After my reward I continued the route on the east coast, and while looking for a shelter I stumbled upon Jerup Shelterplads — the closest one to the beach I’d seen on the whole trip. The east coast probably isn’t as wild as the west. Hidden in the dunes, I saw the wooden structures pop up, the outlines of half a dozen camper vans, and the lively sound of people chatting and children playing. No silent retreat in nature this night, and I was happy about it. The weather looked slightly dramatic — rain and lots of lightning — though fortunately, as is common in Denmark, it settled into light showers and some thunder around 02:00.
My neighbours were a jolly bunch of Danish-Indonesians, delighted to learn more about Indonesian people living in the Netherlands. They were from Aceh, practically the opposite end of the country from where most Indonesian-Dutch families come from: the Maluku islands. One of them also knew about the Javanese diaspora in Suriname, and we had a little conversation about that too. Unfortunately their limited English and my practically non-existent Bahasa Indonesia wouldn’t let us go further into such an interesting subject.
Jerup beach was my favourite shelter so far — each tent could hide in its own little spot in the dunes, barely 20 meters from the water. A last coffee on the beach, and the forecast looked very rainy. It started as I was packing up the last bits of the tent.
From Tolne I took the train to Aalborg, where I’ll slowly assimilate back into the urban setting after eight days away from it.
Time flies when you’ve got a routine and you’re just riding. Yesterday’s post inspiration got lost at the Stranden shelter — two minutes from the beach, zero connectivity. Today was all about the goal. Must… reach… the north….
Yesterday I was pushing hard, telling myself each extra kilometer meant one less tomorrow. Then reality hit. My trusty Wahoo — which has navigated me without a single hiccup (knock on wood) — wasn’t showing the true countdown. Turns out I had an extra 11km to reach the top. Whatever that means, Mr Wahoo.
Once I could smell success in the air, another painful decision: push my bike 1km through the sand, or leave it behind? I’ll say nothing and let the pictures speak for themselves.
Now, a well-earned reward — an iskaffe and a lille citrontærte — and I start all over again? Not really. I’ll continue down Route 1, then branch off onto number 5, the east coast route. Two days left before I have to catch my train, and cycling is cheaper than hovering around a Danish town for fun. Onwards to Aalborg!
Do you think showering twice in one day counts as pre-showering for the days ahead? I’ll let you know in a couple of days. But the morning started clean — freshness and mist in the air, and my body fully recovered after being pushed hard. Another 80km, which leaves about 140km to go.
Goal change: finish the route early and carry on down the east coast. My train back leaves from Aalborg (not the far north anyway), and I don’t mind more of Denmark.
The legs felt rested and just kept plowing through. I glanced at the navigation and 50km was already done — I’d even cycled past Bulbjerg. Too far to turn back, alas. I powered up with another triple-shot canned espresso (I feel genuinely bad for liking this stuff as a coffee aficionado, but it works), and before I knew it I was at my home for the night.
Then: my first dinner ever cooked on my little camp stove. Tonight’s menu — first course, pan-fried tomatoes with herbes de Provence and smoky salt: honestly delish, well worth bringing back for a dinner party at home. Main was a tuna pasta with herbs and smoky salt — that one was fine. And for dessert, gas-grilled marshmallows: my poor, not-so-outdoorsy, lazy man’s version of a campfire roast. Three courses on one tiny burner. Now I’m satisfied and heading to bed to charge up for tomorrow.
Today was a mandatory take-it-easy day. I’ve reached 350km of the 620km in four days — pretty powerful, maybe also too much. I’ve noticed that when you’re on the bike, you’re in bike mode: I take a picture here and there, but you can’t stop every 10km either. Too many breaks can be devastating.
So I arrived in Klitmøller, aka Cold Hawaii, because — guess what — you can surf here. I assumed it would just be downwind stuff, but apparently there can be some decent waves. That’s the vibe of this town, same as Hvide Sande: laid back, calm, and lots of people with surfboard carriers on their bikes. Danes on bikes can be as impressive as the Dutch — we’ve found our counterpart!
With just 38km today I planned a relaxing afternoon: laundry in a proper machine, a warm shower (first since I left home), and some bike maintenance and cleaning. But… my anti-mosquito spray had a surprise for me. All the shaking had worked the cap loose, and the DEET leaked slowly into a plastic bag — which it promptly dissolved, leaving gooey, sticky plastic all over my stuff. A challenge too great for a relaxing afternoon. I did minimal damage control, then had dinner and a beer with a view of the sea.
A day through the dunes: more offroad gravel than the gorgeous paved cycling paths Denmark is famous for - those are saved for Route 475. Route 1 is hardcore. Well, okay, it’s not all that crazy, but I was happy with my new 45mm tires. Smooth riding, and enough grip.
The route went through a kind of dunish desert, all grass and sand. Scattered all over were little houses - holiday homes for the Danes, I assume. Even though some of them
looked legit.
The addiction to gentrified coffee was too great, so I stopped at a hip place in a little surf town. I’m glad my in-head currency conversion isn’t very fast: €13.60 for a coffee and a cake. Denmark makes you feel poor - which makes the tent feel quite fitting.
Sometimes yes, I’m writing this while lying in my tent: 98km done and I’m knackered. Uploading pictures keeps failing...
A quick coffee break at a hip specialty coffee place in Esbjerg made the morning complete and injected the fuel for a special detour today l. Namely, to reach a special geographical spot—the most western point of Denmark. My goal is to visit all the corners, and this trip should complete that.
I’d actually wanted to stop at 70km, since I’d already hit my goal for the day. But a quick food stop got me some fuel - a hot dog and a Starbucks triple espresso - and with a bit of wind at my back, voilà, here we are. Funny enough, some of the same people from last night’s shelter are here too.
Note to self: that starbucks triple espresso is great fuel, don’t be ashamed.
So what did I actually do? I visited the northernmost point of the German mainland, then cycled across a border on an international trip—last year I took the ferry, lame huh? I saw Ribe, the oldest town in Denmark, and tried the Danish shelter system for the first time. It’s awesome.
But the most important part: no daily destination. Just a rough idea and a shelter spot to sleep in when I’m tired. No anxiety, no hotel needed—though probably no showers in the upcoming days either. :D
The start was surprisingly smooth - the real wake-up was the crowd of odd characters hanging around S Gesundbrunnen at 6am. Deutsche Bahn did surprisingly well: just a 10-minute delay and a platform change.
The adventure has started. Denmark, here I come!
