May 6, 2026, 10:27 am | Read time: 8 minutes
Perhaps nowhere else in Germany can you feel the power of the elements as raw and sometimes as intense as on the North Sea coast. Where wind, weather, and waves set the pace of daily life, people are pleasantly reduced to a supporting role. And maybe, just maybe, you learn to enjoy three days of continuous rain in all its forms. TRAVELBOOK author Robin Hartmann experienced this last fall in the small town of Hooksiel. A part of his heart stayed behind.
It’s crowded in the shopping center of Wilhelmshaven, and seemingly everyone in town has sought refuge from the rain in the warm indoors. The local shanty choir, the “Blue Boys,” accompanied by an accordion, spreads good cheer. Especially for me, the guest from distant Berlin, who has just arrived by regional train from Hanover and is now waiting for the connecting bus to the day’s destination, the small town of Hooksiel right on the North Sea coast. “We were lying off Madagascar,” the immortal “Boy, Come Back Soon” by Freddy Quinn–and suddenly the sometimes hectic everyday life is somewhere else, but not here.
Overview
Three days at the North Sea, Hooksiel: A good friend recently suggested this, whose parents bought a vacation home there over 40 years ago. The scene of glorious and rainy summers of her childhood and youth, it was now to be sold. So, one last time for nostalgia, long beach walks, and perhaps the best fish sandwiches in the world. And because my friend didn’t want to make this last trip alone, perhaps couldn’t make it alone, we were like the “Famous Five” in Enid Blyton’s books.
Like in a Turner Painting
But I had to make the journey to Hooksiel alone by train first, as the travel car could only fit four people with luggage. So, I took the opportunity to set off much earlier than the others to explore Wilhelmshaven a bit. From the train station, it’s about a 15-minute walk to the sea. Upon my arrival, the sky displayed such a dramatic play of sun and clouds that I could have been standing in a Turner painting. A very strong wind blew, and the waves angrily splashed against the shore.
The promenade, very euphemistically called the “South Beach,” is actually a fully concreted walkway for strollers. At one point, a few daredevils ventured into the surely very cold water. Otherwise, besides me, there were only numerous turnstones, a very charming hopping and tiptoeing bird species. The approaching rain quickly drove me into the aquarium with a sea view. And although it is very nicely designed and even includes some rare or globally unique exhibits, the sight of captive animals always makes me feel uneasy. So, I quickly headed out to catch the bus to Hooksiel.
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Once Smugglers, Now Tourists
According to the official site of Wangerland, to which the town belongs, Hooksiel was first mentioned in documents in 1479 as “uppe dem Hoeke.” During the Napoleonic Continental Blockade from 1806 to 1814, the small fishing village experienced an unexpected boom as a hub for smuggled goods. In 1911, there were initial efforts to attract tourists to the beautiful beaches, and today it is a true hotspot for North Sea fans in the summer. According to the “Nordwest Zeitung,” it has nearly 2,700 residents. I see almost none of them as I arrive by bus on line 121 at a stop that is indeed called Central Bus Station, ZOB Hooksiel.
In Hooksiel, you can wonderfully experience that a place doesn’t have to be loud and colorful or have the advertising appeal of fireworks to enchant. Hooksiel achieves this simply with its romantic little brick houses, all in carmine red, and its also brick-paved “main street.” A few restaurants, even more souvenir shops, the Shell Museum. The Old Harbor with a few boats. In front of a shop, a sign reads: “It’s ‘Moin’! ‘Moin Moin’ is already chatter.” Where people don’t make a big fuss about themselves and their place, which is simply beautiful as it is.
Cathedral of Delicacies
Since you can’t escape the rain anyway, we make the best of it. In our case, that’s a long walk to the outer harbor of Hooksiel. Past a brackish water arm called Hooksmeer, through a forest planted just a few decades ago, the so-called Hooksieler Tief. Many young poplars and alders, once a water-skiing track, our “local” friend comments: “In one curve, you have to be careful. Beginners always fly out there.” We witness live how one of the beginners flies out of the curve, and then we are already at one of the most legendary places in the entire Wangerland.
Like a modern cathedral, the snack bar “To’n Fischhus” shines from another rain front that just overtakes us. And if there were no people to be seen anywhere else in Hooksiel, it’s because they all seem to be here. And that’s because of the fried fish, which, according to a local travel guide, sometimes even causes entire busloads of tourists to stop at this otherwise very desolate place. A portion like a hefty beating, something so fresh has never touched a tongue (in Berlin). Believe me, even though the local fries are praised as much as the fish, you simply don’t need them to be more than full.
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Caution in the Mudflats
On the way back and at low tide, a hike through the picturesque mudflats along the sea dike of Hooksiel is recommended. The ground, repeatedly washed up by the sea, is so cracked and uneven that it feels like walking directly over a tectonic fault zone. On the horizon, a flock of seagulls, in the shallow water as if dabbed there by a pointillist with a brush. Sometimes you have to watch where you step here, as you can indeed sink into the channels meandering through the mudflats. In any case, this walk should only be undertaken with good rubber or at least hiking boots.
In the evening, another stop, as all the walking and getting wet makes you hungry. Of course, it has to be fish again, the small “Zum Anker” welcomes with a cozy atmosphere. On the menu, numerous rather high-priced fish dishes, but only the “Kutterscholle” is really from here. “The union’s regulations are ruining the local catch,” says the waitress, shaking her head. Of the once numerous North Sea shrimp fishermen in Hooksiel, only “the Peters” remains, whom my friend has been visiting since she was a child.
Reflection on Oneself
The next day, however, we are greeted at the small fisherman’s house by a sign, “Unfortunately, no shrimp today.” “Now it really feels a bit like goodbye,” my friend says melancholically. And for lack of other “sights,” we gladly make ourselves comfortable with tea and rock sugar and various board games while the rain once again drowns everything outside. But this circumstance gives us the wonderful opportunity to finally pause and breathe on our life highways, which are nowadays crammed with activities, events, and meetings.
Not being able to do anything becomes “not having to do anything,” and a very nice feeling of relaxation sets in. Well, now you could also visit the Hooksiel indoor seawater pool. Or rent an electric car for a few hours with the North Sea guest card to drive to nearby Jever, for example. Instead, we enjoy the reflection on ourselves all the more, and that is certainly the most beautiful gift that my time at the North Sea has given me.
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The others apparently feel the same, as my friend keeps saying, “The house hasn’t been sold yet.” If it stays that way, maybe we could come back again. I start dreaming of a possible return as I say goodbye to Hooksiel. My friend stays a few more days alone there, perhaps to really say goodbye to this part of her childhood and youth. A few days later, she sends a photo; there were fresh North Sea shrimp at Peters after all. What remains for me is the memory of a small place that touched my heart. And the desire to get to know and understand the North Sea even better soon.