The sand here is pale and fine-grained, the kind that squeaks faintly when you walk. You're still in Göhren—the historic resort sits just behind you, its half-timbered villas visible through the pines—but the south beach feels separate, buffered from the main action by a low headland. The bay curves gently, offering shelter from the prevailing winds that rake the eastern coast. On calm days, the water laps rather than crashes.
“The sheltered southern flank of a historic resort, offering family-friendly calm without the promenade crowds just a headland away.”
Tropical beach hammock between palms
Beach grass anchors the dunes, bending and straightening in the breeze. You spread your towel where the sand is still cool from the night, and by midday the granules are hot enough to make you hop toward the waterline. The Baltic here is the color of sea glass, shifting between gray-green and turquoise depending on the clouds. Children build elaborate moats and castles at the tide line while their parents doze in rented wicker chairs.
Late afternoon light slants across the bay, picking out every ripple and sandbar. The evening crowd thins early; by the time the sun nears the horizon, you might have this entire curve of coastline to yourself. The old pier at the north end of town catches the last rays, and the sky performs its nightly routine—peach to plum to indigo—over water that's finally gone still.
