The Berlin Star is the highlight of the season for boaters on the Havel and the neighbouring waters. Hundreds of crews now take part every year when it’s time to form Germany’s largest circle of anchored boats. On 4 July, it was that time again. Observations from a weekend in a state of emergency.
by BOOTE writer Maximilian Modler
“This is the day-to-day management of chaos,” smiles Klaus Fronmüller, 65, as he speeds across the Havel in his nimble rubber dinghy, wearing a neon-yellow life jacket, to quickly arrange several hundred pleasure craft in a circle. The vice-president of the Berlin Motor Yacht Association is aiming today to break the record for the largest anchor circle of pleasure craft in Germany. That record was set at the very same spot just last year, with 321 boats forming an anchor circle over 250 metres in diameter.
“The weather was better back then, though,” remarks Fronmüller, casting a matter-of-fact glance at the drizzle that’s sprinkling the water’s surface all around. Yesterday there was wind and rain, and today too – with gusts of up to 6 Beaufort forecast. “That’s obviously a challenge when travelling here and when anchoring. But it’s great that so many people have turned up anyway,” says Fronmüller happily.
The ‘Star of Berlin’ takes place on the first Saturday in July on the River Havel, between Pfaueninsel and Kälberwerder. Everyone is welcome: sailors, inflatable boaters, planing craft, displacement craft, semi-planing craft, motor-sailers, houseboat owners, and both boat owners and charterers. The anchoring manoeuvre begins at 11 am and is due to be completed by 4 pm. Four yellow buoys mark the perimeter of the planned circle; by 12.30 pm, more than half of it has already been completed. Snippets of music drift across the water; the atmosphere is exuberant.
In the middle of the boats moored with their bows facing outwards, on a raft, floats the Hamakawula floating bar, which attracts plenty of swimmers, SUP enthusiasts and inflatable boat users. There’s beer, cocktails and even more music. A cheerful crowd orders caipirinhas first, then the peppermint schnapps ‘Berliner Luft’. A tall, blond man in a bathrobe orders gin and tonic for himself and his female companion in a leopard-print bikini. ‘Pocahontas’ by AnnenMayKantereit blares from the massive sound system, and everyone sings along at the top of their voices.
And the sound! It’s coming from absolutely everywhere across the water. On the left, Dschingis Khan is blaring from Bluetooth speakers; on the right, techno is thumping. The theme announced on Facebook was ‘Hawaii and the Caribbean’; on one of the boats, three hula girls in brightly coloured fringed skirts are drinking coffee, whilst a few boats further on, cheerful sailors are dancing, one of them wearing a blue wig. A floating bratwurst stall with a barbecue moves from boat to boat, serving sausages in buns for 4.50 euros, expertly handed over the railing.
The club’s young members are also doing the rounds, handing out muffins and cakes in exchange for donations from a small motorboat. People in swimwear dart about amongst the moored boats, on all manner of watercraft and at all sorts of speeds – there’s even an e-foil whizzing round the circle.
Many sit in their cockpits watching the colourful hustle and bustle, clambering from boat to boat, and are given a warm welcome. Families, friends and strangers alike enjoy each other’s company. “A floating allotment village,” as one person affectionately calls it. Children cheer and shout with delight. They won’t let the weather spoil their fun. The sky is grey, with dark clouds rolling across the metallic-glinting water. The trees of Grunewald crowd the banks.
Fronmüller remains undeterred and hard at work. Like a friendly, water-loving herding dog, he keeps the participants together, offering a word of encouragement here and a word of guidance there. Together with ten other volunteers from the association, he criss-crosses the water and directs the manoeuvre. They cruise about on inflatable boats and jet skis, allocating spots, calling out anchor depths and glancing up at the sky from time to time to check the conditions. Will Germany’s biggest anchoring event still go ahead? Due to the poor weather, far fewer participants have turned up than announced.
And from far afield: the prize for the longest journey goes to Tina and Andreas, who made the trip all the way from the Netherlands on their ‘Catootje’. “I’ve got a good feeling about this,” jokes a bearded family man in a casual peaked cap, who has travelled here with his children, all his belongings and a modern houseboat featuring floor-to-ceiling windows. Right next to him, another houseboat is moored, complete with its family. The two families would like to moor side by side, but Fronmüller had envisaged things differently. “But with an event like this, you have to work with people, not against them,” he says. So, no problem.
Ronald and Joachim, also from the Berlin club, are out and about in a 25-year-old, grey-blue Wiking with a wooden floor – “Shoes off!” – and a windscreen – “You hardly see that on any inflatable boats these days!” They’re kind enough to give people a lift from A to B, such as the reporter. “It’s a brilliant event; here we can all celebrate together on the water,” says Ronald. “It’s just a shame about the weather. A week ago it was 20 degrees warmer here!” Back then, Berlin was experiencing temperatures of around 40 degrees Celsius. “I don’t think we’ll be breaking that record.”
What’s the best thing about this hobby? “Nature and the sense of community,” Joachim replies straight away. “There are more than 3,000 lakes around Berlin – and you can easily cycle all the way to the Baltic Sea from here.” He hasn’t done that yet, but he’s planning to!
Sebastian has been in the anchorage for ages now; he’s here with his little daughter and a huge pink inflatable flamingo, and he’s really enjoying himself. “It’s just a different world here!” The ‘Wellerman’ shanty rings out from next door. “I like it too,” squeaks the little girl.
