Grounded, not Aground

When everything had calmed down, we spent a reasonably comfortable night in splendid isolation at the end of the pontoon. There were a few showers, but no more heavenly tantrums. Early on Monday morning, we went in search of a weather forecast, which only confirmed the gloomy predictions we had seen the previous evening, that is to say SW 4 to 5, gusting 6, increasing to SW 6 to 7. We didn’t want to be wimps, but a number of factors stacked up against going out in these conditions. Our main problem was the little outboard. It really isn’t feasible to motor very far, especially if there is a significant swell, when it becomes hopelessly inefficient. Also it guzzles fuel, and sooner or later somebody has to lean out over the stern to fill up the petrol tank. This is a bit hairy at the best of times, but positively foolhardy in a serious swell, and totally impossible in heavy rain as there is no way to prevent water getting into the tank. I suppose I could hold the jerrycan in one hand and an umbrella in the other, like a cross between Amelia Earhart and Mary Poppins, and Skipper could hold me by the ankles and steer at the same time, but it’s not hard to see how such a plan might go awry. Even more critically, we would be following a lee shore… No, all in all there was really no choice but to stay put.

If we were going to be landlubbers for a day, we couldn’t have picked a better place (well, on Rügen, I mean). The marina facilities are excellent, and maybe I could get a ride on that steam train to see a bit more of the island?

Given time to take a closer look at our surroundings, we realized that the mooring boxes behind the landward pontoon were indeed smaller. The Skipper got chatting to yet another friendly neighbour, who thought we might get buffeted a bit where we were, and offered to help us move round to the space next to him, which we duly did. The weather didn’t seem to be quite as lively as forecast, but we had made our decision, and with Haltlos safely tied up in a very sheltered spot even the Skipper felt able to relax.

We found that the narrow gauge railway, the Rasender Roland (Racing Roland – why? sorry, don’t know!), runs from the tiny station at Lauterbach Mole to the charmingly-named little town of Putbus and then on to the main town of Bergen auf Rügen. Putbus was founded as a seaside resort for the aristocracy in the early 19th century, and is famous for the Circus, a perfectly circular arrangement of terraces, inspired by Bath’s Royal Crescent. The original buildings all remain, and although it’s a bit scruffy these days, it’s still the perfect spot for relaxing with a small beer in the sunshine. You can even admire the abundant roses for which the town is also well-known, if such is your inclination. I suppose the luxurious holiday homes were built a little inland from the harbour and beach at Lauterbach to afford some protection in case of a less than idyllic summer, always a risk at this latitude. Feeling the need to acquire a little souvenir, I bought a watercolour and a pretty hand-painted bowl. (The latter, I realized afterwards, when I put on the infamously under-employed specs, was made in Poland, but that’s OK because Poland is not very far away.)

The Buffet Car...

... with wood-burning stove

The Rasender Roland is certainly a tourist attraction, but it is primarily a cheap and reliable form of public transport. We ran to catch the train back to Lauterbach, because we knew it wouldn't be running late. Not sure I could cope with the day-to-day certainties of living in Germany.

My watercolour shows a beached fishing boat (original idea, eh?) loaded with floats. Each float has a tall “flagpole”, with either two red or two black pennants. We had seen dozens of these floats stacked next to the boatyard at Lauterbach, and had come across quite a few in the water. We had assumed them to be lobster pots, but our friendly neighbour in the marina explained that they are always found in pairs, and in fact mark the ends of a tubular eel net. The black ones are not so troublesome because they are used for nets which lie on the bottom, and so you’re not likely to snag them, but the red pennants mark nets suspended just below the surface, so you have to give them a VERY wide berth. Useful information, but whilst we had no reason to doubt him, I was a little puzzled because we hadn’t seen eels on a menu anywhere (thankfully). If they don’t eat them, what DO they do with them? (Answers on a postcard, please.)

My souvenir watercolour: Rügen fishing boats

We made the best of our confinement at Lauterbach to consider a number of possible destinations for the next day, and to make a plan for the rest of the week. The winds were expected to ease, and if the forecast westerly materialized we could have a good sail southwards across the bay. Again, our neighbour was only too pleased to give us the benefit of his local knowledge (and show off his English). He suggested Peenemünde, of V2 rocket notoriety, where there is apparently a very good museum. It was a bit too far, though, given that we had to bear in mind getting back to Altefähr in a few days. (Maybe next time.) He also recommended Lubmin, which we had previously discounted because the pilot book made it sound distinctly unattractive, but he assured us we would be comfortable there, so the choice was made.