Cabbie and friend on ferry to Esbjerg
DENMARK
Had a fitful night's sleep and went on deck at 6:00. Met Cabbie Drennan (the motorcyclist) there. He bought me breakfast and I spent the next several hours talking to him. He is from Scotland but lives in Denmark with his girlfriend. He is a former engineer, now a writer/painter/wanderer, who told me about a story that he had recently had published. It concerned the history of Kilcullen Youth Hostel in Scotland, which had been the setting for a series of murders by royalty and numerous scandals of the original owner, the Duke of Sutherlin. Apparently the castle had been donated to the Scottish Youth Hostel Association in 1948 along with a number of original paintings by Rubens and others (worth millions) and a library also worth millions. Nobody knew the value of these objects until the late eighties.
We also talked about wandering, Zen Buddhism (I was drying my Zen book in the sun, one page at a time, and he commented on this "Zen" activity), Socialism and Richard Burton. He is the first person I have met who really questioned me about Burton, particularly Burton's motivations. Cabbie was also an amateur botanist and ichthyologist. He picked up an insect that looked like a wasp and explained how it had imitated the wasp in order to survive. It was a wonderful conversation, the kind that gives you faith that life is worth living. So, I was feeling great when we arrived in Esbjerg in the early afternoon.
Esbjerg has about 50,000 people but it felt like a town of 500. It was 1:00 on a Saturday afternoon and the streets were deserted. All of the shops in the city center were closed and I had to ride 8 kilometers before I found an open gas station. The Danish roads seem excellent, wide and smooth, plus there are bike paths that literally criss-cross the country (I found out later that I could have taken a path all the way across, but since I had no maps and could not figure out the sign-post system, I ended up not taking advantage of this). So far, my experience with the Danes has been the opposite of what I had expected. They seem closed, suspicious and generally unfriendly. This may be because I am on the west coast, a tourist area.
I cycled 55 Kilometers from Esbjerg to Haring. The terrain was flat, cultivated land, and though there are allegedly spectacular sand dunes on the coast they were not visible from the road. I am thoroughly and completely miserable right now as I was unwilling to pay for a campsite and am now in a wooded area about a hundred meters off the road. " No camping" signs are posted everywhere along the route, so I have to hide myself well in order to free camp--and unfortunately, hiding spots are few and far between in this terrain. So I am sitting in this area of scraggly sand dune vegetation which is not thick enough to complete hide my tent. The insects are voracious but I need to wait until darkness before setting up my tent. I think I am going to have to face reality and live on a $30 a day budget in Scandinavia. But it's too late to do anything about it tonight.
May 31, 1992
145 km to a campground at Hobro.
Up at 4:30 and decided to do a long day today, followed by a short hop into Frederickhavn. It was a cool, clear day with a 15 km headwind which calmed at mid-morning and then resumed in the afternoon. The stretch along the coast was ugly dune grass on one side and swamp or cultivated land on the other (the beach is beautiful, but it is not visible from the road and is about a kilometer from it). The entire region is dotted with Danish vacation homes (many with thatched roofs) that were very modern--in fact all houses seem new, except for the occasional stark farm house right out of Pelle the Conqueror.
After the coastal stretch, I encountered flat, or gently rolling farm land. All in all, scenery wise, this section of Denmark has little to offer. Even the lakes are like shallow swamps. The towns and cities are modern brick and spotlessly clean, with very few cars or people. The only things open on the weekends are the occasional convenience store, gas station and grill bar. Bike paths are almost everywhere, and if not, then there is a wide shoulder on the road. So bicycle-wise this is a country that has clearly gone out of its way to encourage cycling. It is probably the safest riding I have ever done.
As yesterday, I found the Danes I met to be generally standoffish, although when I asked directions they were always helpful. Surprisingly, the rural people seem quite suspicious and the most positive response I get from my greetings is an occasional nod of the head. The towns have substantial areas shut off to cars, and have considerable park land. All in all, the impression corresponds to the stereotype: this is an extremely wealthy, egalitarian society.
I was feeling lonely much of today and wanted to meet up with some cyclists, but again I saw none. At the campground there is a cyclist in a tent next to me (mountain bike) but he appears to be a hermit type. He shut himself up in his tent when I arrived and the only sounds I've heard from him are an occasional burp.
I'm working hard to solve my money and food problem. I stopped at a couple of grill bars and ordered only pommes frites and then drowned them in about half a liter of ketchup and whatever other sauces they happened to have. This is one cheap way to get calories. Also had bread and Danish Blue cheese, which is about the only thing I have found that is the same price as in the US. I stopped at a youth hostel because I wanted some company, but decided against it because the place appeared empty and the price was $16. So I ended up at this campsite for a more reasonable cost of $7.50.
June 1, 1992
120 km from Hobro to Granly campsite near Untersted.
Feeling ecstatic and totally at peace tonight (the exquisite joy of traveling and bicycle touring in particular). It is 9:00 p.m. and I am alone at a free campsite. The sun is shining, it is warm and calm and there are no insects. I just had an ice cold sponge bath and am feeling clean and blissful.
There was some tough riding today in warm weather, particularly a 20 km section between Terndorp and Gunderup in which there was no shoulder and a lot of truck traffic. I had several close calls as these Danish drivers did not slow down or give leeway like the Brits and Irish (the reason being, I guess, that with the fantastic network of bike paths, only a fool would ride on the road I was on).
At Ålborg I picked up a brochure listing a bike route to Frederickshavn. Unfortunately, it was in Danish and I did not realize that it was a mountain bike trail. So, I ended up in a lovely and hilly forested area which was impossible to traverse on a road bike. I walked at least ten kilometers through this area of gravel and sand roads. The sand was so deep that I fell down twice, scraping my thigh badly in one of the falls.
I finally isolated the problem I had been having with my crank, which turned out to be a worn crank gradually working itself loose. Unfortunately, in isolating this problem, I managed to strip the threads on the left crank arm and cannot remove it. Luckily, the problem lies in the right crank which I corrected (temporarily at least) by putting tape on the end of the axle.
I stopped for several hours in Ålborg (the first Danish city I have encountered) and loved it. It is a city of about 250,000 and was a lively pleasant place to spend the day. The malls and libraries were clean and comfortable, and there were an incredible number of bicycles. Every major street had 3 meter bike lanes on each side, separated from both the street and the sidewalks by curbs. These lanes are well sign-posted and have their own traffic signals, including lights. Clearly, everyone in Denmark could get along just fine without a car--bicycles are probably faster and more convenient than cars, as well as cheaper. Every public building and the downtown areas had hundreds of bicycles parked.
The Danes are a true middle class people. There is no evidence of any kind of poverty, nor is there any evidence of great wealth. There are no run-down sections in the cities nor are there any mansions. Everyone appears to be of the same status--robust, healthy Scandinavians. I did find urban dwellers to be much more open and friendly than the rural people. In fact, I did not like the small towns because the people seemed so wary and suspicious. This is the opposite of my experience in Ireland.
I am at a terrific, rustic little campsite on a plateau surrounded by pasture (horses) and forest. It is on land owned by a family which allows bicyclists to camp for free. The caretaker and her son were very kind, and I spoke with them for some time. It was nice talking to friendly people for a change, and having a conversation of some substance, because Denmark has been a pretty isolated experience up to this people.
I ate an enormous amount of food today (about $25 worth). I guess I needed it to make up for the deficit of the last two days.
CONTINUE ON TO SWEDEN