West then south

The decision to use the Store Bælt bridge rather than the ferry to Puttgarden meant we would be seeing more of Denmark than we anticipated. This was pleasing, we have decided that Denmark is definitely one of those places that we would describe as 'civilised' - a usefully vague term applied at random to places where simply wandering about cheers you up. 

If from the point of leaving Møns we were heading for home, then on day one we made meagre progress. The visit to Elmelunde painted church followed by a supermarket stop in Stege ensured it was early afternoon before we crossed the bridge back to Zealand. The route to the Store Bælt bridge that connects Zealand to Fyn meant backtracking north 40kms up the motorway towards Copenhagen before heading west. Denmark may be a small country, but it is essentially an archipelago which makes it less than straightforward to navigate. 

The fact that the Øresund bridge connects Denmark and Sweden and featured in the eponymous Nordic Noir classic means it gets all the attention, however it is not the biggest. The 'Great Store Bridge' at 18kms is considerably longer and the towers of the central span taller. A truly magnificent structure.

If we are talking superlatives the toll should get a special mention too, at £70 not quite as eye watering as the Øresund but still shockingly expensive. 

We found another harbour parking, this time in Fjællebroen on Fyn's south coast; not exactly on our route but it did mean we saw some of the island rather than simply rushing across it on the motorway. Between here and Fyn's main city, Odense the landscape could almost be described as hilly, at least by Danish standards. The villages look like old settlements with timber framed thatched houses. It felt prosperous, 'posh rural' like the Cotswolds or Chilterns. We passed a large white mansion with enormous thatched outbuildings. It was set in a landscaped park complete with a big ornamental lake. Is there still a Danish aristocracy? When we were in Tønder at the beginning of our trip we accidentally stumbled across the grand house belonging to the queen's youngest son, I suppose they have cousins and so on.

There was nothing aristocratic about our overnight stop, Fjællebroen was very much a working fishing harbour, though the motorhome parking, as is usually the case, was situated near the marina.

Next day, before heading back to the motorway we called into the nearby port of Faaborg. It's a very handsome town. We suspected it was quite an up-market place. One surefire sign of swankiness are  strict parking restrictions for motorhomes (they spoil the view). Though there were acres of car parks around the harbour area, every single one banned motorhomes, apart from six designated bays for overnight parking at about £15 per night. We 'borrowed' a spot for an hour or so while we had a look around. The alternative would have been to use Lidl car park on the edge of town.

Surprisingly the ancient square was packed with Corvettes - the classic American muscle car. The Danish owners club was having a get together - both here and in Sweden vintage American cars seem to be a bit of a male menopausal obsession for balding petrol heads.

As I framed a shot of lovingly buffed gleaming metal, momentarily the scene in the viewfinder took on an uncanny resemblance to the opening sequence of La La Land. However, Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone did not leap from their driving seats to dance across the hot tin hoods, instead a slightly morose looking marshall wandered between the spotless Stingrays honking a horn; it was time for the Corvette owners to move on and foist their vintage traffic jam on some other unsuspecting Danish community.

We walked back to the van via a 'røgeri' - a fish smokehouse. Gill bought a small chunk of garlic crusted salmon and a piece of the one topped with nuts. We have had some great smoked salmon and salad lunches while we've been in Scandinavia, back home good quality fish is often  difficult to find.

Back on the motorway our previous suspicions were confirmed, we were definitely attempting to cross Denmark on its equivalent to France's 'black Friday', the moment when the entire nation decides to go on holiday simultaneously. It was only when we hit the first tailback that it struck me how traffic free the roads had been over the past five weeks. Empty roads through beautiful landscapes - definitely one of Scandinavia's charms from a motorhomer's point of view.

Still, we made slow progress along with everyone else towards Jutland, then turned south, back on our old friend the E45 which would take us back to Germany.

We spent our last night in Denmark in a Stellpläts outside Aabenraa's municipal camping. It was another fully automated, contactless card operated site. We are beginning to get the hang of them, though each one has some peculiarity; this one took both of us to operate the exit barrier, if you were a lone traveller I am not sure what you would do.

We seemed to have caught up with Europe's heatwave. At 8pm it was still 31° and very sticky. Next day was the same. After doing a final Danish shopping spree (beer, fish) we continued south. I realised as we crossed into Germany that Denmark was destined to become one of our most loved countries. I felt a pang of sadness as we departed - not everywhere is like that - Spain, Italy, Greece, New Zealand - they are all special places, I never expected Denmark to join them.

