Our zigzag up Jutland continued: yesterday was east coast to west coast, today west coast back to east coast. We had four hours of heartless, heavy, relentless rain, but I wouldn’t say we or our pannier contents got wet. I’d say we and our pannier contents got absolutely sodden.
My ancient Ortliebs need replacing at last, because they let water in but not out, and by the time I got to our hostel in Kolding they were both sloshing at the bottom like paddling pools.
However, that said, it was not a miserable experience. So long as you’re not cold, which we weren’t, than once you’re wet through you can’t get any wetter, and it’s just a case of pedalling through it all. Literally, in the case of the bigger puddles.
The roads were flat or very gently sloped, the wind was largely behind us, and there wasn’t too much scenery to miss behind the screen of grey mist: it was about as exciting as the farmland of my native East Yorkshire. (Wetwang comes to mind, especially the first syllable.)
We stopped for coffee and a snack at a friendly cafe in Christiansfeld where they didn’t mind us doing an impression of a leaky shower head all over the parlour, and had welcome free coffee refills. Other stops were in the more rustic circumstances of bus-shelter-like roadside wooden huts.
Hmm; not actually bus stops, they seem provided not for transit-related refuge but simply to help passing travellers to curse the weather under cover, in which case, thanks, Denmark.
Finally, the rain let up. Nigel had smartly included a visit to Skamlingsbanken on the route, a modest hill but one which offers panoramic views. Nobody else was there, or perhaps they were all dodgingthe weather in the restaurant, and we had the grey-green, cloud-shrouded farmland vistas far down below – well, slightly down below – to ourselves.
There was another experience unusual for Denmark in addition to the novelty of looking downwards at something: a genuine hill climb to cycle up to get there, and a genuine descent to leave it. That’s my kind of Zoom session.
We rolled up into Kolding and had a brief look at the rather squat, square ‘castle’, and found that – yet again – Britain has previous here when it comes to historical invasions, military threats and declarations of war. But we were hungry and thirsty and needed a couple of showers – each – so found our way to the hostel.
Surprisingly, even in the flattest country of consequence in Europe (in terms of having the Lowest Highest Point), the standard rule for deciding which of two routes at a junction goes to the hostel still applies: choose the steep one.
And, when looking for a cheap tasty meal out in town in the evening, another standard eurorule applies: find a place doing doner boxes. We paid around five quid each for a generous portion of chips, salad, kebab and sauce. Forget greasy, post-booze British versions: this is tasty and good.
Miles today: 53
Miles since Padborg: 126