Ejerslev Havn- unresolved geological questions

The morning we were due to leave Glyngore we were wandering abound the harbour in search of the motorhome service point when we bumped into 'Pernille'. She greeted us like long lost friends.

 'So, how was your bicycle ride yesterday?' she enquired.

We informed her that the blossom was as spectacular as she had promised. Like many people in Denmark she tends to cycle everywhere and we never saw her without a somewhat venerable 'shopper style bike'. It may have had minuscule wheels but she clocked up the kilometres on it, mentioning in passing that yesterday she rode to Nykøbing. Though you can see the town across the Salling Sund from Glyngore, it is in fact a 25km round trip by road as it's located on the nearby island on Mors.

'So you will be staying here for another night' asserted the ever feisty 'Pernille', always keen to promote the delights of Glyngore. We explained that we needed to press on as we had a ferry to catch in a few days. 

'So where you go now?' she demanded affably. 'Amtoft?' I ventured somewhat uncertainly as places in Denmark are rarely pronounced as a British person would read them. 

No, 'Ey∆√π¥Vhn' is better', the gaggle of locals standing nearby nodded in agreement with our trusty advisor. Clearly 'Ey∆√π¥Vhn' was a must see spot, the problem was how to find it, as its name, pronounced in high speed Danish was unlikely to resemble anything written on our map. In the end we searched on every stellplatz listed nearby looking for one beginning with the letters 'e' or 'i'. There was only one; 'Ey∆√π¥Vhn' had to be 'Ejerslev Havn' a small harbour towards the northern tip of Mors. So that's where we headed

It was a great drive. The islets and inlets of the Limfjord are very beautiful and peaceful. It seems little frequented, and the entire area doesn't even get a mention in our Lonely Planet guidebook. The countryside as well as the coastline is lovely, rolling farmland dotted with straggling hamlets. It manages that trick of being epic and intimate simultaneously, big skies, small settlements - some English landscapes are like this too - the Cotswolds, Suffolk, the vale of York.

The last 3km to Ejerslev Havn was down a single track road. The ditch on both sides was separated from the metalled track by a loose gravelled verge. It was a tight squeeze when faced with oncoming traffic, luckily it wasn't busy.

The stellplatz was a similar set up to the ones we'd used over the past few nights, a few dedicated motorhome parking places set up next to the marina sharing its shower and toilet block.

Here you paid the fee at the quayside restaurant - 140DK (£16), it seems to be the going rate. I think it's fair enough given it includes ehu and use of the marina facilities. Each place has some unique feature, in this case the world's most scenically positioned chemical toilet emptying point.

Much to Gill's delight not only was Ejerslev Havn picturesque it also was geologically intriguing. The cliffs across the bay were spectacularly folded, the strata creating a wavy pattern. This in itself is hardly unusual, but the bed rock was a mix of chalks and clays yet the kind of disturbed stratification hereabouts looked more typical of a place subjected to vulcanism. Gill was keen to point out that there was no other evidence locally to indicate past volcanic activity. We took a wander to investigate further.

In fact, closer inspection deepened the mystery. Beneath the cliffs, cut off from the sea by a natural narrow causeway was a shallow freshwater lagoon running inland for half a kilometre or so. A footpath ran around its rim. Was it a man-made feature - the result of quarrying, or a natural occurrence? It was difficult to tell.

Whatever the origin it was very beautiful. On the sunniest slope the steep hill was covered in flowers, a mix of purple and pink lupins and swathes of yellow flowers, some wild, but most 'escaped' rape florets from nearby farmland.

As we completed our circuit of the lagoon the geological questions remained unresolved, Gill picked some stones up from the foot of the cliff. The material was crumbly, part chalk, part clay. Mixed in with it as you might expect were a few flints, but what were the reddish deposits and why were there lines of what looked like ash running through the rocks? "I am going to have to find out more on-line about the geology of North Jutland," Gill mused.

Back to the van, time to have something to eat. Beer o'clock' came and went, Gill rustled up a meal, I washed up, we consulted the road atlases to work out the quickest way to Skagen, then suddenly we noticed the light was fading. The sky went pink. I hopped out of the van, took a stack of photos with the DSLR, none which truly captured the sunset shades.

Another day slipped away., but a memorable one. Glyngore's fairy godmother was right, as I suppose they always are. 'You must go to Ejerslev Havn,' she said. And yes, you should.

Next morning it was time to head towards our last stopping place in Denmark, Skagen, at the very top of Jutland. First we needed to get off the island of Mors. Gill found a ferry at the northern tip which would save having to double back to bridge near Nyköbing. It was marked with a thin red line on our map - for light vehicles only - I presumed at 3800kg the moho would be fine, the boat looked quite big when I checked its photo on Google maps. 

The size of the ferry became a topic of conversation with our next door neighbours. Probably ok for us, but their van was an all terrain 12 ton monster built on a raised axle Mercedes truck chassis. In the past I have been quite rude on the blog about people who aspire to these, calling them 'Bear Grillis wannabes', and suggesting the need to own one probably stems from male menopausal anxieties that drives others to purchase a Ferrari or run off with their secretary.

Like all prejudices they only work until confronted with the facts. The owner of the monster truck next door was a really mild mannered, pleasant German chap who had the truck because he and his lady were genuine adventurers and had travelled in it to the wilds of Alaska and the remote Andes in Chile and Argentina. We swapped stories about wild camping in the Peloponnese - it was a salutary lesson in why you should not judge people on appearances, which, admittedly is something I am prone to do.

We left Ejerslev Havn moments after our neighbours. He was waiting for the ferry when we arrived. It was no problem, there was plenty of room for both vans. The ferry had just left so we had a 15 minute wait for its return.

There was an excellent information board beside the dock. Lots of information about the unique geology of the area which solved Gill's questions from yesterday. The chalk and clay bedrock had been laid down 55 million years ago when the area formed in a warm subtropical sea. Many significant fossils have been collected locally. The extreme folding in the rock was the result of massive glaciers 'bulldozing' the soft chalk deposits. The grey ash and reddish marking in the rocks reflected the influence of ancient volcanic eruptions in Norway. So now we knew!

Into the bargain we also learned that the original story behind Shakespeare's Hamlet is based on a folktale from Mor.

Sometimes it seems the smaller the place the bigger story it has to tell.