31st May 2018 The strategy for survival.

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Thursday 31st 65-75F, 18-24C, bright and breezy again but with a slightly milky sky. I woke with awful tinnitus in my left ear.

I was just reading about a medical report on the benefits of exercise on mental ability and agility into old age. I can't help thinking that riding quickly on an upright trike really helped my brain to stay active. The constant attention required to stay upright in all road surface and traffic conditions must have been pushing my CPU to the limit a lot of the time.

Every corner and camber has to be carefully judged just to survive. One's precise balance is vital to avoiding an embarrassing topple into the shrubbery or under the wheels of a juggernaut. Keeping a wary eye all around you sharpens all the senses. Avoiding endless road obstructions, potholes, farmer's mud and gravel seriously hones one's reaction time.


I also remained physically and mentally active on numerous fronts as a I worked on my various unrelated projects. As usual, I bored my online audience with endless detail as to my thought processes in achieving success. I climbed ladders, walked steep fire tracks and lifted and carried heavy weights. All the while designing and building my weird "stuff."

Collecting odd items together to form a useful object was a complex puzzle to make it happen. Constant iteration, as improvements are discovered and implemented, exercises the remaining brain cells wonderfully. It was all imagination and assembly in my head because I rarely draw anything these days.
 
I deliberately used blogging and forum participation from early on when I started tricycling seriously once again. At 63 and my job exported to China, I needed every possible tactic if I was not to descend into depression, anger, obesity and sloth. Tricyling quickly, over increasing distances, demanded attention to finding clothing and equipment to cope with the often wet and wintry conditions. Regular readers will remember my snow scenes as I rode in blizzards and inches of lying snow.

I would seek work by tricycling to factories and workshops in distant industrial estates or down forgotten lanes. Naturally this demanded an ever wider radius of research as I quickly wore out the "low hanging fruit" of potential local employers. This was deep in the recession and businesses were closing down everywhere. The industrial estates were barely ticking over as huge plots turned to grass and then weeds. Countless builders went broke as house sales collapsed overnight and stayed completely stagnant. "For Sale" signs faded to illegibility, as the years slowly passed.

Suffering regular agony is a great spur to improvement of the mechanics, method and dress of  cycling. If only to help to reduce the intense pain. Photography and blogging soon became a serious part of my strategy for survival. Further arrows to my recycled quiver.

The mechanics of tricycling became an obsession and drove me to improve what I had on a tight budget to increase my range with less effort. I used tricycling to improve my tricycle and wardrobe by riding to ever more distant recycling yards and charity shops. Where bits of bikes could be regularly found for a pittance. Some charity shops seemed to stock suitable cycling wear as racing jersey, hand-me-downs to this very grateful cyclist. 

All the while I grew steadily fitter. Fifty mile rides became manageable without exhaustion. Though for the first two-three years my legs were in constant pain. They felt tense all the time as my weight dropped steadily to skin and bone. I was regularly accosted outside supermarkets by car owners who had [disbelievingly] seen me many miles from home.

I covered most of the island of Fyn as I explored my range and endurance. I would choose to ride the other side of the island to photograph an old building, windmill or place of interest. Or to seek work of course. Until, finally, after two years of job seeking and utterly pointless courses, I was discarded as pensionable fodder to be left to my own devices.

Being the only tricycling clown, with very limited Danish skills, did not make me obviously employable material. My age meant they'd only get  couple of years maximum for investing in my presence. Most of my potential skills still lay in my head and in English. Most likely employers of the linguistically handicapped, elderly AND largely unskilled were downsizing or about to close down. I had no real potential for office work. Why would anyone employ an elderly 'foreigner' when there were endless queues of Danes at every Job Center being harassed by hand picked sociopaths?

The island of Fyn is a bit of a 'baking potato' in shape. With projecting spurs around the edges. It is the perfect size for a fairly fit cyclist at forty miles x forty miles by Google Earth's infinitely straight ruler. Fifty miles if you take the wrong diagonal line. My situation at quite a bit left and quite a bit down offered other diagonals for potentially longer rides. The southwesterly winds often made returning home much harder work than escaping to distant, easterly shores.

