Anne in front of Hammershus
For the past four days we have been biking on the Danish island of Bornholm: a tear-dropped shaped land mass in the Baltic, south of Sweden and smack in the middle of the main shipping lanes in and out of Stockholm, Helsinki, Gdansk and Saint Petersburg. Its rugged coast is unusual for pancake-flat Denmark with cliffs, craggy outcroppings and stone beaches of tide-ground rocks ranging in size from marbles to melons. Smoked herring and granite quarries were once the island’s main industries, but the fish have moved and granite is cheaper elsewhere. Barnholm is now a garden of beautifully tended farms, rolling hills, quaint villages, thousand year-old round churches and Hammershus, the ruins of a medieval castle. Tourists have replaced fishermen and the smokeries (used for smoking herring) have been converted to restaurants, gift shops and art galleries.
Bornholm is a popular place for a biking holiday. It is known as “the sunshine island” and its attractions are neatly spaced along and within its 100 kilometer circumference; just right for brisk rides interspersed with ice cream and beer.
On arrival, John and I rented bikes. I don’t know what we were expecting. What we got were bright taxicab-yellow, welded steel, 7-gear, lumbering beasts with large, padded, uni-sex saddles, clattering tin fenders and chain guards and sturdy rear luggage racks. If John’s beloved “Seven” back at home is a race car, these were well used, ten-ton dump trucks.
On the weather front, we did have expectations. It was early in the season and Lise had warned us to bring rain gear. Bright sunshine greeted us when we arrived, but the clouds soon rolled in, the wind picked up and the rain began to fall.
I looked at our bikes and the weather and wondered if the term “fun” could, in any way, be applied to what we were about to do: grind up wet hills and roads into 20 mile per hour headwinds with our waterproof gear plastered to our skin from sweat and rain.
The answer: Yes. It was hard and it was fun. Orderly fields glistened in the flitting glimpses of blue sky and sun. Waves of grain undulated in the wind. Bright red poppies added pops of color to the sea of green. By the end of the visit I could correctly identify the crops as we rode by: wheat, barley, rye, oats, rape seed, potatoes and grass. We took refuge in the round churches and smokeries and enjoyed our share of just-picked strawberries, soft ice cream and beer. The hills, which were surprisingly long and steep, were just hills. The company, the fresh air, the scenery and yes, the sweat made it all worthwhile.
But, if I am to be totally, 100% honest, it might have been just a touch more fun in the sun on a Seven and a Specialized Roubaix.
One of the round churches