Imechapishwa: 07.07.2016
The oystercatcher (a small bird with a sharp orange beak) squats as low as possible in the grass of the North Sea dyke, mowed by the sheep somewhere between Büsum and Husum. It has been raining incessantly all day and the stiff breeze from the west doesn't make the day any better. Since the water moved over the mudflats and buried the delicious worms underneath in the morning, the little bird has nothing else to do but endure, doze off, and hope for better weather.
But suddenly, the romantic North Sea idyll is disturbed by an unknown noise. A lawnmower? A car? The bird cannot identify the noise. All it knows is that danger is approaching. In panic, it starts moving its short orange legs stumblingly.
But the threatening noise is faster, and to escape inevitable death, it decides to make a courageous leap; its wings should get it out of the line of fire fast enough.
But the plan fails. The moment it lifts off, the rough North Sea wind catches it, and the escape attempt ends in a half backward somersault, leaving the bird helplessly wriggling on the ground. 'It's over!' is the only thing that goes through its head. But as it struggles to get up again, it sees the back of the cyclist, who is heavily loaded and barely moving along the cycle path.
'What's wrong with that guy?!' the oystercatcher says aloud to itself before returning to the safe grass of the North Sea dyke.
Maybe you have already guessed it, the crazy cyclist was me, of course. Yesterday, I arrived in Kristiansand by ferry, and after the first, surprisingly hilly but dreamlike kilometers in Norway, I decided to take a (half) rest day in Mandal, pouring rain.
So I have time to wash my stinky underwear and breathe some life into my blog.
So far, everything is going very well. Except for the strong wind and the rain, which has been my constant companion except for a few sunny moments, I couldn't be happier.
The knee holds up! The back is also quiet, and the muscles are slowly getting used to the constant pedaling.
I have already covered about 1200km. From Kassel along the Weser to the North Sea and then following the coast through Denmark to (almost) the northern tip in Hirtshals.
The Weser Cycle Path was like an open-air museum where you can observe retirees in tight sportswear on e-bikes in their natural habitat; pretty half-timbered houses, green meadows, and in the middle, the calm Weser River, which runs like a blue silk thread through the landscape.
At the North Sea, the ride became a bit rougher, with intense headwinds and constant rain taking some of the fun out of it. Nevertheless, I cycled happily northwards, passing countless sheep that looked at me with big eyes and often stood in my way (a sheep can be quite stubborn) towards the north.
Denmark is a cyclist's dream. Almost unfairly good-looking, friendly people, perfect cycle paths, and a landscape that manages to appear stunningly beautiful and soothing without any annoying uphill sections.
Tomorrow I will continue towards Stavanger and Bergen. Everyone I meet and tell about my plans warns me about the steep roads in the fjords. 'You are crazy!' combined with a respectful head shake is probably the most common sentence I hear. But despite all the challenges, I am looking forward to the next few weeks like a little child at Christmas!