|
|
*** DENMARK 2007 - Weeks 1~2 *** |
||
|
Leaden skies and squally showers accompanied our Channel crossing and 220 mile drive through Belgium and Holland for a night's camp just into Germany. The following day we resumed our eastward journey through the heart of the Ruhr; again lashing rain and heavy traffic made for appalling driving conditions. We passed Münster, Osnabrück, Bremen and finally crossed the Elbe at Hamburg to turn northwards through Holstein and Schleswig to Flensburg, Germany's most northerly city. 576 miles from Calais, we crossed the Danish border. As so often when entering a new country, suddenly everything seemed unfamiliar: road signs, place names, even the currency as we compared diesel prices in Danish Kroner (DKK) with familiar euros.
Never before however have our first impressions when entering our host country been so favourable: everything was clearly signed, and villages looked so neat and trim. Observing the 50 mph speed limit, we were not harassed by Danish drivers.
Despite the inhospitable weather, our first days in Denmark enabled us to appreciate the SE Jutland coastline and rural landscape; we learned more of Denmark's turbulent history with its aggressive German neighbour, were overwhelmed by Danish food prices and impressed with Danish courtesy, civilised culture and relaxed attitude to life. Although we had mastered a little of their language, spoken Danish remained an incomprehensible puzzle: pronunciation is always difficult, but the common usage of the Stød (glottal stop) in spoken Danish seems to cancel out consonants in words (imagine what foreigners tutored in formal English make of constantly hearing won't, couldn't or y'know), making the language sound garbled as if spoken with a potato in the mouth. But to our embarrassment, every Dane seems also to speak faultless English.
That night we camped at Kolding, South Jutland's largest town. All the campsites used so far had been of high standard but expensive; Kolding City Camping was however the least good - crowded, noisy, limited facilities, and unduly expensive at 218 DKK (£20) a night - not a worthy reflection on the city's prestigious standing. But buses passed the site into the city which was delightful with an excellent produce market in the central square of Akseltorv where we shopped for vegetables from a fiercesome Viking-looking stall-holder (Photo 3). Set on a grassy knoll overlooking the colourful houses of the medieval centre was Kolding Castle, built in 1268 to defend the Kingdom of Denmark against invasion from Schleswig and converted to a royal residence during the Renaissance. The Castle's nadir came in 1808 when Spanish troops stationed here during the Napoleonic Wars over-stoked the fire and burnt the castle down. The late 20th century restoration work is a model of aesthetic Danish architectural design, with modern structural features sitting comfortably amid original castle brickwork. The Koldinghus is certainly well worth a visit especially to see the imaginative restoration.
We continued northwards
passing characteristically Funen timber-framed thatched farmsteads,
looking for all the world like Viking long-houses (Photo
5); you half expected Kirk Douglas to step into the road waving his
battle axe. And so on to Fyns Hoved at the remote head of the peninsula.
The welcoming campsite is open all
Returning through
Kerteminde, home of Funen's largest fishing fleet (Photo
7), we camped alongside the Store Bælt, the wider straits dividing
Funen from Denmark second island of Zealand. Sitting outside after
supper with the gaz lamp purring on the table and a full moon rising
over the sea was blissful, but the chill evenings of early Autumn were
beginning although not yet the end of August. The road south led along
side the Store Bælt and on the distant horizon we could make out rising
up out of the sea the misty outline of the 18 km long bridge which
replaced the former ferries in 1998 connecting Funen with Zealand (Photo
8). This would be our onwards route to Zealand; first we
continued south to explore the rest of Funen and its archipelago of
islands particularly Langeland. But that was for next week, so look out
for our next edition of reports from Denmark.
|
We spent our first few days around Sønderborg off Jutland's SE corner
and the delightful rural backwaters of South Als with its tiny
fishing harbours. Just 2 days from leaving UK, we were camped in peaceful shore-side surroundings at the small harbour village of Fynshav. With the brisk Jutland breeze blowing off the sea, we wondered if we
should ever see the sun this trip. Before venturing into Sønderborg, we
had to buy a Danish parking disk from a garage; everyone stressed their
importance and the 500 DKK fine for not displaying one. The prominent
fjord-side hill above the town is Dybbøl Banke, scene of the 1864 Danish
defeat at the hands of imperialist Germany, resulting in the loss of
half the already small country's territory and population. Germany now
controlled all of Schleswig-Holstein until defeat in WW1, when North
Schleswig voted in a plebiscite to return to Danish rule. For the Danes,
the disastrous events of 1864 mark a tragic significance in their
history, and Dybbøl remains a sentimental symbol of Danish pride. The
Dannebrog flag blew stiffly in the wind against a darkly sombre sky on
our visit to the Dybbøl memorial centre. The Germans still swarm across
the border in their caravans, but these days the characteristically
smiling Danes happily relieve them of their euros.