I occasionally escaped the island altogether to poke around in Jylland. Which itself was always twenty miles away, as the Google crow flies. This was often the substance of further admiration from motorists who stopped to talk about my exploits outside local supermarkets. Many of those who spoke seemed slightly disappointed that I was neither handicapped nor even Danish. I allowed myself the excuse that I was merely an eccentric Englishman.

Buying the daily shopping, entirely by trike, was yet another successful strategy for survival. Not just the savings from not buying petrol.  I used it as another excuse for a ride and still felt horribly empty when I was not allowed out. Usually that was only due to weather too extreme even for an obsessive tricyclist with two wheel drive. One year I rode every single day bar 16. Most would call that an addiction.

Of course every outward ride had to be repeated just to get back home. I did a few eighty mile rides but struggled to exceed eighty five. My average speed usually lay in the region of 12-13mph. You do the maths. Seven or eight hour rides, always pushing hard, demands far more self-discipline than I could usually muster. I would often not eat or drink anything at all, all day after leaving home. Hours would usually pass without so much as a sip of water. Of course I would normally have been enjoying meals at home. So I was doubly in debt for energy and 'lubrication' despite the hours of constant hard exercise.

Only towards the end of my tricycling obsession did I begin to take food and drink with me. Though I never really enjoyed it. I would often get indigestion. Which was much worse than eating or drinking. Even if my fasting caused extreme tiredness or even complete exhaustion towards the end of my longer rides.  It was very foolish and not to be recommended but I never did find any foods I enjoyed.

I would sometimes take a mature cheddar sandwich on whole grain bread and an organic banana. No chocolate bar, biscuits or sweets ever appealed beyond the first trial or two. Perhaps a single digestive at lunch time, but it was hard to force it down without a proper drink. [Tea or coffee.] I occasionally drank tiny boxes of pure apple juice. Provided I actually remembered to drink it. When I should probably have been consuming several pints of water per hour given my energy consumption in warmer weather.

Energy replenishment was totally non-existent and I looked like a POW inmate when I took my top off. Except for the weird cyclist's legs and even stranger, patchy, cyclist's extremities tan. My weight loss helped my climbing ability no end. Even as I rapidly approached 70 I would still chase every cyclist I saw up ahead. Always completely regardless of my shopping load and the extra weight of the trike and its Abus Mini-U-Dreadnought Class, Battleship Anchor.

I once overtook a gaggle of racing cyclists out training on a horribly steep hill. It took a fit young girl on a carbon lightweight to sprint past me at the top to save the group's pride. I was carrying the usual spuds and milk in the layers of recycled sports bags lying on top of the stuffed full, Carradice saddle bag. Sometimes I would catch a peloton of serious cyclists out training and would tack on the back for a few miles.

Then I invented walking, every single morning, to compensate for not having a ride some days. It became another unbreakable habit and allowed me to reduce my dependence on tricycling. I don't write all this to impress anybody, including myself. Only to inspire others to break their chains to the sofa, Netflix and mindless food consumption.

I was over 13 stone when I started tricycling again at 63 and incredibly unfit. I was racked by hip and shoulder pain and would sometimes be paralyzed to the spot. I had no more chance of reaching my feet to put on my shoes than I could fly. When I started I could not ride 3 miles around the rural block without needing to a half hour lie down. Eight years later I'm not and I can but don't need to lie down any more.

Late morning ride for 7 miles. Headwind going. Tailwind coming home. I could see an overweight, middle aged woman pedaling up ahead. Try as I might I could not catch her. I had to crank it up to 20mph for over half a mile to make any impression. I finally swept past as she seemed to flag.  No sign of a battery or motor. Superpowers? Human pity?  😎

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28th May 2018 Bullshit spreading season.

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Monday 28th 62-74F, 17-23C, some cloud with thundery showers possible. The first rain for ages may soon be forgotten by Wednesday. With a return to dry and even warmer weather. I have a painful knee. Which I first noticed while climbing out of the saddle. 

