Well here we are. At the top of Denmark - at the pointy bit called Skagen where the Baltic seas comes up the Kattegat and meets the North Sea coming in the Skaggerak,To be honest we expected it would be just another beach but with a westerly gale driving the Skaggerak and an ebb tide driving the Kattegat the result was extraordinary , waves coming from two different directions at the same time - not usual.
How did we get here? Well after leaving the Shining hotel - the fun of opening hundreds of doors on all the floors where you are the only two people inside - we prepared for the day. Jill attended to her dodgy kneee by buying a handball knee protector - very tank girl. Apparently handball is big in Denmark but as I have never heard of it we will have to take Anders the Handball Viking word for that. For myself I bought a new inner tube and replacement mirror off Erik the Chainsaw Viking. Erik was a weedy man with a passion for dangerous machinery -I felt an instant bond, Many people may be thinking we are just on a cycling holiday but in truth we are on a serious cultural and anthropological mission, seeking out the links that tie the UK to our forefathers. We have already established that most of the population of Birmingham orginally came from around Wilhelmshaven based on appearances and dietary behaviour.
Suitably fettled we took off north east. Usually we follow the map but our Danish cousins have an amusing approach to creating a cycle network, They look to see what they have got and if there are any gaps they just draw a line across the gap - through fields, beaches etc. Which is how we got lost in a forest this morning - but then we did in Yorkshire last year too, so it could be us. These rutted tracks into the deep, dark wood are called Klitplantage. Seriously. No sniggering at the back please. Anyway yesterday we ignored the so-called route and followed tracks next to main highways and made over 100 kms - 102 to be precise. To celebrate this - and it means we have done over 1000 miles now - Jill bought a bottle of red wine which we quickly glugged back. This morning dawned tetchy. Jill losing her cool when being blown off her bike next to an oil rig (fortunately not in middle of North sea - but in Hirtshals dockyard). Think the opening of Four Weddings and a Funeral.
Hirtshals was an interesting place. We cycled down the High street to find a very thin, unkempt man with four greyhounds, 3 kebab shops and The Kitty Cat Club. Imagine our horror then to discover that everyday Norwegians arrive in this s**t heap after a 4 hour ferry ride to buy food. How expensive must it be there? And we'll be there for a whole month. Ooops.
We have taken to staying in garden sheds (sorry, huts) that the campsites rent out. Andrew's eyes lit up at the thought of sleeping in a shed.
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