We headed
north across rolling countryside to visit two of South Jutland's
attractive fjord-side towns, firstly Aabenraa (pronounced Obenro), for
centuries
a wealthy maritime trading centre and still one of the
region's
busiest ports. The town's prosperous past could be seen in the
handsomely preserved brightly painted 18th century cottages along Slotsgade (Castle Street -
Photo
1). A memorial at the parish church recalled local Danes killed in
WW1 compelled to fight for Germany which still controlled South Jutland;
the German dedication to Unsern Gefallenen Söhnen seemed doubly
ironic. We camped at the market town
of Haderslev with the ever-present Jutland wind blowing driving rain off
the fjord. The medieval town centre is dominated by the massive
cathedral of Vor Frue Kirke (Church of Our Lady). From its 11th century
origins, the church had been an adjunct of Schleswig Cathedral and only
attained episcopal status in its own right in 1922 at the re-unification
with Denmark. The coastal road northwards passed the delightful small
anchorage at Hejlsminde (Photo 2), leading up to Jutland's
highest point - just 113m - at Skamlingsbanke, another symbolically
nationalistic location for the Danes. During the dark years of post-1864
German occupation, the hill of Skamlingsbanke was the site of mass
meetings of Danes asserting their cultural identity and language in the
face of foreign domination. The hill is now topped with memorials and an
obelisk commemorating those who kept alive the Danish cause, and as such
Skamlingsbanke is a place of poignant national significance for the Danes,
a sentiment we readily shared.
Just beyond Kolding, an
elegant suspension bridge spans the Lille Bælt straits leading to
Denmark's central island
of Funen, our home for the next week. The campsite at Funen's main city
of Odense was inevitably busy with Danes making merry hygge (see
Prologue) over the weekend. Despite stubbornly overcast weather, we
spent an instructive day learning more of Odense's two famous sons, the
composer Carl Nielsen (1865~1931) and writer Hans Christian Andersen
(1805~75). The Carl Nielsen
Museum in the modern concert hall, home of
the Odense Symphony Orchestra, recalls the composer's life and music
through scores, photographs, documents and other
memorabilia, along with the
work of his sculptress wife Anne-Marie Carl-Nielsen. This excellent and
well-presented collection is a worthy tribute to Odense's worthy son.
Not so the
Museum of Hans Christian Andersen who was born in what was Odense's 19th
century slum district. Unfortunately Andersen would not now recognise
the impoverished hovel of his early years: gone are the slums, now
ultra-yuppified into colourful and twee chocolate-box des-res cottages. The
same bowdlerised treatment has been applied to the museum displays which
record Andersen's upbringing, education, literary works and
travels. While documenting his reliance on wealthy patronage and his
unrequited infatuations with younger women (including the Swedish singer
Jenny Lind), his dalliances with young men and latent bisexuality are
conveniently glossed over to avoid offending contemporary tourist
sensitivities. Despite the Danny Kaye romantic image, he clearly was an
unattractive character both physically and in personality, yet his
literary output was prolific and his works have been translated into
more languages than any other writer. He is best remembered for his
fairy tales, championing the underdog perhaps which reflects perhaps his own
inadequacies. But you must go to Odense, visit the HCA Museum and judge
for yourself.
Leaving Odense, we headed
north to Funen's far NE corner, the Hindsholm peninsula, passing through
a succession of delightful villages such as Kalstrup with its
characteristic white-washed church with huge stepped bell-tower (Photo 4).
Near the fjord-side village of Ladby, a unique find from Denmark's Viking
past was uncovered in 1934 - Denmark's only surviving Viking ship
burial. In around 925 AD, a local Viking chieftain was buried in his
long-ship along with his possessions and weapons to accompany his
journey to
Valhalla, and a burial mound raised over the tomb. A 1000 years later,
the grave came to light. Although the timbers of the clinkered hull had
rotted away, the ship's weight had left a perfect imprint in the earth
along with the 100s of iron nails and sail rope-rings, leaving
its detailed outline clearly discernible. With 32 rowers and large
square sail, the Ladby long-ship's prow extended into a painted dragon's
head, the metal curls of whose mane survived in situ. An air-conditioned
chamber now encloses the boat's remains in an underground vault beneath
the burial mound. On entering the chamber, there before you lies the
remains of the 1000 year old Viking long-ship, the kind in which
voyages of pillage, trade and colonisation were made as far afield as
Britain, Iceland, Greenland, even Nova-Scotia and the Mediterranean. The grave
was robbed in antiquity, but the skeletal remains of the chieftain's
horses and dogs buried with him are still clearly visible. Nearby the
recently opened museum displays finds from the boat and most
impressively its scale model.
year round and hedges provide shelter
against the nor-westerly gales which constantly batter the coastline.
The local commune has produced an excellent information leaflet and map
in English as a guide to walking around the elongated hill of Fyns Hoved
and the shingle spit enclosing the bay where migrating birds pause on
their Springtime journey north and colonies of cormorants gather waiting
to go fishing when the wind drops. The coastal path around the headland
passes along the shore line and cliff-tops exposed to the wind constantly
blowing off the sea (Photo
6). 
