A Climb to the Heavens: St. Mary's Church Tower in Gdańsk
A Journey to the Top of the World's Largest Brick Church
My journey to Gdańsk last July was a whirlwind of historic streets, vibrant markets, and the unmistakable charm of a city reborn from the ashes of history. But among the many stunning sights, one place truly stole my heart: St. Mary's Church, or the Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This monumental Gothic structure, a testament to resilience and faith, was a sight to behold, but it was its towering spire that beckoned to me, promising a perspective on the city I couldn't resist.
With a history stretching back to a wooden temple in the 13th century, the current brick Gothic church is a testament to centuries of effort. The cornerstone was laid in 1343, but construction, led by master builders like Heinrich Ungeradin and Hans Brandt, stretched over 159 years, finally concluding in 1502. The result was a sacred building of superlatives, often called the "Crown of Gdańsk," and one of the largest brick churches in the world, with a capacity of 25,000 people.
After a brief but awe-inspiring tour of the church's serene interior, I found myself drawn to the entrance of the tower. I had heard the climb was a challenge—409 steps, to be precise—and the signs warning of a physically demanding ascent did little to deter me. In fact, they only fueled my eagerness. I was ready to earn that view. The first part of the climb felt like stepping back in time, navigating a narrow spiral staircase that seemed to twist endlessly into the heavens. This section of the tower was completed by 1466, built with the intention of making the church visible from the sea, a landmark for sailors. The tight, winding passage served as a tangible reminder of the centuries-old craftsmanship that went into this monumental structure.
Beyond its physical grandeur, St. Mary's Church holds many lesser-known secrets. For centuries, its massive walls, which are up to 4 meters thick, were also used to protect the city from floods, a hidden utilitarian purpose.
Inside, the church is home to a magnificent 15th-century astronomical clock, which was the largest of its kind in the world when it was completed. Legend says that its creator, Hans Düringer, was blinded by the city council upon its completion to prevent him from building a clock for any other city.
There is also a rather grim legend about a sculptor who, in his quest for realism while carving a crucifix, reportedly nailed his own son-in-law to a cross to use him as a model. The church also has a more recent history as a sanctuary for members of the Solidarity movement during martial law in Poland in the 1980s, adding a profound layer of political and social significance to its historical role.
After what felt like an eternity, the narrow staircase opened up into a wider, more manageable one, leading us higher into the massive brick structure. The air grew cooler, and a few small windows offered tantalising glimpses of the city below, building anticipation with every step. I was particularly fascinated by the sheer scale of the tower's base, which served a far more utilitarian purpose than its beauty might suggest; its massive walls were originally designed to protect the city from floods, a lesser-known fact that added to the intrigue of the climb.
This resilience was tested severely during the Red Army's storming of Gdańsk in March 1945, when the church suffered significant damage. Its roof completely burned, and many vaults collapsed, leaving it a shell of its former self. However, a meticulous post-war restoration effort began in 1946, meticulously rebuilding the basilica and preserving its historical significance. Today, the church stands as a powerful symbol of the city's ability to endure and rebuild.
Finally, with a final push, I emerged onto the viewing platform. The moment I stepped out into the open air, a breathtaking panorama of Gdańsk unfolded before me. The city’s famous Long Market stretched out like a colourful ribbon, its iconic buildings—each a vibrant hue of red, orange, and green—looking like miniature toys. The Motława River wound its way through the landscape, dotted with boats, and in the distance, I could just make out the sparkling expanse of the Baltic Sea. It was a beautiful, sunny day, just as I had hoped, and the views were nothing short of spectacular. Every huff and puff, every moment of doubt on the narrow stairs, was instantly forgotten. The effort was well worth the reward, offering a perspective on Gdańsk that was both sweeping and deeply personal. It was a moment of pure bliss, standing at the very top of a building that has watched over this city for centuries, a silent witness to its triumphs and tragedies. It's a memory I'll always cherish. Until next time! Thanks for reading.
Love that astronomical timepiece!
We were literally there yesterday but couldn’t go up due to the children. What a treat to wake up to this piece! Great photos and descriptions.