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August 24 Thursday sunny Bicycle touring Denmark The map showed a beach area nearby, so Sharon and I bicycled along, following the road until a sandy path led us to a deserted beach. The sun was already warm; Sharon needed no persuasion to dip into the salty water. We ate Danishes for breakfast on the beach, using a jam jar to deke out the pesky yellow jackets. When Sharon closed the lid there were seven inside the lid, and there were at least that many still buzzing about. They did an amazing quick job of cleaning up that jam. We bicycled along, following a road into a campground and pedalled out the other side on a bike path that was little more than a sandy strip mowed along the marsh. Going up the first incline, I found myself in too high a gear. Hitting the sand, I couldn't get a pedal stroke in. I fell to the ground in a heap. The bike path cut across a field beside a
small lake. Finally, we gave up on the sandy bike path (sand
is not great on a touring bike with skinny tires) and cut through
someone's yard to make it back to the main track. In Koge, Denmark, we bicycled merrily along, following the Marguerite Route as it wound past farmer's fields of stubble. We ended up cycling 25 kilometres on the Marguerite Route, but only accomplished cycling 5 kilometres from Koge. We cycled across a bridge joining an island. Cows waded in the water up to their bellies. Perhaps they though they could snorkel? Perhaps they were stoned, too? Once again we were hurrying to meet our Kiwi cycling buddies, Arran and Rebecca, in a previously chosen town. As we sprinted past a rest area (or at least as fast as one can sprint on a fully loaded touring bike), Sharon glanced in, and lucky she did too. She spotted Rebecca's New Zealand flag waving above the hedges. We wheeled in to join them for a quick sandwich. Arran and Rebecca had apparently liked my Canada flag sticking atop my safety flag pole. They had gone into a bike shop and got a safety pole to mount their New Zealand flag on. Arran says they have been getting some action with their newly mounted NZ flag, but, unfortunately, not quite the responses they were looking for. One passing car had slowed down beside them, rolled down their window, and cheered them on. "Way to go! We're from Australia, too!" In the rest area, Arran was washing out his bicycling clothes in the sink. He surmised if he slammed the door hard enough he could fill the whole cubicle up with water and take a bath. In town we bought Danishes and cycled for the tip of the island. We were hoping for a swim and a fine view of the sea, but it turned out to be too populated. We found a more secluded and sheltered spot in a forest reserve to set up our Kelty and Macpac tent. Earlier in the day, we cycled by a field filled with large rectangular bales. Arran and Rebecca climbed on top of a stack of bales and laid down on their backs, kicking their legs in the air. We teased them ... rolling in the hay Kiwi style? |
