When I say that Poland isn’t for beginners, I truly mean it. Some people live by the saying pedal to the metal. I can’t honestly say I support that philosophy, but to each their own. I had already successfully made it to the lowest point of Poland, and the plan now was something entirely different: to eat what was supposedly the best fish and chips by the beach, in a posh area somewhere between Gdańsk and Gdynia.
Unfortunately, quite many others had the exact same idea. The place was crowded to the point where finding a table felt like winning a small lottery — and even then, you had to share it with strangers. Still, it was a truly spectacular spot. White sand, small fishing boats resting near the shore, people in a good mood enjoying the weather. Dark clouds hung in the distance, but nobody seemed to care. And there was something else too: from our table, you could see the Hel Peninsula stretching out on the horizon.
They call it Poland’s own Riviera — a 35-kilometre-long sandbar peninsula with fine white sand and surprisingly clear water. It hardly seems believable that something like that exists in the Baltic Sea region at all. We were excited about the idea of exploring it, but the day had already slipped away. The apps claimed it would take an hour and a half to reach the town of Hel at the very tip of the peninsula. Less than 100 kilometres — which told us everything we needed to know.
But isn’t it always the driver who decides? Passenger princesses may have opinions about the music, but destinations are ultimately cleared by the driver. And so, off we went.
It didn’t take long to understand why the journey would take so long. Traffic. Poor road conditions. Red-light cameras. Everything worked against us. It became painfully obvious that reaching Hel before sunset — let alone finding somewhere special — was unrealistic.
Unless.
A beach is a beach, right?
We might not make it to Hel, but maybe we could still make it to what really mattered to me: Jastrzębia Góra. If you haven’t heard of it, that’s fine. I hadn’t either. But it happens to be home to the northernmost point of Poland.
The sun sank lower and lower, until driving straight into it became almost blinding. I kept complaining about the roads when, suddenly, a hero appeared from the opposite direction in a completely blacked-out Porsche GT2 RS. A dream car — though probably not on roads like these, I thought to myself.
Jastrzębia Góra had a distinct Sunny Beach vibe to it. People drinking, laughing, a small tivoli humming in the background — summer energy everywhere. After eventually finding a free parking spot, it turned into a race against time down toward the sea to catch the sunset. We weren’t alone. There were many others, mostly Polish families and groups, all moving with the same urgency.
Finding the right way down was a guessing game. The town sits atop coastal cliffs, and the drop to the beach is significant — around 30 to 35 metres. Long staircases cut through the cliffs, and once you commit, you really commit.
The northernmost point itself is a flexible concept, shifting slightly with water levels, so there’s no exact line you can draw in the sand. Still, a large red-and-white pillar stands on the beach as a marker. On top of it sits an eagle, along with all four cardinal directions. Symbolic enough.
We made it just in time. The sun slipped into the Baltic, and the light softened into something calm and final. I hope to return someday with more time — time to actually stay, to sit, to let the place settle instead of rushing through it.
Up on the cliff above, there’s another monument marking the northernmost point: the North Star, complete with coordinates and plaques. From up there, the views down to the beach are spectacular — when you can find one of the few spots where the trees open up enough to let you see.
As darkness fell, the evening took on a heavier tone. Still not ready to give up, we chose a small detour toward the start of the Hel Peninsula to stock up on snacks for the drive back to Gdańsk. Much of that route was paved with cobblestones, which we immediately regretted.
The rest of the night dissolved into deep conversations — about relationships, about life, about all the usual nonsense that somehow feels important after sunset. But for me, above everything else, the priority was simple: getting back in one piece.