The passage
Kiel - Heiligenhafen
This winter, my boat would spend her final months on the Trave, halfway to Lübeck. So I planned the return in early October. In Vadim Luppo’s sailing chat, I noticed a man newly arrived in Germany. No sea experience, dreaming of buying a yacht. It sounded wildly adventurous; I invited him aboard as a passenger to compare romance with reality. Planning Monday, 6 October. Fifty-knot storms over the weekend, easing by Monday noon.
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Back to Lübeck. Part 1. Kiel — Heiligenhafen
Preparing for the passage
This winter, my boat would spend her final months on the Trave, halfway to Lübeck. So I planned the return in early October.
In Vadim Luppo’s sailing chat, I noticed a man newly arrived in Germany. No sea experience, dreaming of buying a yacht. It sounded wildly adventurous; I invited him aboard as a passenger to compare romance with reality.
Planning
Monday, 6 October. Fifty-knot storms over the weekend, easing by Monday noon. Simple plan: leave eleven, offshore twelve, Heiligenhafen by evening. I wanted daylight arrival. A year ago, around the same dates, I’d been too cold to helm or stay in the cockpit, even in several layers.
A broad reach up to twenty knots, easing later. Full genoa, no main: downwind, the main would only blanket the headsail.
Departure
I arrived at ten. David got stuck in traffic, arriving at two. A telling-off for form’s sake, then departure. After freezing on the spring Bornholm trip, I’d bought €65 heated thermals on AliExpress, powered by a power bank. Test time. Wind eighteen knots, air 12°C, water 11°C. Comfortable even on minimum heat.
Six knots, lively progress. David took the tiller, apparently feeling the wind’s power for the first time. Twenty-five degrees of heel in gusts: tense at first, then smiling. I explained sails and keel; he listened without blinking.
The Baltic after the North Sea
At five, the Todendorf. exercise area. Normally a detour, but open by then. Lucky. After the North Sea the Baltic felt a quiet lake. Calm, predictable, almost kindly.
Moon and seasickness
At seven, the sun gave way to an enormous, nearly full moon. Silver water, glittering waves, a road of light round the boat. The breeze grew warm, as though evening were apologising for the cold day.
David stared silently ahead. ‘I feel sick.’ Minutes later, his resolve to become a sailor weakened. On we went: me enjoying soft wind and night peace, him feeding the fish and reassessing maritime freedom.
Heiligenhafen
At eleven, Heiligenhafen. Long, narrow entry, unlit buoys. Leading lights only; I aligned them in total darkness. Relief at berthing. €20 by QR code, shower, straight to bed.
A rest day followed. Small, cosy town. I wandered the waterfront looking at yachts; David unexpectedly made borscht. The first aboard my boat, perhaps my first post-passage meal that felt homemade rather than tinned meat.
#passage
Preparing for the passage
This winter, my boat would spend her final months on the Trave, halfway to Lübeck. So I planned the return in early October.
In Vadim Luppo’s sailing chat, I noticed a man newly arrived in Germany. No sea experience, dreaming of buying a yacht. It sounded wildly adventurous; I invited him aboard as a passenger to compare romance with reality.
Planning
Monday, 6 October. Fifty-knot storms over the weekend, easing by Monday noon. Simple plan: leave eleven, offshore twelve, Heiligenhafen by evening. I wanted daylight arrival. A year ago, around the same dates, I’d been too cold to helm or stay in the cockpit, even in several layers.
A broad reach up to twenty knots, easing later. Full genoa, no main: downwind, the main would only blanket the headsail.
Departure
I arrived at ten. David got stuck in traffic, arriving at two. A telling-off for form’s sake, then departure. After freezing on the spring Bornholm trip, I’d bought €65 heated thermals on AliExpress, powered by a power bank. Test time. Wind eighteen knots, air 12°C, water 11°C. Comfortable even on minimum heat.
Six knots, lively progress. David took the tiller, apparently feeling the wind’s power for the first time. Twenty-five degrees of heel in gusts: tense at first, then smiling. I explained sails and keel; he listened without blinking.
The Baltic after the North Sea
At five, the Todendorf. exercise area. Normally a detour, but open by then. Lucky. After the North Sea the Baltic felt a quiet lake. Calm, predictable, almost kindly.
Moon and seasickness
At seven, the sun gave way to an enormous, nearly full moon. Silver water, glittering waves, a road of light round the boat. The breeze grew warm, as though evening were apologising for the cold day.
