Introducing Western Lithuania

Lithuania's coastline is magical. Vast empty tracts of wild white sand snuggle up against dunes and scented pine for much of its 99km Baltic stretch, climaxing with a world-unique gem - the Curonian Spit (Kursių Nerija), a skinny leg of sand that stalks into Russia. From the late 19th century East Prussian artists, as well Thomas Mann in the 1930s, artists sought inspiration in one of its fishing villages; French philosopher Sartre was photographed in this wind-sculpted Sahara in 1965; and in 2000 Unesco stepped in to safeguard this anorexic, fragile and extraordinary natural phenomenon, one of the world's most precious sights.

Klaipėda, the country's third-largest city and major port, is the curious gateway to all this overwhelming natural splendour. Called Memel by Germans (it wasn't part of Lithuania until 1923), this busy city with its tiny Old Town and constant flow of ferries forging across the Curonian Lagoon and into the Baltic Sea exudes a definite grit.

Heading north, romantic souls follow in the footsteps of 19th-century amber fishers in the remote seaside hamlet of Karklė and watch new days dawn from the pier in party-mad Palanga - the hottest spot on Lithuania's coast. And if you nip across the border into Latvia from here (best to ignore the vast storage terminals of Būtingė Oil Terminal you pass en route), there's a wacky surprise waiting.

Peace-lovers should head south to wallow in bird song in the Nemunas Delta Regional Park, a boggy wetland where Lithuania's largest river spills into the lagoon, and villagers boat around beneath bird-filled skies. During spring floods an amphibious tractor is the way to get around.

Then there's what many rate as Lithuania's most extraordinary experience - standing on the edge of an abandoned 30m-deep missile silo, built by the Soviets in the secret heart of a national park to fire deadly warheads at Europe.