Saeby-Arden: Denmark part 1

It’s been a chaotic few days since I met with the Meade brothers in Sweden, so let me catch you up on the story. After we left the campground in Askim Strand, we rode into the main city of Goteburg. Because we were too late to make the 9 a.m. ferry as we had planned, we had til 4 to spend time in the city of Goteburg. After riding down the waterfront, amid tall ships and antique buildings built into the rocky cliffs to our right (north), we found a nice grassy area where we dried some clothes, played hackeysack, and where I finally got to break out my ukulele and play some songs in the crisp Scandinavian air.

When finally we got on the ferry, we spent time exploring all the decks, watching the beautiful city dissipate first into industrial shipping areas, then rolling hills, and finally strands of rocky islands until finally we were on the wide open seas.

Denmark is a beautiful country, full of quaint houses and overwhelmingly nice people. This was a fact that became immediately apparent as we checked into a campground in Saeby, just south of Fredrickshaven (where we landed on the ferry), and one we tested quite extensively the next day, as you will soon discover. Then next morning broke with sunlight and the sound of wind smacking our tent fly against the inner wall, creating a rhythm rather like rain as we awoke. For breakfast, we ate some leftover beans and decided to push south along the coast in order to find a nice bakery, which we did in the town of Asaa. A tiny village, Asaa smelled entirely of jam on toaster pastries, freshly toasted as we biked in through the north on Eurovelo 5. The source of this smell was sought out and ultimately discovered, as three starving cyclists alighted upon a bakery counter, eyes feasting on the delicious pastries. It is no mistake we have a breakfast snack in the U.S. called the Danish: These people know how to make a mean breakfast, and before we knew it we had bought a loaf of bread, a giant cinnamon and brown sugar based confection, and three pies, all of which were devoured like the tasty zebra carcasses thrown into a sea made entirely of Piranhas. As we headed out to the south west, aiming for Dronninglund, we battled both massive headwinds and occasional sideaches (or at least I did), and only Keegan still felt in need of further food. Dronninglund was nice, but did not connect with the bike route we were shooting to connect with, and so we decided to press on to Hjallerup. After a brief bathroom/slackline/hackeysack break at what we later discovered was a Boarding School (Efterskole) after a talk with a climbing and math teacher (very interesting fellow), we headed onward. Still battling into those accursed headwinds, which seemed to change direction at all times just to blow directly in our faces as we rode, we finally made it into Hjallerup.

In Hjallerup we went first to a grocery store in search of lunch (cycling makes you very, very hungry), where we picked up some oatmeal, trailmix, and some spices, among other rations. When I finally got to the counter, however, I immediately discovered something entirely unexpected: My moneybelt was empty. Passport, credit cards, and half of my cash, completely gone. My face sunk in a way the passengers of the titanic would know well, and immediately we went into emergency mode: Wade was to stay in Hjallerup with Keegan’s  and my bags as we rode north, unencumbered, to retrace our route and look for the documents, which we concluded had likely fallen out while riding. Hours of searching later, police departments called, mom emailed, and with absolutely no luck we were at last together again in Hjallerup. It was now late, and we headed south to look for a place to camp. While concerned, the Schengen region allows for transit without a passport, and the credit card is, while difficult to replace, replaceable. As we finally left town along EuroVelo 3, we passed through miles of idyllic countryside till this landscape gave way to forest; the paved roads devolving into simple one-lane dirt roads. we found ourselves in troll-filled woods, one passport down, but rich in sunlight and good spirits below the leafy boughs that bathed our tent in emerald light.

This brings us, finally, to this morning. We rode on from our nice campsite into Aalborg, taking time to acquire hot water from a McDonalds for our oatmeal before crossing the bridge into the main continent (there is a narrow straight that bisects Denmark, such that our previous travels had actually taken place on a massive island). We have ridden many miles (kilometers, I would be corrected) since then, and are writing from a Pizza shop in Arden, south of a thick wood where we finally met up with the main Haervejen (which begins in Viborg). It’s been a rough first two days on a bike for me, but I have pizza to eat, and so this lengthy update will come to a brief end.