Ausflug 39

We were all set to finish up our weekend with a couple more bicycle rides when Detlef, Monika's nephew, made us an offer we just couldn't refuse. Detlef invited us to be "crew" while he sailed his sailboat, "Lumme", from the harbor at Neustadt northwards up to the island of Fehmarn in the Baltic Sea, and then westwards across the Baltic to the town of Kappeln on the River Schlei, where he was going to put the boat in winter storage. We weren't sure how much help we would really be for Detlef as our sailing experience is quite limited, but it sounded like a grand adventure so we enthusiastically agreed. Privately, my only concern was whether I'd get seasick, which would be embarrassing; I've never been seasick on cruise ships, but a 28-foot sailboat bouncing around in the waves is quite another matter!

Detlef popped in around 9 a.m. on Saturday morning with his wife's car and a lot of cold weather gear in the trunk in case we did not have any. We also took along our big, comfortable duvet for sleeping on the Lumme if the trip turned into a 2-day sail. Part of the reason Detlef wanted to sail that weekend is that the wind was from the South, which favored the initial two legs of the trip, first eastward from Neustadt and then due North to the island of Fehmarn. We had a spanking breeze of around 10-11 knots, so we sailed out East on a broad reach at 6 knots, near the Lumme's maximum hull speed.

We had a wonderful time chatting with Detlef, watching the coastline float by with kitesurfers and lighhouses. Occasionally we saw other ships, like the Kuestenwache (English: Coast Guard) patrol boats.

After an hour or so we turned left around the headland and then headed North with the sails set "wing and wing" (English) or "butterfly" (German) position to catch the tailwind most effectively. The wind was strong enough to raised whitecaps and the sun was beaming down from a bright blue sky, but the Lumme's motion was surprisingly gentle as she was running before the wind. So we could relax, occasionally adjusting the sails, as we sailed up the coast toward the Island of Fehmarn. We also had lunch around noon because Detlef predicted, correctly as it turned out, that we would have a lot more sea motion when we turned back East in the shipping channel between the mainland and Fehmarn.

Shortly after lunch we turned left into a channel underneath the big suspension bridge between the mainland to the South and Fehmarn to the North. That's when things got interesting. First, we crossed some rather shallow areas marked on Detlef's iPad chart, and I watched as the "water depth under keel" meter steadily declined from 2 meters to 1 meter, 1/2 meter, and finally 1/3 meter. Well, now, 1/3 of a meter is a little more than a foot of water under the keel, and it was at that point that I was fervently hoping (a) that the tide was flowing IN rather than OUT on that shore, and (b) that no scofflaw had dumped some debris along our path like a 50-gallon oil barrel that would stick up more than a foot!

We entered the channel going under the suspension bridge shortly thereafter and the water depth steadily increased, much to my relief. BUT, we now had to head pretty much due West to pass under the bridge. If the wind had stayed out of the South or shifted to the South-East as had been predicted, a course to the West would have been quite easy. Instead, however, the wind shifted to the southwest to become a quartering headwind, so we ended up being close hauled, or sailing as close to head on into the wind as the Lumme was capable of.

The sails were set as tight as possible and we were heeled over and charging into the waves, when Detlef saw a squall bearing down on us. Since we were still in fairly narrow designated channel, we really didn't have the maneuvering room to change our tack so that we could better withstand the wind gusts and had to kind of bang straight ahead. The waves got pretty heavy for a while, so Detlef had us all put on life vests, but these were the streamlined version for recreational sailors that were compact enough to let you still work the tiller and lines, rather than the huge, bulky things with big blocks of foam in them that are used on cruise ships.

After the squall the sea quieted down and the wind decreased, but remained stubbornly on our port bow. So Detlef cranked up the one-cylinder diesel motor, and that helped us maintain 4-5 knots headway as we worked our way westward across the Baltic Sea. As dusk approached we had to decide whether to put in for the night or continue on in the dark. Detlef looked at the possibilities, but Denmark was a long sail to the North and the coastal ports in Germany were a long sail to the South, so he decided to push on.

We have never sailed at night on a small sailboat in the middle of the sea before, and it was quite an experience. First, we had an absolutely spectacular sunset--one of those really slow, gradual sunsets of the northern latitudes, where the sky is reddish-orange at the horizon and dark blue bordering on black above. After sunset the stars came out in all their glory, undimmed by any city nightglow. As Carl Sagan might have said, "Billions and Billions" of them, sprinkled like diamond dust across the night sky. So pretty!

