The Baltic Way…

After an amazing weekend in Karosta and its fortifications, we spent this week crossing Lithuania diagonally to the east and discovering this peculiar country and its stormy history, before settling down near the border with Belarus to rest before the next stage…

It was a nice weekend on the beach of Karosta, among the northern fortifications and other remains from different eras and military paranoias of some and others. The place is fascinating and intriguing at the same time. A perfect last stop in Latvia before continuing our tour in Lithuania.

Hubris… (18/08/2024)

A short journey to end the weekend and start the week in a new country, the 13th on our list: Lithuania, the third and last of the Baltic republics before Poland. Today’s post contains a lot of photos (sorry! 😊) but Karosta is a very photogenic place, and two days leave plenty of time to let inspiration flow and take lots of photos…😜!

A former military town closed to civilians and a Soviet naval base, Karosta occupies the northern part of the Latvian coastal city of Liepäja. After the army left the area (following the demise of the USSR and Latvia’s independence), much of the buildings became superfluous, especially since neighbouring Liepäja has everything of a dynamic medium-sized city and is much more attractive to live than a former military base. Karosta therefore hosts old or relatively new buildings, including prefabricated apartment blocks typical of the Soviet era and more imposing buildings from the Tsarist era, many of which are abandoned, empty and in ruins. It is not exactly a ghost town (because there are still quite a few people living there), but let’s say that the idea is apparently for it to become one very quickly…

The history of Karosta is a perfect illustration of the hubris of power and begins at the end of the 19th century, when Tsar Nicholas II of Russia has a fortified naval port built there, after deciding that the site had strategic importance. The idea was to build a fortification in the sea, surrounding the entire city, plus some “reinforcements” on land, in case the sea line was breached. In 1908, less than ten years after the start of the works, and before much of the fortifications were finished, Nicholas II changes his mind and reconsiders his idea of ​​the Karosta site having any kind of strategic importance (years later, some would interpret this as a consequence of the non-aggression pact signed between the German Empire and Russia at the time). Work was stopped and the fortifications were abandoned. Ironically, it was the dawn of the First World War and, to prevent them from falling into enemy hands, attempts were made to destroy the fortifications with dynamite, while the cannons and other metal parts were sent to Vilnius or melted down.

After World War I and during Latvia’s first period of independence, the place was known to the population as “Kara osta” (or “War Port”), which became its current name: Karosta.

During World War II, the Nazis invade the Baltic republics and in turn regard the site of Karosta as strategically important, taking advantage of the fortifications to add a series of bunker batteries and other watchtowers. Russia in turn invades the region (with the now familiar excuse of “freeing it from the Nazis”), and Karosta becomes one of the most important bases of the Soviet Baltic Fleet. The former Tsarist infrastructure is considerably expanded, in particular to provide living space for the approximately 30.000 soldiers stationed there with their families. Dozens of housing complexes are built and Karosta takes on that grey character, typical of the Eastern Bloc, with its endless rows of almost identical prefabricated apartment buildings. The town is then a “closed city”, forbidden to civilians and, in particular, to foreigners. The sand on Karosta beach (then the westernmost beach in the USSR) is raked every night to detect any intruders, and some witnesses say that anyone who accidentally strayed onto the beach was shot without warning. The port becomes a base for Soviet submarines in the Baltic, and a hangar is built for their maintenance, still visible today, albeit from a distance and through a fence… The immense St. Nicholas Cathedral, completed in 1903 and the most important vestige of the old Tsarist order, is stripped of its religious functions by the communists and transformed alternately into a cinema, a sports centre or a nightclub to entertain the Soviet navy.

With the fall of the USSR and the independence of Latvia, Karosta was suddenly emptied of most of its inhabitants. By the mid-1990s, the town had only a few thousand inhabitants left, and the northern part was completely razed to the ground, leaving only a network of old concrete streets in the middle of the forest, which is slowly regaining its rights to the last vestiges of human settlement. As Karosta continues to empty, other parts will follow the same fate, hence this feeling of a ghost town with buildings ultimately heading to destruction and therefore not maintained, even if some are still inhabited…

On the beach, the sea had a more destructive effect than the Russian explosives. The constant waves generate erosion that crumbles the coast, sweeping away the foundations of the fortifications and the bunkers placed on them. Today, many of them have collapsed from the dunes onto the beach, some are already surrounded by water, constantly battered by the waves, others still hang precariously on the shore, and others remain relatively intact.

