Bovbjerg

I rolled into a town today which seemed entirely inhabited by people who are here on vacation, and very very few of them. I can hand-count the number of characters I met today, and all of them are in the campsite I am staying in. There are houses; but all are either in the state of disrepair, or set immaculately to accept vacationers. There are no shops, no supermarket, nothing. There’s a church though.

The campsite owner Fabian greeted me with a broad smile. He bought the campsite from the previous owners last November and he’s still making cleanups and repairs. The campsite is vast, and he recommended me a nice little corner for my tent, where there’s not much wind. And apparently there’s a fox in the campsite, so I should take care of my food. I am wondering if I should keep the food outside, maybe I can meet the fox.

This town is sad & quiet. And the silence is only made more deafening by the raging North Sea right next to it. When I was choosing my destination today morning the lack of a supermarket struck me as unusual. There is a town where the appendages of fast moving consumer goods aren’t present. Must be an interesting place, I thought, but then I saw the pictures of a lighthouse. Yesterday a lighthouse took me off guard.

So I thought I shouldn’t miss today’s lighthouse.

I have been riding along the Danish West coast since yesterday, but today I felt the sea for the first time. I saw the waves crashing down, I could smell the salty water, I could hear the raging waves.

A bike mechanic at Husum, in North Western Germany, told us that it only gets better the further North I go. And he was right! I saw flowers growing through asphalt, I had horses greeting me, I saw endless grassy dunes undulating as far as eye could see.

Maybe I stay here tomorrow, walk around the World War era bunkers, take in the melancholy that permeate this salty town. The wind is picking up but maybe the lighthouse is lit.

Good Night!

Bovbjerg, Denmark