DENMARK  2007 - West Jutland

   Photo Gallery Page 1

   Bottom of News Page

   Return to Index Page

   Photo Gallery Page 2

WEEKS 8~9 NEWS - West Jutland coast and fjords:

Our homeward three week journey began at the busy northern port of Hirtshals from where ferries cross the Skagerrak to Norway. We worked our way down the long continuous wild and wind-swept beaches of the West Jutland coast: skies were sometimes blue and lit with soft golden autumn sun, more often they were leaden grey, but always the westerly gales whipped up wild seas along this North Sea coastline (Photo 1).

Click on 2 map areas for details

Such gloomy conditions gave the tiny fishing village of Lønstrup a sadly oppressive air (Photo 2), the nearby soft mud-stone cliffs steadily eroded by the pounding waves and unrelenting gales. At Mårup, the tiny medieval church is perched in isolation at the cliff's edge, the fishing village it once served long since washed into the sea 60m below (Photo 3). Further impact of nature's powerful forces is evident nearby at Rubjerg Knube, where huge sand drifts have engulfed the lighthouse (Photo 4). Clambering up the steep dunes, you witness sand migration at first hand as roaring gales whip fine sand into your smarting eyes; it was a fearful but exhilarating experience, feeling the clouds of sand hurtling past the half-buried lighthouse tower.

After a blustery night in the welcoming shelter of Gammel Klitgaard Camping, the sun dawned bright, spreading warmth in the chill Autumn air for our walk along the spectacular wild coastline and empty horizon at Svinkløv Plantage. The entire span of Jutland's northern region is in fact an island separated by the Limfjord, a body of water which stretches from coast to coast. We were to spend the next week around the many shores of this inland sea's ubiquitously pervasive spread. Wherever you camped, wherever you looked, there would be yet another view of Limfjord; it became a reliably comfortable neighbour, though you were never sure which was 'mainland' and which an island. Our first sighting of Limfjord, glowing blue in the clear afternoon sunlight, was at the Aggersund narrows crossing just north of the fjord-side town of Løgstør. Here on a hillside over-looking Limfjord, we found the scant remains of King Harold Bluetooth's fourth and largest ring-fortress of Aggersborg. Its key strategic position commanded both sea routes west to England and north to Norway, and land routes south across the then newly unified kingdom of Denmark. All that remains now of this monumental construction are the low turf circular ramparts which once enclosed the fortress, now a peaceful hay field (Photo 5). And standing protectively nearby is the 12 century Aggersborg church; we stood with a feeling of silent awe that this sacred place had served its local settlement for 900 years. That night, we received another warmly hospitable welcome from the charming couple who keep Løgstør Camping; only in Denmark would a sign in the wash-up read: 'Rengøring af fisk forbudt' (Cleaning of fish forbidden).

Along the shores of Limfjord, the extensive wetlands of Vejlerne Nature Reserve spread across what in Viking times formed the now silted-up northern exit channel into the Skagerrak. The area attracts vast flocks of migrating geese, ducks and waders, and provides nesting cover among the reeds. The thatched hide gave perfect views across the wetlands with heron stepping daintily around the islets (Photo 6).

Continuing westwards, we reached the major fishing port of Hanstholm; ironically the town's main attraction today are the WW2 fortifications and gigantic gun-emplacements built by the German occupiers in 1941 as part of the Atlantic Wall (Photo 7). High German wages tempted Danish workers to participate alongside Soviet POW slave-labour in the construction of this huge complex. Our sense of outrage boiled over at the fate of Hanstholm's civilian population, whose homes and livelihood were destroyed by evacuation to hastily-built camps, enforced by the collaborationist Danish government in compliance with German demands. Even today, the museum presents a curiously ambivalent message about the fortress and the shameful role of the Danish authorities; the bunkers remain what they have always been, an ugly and evil intrusion into an otherwise peaceful landscape. Judge for yourself by visiting the Hanstholm Museum web site  After the liberation in May 1945, captured German troops were put to work clearing their own mines - twice, to make sure they did a thorough job - which seems just reward for the invasion of Denmark. The town of Hanstholm had to be rebuilt totally after the war, and the modern fishing harbour is a busy, bustling hive of activity  (Photo 8) with working boats of all shapes and sizes and rusting hulks drawn up on the slipways for repair. Down by the docks, we found another smoke-house (røgeri) selling wonderful smoked fish - the sign said it all (see right).