It is difficult to say how many decades will pass before the sea destroys all these bunkers, but one thing is certain: the changes here are constant and irreversible. The complex offers a fascinating and spectacular setting. The Northern Forts are the favourite playground of many local and foreign photographers, and facing the sea and these enigmatic concrete blocks, it is perfectly understandable why…

Missiles and sausages… (19/08/2024)

We left our little forest not far from the border to reach the Zemaitija National Park, a few dozen kilometres away. Let’s be honest, it wasn’t really the park that interested us (the notion of a national park seems rather relative here…), but a surprising place, hidden in the middle of the forest: the Dvina nuclear missile storage and launch silos.

It is difficult to remain indifferent to this place, which is frankly chilling. From the outside, one can only see four concrete domes surrounded by rusty scrap metal and protected by five rows of barbed wire of all kinds, including one electrified at 3.000V (at that time). The visit is done underground, via a small and banal staircase that leads to a triple metal door, similar to that of a submarine. The various inscriptions and instructions in Russian addressed to the soldiers who worked here have been preserved and restored everywhere. You can visit many of the underground rooms of this gigantic complex, and in each one the particularities and geopolitics of the Cold War are explained, as well as the operation of the launch silos, the technical details of the base (ventilation, electrical autonomy, etc.), communications and how all connections with the outside world (including ventilation) were cut off every time an American satellite flew over the area to prevent it from locating the base, even by infrared or with a thermal camera. Finally, you reach one of the launch silos, and you can see this pit, about thirty metres deep, and the different floors where the missile it contained was prepared before being launched…

The Dvina base housed medium-range R-12 missiles, capable of hitting any Western capital, and each carrying a one-megaton nuclear warhead. Construction was completed in 1962, and the vast complex managed to remain secret for nearly 20 years. In 1978, American reconnaissance teams finally found the complex, only to discover that the missiles had already been removed since 1974. The Dvina silos were never fired, although the alert level (and therefore the missile readiness) was at its highest at the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, when the base was just opening. It was at that time that Nikita Krutchev uttered his famous phrase: “We are at a point where we are making missiles like sausages”… Undoubtedly a bit exaggerated, the phrase nevertheless illustrates the fact that since the 1960s, the nuclear armament of the various powers is such that the human species has become the only one capable of annihilating its own existence.

Historical and logistical details aside, one room in the Dvina complex is by far the most striking. After a long, dark, damp corridor, segmented by metal doors and where loudspeakers broadcast instructions in Russian, one reaches one of the bunker rooms where huge photos of Hiroshima have been hung on a side wall, opposite another series of equally huge photos showing the different stages of a nuclear blast cloud. On the floor, a model of the remains of the city of Hiroshima after the bomb, and on the far wall, a screen with images of beautiful landscapes, animals, bridges and other iconic buildings and scenes of daily life around the world, all set to a background of classical music. The room also contains a red button that “simulates” a nuclear explosion when pressed. The screen starts showing images filmed during the various nuclear tests carried out by different countries, the light in the room turns red, the images show trees and then people blown away by an explosion, devastated buildings, scenes of chaos. The classical music can no longer be heard, only the deafening roar of the explosion. And then comes a chilling silence. The screen goes black and the red light goes out…

Einstein once said: “I do not know what World War III will be like, but I am sure that World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”

To finish on a more optimistic note, we spent that night at a local’s house. We were in Paragiai, a 3,5 ha property surrounded by fields whose very welcoming owners provide a grassy area to spend the night. Their park is adorned with beautiful wooden sculptures that we have seen everywhere since we arrived in Lithuania. There is also a traditional sauna and everything one might need for a quiet evening before hitting the road again the next morning… 😉

Devotion… (20/08/2024)

If there were a GDD (Gross Domestic Devotion) index similar to GDP, Lithuania would certainly be among the countries at the top of the list! And in Lithuania, when you are devout, you show it! That is why it is difficult to find a road junction where a huge crucifix has not been placed, a country road where no one has had the idea of ​​installing a small wooden house with a statue or effigy of a saint inside, or a church that has not received the blessing of one Pope or another, if not several (just in case, you know…).

Lithuania is a bastion of Catholicism, and the matter goes back quite a long way, as Pius VII had already authenticated the veracity of the apparitions of Our Lady of Šiluva in 1775, and Pius XI had the habit of calling Lithuania “Terra Mariana” (the Land of Mary), something that delighted and still delights its inhabitants today.

Things got a bit more complicated during the periods of Soviet occupation, and in particular during the last one, as communism and religion never go well together, really… It was to assert their freedom from the occupier that the Lithuanians started planting crosses on a small hill, north of the town of Šiauliai. The Soviets tried by all means to destroy them (the place was bulldozed three times and one plan even called for flooding the region), but the crosses reappeared as soon as the bulldozers turned their heels (or their tracks) and people continued to bring crosses to the hill. Over the years and generations, the tradition has been perpetuated, gradually turning the place into a pilgrimage site where everyone comes to plant their cross (no need to ask, we didn’t plant anything at all! We just thought that all this dry wood would be perfect for lighting the barbecue… 😜).

