Where's Bertie? He's in a parking area by a lake (which may be called Hald Sø) to the south of Viborg (exact location: 56.39684, 9.36162).
Going for runs in new locations each time seldom allows us to have prior knowledge of our route. Occasionally we (or I) do go and walk a route in advance. Oftentimes I will look at a map to get an idea, or just run a distance along a road or path, before turning and running back. Sometimes, I just make it up as I go along, taking turns at random and hoping they come out where I think they will. This morning fell into the latter category.
Reaching the end of a very minor road, having covered 2 miles to that point, I was really hoping there would be an onwards path allowing me to form a circuit. As pleasant as the road had been, through woodland and with paths and bike trails branching off all over the place, I didn't really want to have to go another two miles.
Fortunately my hopes came good and after a couple of hundred metres of ankle-shaping soft sand, I came out on the nice firm sand of the beach. It was a lovely run, even if I did arrive back with sodden feet from splashing through the wide stream that crossed the beach.
Reaching my exit point from the beach I couldn't help but notice that the five fishing boats high up on the beach were now just two. Later we wandered down to the shore to watch the winch in action as it dragged one of the missing ones onto the sand. They didn't pull it far out of the waves, and after an hour or so of a group of fluorescent-vested men retrieving flat fish from its nets, it was put back to sea.
With a hazy sun shining and a big beach next to us it was tempting to stay put another night, but who knew what other delights we would be missing by frittering away two days of our remaining time in one place? Thus, as lunchtime approached, Bertie's nose was pointed south.
Norway was a fantastically scenic country through which to drive. There was almost always something good/lumpy/towering/rocky to see out of the windscreen, and usually multiple waterfalls visible from any location. Denmark is the opposite. It's very flat, very agricultural, and not visually interesting. The roads here are much easier to drive, mind, without hairpins, sudden narrowings due to cliff faces and drop offs, and with an absence of tunnels.
After about an hour and a half of driving, the SatNav told us to turn. Mick, dubious about the instruction asked "Really?!" and I reassured him. In some circumstances, I wouldn't have believed an instruction to drive down a potholed track, which bore no signage at all to suggest that it was anything other than a farm access. However, I had enough information about the location for which we were heading to believe the instruction to be good. Sure enough, we came out in a car park with a toilet, and just around the corner, on the lake shore, a swimming and picnic area.
A leaflet from a dispenser informed us of some paths and tracks nearby, so after a late lunch a circuit was walked, and by the time we had done that we were so hot that, for just the third time this trip, we broke out the deckchairs, taking them to the lake shore. There we had intended to read our books, but there were great distractions (of the amusing variety) watching people in the water, which clearly wasn't very warm. I would, of course, have joined them, if it wasn't for the fact that I had a shower this morning and we haven't enough water for me to be showering twice in oneweek day*.
(*there is not a lack of service points in Jutland (that being the mainland of Denmark, where we are currently touring), but they are all along the main road which runs down the east side, and we are taking a westerly and central route.)
Going for runs in new locations each time seldom allows us to have prior knowledge of our route. Occasionally we (or I) do go and walk a route in advance. Oftentimes I will look at a map to get an idea, or just run a distance along a road or path, before turning and running back. Sometimes, I just make it up as I go along, taking turns at random and hoping they come out where I think they will. This morning fell into the latter category.
Reaching the end of a very minor road, having covered 2 miles to that point, I was really hoping there would be an onwards path allowing me to form a circuit. As pleasant as the road had been, through woodland and with paths and bike trails branching off all over the place, I didn't really want to have to go another two miles.
Fortunately my hopes came good and after a couple of hundred metres of ankle-shaping soft sand, I came out on the nice firm sand of the beach. It was a lovely run, even if I did arrive back with sodden feet from splashing through the wide stream that crossed the beach.
Reaching my exit point from the beach I couldn't help but notice that the five fishing boats high up on the beach were now just two. Later we wandered down to the shore to watch the winch in action as it dragged one of the missing ones onto the sand. They didn't pull it far out of the waves, and after an hour or so of a group of fluorescent-vested men retrieving flat fish from its nets, it was put back to sea.
With a hazy sun shining and a big beach next to us it was tempting to stay put another night, but who knew what other delights we would be missing by frittering away two days of our remaining time in one place? Thus, as lunchtime approached, Bertie's nose was pointed south.
Norway was a fantastically scenic country through which to drive. There was almost always something good/lumpy/towering/rocky to see out of the windscreen, and usually multiple waterfalls visible from any location. Denmark is the opposite. It's very flat, very agricultural, and not visually interesting. The roads here are much easier to drive, mind, without hairpins, sudden narrowings due to cliff faces and drop offs, and with an absence of tunnels.
After about an hour and a half of driving, the SatNav told us to turn. Mick, dubious about the instruction asked "Really?!" and I reassured him. In some circumstances, I wouldn't have believed an instruction to drive down a potholed track, which bore no signage at all to suggest that it was anything other than a farm access. However, I had enough information about the location for which we were heading to believe the instruction to be good. Sure enough, we came out in a car park with a toilet, and just around the corner, on the lake shore, a swimming and picnic area.
A leaflet from a dispenser informed us of some paths and tracks nearby, so after a late lunch a circuit was walked, and by the time we had done that we were so hot that, for just the third time this trip, we broke out the deckchairs, taking them to the lake shore. There we had intended to read our books, but there were great distractions (of the amusing variety) watching people in the water, which clearly wasn't very warm. I would, of course, have joined them, if it wasn't for the fact that I had a shower this morning and we haven't enough water for me to be showering twice in one
(*there is not a lack of service points in Jutland (that being the mainland of Denmark, where we are currently touring), but they are all along the main road which runs down the east side, and we are taking a westerly and central route.)
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