For a detailed route planning, see my posting:

Part 1: Route Info Motorcycle Adventure from the Netherlands to Tallinn

I traded the certainty of home for the unruly roads of the Baltic States. From Northeastern Poland, I steer my trusty BMW R1200GSA along the tense border of Kaliningrad and through the powerful historical symbolism of Lithuania, ultimately arriving at the medieval streets of Tallinn. My journey is a lesson in unpredictability: a week of torrential rain, blistering heat, and the unexpected smile of a stranger. This is the story of the small moments that make true motorcycling expeditions unforgettable.

The Heavy Air of Barczewko

It is early. Since five o’clock this morning, the rain has been battering ceaselessly against my tent at the campsite in Barczewko, Northeastern Poland. The rhythmic drumming serves as a harsh reminder of how little control I have over this adventure. Around eight, the precipitation pauses—just long enough for me to hoist myself out of the sleeping bag, quickly brew a cup of coffee, and dismantle my soaked shelter. Everything is clammy, but by nine, I start the engine and set off, tackling the first kilometers over slick, wet asphalt. The air is heavy and gray, yet the sheer act of riding feels good.

My first stop is a petrol station. I fill up the GSA and treat myself to a strong espresso and a quick breakfast. The scent of fresh coffee, mixed with the sharp fumes of gasoline, is a comforting, almost ritualistic, start to the day. The rain has now eased to a light drizzle—time to continue, heading for the Lithuanian border. My route skirts the Russian enclave of Kaliningrad, a geographical and political peculiarity that has piqued my curiosity ever since I plotted the journey.

Under the Shadow of Kaliningrad

The border was approaching, an invisible line cutting through the landscape. Warning signs with stark texts like ‘Prohibited Access’ loomed into view, and in the distance, a helicopter circled low over the fields. The motorbike thrummed steadily beneath me, yet a slight tension began to build in my chest. Riding along, the feeling was that every movement was being scrutinized. A small checkpoint appeared, where the Polish police had pulled a truck aside. My breathing accelerated slightly, but no stop sign was raised for me. Although Polish territory felt safe, the proximity of Kaliningrad and everything it symbolizes lent the surroundings an undeniably charged atmosphere.

It wasn't until the Polish markings vanished and the road opened up into Lithuania that I felt the tension drain from my shoulders. Crossing the border, a completely different world unfolded. The rain retreated, the sky cleared, and the road wound through rolling hills and vast forests. The landscape demanded a calmer pace, and with every passing mile, I allowed the suffocating feeling of the morning to slide away, swallowed by the silence and the scent of pine woods.

The Solemn Spirit of Kryžių Kalnas

After visiting the wonderful city of Vilnius, my second destination in Lithuania is the famous Hill of Crosses (Kryžių Kalnas), about twelve kilometers north of Šiauliai. It is a surreal place: a hill covered with tens of thousands of crosses in every imaginable shape and size. In 1993, Pope John Paul II celebrated Mass here with 100,000 pilgrims, a moment that further cemented the hill’s meaning as a place of faith and hope.

After parking the bike, I slowly climb the mound. The story behind this place—a symbol of Lithuanian resistance and faith since the 19th century—moved me deeply, particularly with the present-day tensions with Russia in mind. As I stand among the crosses, the wind seems to hold its breath, and the sounds of the world fade away. All that remains is the soft rattle of rosaries and the creaking of wooden crosses in the breeze.

Oppression and Spontaneous Encounters

After this impressive visit, the journey continues from Lithuania into Latvia. The afternoon sun pushed the temperature up to a stifling 29 degrees Celsius. The heavy riding suit trapped the heat, turning my cockpit into a sweltering, personal sauna. Stopping was not an option; maintaining speed was the only way to endure the heat.

In a remote village, a square beneath a shady tree offered momentary relief. As the motorbike rested and I enjoyed a crisp apple, an elderly woman approached and began to tell me a story. Although I didn't understand a word, I answered her with a smile. That was enough. It is these spontaneous encounters that make a journey memorable.

The Rhythms of Weather and the Petrol Stove

Just before sunset, I reached the campsite. As I hammered the final peg into the ground, a thunderstorm rolled over. A cold gust of wind woke up the air, and then the first drops broke through. Fortunately, the campsite offered a small covered area, perfect for preparing dinner while the rain again rhythmically drummed on the roof. The thunderstorm passed in waves, intense but brief. After dinner, during the quiet moments, I made two cups of coffee on my petrol stove, which hissed like a jet engine. It was a simple moment of contentment, one that reminded me simultaneously of the distance from home and the extraordinary journey I was undertaking.

The next morning, I set off early, heading for the Latvian coast. The landscape slowly shifted; dense forests gave way to vast fields, and occasionally, a glimpse of the Gulf of Riga appeared in the distance. Midway, another thunderstorm broke loose. The rain poured down, accompanied by fierce lightning and booming thunder. Within minutes, the road transformed into a flowing river. A bus shelter along the road offered a safe haven just in time. Ten minutes later, it cleared, and the journey continued.

The Gateway to Tallinn

Arriving in the Estonian city of Pärnu, the country's summer capital, I found a charming, simple campsite in the backyard of a Pärnakas (a local). It offered nothing more than a shower and a small kitchen, but the homely atmosphere made it special. After setting up my tent, I walked through the city in search of a meal. I eventually ended up in an Irish pub, where a pint of Guinness and a hearty meal hit the spot. Outside, another storm raged, but inside, I enjoyed the warmth and the lively ambiance.

After a quiet night, the final stage of the journey to Tallinn began. The road stretched out endlessly, flanked by forests and fields that alternated in a monotonous cadence. The landscape seemed timeless, but when the skyline of Tallinn appeared, it felt as if I was entering a completely different world.

The city buzzed with life, voices in various languages echoing on the cobblestone streets. A busker played the accordion on a corner, while the scent of freshly baked bread and spices drifted from the market stalls. I spent the afternoon in the old town, wandering past St. Olaf’s Church and treating myself to an extensive dinner in a cozy restaurant. To conclude the day, I visited the Linnahall, a monumental Soviet-era structure whose crumbling grandeur formed an impressive relic of the past.

As I gazed out over the water at a setting sun, I realized the profound impression the Baltic States had left on me. It is not just the beautiful landscapes and historic cities that I will remember, but the small moments along the way—the coffee during a downpour, the smile of an elderly woman in a village square, and the silence among the crosses on that hill in Lithuania. What made this journey special were the moments that unexpectedly brought me closer to myself.

The Journey Continues

The Baltic magic has left a deep mark. But a new, colder destination awaits: the High North. Pack your gear; we're heading for the silence and vastness of Lapland.

The next destination: Finnish Lapland!

➡️ Read the sequel: From Helsinki to the High North : A Motorcycle Adventure Through Finnish Lapland