It is reported that Danish car salesmen are deliberately [and corruptly] turning people away from buying electric cars. Simultaneously, Danish businesses are publicly asking the government to cut the crippling import taxes on electric cars. This would allow them to buy fleets of greener transport for carrying their staff and products. 

And, no, Denmark is not run by a diminutive Trump. His hair is nothing like Trumps. It's just the price of electing a right wing government with zero interest in AGW and the environment. Denmark has a vast wind powered capacity. Which only makes economic sense with storage. Guess what? Charging car batteries is free storage. Charging fleets of electric cars is even more serious storage. Having large numbers of electric cars in private ownership on the roads of Denmark makes very serious sense from a storage point of view. It saves giving away electricity to the European Grid every time there's [cough] too much wind.

The innocent citizen pays for the electricity they store in their own electric car battery. Plus the eighteen [cough] environmental taxes on taxes on every single Watt. Well, somebody has to pay for the fleet of noisy US fighter jets as tiny Denmark takes on the Russian threat single handedly. How else is the PM to become the next NATO Boss? Don't answer that.

Meanwhile , the villages, towns, cities and major routes throughout Denmark have dangerous [i.e. illegal] particulate pollution levels from diesel lorries and cars. Remember "environmentally friendly" diesels with deliberately reduced prices [taxes] at the pumps? 

Electric vehicles would seriously reduce transport pollution. Leading to better lives, much quieter roads for countless millions and much lower health risks. But that would be against the ethics of the right wing AGW lemmings. Elected only to end the socialist's open immigration policies. Except, that the lemmings saw their election as a mandate for ripping up all previous environmental legislation, research and monitoring. 

The latest in a long line of [cough] environmental ministers has just left his weekend job on the gravy train. Boosted by a raft of successful reductions in the "crippling" financial scourge on Danish farmers. By allowing them to actively pour poisons directly into streams and around the coasts of Denmark. His former staff are being moved out of Copenhagen to the Rest of Denmark. With the result that many highly qualified and experienced staff leave. Or can no longer manage their workload. Well, that's one way of closing down a politically unwanted ministry in all but name.

Like most countries, Denmark doesn't even come close to the bullshit promises they made at the AGW banquet summit in Copenhagen. That doesn't stop the PM from hosting yet another banquet summit meeting to discuss more bullshit promises. To do nothing more than arrange yet another banquet whatever.

Quite breezy on my walk with skylarks climbing to a couple of hundred feet. I thought I saw a lorry whose driver did NOT have an active mobile phone super-gluing his hand to his ear. I soon recovered from the shock when I realised that I must simply have imagined it. Just another senior moment. No ride today.

Tuesday 29th 61-76F, 16-25C, breezy start with heavy cloud after a night of thunder and torrential rain. We've had a cloudburst already this morning. Expected to clear up later with more sunshine. So I'm still hoping for a ride. Did heavy shopping in the car instead. Warmest day this year.

Wednesday 30th 68-80F, 20-27C, bright and breezy. May is already the sunniest in Danish history as well as the warmest in the 140 years since records began. A modest walk in a warm breeze. After that it just kept getting hotter. Peaking out at 80F, 27C. No ride today.

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Monday 21st May: Meals on wheels?

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Monday 21st 55F, 13C, Bank Holiday, bright with a milky sky and light winds. My email service is broken. No server contact.

It is reported that the mountain lion/cougar which killed a US mountain biker was emaciated. No doubt previous mountain bikers had disturbed its normal prey and feeding habits. Bikers make constant inroads into wildlife habitats without thought of consequence. Do my own wanderings severely affect the wildlife as hares and deer dash off on my approach?

Tuesday 22nd 62-68F, 17-20C, bright and breezy with plates of small, fluffy clouds. I walked to the village in cool sunshine until it really broke through. Disturbed two hares sunbathing in a spray track beside the road. A Red kite went over, soaring across the wind with only occasional wing beats. You could have laid a ruler across its wings they were so perfectly straight. Only its wing tip fingers spoilt the line. A Siskin was sitting on a rock beside the road on the way back. It kept opening its beak to make a silent call.  Very pretty it was too as I stepped closer at intervals. Only when a noisy van sped past did it finally take fright. No ride today.

