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Rolling in the Hay Our new arrangement with Arran and Rebecca was working well. It allowed us to ride at our own pace, stop when we wanted, and still enjoy each others company in the evening. This morning it allowed Sharon and me the flexibility to go to the beach for a swim without feeling like we were holding Arran and Rebecca up. Our map showed a beach area nearby, so Sharon and I followed the road until a sand path led us to a deserted beach. The sun was already warm; Sharon needed no persuasion to dip into the salty water. I spectated, as usual. On the beach we ate fresh Danishes. Sharon used a jam jar to deke out the yellow jackets. When she closed the lid there were seven inside the jar and at least that many still buzzing about. They did an amazingly quick job of cleaning up jam. We followed a single-track bike path that was little more than a sandy strip mowed along a marsh. Going up a short incline I was in too high a gear and hit the sand at slow speed. I couldn't revolve my pedal fast enough to get a stroke in and crumpled to the ground in a heap. The path cut across a field beside a small lake. A bush filled with large blackberries became an enviable treat. We finally cut through someone's backyard to get back to a road. In Køge we followed the Marguerite route as it rambled past stubbly farmer's fields. We ended up going twenty-five kilometers on the route but only went five kilometers from Køge. We crossed a bridge joining an island. Some cows took advantage of the heat and waded up to their bellies. We were hurrying to meet Arran and Rebecca in Stege and as we passed a rest area Sharon looked in and spotted Rebecca's New Zealand flag waving above the hedge. Arran and Rebecca liked our Canada flag sticking up on my flag pole. So they went into a bike shop and the store owner gave them one to put their New Zealand flag on. Arran said they'd been getting some action, but fumed not the responses they were looking for. One car had slowed down beside them, rolled down their window, and cheered, "Way to go! We're from Australia too!" In the rest area Arran washed out his clothes in the sink. Arran surmised if he closed the door hard enough, he could fill the whole cubicle up with water and take a bath. He was in there so long--I wouldn't be surprised if he tried it. Passed a field with colossal rectangular bales. Arran and Rebecca climbed on top, laid down on their backs and kicked their legs in the air. Rolling in the hay New Zealand style? In Stege we bought more Danishes and headed to the tip of the island. We hoped for a swim and a view of the sea but found the shore too populated. We found a more secluded and sheltered spot in a forest reserve. |
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