Adoptive resident Helen Russell saddles up and pedals off with the family to explore some of Denmark’s 406 islands.
Think ‘Denmark’ and you may not immediately think of beaches. But while it’s not exactly Baywatch territory, coastal life is an integral part of Danish culture. Denmark is made up of 406 islands (more, even, than Greece – fun quiz fact) and 8 750 km of coastline, so you’re never more than 50 km from the sea, and island-hopping is one of the things Danes love best. I’ve visited a few during my eight years of living Danishly – with favourites including Ærø, off the southern coast of Funen; and Bornholm, off the coast of Sweden. But there are a couple closer to home still on my bucket list – such as the historic Hjarnø and Alrø, near Horsens in Jutland, where I live with my husband and three children. So in a flurry of Viking-style wanderlust, we plan a pilgrimage to visit them. On wheels. In Lycra. Let me explain… Danes are bike-obsessed – there’s a saying that Danes are ‘born on a bike’, and bikes outnumber cars in the capital.
Denmark is notoriously flat, with the highest point just 170 m above sea level, so it’s great for cyclists of all abilities, from the slow and steady (me) to the speedy and/or enthusiastic
(my husband). You can hire bikes everywhere and even borrow them for free at many of Horsens’ attractions and hotels. And so, saddled up, we make our way to Snaptun Harbour to board a ferry for Hjarnø. There’s something about travelling by ferry that makes you feel as though you’re really on holiday – perhaps a hangover from choppy cross-channel trips from Folkestone to Calais growing up.
Boats always inspire nostalgia – and Hjarnø is steeped in the stuff. Inhabited since the Stone Age, tools from the period can still be foundalong the beaches, and it’s an island where time has largely stood still. Legend has it that the island got its name in Viking times when King Hjarne lived there, with Hjarnø meaning ‘of Hjarne’. He married a woman called Alrune and called the neighbouring island Alrø – or ‘of Alrune’ – as a wedding present. I hint that my husband might want to up his gift game: I’m expecting nothing less than his ’n’ hers islands for our next anniversary. We cycle around and take in the green, sparsely populated scenery, including a visit to Hjarnø Church – Denmark’s second smallest, which seats just 20 – before boarding a ‘bicycle ferry’ (also known as an even tinier boat) to Alrø. I won’t lie: It’s choppy. As well as being flat, Denmark is windy and four seasons in one day is a regular thing (pack a mac). Spirits are kept high by passengers marvelling at the fact that my redhead son‘s hair is the same colour as the liberally distributed lifebuoys, plus a decibel level to attract attention.
Eventually, we reach dryish land. We explore the island, spotting colourful local art – such as painted cows, stone carvings and repurposed shop mannequins. Once energy levels start to flag, we head to Café Alrø, a renowned eatery that exclusively serves the traditional Danish dish of tarteletter – a pastry shell filled with a creamy chicken and asparagus sauce. Essentially, it’s a vol-au-vent the size of a human head. Replete and covered with puff-pastry flakes (hair, hands, clothes, everywhere), we roll back onto our bikes and leave the island under a leaden sky.
Feeling pleased with ourselves for circumnavigating two islands in one day, we retire for the night to Jørgensens Hotel in the charming town of Horsens. The 59-room baroque mansion was built as a private residence for the successful merchant Gehrdt de Lichtenberg in 1744, and ‘Lichtenberg’s Palace’, as it was known, was so fancy that Denmark’s King Frederick V apparently stayed the night in 1749.
The hotel still has many distinctive flourishes, from stained-glass windows in the foyer to original frescoes, lovingly restored by Italian artists in 2019 during a complete renovation. We eat in Eydes, the hotel’s restaurant, and gorge on Danish-French cuisine made with local ingredients. Me: sea bass risotto. Him: Iberian black pig. The kids: Lego that we’d brought with us to bribe them into good behaviour, and mouthfuls of fish and chips. Everyone leaves happy and rests up before our next adventure. As well as the island excursions, the region boasts a 61 km nature trail between Horsens and Silkeborg – a route that you can join where you like and take at your own pace. We pedal along the flat, disused railway line, passing ‘The Uncovered Bridge’ – a steel grid built across a river as part of a private railway in 1899, which was hidden in 1925 within a dam structure and forgotten about until 2014. The trail follows the old Bryrup railway to Restaurant Vrads Station, an upmarket bistro deep in the forest, where you can dine in old railway carriages or in the former station house, complete with turn-of-the-century telephone desks and a ticket kiosk.
We eat fried guinea fowl with seasonal greens and beef tartar on retro china, while my Thomas & Friends-loving children lose their minds. Come afternoon, rain calls off our ride (I’m a fair-weather cyclist), so we venture on an unusual outing to Fængslet – the world’s largest prison museum, which turns out to be a highlight of our trip. Walking through the former state penitentiary’s historic buildings, we learn about 153 years of Scandinavian prison life as seen by both inmates and prison personnel, including how Carl August Lorentzen escaped in 1949 by digging a tunnel with the help of a needle and spoon, and how Denmark’s Hell’s Angels were surprisingly house-proud. Glud Museum is another nearby attraction, where you can experience 350 years of Danish history and village life – from mattresses stuffed with seaweed and fishing nets hanging in the rooms of small fishing houses, to the way crofters used to live.
The museum spans the period from 1600 to 1950 – with interesting displays of half-timbered houses and traditional buildings. But here’s the thing: Much of it doesn’t look too different from what we see around us now. Because rural Jutland is a lot like stepping back in time. On our final day, we head to Juelsminde, an idyllic coastal town with a fine, white sandy beach. We eat classic Danish smørrebrød – open-faced sandwiches – at Restaurant Møllers, sampling the customary schnapps from the ‘Snaps Kort’ (‘schnapps menu’) with each mouthful of pickled herring on rye, ‘to help the fish swim’. We try the famous flæskesteg – pork with crackling and red cabbage, and roget laks – smoked salmon.
Afterwards, the brown-and- white checked plastic tablecloths are wiped down for the next sitting (book ahead to avoid disappointment). We walk off our lunch with a stroll around the harbour and eat ice cream at Havnens Café & Isbar, and get chatting to Pernille, the owner, who’s run the cafe for 35 years. She summarises the appeal of holidaying on the coastline and islands of Jutland as being like ‘a simpler holiday from simpler times – and this is what people want right now and are coming back to.’
And that’s it, I realise: It’s a holiday like our grandparents might have enjoyed. A holiday at a different pace and with different priorities to those many of us have become used to. It’s an experience that feels strange at first, but after a while we sink into it and feel calm, centred and refreshed. Stronger, even. Viking style.
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