Wednesday 23rd 60-74F, another sunny day with light winds. Early ride to the shops returning heavily laden. Then had to go back again. Quarter of an hour for 3 miles each way trying hard. I don't think Sagan has much to worry about. 14 miles in total.

Thursday 24th 68-73F, 17-23C at 8.30m with more unbroken sunshine promised. More wind today up to 12m/s or about 25mph. I have another ride to do N-S-N. Should should have a crosswind. The wind was already roaring in my ears on my walk. A bird of prey was being harassed by a crow but they were moving away rapidly downwind. Did I mention the wind? ;-)

Late morning ride with a strong crosswind, going well and averaging 14mph.  Coming home felt more like a headwind and much harder work! The countryside looks like endless green lawn at the moment. 14 miles again.

May is set to end on an average temperature of 14.8C. A full degree above the previous record of 1889. The farmers are worried about a drought now! Though it doesn't stop them from spraying and muck spreading.

Friday 25th 63F, 17C, bright, breezy and sunny again. I walked past the marsh in deep grass. Only a couple of cormorants and mallards on the pond. My head exploded further on as I brushed through head high grass. Fortunately the sneezing soon stopped as I escaped from the woods.

The crops are progressing rapidly now. With the fields all changing colour as the grain ripens. Wafts of childhood memories of the local brewery surfaced from the nearby crops. The oil seed rape has mostly gone over now. As have the vast numbers of dandelions. The wind having stripped away the countless seed 'clocks.'

Saturday 26th 64-74F, 18-24C, promised to be even warmer today. Thundery showers are expected east of here. Sunshine and more sunshine. A bit of an easterly breeze today. My walk was punctuated by a dead wood pigeon, a large dead rat, several moles and a small dead  mouse. There are losses even in a time of plenty.

I haven't mentioned that the B17 saddle was a huge improvement over the Vetta. Late morning ride to more distant shops via a hilly route along the rural lanes. Headwind going but became more benign on my return. A few chaps out training including a Cervelo triathlon/TT. I had a few strange looks from some riders. I can't imagine why. Perhaps it was my near 100rpm cadence and "proper" kit while riding an upright trike at 20mph on the flat? Rare as hen's teeth, I am. 20 miles.

Sunday 27th 66F, 19C, sky rather milky with lots of high cloud. Slight breeze. Empty promises of rain from the DMI are making The Head Gardener hot and bothered. We might have to drop a pump into the garden pond to share a bit of precious H2O with her flowers. The Danish fire brigade is fed up with sightseers at their heath fire battles. The wind had really picked up by the time I returned from my walk. Already 70F at 10am, though it feels warmer than  that. Probably higher humidity.

It ended with torrential rain in the late afternoon. I was working outside and had to rush round bringing in tools. The "stair rods" downpour continued for quite a while. I had to go out and rescue something, in a slight lull. To find over an inch of standing water still on the ground. Tremendous it was!

Click on any image for an enlargement.

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20th May 2018 Not YOUR pig!!

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Sunday 20th 60-70F, 15-21C, sunny, with light winds [again.]

Swapped the Vetta back to the B17 "Special" saddle. The new DHB shorts were clinging like glue to the 'sweaty' vinyl of the Vetta yesterday. Vinyl is obviously only a winter-friendly saddle material. Just finding somewhere reasonably flat is a major hurdle on our undulating "back yard" parking area. I had to drag the trike, kicking and screaming into the shed, just to get the saddle level.

A bit more tension helped the cause. I have two Brooks, nose tension adjustment spanners. One arrived very badly made by completely knackered tooling in a completely knackered press. The other is much smarter in the split ring department but doesn't fit! I use the worn out one which fits the Brooks tension hex without a struggle.

How often do you need to tension a saddle anyway? Imagine the millions of Brooks tension spanners just sitting there waiting to be used. I used an open ended spanner for most of my cycling life. There really isn't much room in there so I ground the spanner head away. A modified, slotted, ring spanner would have been much better but why ruin a decent spanner for such occasional use?