So yes, from an aesthetic point of view, it may not be just right, but the fact is that this poor hill in the middle of the wheat fields is today covered with more than 200.000 crosses of all sizes and materials, and thousands of tourists and locals pass by every year to… add their stone to the church (oh! what a beautiful biblical metaphor! 🤓). Far from diminishing, the phenomenon was even revived by the visit of John Paul II in 1993, who, celebrating a mass before more than 100.000 people at the foot of the hill, set in motion the Church’s money-making machine, which hastened to build a monastery right next door, a (paid) parking lot to access the site and a space set aside for the church vendors to sell their crosses, which the tourists happily plant next to the others…

Long forgotten is the spirit of resistance to communism, and the place is now a perfect tourist product, ideally located on the road between Riga and Vilnius, complemented by the fact that UNESCO recognised the making of crosses as Lithuania’s intangible cultural heritage, a “symbol of national and religious identity” uniting the community in the face of adversity.

For our part, we went to meditate on all this on a terrace in Šiauliai, with a coffee and two good cannelés (like those in Bordeaux… apparently also typical here…). Obviously, we did not miss visiting the Cathedral of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, which contains the famous icon of the Madonna and Child (as well as a copy of the Holy Shroud of Turin 🤔). In fact, many believe that at the end of the 19th century, an apparition of the Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus in her arms asked believers to cover a hill with icons. This theory, so far, has not been authenticated by any Pope, but who knows? After all, Francis is yet to come to Lithuania!… 😉

Interim capital (21/08/2024)

An urban stopover today, in Lithuania’s second largest city (and the fourth in the Baltic States). With just over 300.000 inhabitants, Kaunas is not really a megalopolis, but that only reinforces its charm as a small and quiet town, full of dynamism (at least artistically…), ideal for taking time out and strolling through its cobbled streets or enjoying some sun on one of its terraces…

Kaunas was the capital of Lithuania during the interwar period, when Vilnius was conquered and controlled by Poland between 1920 and 1939. An interim capital, so to say, famous for its rich cultural and academic life, its fashion, its construction of countless Art Deco buildings and its widespread café culture.

Now back to its status as a second city (a bit like a First Lady, actually…), Kaunas remains an extremely pleasant city, with its castle (or what remains of it) and its countless churches, its cobbled streets, its café terraces and its love of street art that has seen many building facades, new or old, decorated with gigantic frescoes or smaller, more discreet works.

We spent a good part of the day walking from one side of the old town to the other, venturing into the “new town” to reach the Basilica of St. Michael the Archangel (an Orthodox church converted into a Catholic one, inside which a large Ukrainian flag and an urn in support of the soldiers could not be missing…) and tasting some Lithuanian specialties in a traditional restaurant, before ending our visit in a place we couldn’t miss in such a Catholic country: the Devil’s Museum.

The place is quite small, but it brings together statues and other representations of the Devil in all its forms. A good part of them are local, carved in wood (since it is definitely one of the main skills of the country), but the top floor of the exhibition also gathers some pieces from other countries around the world, while, throughout the visit, short texts explain different legends and beliefs about the Devil, in Lithuania and elsewhere. An interesting place, no doubt, and although it may not seem so, we spent almost an hour exploring the exhibition (which is really not very big).

And to end the day, we came to settle about twenty kilometers north of the city, between a lake and a river, before hitting the road again the next day to reach the capital, this time the real one! 😜

Journey to the center of Europe (22/08/2024)

Some time ago, some scientists who probably had too much time on their hands decided to calculate the geographical centre of Europe (we are talking about geographical Europe here, not political Europe…). After long and wise calculations, they came to the conclusion that the geographical centre was located in Lithuania, about thirty kilometres north of Vilnius, the capital of the country. That was the end of the story (because no-one can say those scientists had discovered the philosopher’s stone either…), and despite some attempts by the Lithuanians to organise a mini-amusement park there, it was clear that the geographical centre of Europe did not attract crowds…

In 1989, however, French scientists from the National Geographic Institute (who apparently didn’t have much to do with their time either) took up their colleagues’ calculations and discovered, ô surprise, that those were miserably wrong by ten kilometres! The true geographical centre of Europe was officially located at 54º54′ N and 25º19′ E, 29 km north of Vilnius, in the municipality of Purnuškiu (and since it was the French saying it, there was no doubt about it, it was true… 😁). Forgetting the EuropaPark attractions, there was a need to rectify this error and to erect a monument at the true centre of Europe. However, the inhabitants of Purnuškiu, no doubt passionate about sports (or having heard the sirens of capitalism), had built a golf course right on the spot. After tough negotiations, it was agreed to move hole number 7 a few dozen meters to erect a white marble column, thus marking this very important point that is the geographical center of Europe… This is where we started our day, bravely crossing a golf course to proudly take some photos of the center of Europe! 🤓