We kept a close eye for any ships as we crossed the Baltic Sea shipping lanes. Passenger ships in general, or anything like a ferry, are usually easily to spot as they are lit up like a Christmas tree. Cargo ships, however, are not too well illuminated, often having just port (red) and starboard (green) running lights, so we really watched for them.

As we neared the mouth of the Schlei River, we had to skirt an old military test range that apparently had unexploded ordnance scattered around, but we used the map on Detlef's iPad as well as the pattern of lights from the lighthouses dotting the shoreline to guide ourselves around the corner, marked by a bright yellow buoy.

Detlef turned the tiller over to me as we headed up the narrow channel to Kappeln in the middle of the Schlei River, and he went forward to act as a lookout. In particular, Detlef was looking out for the large, metal green or red buoys that marked the right and left sides of the channel. My job was to steer the Lumme between them, and I had a visual map to work with on the display of the iPad. Detlef was checking on this all, however, because the first set of buoys we encountered at the mouth of the Schlei were off the position shown on the iPad by about 30 meters or so. Detlef wanted to be sure we would stay in the correct channel area because the Schlei gets quite shallow outside the channel and we could easily get stuck in the mud--not dangerous but inconvenient and a bit of trouble to work the ship back off the mudbank.

So we went charging up the Schlei in the middle of the pitch-black night with Detlef keeping watch in the bow and me gently guiding the Lumme between each pair of metal buoys. Some pairs were only about 10 meters (35 feet) apart, and completely invisible in the dark until we were right up on them. It reminded me of the old video game called "Stargate" where you had to steer a spaceship through a set of narrower and narrower space gates and avoid crashing. This, however, was reality and the stakes were quite high. The Lumme is a classic wooden-hull, teak-decked sailboat of the kind that truly is not built anymore, and crashing it into a buoy could have sunk us. Besides losing an irreplaceable old boat, we would have all had a cold, uncomfortable swim in the Schlei to get to shore. So I was VERY careful about my steering, but unaccountably also very cheerful, just resisting the urge to break out in a Sea Chanty because, after all, I was still listening for Detlef to call out a warning if I was off course.

But in the end it all went well, and Detlef took over the tiller for the really tricky part of maneuvering into the mooring slip. It was midnight and we had been sailing 14 hours, so we were all dog tired and quickly turned in for the night.

The next morning we woke up to a beautiful sunrise.

We had a nice breakfast. Then Detlef let us wander off on the hiking path along the Schlei while he started to ready the Lumme for winter storage. We had a wonderful 2-hour walk first through the Old Town area of Kappeln which included a busy port area. We watched as the drawbridge opened and a line of boats went up and down the Schlei. We then walked upstream past a row of small marinas and shipyards catering to small sailboats, yachts, and small commercial boats.

Continuing upstream we saw what looked like a small shrine alongside the footpath, but when we stopped we found out it was a "serve yourself" stand selling home made jam and handcrafted wood things. The farm lady came out and restocked it while we were looking it over, and on her advice we bought rhubarb-strawberry jam which turned out to be delicious!

We finally reached our destination, Anis, a small, old town situated on an island on one side of the Schlei River. A walking trail runs right around the island, so we walked that and had nice views of the river and, surprisingly, odd pieces of sculpture that had been placed along the way like an large mobile made of rocks.

The oddest, perhaps, was a "Viking Weather Station", purportedly from about 8th Century, which was a crude wooden tripod with a rope hanging down and holding a big old rock suspended at the end. The sign alongside this "sculpture" gave directions for using the rock to tell the weather (English translations below):

Clearly some Germans have a good sense of humor!

We also watched a brother and sister pair about 10 years old bailing out a little sailboat, clearly preparing it for a day sailing on the river. Then we walked along the pretty main street of Anis.

We would have been happy to have lunch in Anis, but the summer season was over and the restaurants were all closed, so instead we called Detlef and explained the situation. In short order he picked us up with Heinke, who had driven up with her car to meet us and help Detlef put the Lumme in storage. We all piled in her car and returned to Kappeln for lunch and then drove back to Scharbeutz so Detlef could pick up his car. And thus ended our Excellent Adventure on the high seas!