In this publication9 photos · 1 video
The Kiel Canal is an engineering marvel and a remarkably peaceful place. Paths disappear into green banks. Especially quiet in the evening: rustling leaves, occasional gulls, muffled engines of passing ships.
Wind escaped the trees in bursts to twenty knots, dropping boat speed to four. The canal reaches 250m wide in places, yet even by the banks, depth remains about three metres. German precision: cargo ships observe the 12km/h limit and barely raise a wash. Bliss.
Mad berthing
About halfway between Kiel and Rendsburg lies Flemhuder See. An ideal overnight stop on the chart. More wind forecast; anchoring in reeds didn’t appeal. Mooring to the large buoys in the lake instead.
Logical on the diagram: three thick cylinders, boat neatly between them. Less idyllic in practice. Instead of familiar bollards, ingenious inward-curving steel hooks, apparently designed for scratching topsides.
No precision approach in that wind: the boat blew towards the hooks like a woodchip. At least six approaches to secure her, with fresh paint scratches commemorating the heroic ironwork ballet.
The main problem emerged with the stern lines out. Nine metres between buoys; boat 8.8m. Marginal, to put it mildly. Only pulling back in reverse helped. Some improvisation: stern lines round the far sides of their buoys to gain space and avoid the forward one. More nautical origami than mooring: three ropes and nervous sighs.
Late, exhausted but pleased, I ate, wrapped in a sleeping bag, opened a book and slept before the lines could blur.
The return
Following wind in the morning, 5.5 knots. At the lock, routine: drift, fenders, lines, radio twelve. Less visible lights than seaward, same system. Red-and-white released a dozen boats and a container ship.
A boat came closer: Oleksandr, a skipper I’d recently met. I photographed him; he said it was his first photo aboard his yacht.
White light, in we went. Northern pontoon, port side this time. Quietly managed, even alone. An inspector asked about payment. I said I’d entered my MMSI and paid online. A nod, good wishes, gone towards the control cabin. Gates open, onward to my marina.
Afterword
A useful and surprisingly cosy route. I want to come more often, especially in bad weather: sea raging outside, a mirror of water within green banks. Twenty-one miles and a few new topside scars: a fair price for unforgettable experience.
#passage
Wind escaped the trees in bursts to twenty knots, dropping boat speed to four. The canal reaches 250m wide in places, yet even by the banks, depth remains about three metres. German precision: cargo ships observe the 12km/h limit and barely raise a wash. Bliss.
Mad berthing
About halfway between Kiel and Rendsburg lies Flemhuder See. An ideal overnight stop on the chart. More wind forecast; anchoring in reeds didn’t appeal. Mooring to the large buoys in the lake instead.
Logical on the diagram: three thick cylinders, boat neatly between them. Less idyllic in practice. Instead of familiar bollards, ingenious inward-curving steel hooks, apparently designed for scratching topsides.
No precision approach in that wind: the boat blew towards the hooks like a woodchip. At least six approaches to secure her, with fresh paint scratches commemorating the heroic ironwork ballet.
The main problem emerged with the stern lines out. Nine metres between buoys; boat 8.8m. Marginal, to put it mildly. Only pulling back in reverse helped. Some improvisation: stern lines round the far sides of their buoys to gain space and avoid the forward one. More nautical origami than mooring: three ropes and nervous sighs.
Late, exhausted but pleased, I ate, wrapped in a sleeping bag, opened a book and slept before the lines could blur.
The return
Following wind in the morning, 5.5 knots. At the lock, routine: drift, fenders, lines, radio twelve. Less visible lights than seaward, same system. Red-and-white released a dozen boats and a container ship.
A boat came closer: Oleksandr, a skipper I’d recently met. I photographed him; he said it was his first photo aboard his yacht.
White light, in we went. Northern pontoon, port side this time. Quietly managed, even alone. An inspector asked about payment. I said I’d entered my MMSI and paid online. A nod, good wishes, gone towards the control cabin. Gates open, onward to my marina.
Afterword
A useful and surprisingly cosy route. I want to come more often, especially in bad weather: sea raging outside, a mirror of water within green banks. Twenty-one miles and a few new topside scars: a fair price for unforgettable experience.
#passage
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