The sun is already touching the horizon as you step onto the yacht in the port of Nida. The water of the lagoon turns into liquid amber, and the sky becomes a giant stained glass window blending orange, red, and violet.
The captain, whose face is weathered by the wind and painted by the daily scorching sun, quietly starts the engine. The houses of Nida, until now bright and playful, gradually turn into dark silhouettes in the prelude to the night.
The yacht slips out of the port. The Nida lighthouse, just a white dot on the horizon during the day, now becomes a pillar of light guiding the way into the night. The sails unfold with a gentle rustle, like a giant bird spreading its wings for the final flight.
The Curonian Spit now resembles the back of a sleeping dragon - dark, mysterious, undulating. The dunes, golden by day, take on a copper hue in the evening light. The lagoon becomes a mirror reflecting the sky's fire and the first stars.
Seagulls, like white confetti in the dark sky, dive in the air one last time before the night's rest. Their cries now sound like distant flute notes in the night's symphony.
The Parnidis Dune emerges before your eyes like a giant hourglass measuring not hours, but eternity. Its slopes cast long shadows over the water, like dark fingers reaching for your yacht. The Valley of Silence now looks like a gateway to another world, where the throne of Queen Neringa guards secrets known only to the night.
The sundial on top of the dune now resembles a spear thrust into the sky, marking the passage of time one last time before yielding to the stars and the moon.
The yacht glides over the water like a shadow, revealing the Great Dune ahead - a giant sand mountain now appearing like a dark cloud suspended between sky and earth. Its contours change with each movement of the sun, as if a living creature were breathing and moving.
As you approach closer, the Great Dune grows to incredible proportions. Its slopes now resemble the scrolls of old parchments inscribed with the history of the Curonian Spit. The sand here is no longer golden but dark bronze, with shades of violet and purple.
Grains of sand carried by the wind now look like sparks flying from a giant bonfire. They gently kiss the skin, reminding of the fragility of time and the eternal change of the dunes.
Stopping by the dune, you are enveloped by a silence so deep it seems you can hear the sun setting. The sound of the waves now resembles the distant toll of a bell, announcing the end of the day. The occasional calls of seagulls sound like the last sighs of the day.
The captain's story about the Grobštas Reserve now sounds like an old legend passed down through the ages. His words weave a tale of nocturnal animals, mysterious sand dances in the moonlight, and star trails over the dunes.
As the sun completely sets, the Great Dune turns into a black silhouette against the still glowing sky. It resembles a giant sculpture, crafted by nature over thousands of years, now ready to reveal its nocturnal secrets.
Returning to Nida, the yacht cuts through the darkening waters, leaving a silver trail behind - like the Milky Way fallen into the lagoon. The last rays of the sun paint the sky with colors even artists don't have names for.
This short journey feels like a bridge between the worlds of day and night. You return to the shore with a feeling of having participated in an ancient ritual, where the sun hands over its reign to the night, and the dunes guard the eternal secrets of the Curonian Spit.
