The dunes of Norderney. Photo (cc) flickr user HaystackPhotography

An island that can be reached only by boat?  The thought alone had images of pirates and buried treasure dancing in my head.  Budget airlines had made “exotic” locations easier to reach, and so, several articles told me, people had been flocking to foreign coasts instead of Germany’s own bit of the North Sea.

But the tide was coming back in, and I wanted to get a look before too many tourists remembered that the German coast is a pretty sweet spot to spend a few relaxing days.  So when a friend invited me to come along to Norderney, I jumped at the chance.

The train ride from Mainz to Norddeich took eight hours.  Just past the train station–the last on this line–a boat was waiting to whisk us away from the Festland (English: “the continent,” as islanders quaintly referred to the bits of Germany back across the water) to the shores of Norderney.  On the cold, windy upper deck we watched the island getting closer and closer, and in a little under an hour we had docked.  The sky was blue and bright, the water warmer than the air.  In short, it was a perfect day for the beach.

"Beach baskets" can be rented by the day. Photo (cc) flickr user Johannes Lietz

In the summertime, driving is forbidden on Norderney except for those driving to or from the ferry we had just arrived on.  All other driving requires a special permit, and this deters most visitors from using their cars.  Instead the streets were filled with bicycles, those in turn laden with beach blankets and picnic lunches.  No cars and a beach?  It was just getting better and better.

I grew up in Pennsylvania in the United States, so when I was a kid a beach vacation meant a trip to the Jersey shore.  I would swim all day, build sand castles, and have fun with my cousins, but the beach was always sardine-can crowded and of questionable sanitary repute.  Here, the beach, though crowded according to the Norderney natives I was with, seemed empty and idyllic in comparison.  A few tourists loitered on towels or in rented “beach baskets.”  For the most part, as we walked barefoot in the sand it felt like we had the shore to ourselves.

The tidal marsh on Norderney. Photo Nicolette Stewart

A bit too cold for swimming, we spent most of our beach time walking: up and down the sandy shore, through the dunes, between little souvenir shops in town, or in the tidal marsh–part of the Wattenmeer National Park and a UNESCO World Heritage Site–mud on Norderney’s opposite shore.

On the beach we collected shells and looked for bits of amber.  In the shops we bought sallow thorn jam and Friesengeist, both specialties of the region.  In the dunes we watched wild seals stretching in the sun.  And in the marsh we laughed as we sunk up to our knees in mud.

I didn’t end up finding any buried treasure or meeting any pirates, but the relaxed feeling I had as I boarded the ferry back to the Festland was better than even the best nautical kitsch, and let me tell you, I’m a sucker for pirates.