buried in sand.
Yet, it is the mystic aspect of the area that astounds the most, as it turned out that our hotel was just meters away from the place called Raganu Kalnas, or the Witches Hill, an outdoor park, or rather a land plot on the forest displaying around 80 wooden sculptures.
The sculptures are based on Lithuanian folklore and pagan beliefs that mainly depict their scariest characters. In general, the talent that Lithuanians display for artistically depicting all sorts of witches and demons – a conclusion derived from an earlier visit to the Devils’ Museum in Kaunas – makes the famous Dia de los Muertos festival in Mexico look like Disneyland. When Lithuanians depict any kind of witch or demon, they play for keeps. Some of the images I saw at Raganu Kalnas gave me, a long-time fan of horror movies, real shivers.
The most amazing thing about the park is that it was founded back in the late 1970s, when Lithuania was still under Soviet rule, and, in theory, all forms of artistic (and not only) expression had to be approved by Communist ideologists. It still puzzles me how some of the more naturalistic depictions of demons and possessed people passed their scrutiny.
Now, nearly 40 years later, the Witches Hill seems to live a life of its own. Even though it is one of the few places on the Curonian Spit (the other one is the Naglai Reserve) where I actually saw tourist groups coming in by buses, the place still feels dark and mysterious. Perhaps, this is due to the fact that even though it’s officially classified as an outdoor park, Raganu Kalnas actually occupies a spot in a wild pine tree forest on a giant sand dune.
Yet, when one early morning I passed through the Hill of Witches on my way to the seaside, and stumbled upon an elderly woman with a broom, I thought there might be a good reason why this place has such a unique aura – and such a fitting name.
How to get to the Curonian Spit:
A roundtrip flight from Kyiv to Palanga, the nearest airport to the Curonian Spit, is available from airBaltic starting at $314 (change of plane in Riga is required).
Afterwards, take a bus to Klaipeda. A 30 minute ride would cost around $2 one way.
To reach the Curonian Spit from Klaipeda, you need to take a ferry. A roundtrip for one person costs around $1, while those travelling by car are to pay $15. Additionally, once reaching the Spit car travelers are required to pay entrance fee of $8.
Where to stay:
Juodkrante, a village of 720 residents, is the best choice for those seeking a vacation in near solitude. A double room at Egliu Slenis, a comfortable hotel adjacent to the Witch Hill costs approximately $75 a night. Visit egliuslenis.lt for more information.
Alternately, those seeking to mingle with fellow tourists are advised to stay in Nida, the biggest settlement on the Curonian Spit (approximately, 1,550 residents). Check visitneringa.com for accommodation information.
Where to eat:
Fishermen’s Inn Zuvele in Juodkrante (jovila.lt) overlooking the picturesque Curonian Lagoon is probably the best place in the area to eat local seafood, such as zander, or pike. A two-course meal with drinks for two would cost around $40.
Once visiting the Spit, trying smoked eel, a top local delicacy is a must. It is widely available at local fisheries at $46 apiece. Though rumor has it that those are actually artificially grown eels imported from Poland, ignoring this gossip would probably be the wisest choice.
Kyiv Post staff writer Vlad Lavrov can be reached at [email protected].