Talking of appropriate technology: I was just scanning an article online about the Amish and their 1850's view of technology. Their argument is that not all technology is beneficial and should be considered and assessed before early adoption. They believe that some technology can be dangerous and antisocial. Like cars, for example. Cars kill huge numbers of people. Usually because of the deluded idiots behind the steering wheel. I'd argue that cars are also largely responsible for the complete breakdown of society.

For example: It would be highly inconvenient to give a lift to a neighbour on their every whim. They might want to go somewhere the owner would rather not. The neighbour might be "undomesticated" in many respects. Or want to take the extended family along to the detriment of the car owner and his vehicle.

Not to mention the expense in fuel, maintenance and cleaning. Most car journeys are turnkey events without thought or preparation. So the car splits the neighbours apart rather than bringing them closer together. A horse and buggy require regular maintenance, care and feeding. So asking for a lift means you have to weigh the burden of this favour on the owner and all the preparation required. The buggy journey is not usually over before it has begun, as it is in a car. Is it really worth the effort of driving the neighbour's horse and cart, the short journey into town, just to buy more sweets, cola or a takeaway?

You can't easily cadge a lift on a bicycle unless you are young, slim and pretty. Nor expect offers of help, via a piggy-back, with a journey when both parties are walking. Few would physically carry the luggage of a neighbour who was simply going on holiday. Nor would they offer to carry their pig to market in their arms. Nor a severed limb and its owner to hospital.

I think you can see where this is going. There are countless, completely thoughtless users and abusers in this world. Keeping them at a comfortable arm's length, as neighbours, works for most people. The intimacy of sharing your car with a neighbour, or anybody else, provides far too many problems. The etiquette of refusing a lift can easily lead to a minefield. Such parasites often turn nasty if they think themselves "entitled." As so many do. Don't even ask if a refusal may cause personal offense.

On the subject of technology: Mobile phones are beginning to kill and maim more people than the car. Many young people are now suffering from near-sightedness from staring at tiny text for their every waking moment. Next comes the agonizing neck and back pain from looking straight down all the time.

I'm looking forward to the shock of a class action against the trillionaire, technology despots as literally tens of millions will require major neck operations from their profiteering from i-phoney abuse. Then there's the awful toll on society of all the anonymous, sociopathic trolls and online bullies undermining so many innocent lives. People can no longer talk face to face. As they never learn [or lose] the subtle abilities of direct human communication without the aid of technology.

Technology is always a double-edged sword. A mixed blessing or a curse. It often makes people lazy. Which often requires copious exercise and endless dieting. The planet would have been far better off without chain saws. The car rid us of the ultimate convenience of the local corner shop. It stripped villages of the convenience of a post office, grocer, bank and all the other vital necessities. While simultaneously impoverishing the life experience and social life. While further denying the poor and pensioners easy access to the distant, out of town mall.

If radio informed, educated and honed the human imagination. Then TV made them couch slaves to mindless, puerile crap. While all TV advertising is aimed squarely at the "educationally challenged." Who else could possibly find any interest in 99.999% of what appears on "our" screens?

Computers were much harder work , at first. It required some effort to make use of the new technology. I was hooked the moment I could write "FUCK" on the tiny B&W TV attached to a ZX81 with its truly awful keyboard. After two decades of passive BBC tripe my new found freedom was far more intoxicating than whatever fix drugs or booze might have promised. Everything which followed was more about getting obscenely rich and exploiting the masses. Than providing a benign aid or service to humanity.

Inappropriate technology always brings problems. Or, as the Irish are supposedly fond of saying: I really wouldn't start from here!

No ride today. That didn't stop an elgant glider entertaining us in the afternoon. A kite/parachute arrived later at several thousand feet with the pilot lying prone in their "sleeping bag." Heaven knows how an un-powered kite could get so high unless the glider tow had given them a helping hand. Perhaps the parachutist had base jumped from the 1000' TV mast? The wind had picked up by then. So they were heading rapidly for the North Sea despite repeatedly facing east in an attempt to fly "backwards" and then spiral to try and lose height. We must pray they don't become a martyr to thermals and run out of oxygen!

