Prerow, 19.07.2017

I am sitting in the dunes of the Baltic Sea in front of our tent in the sand with a view of the Baltic Sea. Despite the bright blue sky, a fresh breeze is blowing through my hair. After breakfast, we set off for a long beach walk, passing nudist areas and countless families with young children or naked retirees with handbag dogs. While the fine, almost white sand squeaked under our feet, the desire for a dog arose in me. Unimportant information at this point, but I still want to write it down here. By the way, Leon would also be okay with a Labrador. We urgently needed to talk about our trip and discuss yesterday's crisis. The lady at the check-in of the Regenbogen Campingplatz in Prerow informed us that the tent pitches were all romantically located in the dunes in the soft sand, about 200 m away from the parking lot, and assigned us our pretty "presidential spot" with a great view. The fact that we now had to transport everything - tent, air mattresses, pillows, sleeping bags, clothes, toiletry bag, grill, gas cooker, food, drinks, games, fairy lights (for romance), table, chairs - with a small cart from the car through the sand to our spot made us angry. And then, all of a sudden, sand settled everywhere (I mean EVERYWHERE), which finally drove us to despair. The climax was reached when we realized that the seemingly cozy air mattresses were too high when inflated for the low tent. We were disappointed and freezing. We had imagined everything to be more beautiful, cozier, and easier. Even grilled sausages and the beautiful evening atmosphere on the beach couldn't save the sad situation. We doubted the whole trip and ourselves, ready to throw everything overboard and drive home to Lübeck. Or maybe change the itinerary. In the south, we wouldn't have to freeze. In Germany, we know prices and rules. With a two-week package vacation, we would be free from all worries. We carefully considered all these alternatives during our walk this morning. In the end, we agreed to stick to the original route and just speed up the pace a bit. We really want to go all the way to the North Cape, without showing any weakness. Although, according to Ronny's sister, who is currently traveling through Norway with her husband and motorhome, the almost frosty and very damp climatic conditions are causing us some concern, and the unknowns of traveling to the north are holding us back. But we want to go through with it for the adventure, great photos, the relationship, and exciting encounters. I think, deep down, we are just really afraid. And fear should not stop us from going on the trip. That's why we are finalizing the route to the North Cape tonight. In the meantime, we have come to terms with the sand in the tent, replaced the thick air mattresses with thin sleeping mats, got the gas grill up and running, and played a few rounds of Yahtzee (...guess who won?), so we are slowly beginning to enjoy the Baltic Sea, the waving grass (coincidentally in the same direction as my hair), the smell of EDEKA cappuccino mixed with a constant light fish breeze, and our camping neighbors going through a marital crisis.

On the same evening, our neighbors' crisis seems to be over, but we're stuck in one. When we helped a single father and his little daughter Freya set up their awning after devouring fire sausages, we learned about the upcoming rainy day tomorrow. The thought triggers panic. Is the tent watertight? What is it like to live in wet sand? Unfortunately, we cannot cancel our booking for three nights here (although I tried the old trick of pretending to have a spontaneous work call). So we will endure two upcoming nights and a whole day in the rain. The tent is now rainproof, all valuables and sensitive items are stored in the car, and we are now playing Yahtzee to distract ourselves.