clairedavieswriter

Every end to end starts with a border, so Team Bernard’s first task this morning was to find it. This was a helpful start:

As was this:

But as with many European borders, there was no formal marker, just a ‘if you know you know’ kind of thing: in this case, a sign indicating a Danish commune:

But Gloria Google confirmed we were in the right place:

Team Bernard was raring to go after two days cooped up in trains. Bernard himself had no complaints about his night in the garden shed:

And I had slept well, despite – or perhaps because – my duvet cover was so shiny that I hadn’t dared move for fear it would burst into flames.

It was lucky we were well rested because we spent the whole day (bar the first effortless 6k riding north) battling a hefty headwind. There wasn’t much in the landscape to slow it down:

And today was clearly not unusual, judging by the most popular local form of energy generation:

Those of you who’ve read my book will know that I didn’t do a great job of fuelling when I rode Lejog. I thought I’d got the hang of it by now, but I hadn’t anticipated not passing a town, let alone a shop or cafe, between Klanxbüll and Husum. So it was fortunate that I’d turbocharged my sugar levels at breakfast with a tooth-curlingly sweet Lükischer waffle I’d bought in Hamburg:

A banana, a croissant and (health and safety folk look away now) the remains of last night’s halloumi wrap kept the wolf from the door but by tea time I was ravenous. Today’s guardian angel appeared in the form of the kindly lady behind the bakery counter in the Nah und Frisch supermarket outside Husum, who seemed only a little surprised by my order:

‘Ah so, nur ein stuck?’

‘Yes just the one slice and don’t bother wrapping it’,’ is what I would’ve said if I could:

Every problem has its solution, and every Käsetorte has its day:

I confess it wasn’t the most scintillating few hours of cycling, due to the flat terrain and straight roads, but on the plus side I rarely had to worry about traffic:

And when I did have to share with cars, oncoming drivers on single track roads would, without fail, pull over and stop to let me pedal comfortably by. Every time it happened, it struck me how surprised I was that they’d been so considerate and how surprised they seemed that I’d felt the need to thank them.

We were beside the North Sea most of the day, though we would’ve been forgiven for not knowing (it’s behind that dyke on the right):

As Gloria once again confirmed:

Incidentally, it turns out that those sheep (one of which panicked at the sight of me and nearly knocked us clean off our wheels) serve an additional purpose beyond keeping the grass down. Hanne, my Warmshowers host tonight, explained that they’re also there to strengthen the dyke by compacting the ground with their hooves. Come for the cycling, stay for the factoids on sea defences, I tell you.

Highlights today included: the many rural bus stops we passed with bikes parked next to them – surely a sign of well joined-up public transport:

And the local tradition of putting the farmhouse’s year of construction on its facade:

This one was older than Germany, which only became a nation state in 1871:

I also enjoyed working out what the piles of brushwood I’d seen were used for. Once again, Hanne offered an additional explanation: not only do these low walls act as breakwaters to prevent long-shore drift, they also provide obstacles to slow an onrushing high tide that might otherwise rapidly flood inland areas:

By the way, I’d love to know what grows here: square potatoes?

Hard to pick a highlight of the day, as despite the wind I enjoyed every minute. The cheesecake is a strong contender but I’m going to go with the sight of this dainty-legged avocet (word of the day: Säbelschnäbler) high-stepping through the mud-flats. They were once (still are?) so rare, it was a delight to see one up close: