Middelfart for gas

Of course it would utterly juvenile to find it even mildly amusing that the only town where we could find a place to sell us gas in Denmark was called Middelfart. In fact buying GPL in Denmark is not amusing at all; 'myLPG.eu', the online moho Bible for all matters gaseous only lists two places in the entire country where you are able to buy GPL at a forecourt pump. Not that we were in any immediate danger of running out, but with temperatures struggling to reach double figures during the day and dropping close to zero at night, we could well run short before we reached Sweden in a little over a week's time.

As luck would have it one of the two gas stations listed was quite near Ribe at a Motorhome repair place in Jels, less than 30km. distant. We decided to head there, then onwards to an overnight parking place at the marina in Kolding.  All went well, we found the place after only having to backtrack once. The big gas tank and pump were to the left of the garage, exactly as they appeared on 'streetview'. We pulled up, opened the gas cupboard, fitted the disc adapter and awaited an attendant, as instructed on the badly photocopied notice taped to the rusty pump. 

Glaring at the pump as you would a recalcitrant toddler proves equally ineffective

He duly appeared, connected us up and pressed the button. Nothing happened. This did not surprise me as the pump looked like something you might find as a prop in a vintage motor museum. The analogue volume meter appeared to operate by clockwork and the cancel lever on the side was chromium plated, distinctly resembling the boot lid handle from a Morris Minor. Steampunk nostalgia is fine, but not on a pump delivering highly explosive gas.

So  ancient it did not even have an emergency 'stop' button - which was fine, because it didn't work anyway.

Twice the garage man hopped back into the workshop, to check the electrical supply presumably, but it was to no avail, apologising profusely he admitted defeat, and off we went.

One of the reasons why we decided to stop in Kolding is it seemed to be a more typical Danish medium sized town compared to Tønder and Ribe, which both are very much on the tourist trail. Imagine what your view of England would like be if the only places you visited were Dartmouth and Southwold. Dear old blighty airbrushed by Waitrose, or entirely re-imagined as a location for 'Seasalt's' summer catalogue. How could you ever get your head around England without visiting Wetherspoons or Gregg's?

Kolding proved to be a more varied place than where we had stayed hitherto. A mix of old and new - an historic centre, the old streets clustered around 'Koldinghus', the much restored castle and former royal residence.

The outskirts were ringed by high rise public housing blocks, in between some stylish offices - an area of commercial development near the old port. Unlike so many dockside developments this one had not conspired to do away with the shipping entirely. There were still warehouses yet to be converted into bijoux apartments.

A cycle way ran through this area connecting the town with the marina where we had parked the van. As ever in Denmark it was meticulously maintained, litter free and dotted with public utilities - an outdoor gym, a kids play park, a fire pit.

People do seem to like to gather together for a BBQ and a few beers. Public spaces positively encourage it. Though the fire pit was not in use, when we reached the marina one of the communal BBQs was occupied by a group of young guys. They were having a beer or two and music was playing on a sizeable portable hi-fi, but quietly. Denmark exudes calm and tranquility, they party with consideration!

The municipal fire pit!

The marina itself had good facilities, toilets, showers, a small general store, ehu and a service point. It was quite expensive, £160DK (£18.60), paid by credit card at a machine next to the shower block. In order to access the sanitary facilities, the ehu and grey water disposal you needed to use a smart card. This required a 40DK deposit and a top up to pay for the services.

 It seemed a bit of a faff so we used our own facilities. The price seemed a bit steep for just overnight parking. However, we realised before we came that Scandinavia was not going to be a low-cost destination. Time for 'beer o'clock!'

Fur is a small island in North Jutland's Limfjord. It's craft brewery produces great stuff - the bock was truly delicious.

It was a beautiful sunset, but chilly. I pulled on a fleecy and grabbed the DSLR, a proper photo seemed in order rather than just a snap on my phone. The moon looked lovely hanging in the twilight sky above a row of neat tower blocks.

I was very taken with the vision - a utilitarian apotheosis! That felt particularly Danish; the country is proving to be a very pleasing place to be in.

Well, apart from the LPG problem. Further research revealed another rare spot selling gas at Middlefart, a mere 16km distant. We decided to call in there tomorrow before heading northwards.

As luck would have it the following day turned out to be wet and cold, a particularly chunky shower coinciding with our arrival at the gas pump. It was the same venerable model as the previous pump, but in better nick, so at least it worked. I suspect that in Denmark GPL stations are so rare they get somewhat overlooked so far as regulations go.

Neither of the pumps we saw had the usual big red emergency cut-off button on the side, nor were they plastered with multi-lingual health and safety notices that you find elsewhere in Europe. Have we found a small glitch in Denmark's otherwise meticulous social fabric?

Onwards!