The Grand Hotel Heiligendamm, first built in 1793, quickly became a spa retreat for the aristocracy of central Europe. But it has been a struggle to keep in going in modern times.

The Latin inscription on the pediment above the Tuscan-style columns of the Kurhaus reads Heic Te Laetitia Invitat Post Balnea Sanum. Which loosely translates as ‘joy awaits you as you emerge from your bath’.

A sentiment that is not so original, perhaps, given how many hotels today have spas, but then this is the Grand Hotel Heiligendamm, first established in 1793, which makes it Germany’s oldest and smartest seaside hotel.

The property was first established here, on the Baltic coast a dozen miles west of Rostock, at the instigation of the Duke of Schwerin. Besides the Kurhaus with its classicist facade, it comprises seven historic white mansions, surrounded by beechwoods on either side and with sweeping lawns down to a pier and a sandy beach.

It quickly became patronized by German aristocracy, by literati such as Proust and Rilke, and even by Russia’s Tsar Nicholas I. At its peak in the mid 19^th century it was a meeting place for Europe’s rich and famous, who came to bathe in the Baltic and to gamble at the first horse-racing course in Germany.  But then came two World Wars, the dismal curtain of communism, closure and decay.

Today it is back, and determined to roll back the years.

In truth, the Grand hasn’t had an easy ride even since it re-opened, post-reunification. In two short decades it was transformed from a crumbling ruin to a luxury Kempinski-steered property chosen by Angela Merkel to host 2007’s G8 summit. But despite all the associated publicity, complete with that iconic image of the world leaders in one giant tailor-made strandkorb (basketwork beach chair), it was bankrupt by 2012.

In truth, there were always going to be problems with trying to re-establish an elite beach resort on the Baltic in the era of easy air travel to the Med. Especially with no airport nearby.

Back in the day, the glitterati used to arrive at the Grand on a dedicated steam railway, built specifically to chuff them right to the front door. Today, the Molli, although charming, is more of a curiosity than a method of travel.

Then there’s the issue of retaining quality staff in a relatively remote location. Particularly because Mecklenburg-Vorpommern is the poorest of the German states, where old anti-capitalist attitudes still prevail. Moreover the beach at Heiligendamm is not much to write home about.

When it went bust in 2012, the hotel’s Perlenkette (pearl necklace) of villas had to be sold, and have since been reconstituted as luxury apartments. The remaining core buildings were bought by Paul Morzynski, a tax accountant from Hanover, who is working to re-establish the hotel by concentrating on the spa, the sanctity of the enclave and the quality of the food.

With these things in mind, he has added a spacious outdoor pool and seasonal staff accommodation. Interiors have been refreshed with silk fabrics, marble and brocade. All of it, of course, in the best possible taste.

The beach resorts of eastern Germany are decidedly old fashioned. Their grandeur belongs to a time when the families of counts and barons frequented the beachfront promenades. And to get to the Baltic Coast, they had their own railway lines built, too.

Leading the way was Duke Friedrich Franz I, who created Germany’s first resort of Bad Heiligendamm. And it was his interest in horse-racing, as practiced at the nearby racetrack at Bad Doberan, that prompted the inauguration of one of Germany’s most delightful little trains, to ensure that his dukeliness could combine a flutter on the nags with a splash in the sea.

The Molli is a charismatic 15km-long narrow-gauge service which connects the resorts of Bad Kühlungsborn and Bad Heiligendamm with the normal-gauge line at the spa town of Bad Doberan. It is a much loved part of the community, and is equally at home proceeding in stately fashion down the centre of the cobbled main streets, picking up passengers outside the shops, as it is striking out across cornfields and through butterfly-filled woodland, along avenues of limes.

One of Germany’s most delightful little trains

Technology on the track hasn’t changed much in the last 75 years, and stationmasters still have to wind up the Molli’s level crossings by hand. Three of the five steam locomotives that presently run the service (12 departures a day, starting at 7.30am and ending at 6.30pm, fewer in winter) were introduced in 1932, and run equally well in either direction, which is fortunate, because the Molli has no turntable to turn them round.

The rolling stock is similarly original. Coaches from 1886 and 1902 are kept in a shed at Bad Kühlungsborn, but even the working 28 coaches and five luggage vans were all delivered between 1925 and 1930, and still carry the original red and ivory livery. They were overhauled in 1983, and much of the woodwork was replaced with steel, although the uncompromisingly hard wooden seats have remained. Some trains also have an added Salon coach with upholstered leather seats, for an extra charge. And if you can pay a little more, and you can get to ride with the engine-driver, although there’ll be little or no comfort involved.

Look for ‘Sommerfahrplan’ to find the timetable on the Molli website.