A few boats further along, a group of friends have made themselves comfortable on a Fairline 33 with a flybridge. They’ve been here loads of times, have collected numerous pennants and are proudly displaying them. “Boating is brilliant. And very dangerous – for your wallet!” says one of them. “Until last year, I didn’t even own a boat; I just used to come along. And then I wanted one too!” Was it worth the purchase? “Absolutely. It’s wonderful. The countryside, the wind, the waves. Feeling free out there – and then looking forward to seeing the people in the harbour too. You help each other out, even if you don’t know one another, during storms and strong currents and other challenges!” That’s what they all say: nature, people, freedom. There seems to be something to it.
Daniel had a short journey – an hour and a half – from Tegel. He’d heard about the event and its Caribbean theme on Facebook. He’d filled his boat – 6.40 metres long, borrowed from his mother – with rubber plants. He took up the hobby through his work as a lifeguard. “Out here on the water, I find peace. I love that.” The 43-year-old points to the back of his boat, towards his cabin: “This is my hideaway. I hardly ever look at my mobile here – no social media. It does me good.” He also thinks it’s great that there are so many different types of boats on display at the event.
Klaus Fronmüller continues to brave the rain. It is 2.30 pm and there is still plenty to do. Countless questions need answering, decisions need making. Four huge inflatable footballs, for example, won’t be inflated today after all, Fronmüller decides. “It doesn’t suit the weather. There’s too much wind, and there aren’t that many people in the water anyway.” And, of course, the ball doesn’t quite sit right given the German national football team’s early exit five days earlier against Paraguay. “Maybe next year.”
Back in the day, whilst still in Munich, Fronmüller was a white-water canoeist. In 1990, he moved to Brandenburg, where there were no more mountains. His love of the water remained. “I used to charter a boat every now and then back then. But at some point, that wasn’t enough any more.” Since then, he’s been out and about in his own boat. His van der Heijden, a 10.50-metre-long steel displacement vessel, serves as his command centre. His wife Uta passes round a crumble cake, whilst their 30-year-old son Fritz sits at the table with a coffee and his laptop, acting as a radio presenter on the ‘MVB’ station on 103.0 MHz.
“It’s great fun,” he says, “though every now and then it gets a bit stressful – that’s when my dad comes in and wants me to make an announcement straight away!” He takes part every year and recalls last year’s record: “Everything was out on and in the water – it was absolute chaos!”
On a Bayliner on the other side of the Stern, Kerstin and Daniel invite us for a coffee. They’re both tanned and completely relaxed – they’ve just returned from a week and a half’s boating holiday around Brandenburg. The drizzle has now turned into a proper downpour, pelting down on the glider’s canopy. Kerstin gazes longingly out through the bespoke ‘panorama window’ in the canopy at the stern into the grey sky. “It was completely different here a year ago; it was really hot and there was plenty going on,” she says.
But what can you do? What do the couple love about boating? “It’s like a caravan on the water,” says Daniel, the club’s vice-president. “And the people, of course – they’re all very different characters, but everyone’s open and relaxed. Through this hobby, we get to meet people we’d otherwise have little to do with in everyday life. That’s one of the reasons I’m in the club. It also gives me the chance to share experiences, plan trips and sort out technical issues.”
The couple live in Berlin-Neukölln, where it’s often noisy and hectic. “Out on the water, we can slow down. And you sleep better,” adds Daniel. “You’re lulled to sleep in your berth by the lapping of the waves, the rustling of the wind and the calls of the birds.”
“And it’s not as if we’re just on the boat,” says Kerstin, pointing to the two folding bikes currently stowed between the steering wheel and the seat. And the cost? “You don’t have to be a millionaire to own a boat,” says Kerstin. “Most people, like us, buy second-hand – you can get by just fine on 20,000 to 30,000 euros. And we don’t go on holiday anywhere else because of it. Why should we? To queue up at the airport with thousands of other people? No, thank you!”
The rain is easing off; the sun peeks out cheerfully through the clouds for a moment before hiding away again. Behind the sailing ship ‘Nangiala’, a hire pleasure raft with a cabin and outboard motor is having trouble anchoring; the wind keeps blowing it off course. Reinhard, a 76-year-old sailor whose face bears the marks of many happy hours spent in the sun on the water, offers encouraging advice from the deck of his own boat.
The name of his Aphrodite 29 is inspired by ‘Nangijala’, that legendary land in the afterlife from Astrid Lindgren’s *The Brothers Lionheart*. It was right here, on the River Havel, that Reinhard discovered his love of water sports at the age of 13. He points to the wooded bank. “It used to be full of tents there, before the Greens restored it to its natural state. I spent the best summers of my life there.”
Sceptically, he casts another glance at the raft, which is still bobbing about aimlessly, and then leaves it to the other helpers. “They’ll sort it out!” He got his first boat when he was 18. “My mum asked me: ‘Do you want a sailing boat or your driving licence? I thought about it for about half a second.” With the little dinghy, he was able to lower the mast himself – handy for Berlin and Brandenburg with all their bridges. “I just absolutely love living on a boat. And I like the simplicity.”
Reinhard can’t quite resist taking a jibe at the heavily kitted-out motorboats: “All that electronics everywhere – you don’t need any of that on inland waters. Sailing is all about turning intelligence into speed!” Alongside him, there are a handful of other sailors out on the water. The evening laser show is projected onto Reinhard’s sail.
It is now 4 pm. Klaus Fronmüller makes an announcement at headquarters. His son Fritz skilfully takes over. Fronmüller expresses his thanks for the harmonious, well-organised gathering and finally announces the figure everyone has been waiting for: 264. That is the official number of boats that took part. Cheers, ship’s horns; Queen’s ‘We Are the Champions’ is playing on the radio.
They didn’t break the record this year. But the fact that so many people turned up despite the poor weather is seen as a good omen for the next attempt. That will take place next year, on 26 June 2027. And what if it rains again then? It’ll still be great!