On a sticky day the coolest place is in the cab with the air-com turned up, we decided to keep driving until the temperature droppedvin the evening. We made good progress until we reached the ferry across the Elbe at Glückstadt, there was a 1.3km tailback. The queue included a hundred or more cyclists all wearing yellow vests riding yellow bikes. It was a mass charity cycle ride from Norway to Paris. I wonder who thought it would be a really neat idea to flood Paris with a bunch of people wearing yellow vests?

After 40 minutes we managed to squeeze onto the ferry. The wind had been strengthening all afternoon. The Elbe was surprisingly choppy mid-stream.

South of the ferry we navigated our way through a tangle of minor roads aiming to pick up the autobahn at Bremen. We decided that could wait until tomorrow. Gill found a stellpläts in Bremervorde, it was a bit basic but had a service point. Compared to Scandinavia our fellow campers were distinctly anti-social, looking the other way if you passed them, avoiding eye contact. Quite English really.

We called into Aldi in the morning before making a bee line for the A1 to Bremen and Osnabruck. The person at the checkout seemed very dour. You get very used to Danish friendliness, their good humour and easygoing charm. The morning seemed to be conspiring to lower my spirits generally. I missed the small yellow place name sign that signals a change of speed limit from 70kph on the outskirts of villages to 50kph in the centre. The Sat-nav beeped to warn me of my error, I hit the brakes a moment too late, the speed camera flashed as I passed it. No doubt a ticket with a fixed penalty will arrive in due course.

The driving behaviour on the autobahn did nothing to improve my mood either. Trucks are limited to the inside lane on two lane carriageways. We get optimum fuel efficiency at about 55mph, German trucks like to go a bit faster than that, so they tailgate you for a bit then sound their horns to encourage you to hurry up. The outside lane had no speed limit at all. Big Mercs and little Porsches blast by, some cut-in a couple of metres in front of you in some pathetic assertion of testosterone fuelled ego-mania.

Every time we approached a conurbation - Bremen, Osnabruck - road works brought the road to a standstill. Eventually we approached our destination, a stellpläts  in Bad Bentheim. It had good reviews on-line. When we got there most of the parking area was covered in marquees, the access to the service point was blocked and the fee was €9.00, that seemed a tad expensive to be irritated all night by the surroundings

We were a few kilometres from the Dutch border. We decided Germany was not working for us today so hopped country to see if Holland was in a better mood. Despite the Sat-nav's sterling effort to completely confuse us, eventually we found a place in the middle of nowhere near Losser. A sign on the reception announced that it had been voted 2019's best place to to stay in the Netherlands by Campercontacts. It was very neat and tidy, beautifully maintained with excellent if somewhat fussy facilities. The owner came out to greet us, it was a relief to encounter someone friendly and welcoming. It would be fine for a night; the place did feel like a retirement home. Though it had been a relief to arrive, leaving the next morning felt  liberating.

All very organised....

Now we were heading towards an Acsi camp site near Eindhoven, after five one night stops in a row the driver was becoming a bit edgy. At least life in the slow lane of a Dutch motorway was less stressful than the autobahn. The plan was to stop for a couple of nights, do a bit of laundry, clean the van now looking very grubby indeed after 55 days of constant use. 

...and here we at Landschapscamping Dr Graspol, the owner is very friendly. She welcomed us with an espresso and a biscuit, the site is very green, two acres of campsite set in seven left in a natural state.

One field has been developed as a wild flower meadow the size of a prairie. A number of the Dutch owned sites we have stayed across Europe have set great store on their 'eco' credential'. As with anything labelled 'Eco, Bio or as in Scandinavia 'Okological', it is always difficult to work how much is genuinely measurable in terms of reduced environmental impact and what is simply product placement. After all, a flower meadow is no more natural, if it has been planted, than a field of spuds.

Like the last place we stayed  the decor and kitch figurines scattered about the place are a bit too cute for our taste, but the pitches are nicely hedged and it's very peaceful considering its proximity to the motorway and Eindhoven. A great place to stop. I needed to.

I've driven a shade less than 1000kms over five days, it seemed like a simple proposition on paper; no real disasters, but it's been a lot more stressful than I anticipated.