Day 25: Haderslev to Fockbek | 120km
23 June
We stayed at a lovely campground, and by the time we woke up around 7 am, other cyclists and a few early risers were already out, getting ready for the day. An elderly couple and their terrier had set up foldable chairs and a table outside their camper van, sipping coffee as they eased into the morning. With access to a small communal kitchen, our own morning routine was a lot faster and easier.
Irene prepared the best breakfast I’ve had so far, excluding hotels, using leftovers from our dinner the night before: thick sandwiches packed with salami, hummus, cheese and avocado. We definitely needed that to kickstart our day because we had 120 hilly kilometers and a country border crossing ahead.
As we approached the final 20 kilometers in Denmark before the border, I noticed the architecture starting to change and even the landscapes felt subtly different. The sleek, minimalist Danish houses, known for their clean lines, white walls and large windows, gave way to the darker brick facades of classic German architecture. But the biggest change wasn’t the landscapes themselves, it was the roads weaving through them. The bike paths were excellent, immersing us among towering trees that leaned over the roads, creating a tunnel of green stretching into the horizon.
Exiting country number four on this trip and officially closing the Scandinavian chapter, I couldn’t help but reflect a little. During the first few days, the idea of riding 7,000 km all the way to southern Spain had felt absolutely insane. But now it didn’t seem so crazy anymore. The North Cape already felt impossibly far away, thankfully. If it weren’t for the symbolism of standing atop Europe, I’d definitely recommend the northern islands of Denmark instead, which I’ve absolutely loved exploring over the last few days.
I hadn’t thought much about the Germany chapter of this journey, but Flensburg, the town just across the border, was beautiful. Just a few kilometers after crossing, we biked past a large beach and a stretch of coast where people were out tanning, some, by the looks of it, for the very first time this summer.
We stopped for lunch to rest our legs, and what better way to celebrate crossing into a new country than with a traditional schnitzel and a beer? That’s another lesson I’ve learned on this trip: you have to celebrate the small milestones. The next 60 km in Germany took us through lush, ancient forests and small gravel trails, fun at first but painful after 100+ km. The beaming sun and the many miles in my legs did their job, so I’m about to pass out.