Our journey northward continues. Chris hopes to be in Denmark by day’s end. But first, there are cherries to be sourced. They’re in the height of season and available every few metres in the local village, Jork.
Jork also has some of the most interesting houses I’ve seen in a while. A framed, they’re brick, with a checkerboard facade. The framing is white, and in each checkerboard, small bricks are arranged in differing and contrasting patterns. To add to the charm, most are thatched. They look like gingerbread houses, decorated with sweets in different patterns. Many are set along canals. It’s very, very pretty.
We drive out of cherry and apple country into the Hamburg harbour, an extraordinarily busy freight terminal with more loading docks than I’ve seen anywhere. Shipping containers and freight infrastructure for miles. We escape most of it in a tunnel bypass, a feat of some considerable engineering skill.
It’s a long day, most of it is spent on the road. We move back into farm country; for the life of me, I don’t know what they do with all that corn. There are some nice things in between freeways: an early burial cairn, its meaning lost in time (and perhaps translation), deer on a farm, and a Billy goat with very impressive horns, and a little one frisking alongside. There are also many stretches of country road, where time has stood still. Life on the farms does not seem to have changed in decades.
We make it to Denmark by late afternoon and find a spot for the night. We’re in a farm, near a lake and there are red chickens, two sweet bunnies, and a very plump sausage dog who’s desperate to be friends. I suspect she has one eye on international relations, the other on our snack platter. Sweet, cheeky pup.