We knew it was coming, as it had been forecast for a few days.  Unfortunately, timing and placement didn’t quite coincide to call a hotel rest day.

Things started out wet, with a downpour at daybreak.  This meant that we had a wet tent to pack.  The rain had a pause for a couple of hours until it began again as we took a break before a 20km section of ripio, or dirt road, through the forest.  We’ve been roughly following EuroVelo 3, and this was the route indicated. We gave the dirt a go for 3 or 4km before deciding that 20km was going to take us 3 or 4 hours with deteriorating road surface conditions.  So we bailed on to the tarmac. Faster, yes, but with intimidatingly noisy traffic on the wet road.  Respectful traffic, but noisy.  

Eyes in the fishing shelter. A cassowary perhaps?

We waited out one intense spell of rain in the shelter of a wooden fishing hut, then a few km later found a beautiful community shelter and camping area.  Although we were only 8km from the hotel, we were going to arrive before check in time, so it was a great place to hang out, stay dry, eat lunch and admire the fabulous facility.  


We waited out one intense spell of rain in the shelter of a wooden fishing hut, then a few km later found a beautiful community shelter and camping area.  Although we were only 8km from the hotel, we were going to arrive before check in time, so it was a great place to hang out, stay dry, eat lunch and admire the fabulous facility.  

(Denmark has an extensive network of ‘Shelters’ where you can stay for the night. Generally wooden ‘lean-to’ style. Variable facilities, sometimes a long-drop, sometimes water, some in town, managed by the community, some in the forest. Some free, some a fee or donation. Some you can pitch your tent, too.)

Then it was time to take on those last few kilometres.  There was a fully separated cycle path, but the traffic volume was increasing all the time.  As things became more built up, I was fully expecting the path to be squeezed out the closer we got to town.  It trundled on.  We approached the first big, wide junction, controlled by traffic lights.  Our path was still there, and we had our own lights.  I watched with some trepidation the marching display at the intersection proceeded.  We were at the far right of the road, going straight on.  On our left, there was a lane of vehicles turning right, controlled by a filter light.  As our light remained red, the filter turned green and this lane turned right in front of us.  Then we got the green – and the right turn filter was still green.  Sharp intake of breath.  However, that lane magically stopped to give us priority to go straight on.  Wow.

Further on, I could see roadworks, and two lanes of vehicles merging into one.  Roadworks and rain.  Joy.  This is the place where a cycle lane is generally squeezed out – to make way for cars, or machinery, or a convenient place to dump piles of dirt.  Nope.  None of these.  We trundled on, passing the cars slowed and stopped by the works.  Wow, and wow again.

We reached the heart of downtown, and still our path continued.  It finally delivered us to the door of our hotel, dripping wet, with no fuss whatsoever.

This cyclist, well used to fending for herself in a hostile world, is in awe.

Chapeau, Aalborg.