Day 4 part 2. Nymindegab to Harboør.
A few kilometres later after Stadilø the sign pointed us on to an off-road section. The road surface was reasonable and we made good progress. This section ran along a canal until close to Vedersø Klit and was lovely. We stopped for a late lunch at the second picnic spot. There was a large table and two benches and next to it a public barbecue made of local stone. All very civilised. Whilst Damae busied herself making lunch she practiced a few of the extra frightening expressions that she uses for class control when teaching. As we sat eating the Dutch couple passed us, waving 'gezelligly'.
The route then carried on along the canal and turned into proper off-road again. Then it made a big loop round Bækby before entering the Husby Klitplantage (not that we knew it was called that at the time). As the rain had stopped we decided to make a cuppa, under the shade of the trees. As we were busying ourselves the Dutch couple turned up and we sat together chatting for twenty minutes or so. They were still eating lunch and as the rain started up again we took our leave. I said jokingly 'Until the next puncture'. This of course is one of the sorts of things you don't want to say on a cycling holiday.
A little further up next to Nissun Fjord at a speed nearing thirty kilometres an hour, my back tyre deflated very suddenly. Despite stopping as soon as I could, I managed to distort the outer tube. The puncture was fixed in no time, the culprit being a 2mm long shard of stone from the dunes. As I was nearly finished the Dutch couple we had met earlier in the day whizzed past. They asked if we needed help which was nice but it was not necessary.
I tried fruitlessly to get the tyre straight, but was left with a g'dung g'dung g'dung effect as I cycled along. Still, outer tube was merely uncomfortable and had little effect on our pace for the rest of the day and we made very good time. Although it was only a puncture it dampened my spirits more than usual. Combined with all the bike problems we had experienced it was getting rather wearisome.
Towards the end of the day we (or so we thought) stopped for tea at the church at Fjaltring to eat, rest, enjoy the view, sorry the view, and decide what to do next. The church was one of those lovely white and stone buildings with an immaculate graveyard, something we have come to associate with Denmark and Norway. This one was unusual for us in that there were little white picket fences between graves or groups of graves and also gravestones in the perimeter wall.
Amongst all the Danish names we found a poignant reminder that Europe has not always been such a peaceful place. A small grave to an unknown compatriot of Damae's who had died even before her parents were born let alone had emigrated.
We decided to push on as the weather was calmer and drier than earlier in the day (what did I say about saying things on cycling holidays?). After the church we headed once more to the edge of the coast where another church was being worked on. We stopped for a while to look at maps for campsites. The sea was angry pounding the shoreline, and the sky out to sea was rather threatening as this picture and video* show.
After a section of concrete footpath that headed towards a lighthouse ended, we cycled on lightly trafficked sand road. This had some nice downhills although the road surface, whilst good, was not trustworthy enough to make full use of them. We paused to consider the campsite very close by at Ferring Strand. After being worried about the sky out to sea, I was now getting a little concerned with the very dark glowering clouds coming towards us from the inland direction, but Damae wanted to cycle on to the next campsite.