Hanstholm Camping seemed a bleak and cheerless place with little shelter from the chill wind, but we were able to hire Icelandic horses for an afternoon's riding along the foreshore. Having ridden in Iceland (albeit 30 years ago!), we knew of these sturdy horses and their unique 4-beat gait, the tölt, where the sequence of foot falls gives a smoother ride and feels so much more natural. NW Jutland shows characteristic coastal topography: falling sea levels since the last Ice Age have left former coastal slopes and cliffs raised inland above the newly created sandy shoreline and dunes. It was thoroughly exhilarating to tölt at pace along the ling-covered cliff-tops and dunes, and to splash through the shallow surf, the brisk wind and bright sun adding to the sensation. To inexperienced riders like ourselves, there seemed three fundamental challenges about riding a horse: getting on, staying on and getting off; it was all great fun, and somehow we managed all three! (Photo 9).

The villages of Klitmøller and Nørre Vorupør are two of several Jutland fishing villages without a harbour; boats are still dragged up and launched from the beach (Photo 10). Even on a sunny day, the enclosed bay receives the full force of the westerly gales, driving huge breakers pounding towards the beach and filling the air with salty spray (Photo 11). The Nørre Vorupør røgeri (fish smoke house) ovens fill the air with deliciously acrid smells; its sign proclaims 'Alle godt fra have' (Everything good from the sea), and it sells some of the best fish cakes ever tasted. The wild and wind-swept coastline stretches for miles, past Lodbjerg cliffs (Photo 12) down to Agger sandbar (Photo 13) and the narrow channel at Thyborøn which forms the Limfjord's western outflow into the North Sea. After a night's camp at Thisted overlooking Limfjord, we crossed the bridge spanning yet another channel of the fjord (Photo 14) to the island of Mors set in this inland sea. On the far side, we re-crossed to the 'mainland' and from the Selling peninsula, took the 5 minute ferry crossing to the small island of Fur set also in the Limjford inland sea (Photo 15). In a remote corner of the island, Råkilde Camping provided a hospitable home for our stay. But the year was rolling on: nights were now chill, early mornings misty (Photo 16), but days were bright lighting up the golden autumn colours. The cliffs of Mors and Fur show a unique geological feature, being composed of moler-clay, a diatomaceous sedimentary rock interspersed with volcanic ash deposited during the clay's formation. The clay is now quarried for industrial absorbency applications. The seas in which the sediments formed were rich in plant and animal life and the moler now reveals a wealth of their fossilised remains. The day spent walking the Fur cliffs gave intimate views of the contorted moler strata (Photo 17), and along the Limfjord water's edge, mussel, clam and razor shells crunched underfoot (see right).

We finally said farewell to Limfjord to begin our progression down Jutland's long western coast with a night's camp at Thorsminde, set on the linear sandbar whose narrow strip of high dunes stretching for miles down the coast separates the North Sea from the inland Nissum Fjord. Only a few grazing cattle revealed that life still existed in this desolate marshy landscape. Thorsminde village and its harbour have developed around the sluice which now controls the outflow of Nissum Fjord (see left). It's an exposed wind-swept place, looking out over the cold grey murky vista of the North Sea, where gale-driven surf pounds the deserted wild beaches which stretch away to distant misty horizons (Photo 18). Just to the south Fjand Camping was delightfully hospitable, and nearby Nørre Fjand on the shores of Nissum Fjord gave another bird watching opportunity (Photo 19). We chose to visit Ringkøbing, set at the head of its fjord (another inland sea), at the wrong time: what the Danes call Week 42 in mid-October is when all Danish schools are on half-term holiday, and families flock (literally) to anywhere remotely attractive, forgetting their normal road courtesies - be warned! Another 30 mile narrow stretch of dunes at Holmsland Klit separates the wild coastline from the inland Ringkøbing Fjord; here the chill westerly wind drove in breakers along endless beaches. We battened down for a wild night as gales buffeted the camper at Nørre Lyngvig and the nearby lighthouse beam swept across the campsite. A flaring dawn the following morning gave no respite from the wind; in such conditions, every movement is hard work.