David stared silently ahead. ‘I feel sick.’ Minutes later, his resolve to become a sailor weakened. On we went: me enjoying soft wind and night peace, him feeding the fish and reassessing maritime freedom.
Heiligenhafen
At eleven, Heiligenhafen. Long, narrow entry, unlit buoys. Leading lights only; I aligned them in total darkness. Relief at berthing. €20 by QR code, shower, straight to bed.
A rest day followed. Small, cosy town. I wandered the waterfront looking at yachts; David unexpectedly made borscht. The first aboard my boat, perhaps my first post-passage meal that felt homemade rather than tinned meat.
#passage
Passage weather
The passage
Via Grömitz in Am Stau
After a day’s rest in Heiligenhafen, offshore again. David, not fully recovered, debated going home or finishing. Curiosity won; he stayed. Towards Grömitz 8 October 2025, towards the small resort of Grömitz. Grey but dry morning, light south-westerly about eight knots. Beneath the Fehmarn bridge, then south, then south-west a couple of hours later. Wind dead ahead, sails useless. Engine on. Grömitz at three, twenty-six miles in six hours.
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Back to Lübeck. Part 2
Heiligenhafen — Grömitz — Am Stau
After a day’s rest in Heiligenhafen, offshore again. David, not fully recovered, debated going home or finishing. Curiosity won; he stayed.
Towards Grömitz
8 October 2025, towards the small resort of Grömitz. Grey but dry morning, light south-westerly about eight knots. Beneath the Fehmarn bridge, then south, then south-west a couple of hours later.
Wind dead ahead, sails useless. Engine on. Grömitz at three, twenty-six miles in six hours.
A cosy, almost toy-like town. Tidy waterfront, smooth sandy beach, fish smells from dozens of cafés. A huge Ferris wheel turned ashore; suddenly, hundreds of lights lit up. A reminder that autumn needn’t be dull here.
Rain sent us back aboard. Buckwheat with a Maggi cube and tinned meat in tomato sauce. No haute cuisine; ideal after six hours motoring.
Back to Lübeck Bay
10am departure on 9 October. Unbroken sunshine making up for yesterday. Fifteen knots, broad reach, full sail.
An astonishingly quiet sea, a feeling of inner comfort. Lübeck Bay is special: my first independent trips began here. Returning feels like home; familiar water, familiar shores.
Before Travemünde, sails down, engine on for the Trave. Its bends bring either headwind or following wind. Today, naturally, headwind.
Winter and goodbyes
Evening berthing. David helped remove and fold the sails, dismantle the boom and check fixings. Then I met harbourmaster and yard staff about winter storage and the season’s growing jobs list.
Kiel to Lübeck done: eighty-six miles in four days. Despite seasickness, David now wanted his own boat. Even nausea can’t prevent love for the sea beneath moonlight and salt air.
So much food left that I joked we could eat through winter without buying more.
#passage
Heiligenhafen — Grömitz — Am Stau
After a day’s rest in Heiligenhafen, offshore again. David, not fully recovered, debated going home or finishing. Curiosity won; he stayed.
Towards Grömitz
8 October 2025, towards the small resort of Grömitz. Grey but dry morning, light south-westerly about eight knots. Beneath the Fehmarn bridge, then south, then south-west a couple of hours later.
Wind dead ahead, sails useless. Engine on. Grömitz at three, twenty-six miles in six hours.
A cosy, almost toy-like town. Tidy waterfront, smooth sandy beach, fish smells from dozens of cafés. A huge Ferris wheel turned ashore; suddenly, hundreds of lights lit up. A reminder that autumn needn’t be dull here.
Rain sent us back aboard. Buckwheat with a Maggi cube and tinned meat in tomato sauce. No haute cuisine; ideal after six hours motoring.
Back to Lübeck Bay
10am departure on 9 October. Unbroken sunshine making up for yesterday. Fifteen knots, broad reach, full sail.
An astonishingly quiet sea, a feeling of inner comfort. Lübeck Bay is special: my first independent trips began here. Returning feels like home; familiar water, familiar shores.
Before Travemünde, sails down, engine on for the Trave. Its bends bring either headwind or following wind. Today, naturally, headwind.
Winter and goodbyes
Evening berthing. David helped remove and fold the sails, dismantle the boom and check fixings. Then I met harbourmaster and yard staff about winter storage and the season’s growing jobs list.
Kiel to Lübeck done: eighty-six miles in four days. Despite seasickness, David now wanted his own boat. Even nausea can’t prevent love for the sea beneath moonlight and salt air.
So much food left that I joked we could eat through winter without buying more.
#passage
Passage weather