Then, off to Vilnius for our second consecutive city day, this time in the “real” capital of the country. What can we say? Those who claim to have been amazed by Vilnius after visiting the other two Baltic capitals are absolutely right! The city is full of monuments, each one more beautiful than the last, not to mention the churches that can be found, literally, on every street corner (to make Rome green with envy in terms of Baroque, Renaissance and Gothic). Vilnius is known as “the city of a hundred bell towers” ​​and, frankly, that’s probably still a bit short. According to Wikipedia, there are 20 Catholic churches, 4 Orthodox churches, Lutheran churches, Reformed Evangelical churches, Eastern Catholic churches, several synagogues and a few monasteries – and all that, just in the Old City!

Add to this all the official buildings (including the current presidential palace) and all the historic mansions along the various avenues, and you have a spectacular and, curiously, fairly well-preserved monumental heritage. Vilnius even has an independent republic, the Republic of Užupis, self-proclaimed in 1997 on the banks of the Vilnia River and welcoming artists and other neo-hippies following the model of Christiania in Copenhagen. Užupis has its own constitution (slowly translated into all languages ​​and available on the official website), its flag, its currency, its anthem and… the statue of its trumpet-playing angel, inaugurated in 2002 on the National Day of the Republic, April 1st… 🤔 The flag of Užupis is a hand on a white background, the colour of which changes according to the seasons: blue in winter, green in spring, yellow in summer and red in autumn, and the constitution of Užupis was blessed by the Pope in 2018, during his visit to Vilnius. Who will dare to say after this that Lithuania is not a pious country? 😜

End of another chapter (23/08/2024)

The night was rather… noisy. We must say that we had spotted a small car park in a park, not far from the historic centre, but it turned out that it had been requisitioned by the military for celebrations planned for today. In fact, on 23 August 1989, around 2 million people joined together to form a human chain of more than 650 kilometres, thus peacefully defying the Soviet yoke to demand their freedom. This “Via Baltica” was the first step on the road that would lead to the independence of the three Baltic republics: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.

And since, even with his camouflage, Marvin doesn’t really pass for a military vehicle, a soldier came to tell us that we couldn’t enter our famous parking lot without authorization. So we went to another one, a little further away, but much less well located since it was on the edge of a main avenue. It was fine for visiting the city but much less for sleeping at night… 🥱

Last night we tried another Lithuanian restaurant. Among other local specialties, we ate beaver! 😱 And yes, the color of the soup is 100% real, no filters! 😁 This morning, breakfast on the terrace of a small bakery in the Republic of Užupis we were talking about yesterday (in fact, we were parked right next to it), and a short visit to the market to stock up on local cuts, meats and cheeses for the weekend (while our weekly laundry was finishing), before heading to our stop for the day: Trakai Castle.

It is the most visited place in Estonia (after Vilnius, of course…) and, frankly, it is a bit noticeable in the aesthetics of the place. The castle is located on a small island, in the middle of a lake, and the entire peninsula in front (from where you can see the castle) is filled with restaurants, souvenir sellers and private houses that, sensing a good business, rent out their gardens as parking for 5 EUR (public parking lots are very few and, in any case, paid, 2 km around)… The castle itself is beautiful, but… we probably should have done our route in the opposite direction and seen it before those in Germany for a greater “WOW!” effect 😉

We then went to settle about 140 kilometres further on, in the south of Lithuania and very close to one of the country’s triple borders, this one with Poland and Belarus. In fact, we are very close to Belarus and it would be perfectly possible to enter there without a visa, but… it would not be right with regard to the Ukrainians, with whom we feel even more united since we crossed the Baltic countries…

Our next stop will therefore take us to Poland, and with it a new chapter of this trip ends. We leave the Baltic republics and enter Central Europe, and all this is starting to smell a bit like returning and the end of the trip… 😥 So, in order not to go too fast and to recover a bit from last night, we are going to spend our last weekend in Lithuania in a magnificent forest, overlooking the Baltoji Ančia river. Next post from the other side of the border…

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In Latvia, as in Lithuania, LEAVE NO TRACE!

– Always travel on public ways and respect the signs.
– Limit noise and interfere as little as possible with wildlife.
– Respect the other users.
– Leave rocks, plants and other natural features as you found them and respect historic sites.
– Take your waste with you and throw it into the appropriate containers, in the nearest village.
– Do not camp inside protected areas and do not make any fires.