Our progress down the West Jutland coastline ended at Blåvands Huk (Blue Water Head), Denmark's most westerly point (Photo 20); from the lighthouse, views stretched away northwards along the coastline which had been our home for the past week and southwards to the Wadden Sea mud-flats. And out at sea, the 80 turbines of the massive Horns Rev Wind Farm, generating 2% of Denmark's energy needs, filled the horizon. Ribe, hyped as Denmark's oldest town was an over-promoted disappointment: the Viking Centre Museum portrayed the town's history, dating back to its Viking trading centre origins, but the Wadden Sea coastline beckoned us. A chain of sandbanks, mud-flats and low islands of Fanø, Mandø and Rømø stretches south, the remains of pre-Ice-Age coastline before sea-levels rose forming the shallow Wadden Sea. It's a fascinating topography, but one with a notorious history of tidal surges flooding the parallel Jutland coast; here the tidal range (difference in sea levels between high and low tides) can average 1.7m, increasing disastrously with full moon and gales. The best place to start was Vadehavs Centret in the beautiful village of Vester Vedsted. Here you can learn about the area's complex ecology, wildlife and economy, the impact of storm tide surges, and more recent measures taken to protect coastal settlements and farmland with dykes; visit the Wadden Sea Centre web site

A 6 km gravel causeway gives access to Mandø and is only passable at low tide. The safest approach is by tractor bus but this only operates in summer. Extensive tidal marshes surround the island, providing breeding and feeding areas for multitudes of geese and waders. Our tide-tables showed the tide at its lowest at 11-00 am, and slowly we ventured across the causeway (Photo 21), pausing to observe the birdlife feeding out on the mudflats (Photo 22). Mandø is a tiny island, bleak and isolated, but some 60 hardy souls still live and farm there, and there is both a small supermarket and camp site which is open until end-October; visit the Mandø Island web site   In contrast, larger Rømø is now a ghastly holiday island swarming with obese German tourists; Rømø Familie Camping is the least overrun of the campsites, but it is possible to find quiet corners of the island to walk along the wind-swept coastal dykes where geese and waders feed on the mudflats. And on the western side, the 2 km wide beaches of compacted sand provide areas for sand-buggies and kite-surfing. George, our camper, even ventured down onto the sands (see right).

Back on mainland Jutland, the warden at Skærbæk Camping welcomed us with ebullient bonhomie; a bitterly cold night brought the first major frost of the year, the grass crunchily white the following dawn (Photo 23). Just to the south near the village of Højer are the most impressive of the Wadden Sea coastal protection dykes. The long-occupied coastal marshlands had always been subject to the twin forces of storm tides and winter flooding of the Vidå River. After yet another disastrous storm tide in 1976, construction began just seaward of the existing Højer Dyke on the massive coastal protection project of the Forward Coastal Dyke and Vidå Sluice. We drove across the reclaimed polder-land to climb over the new dyke and down to the foreland by the water's edge mudflats of the Wadden Sea (Photo 24). On a still day with scarcely a ripple of tide, it was hard to appreciate the destructive force of flood tides which the Forward Coastal Dyke and Sluice had been built to protect against. The nearby village of Rudbøl stands astride the Danish-German now open Schengen border, but as if to project a symbolic two fingers at their aggressive neighbours who had invaded Denmark twice in the last 100 years, the Nordic countries' combined flags flew proudly over the EU sign. And as a further reminder of life under German occupation from 1940~45, our final visit in Denmark was to the Frøslev Internment Camp where at the latter stages of WW2, 12,000 Danes were imprisoned, over 1,600 being deported to death camps in Germany. German national guilt for 20th century atrocities committed all across Europe is as indelible as a concentration camp victim's tattooed identity number, and the arrogant behaviour of modern-day Germans continues to offend.

We had driven 2,850 miles during our tour of Denmark; for a small country this was surprising, but we had explored almost every corner of this much fragmented land, indented with so many seas, fjords and islands. From Padborg, where we had started 10 weeks ago, we hit the motorway for the 550 mile journey back to Calais, and home for the winter. For a country which, before we set off seemed anti-climactically unappealing, we had enjoyed a mammoth feast of experiences and learning, stayed at some wonderfully located campsites, and most importantly met so many interesting people. Our overall conclusion of Denmark and the Danes is that of an enviably civilised society, so make a visit and remind yourselves of how we used to be before .... well look around you for what UK has degenerated to. One final edition to come in a couple of weeks, as a postscript to the trip, reviewing Danish campsites, maps, guide-books and travel tips for Denmark.

Sheila and Paul                                                                                                                   Published: Tuesday 20 November

Music this week: Carl Nielsen
Little Suite for Strings - 2

    Sicily 2007    Alsace 2006    Greece 2006    Hungary 2005    Pyrenees 2005    Slovenia 2004   Greece 2004
Home Page Site Plan Who we are Publications