My apologies for the "cross dressing" blog post from another dimension. And thank you to the eagle-eyed reader who spotted my "senior moment" and raised the alarm. I'm blaming Google. They constantly swap back and forth between blogs while I'm editing. Almost very time I click on New Post they shift between my various blogs. It's no wonder they removed "Don't be evil" as their motto. Now their blog standards have fallen again without apparent logic or even the most basic, human intelligence on their part.

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18th May 2018 Dandelions to the right of them, dandelions to the left..

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Friday 18th 60F, 15C, bright sunshine and hardly any wind. Walked to the marsh. The Red-necked grebe dived as I approached the pond and never visibly surfaced again. A couple of mallards kept a safe distance on the far side.

On, up through the firebreaks in the forest and then out across a field by the bare spray tracks. That was a mistake. A tractor with a huge sprayer arrived over the brow of the humped field. I beat a hasty retreat along the edge of the field. Wounding myself with brambles and nettles as I went. No ride today.

Saturday 19th 54F, 12C, light winds, cooler and overcast. Yesterday's promised thundery showers never happened. The same is forecast for today but I'm hoping for a Saturday shopping ride to a slightly more distant village. I'm often the only one cycling on the new [but still unfinished] cycle lanes. Most are just white lines on a narrowed, bumpy and tarmacked verge.

Protective roadside kerb stones are only being used within the villages. So roadside houses now have somewhere to park. On the cycle path! Remember Jante's Law! [Huske loven!] Which roughly translates to: You can't teach a Danish, village idiot anything because he already knows everything worth knowing. Any attempt to 'improve' them will be a waste of time.

There are still incomplete stretches of cycle lane with drainage work. The construction traffic is leaving masses of mud and large, up to golf ball sized, flint gravel strewn generously for miles. Roadside households are still letting their overfull, gravel drives flow, like terminal moraines, over the new cycle lanes and paths. Just as they did before, with the unmarked roads.

One old idiot still comes out with a ride-on tractor dragging a rake behind along a considerable stretch of roadside gravel. Which leaves the new lanes literally covered in decorative stone confetti. Give an old man a bit of power... He wouldn't bother if he had to use a hand rake. Certainly not for all his roadside neighbours as well!

Walked to the village as swallows whizzed overhead, skylarks did their thing and all the rest added to the background soundscape. Checked my tyres before I left. They felt rock hard to my thumb but were only around 40psi. Out with the track pump and they soon were, really, rock hard at 90PSI. Rattled my teeth to the shops with a head-crosswind. Easier coming back despite the added load of shopping. Only 15 miles in warm sunshine.

Click on any image for an enlargement.

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17th May 2018 Rant, rant!

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Thursday 17th 50-68F, 10-20C, light breeze clearing to sunshine. A little cooler today. The Head Gardener was going to send me to the shops early but it fell through. So I walked briskly to the village and back.

Just one kerb-stone protected, completely blind corner amongst many. Marked by countless vehicles literally climbing up the apex. What chance would any pedestrian have if they were walking around this corner? As I do most mornings. For scale, the corrugated blocks are about 2' long and set at 45°. The top tyre mark is a foot above the road surface!

It would only cause confusion if I simply said I had walked to the village. You'd have no idea if I returned safely. Not always a guaranteed result given the twisting route and the major lack of driving skills.

What do you say or when you see yet another lorry driver welded to his mobile phone? As his vast, intercontinental, 40 foot container, 7-axle lorry is on completely the wrong side of a twisting road. One with literally miles of unbroken, double white lines. [Double yellow lines if this were in the US.] 

Answer: You say and do nothing. To clearly identify the raving lunatic. Driving such a large an dangerous vehicle so badly, while on the 'phone. Would be to court a far higher sanction than the culprit would ever receive for such potentially lethal behaviour.

Walk down the high street swinging a baseball bat and you seriously risk being shot by the police. Drive a 40 ton truck past the village schools and shops with literally one hand, everywhere you go, and you get off Scot free. 

Welcome to the alternative reality of driving. Where the absolute right to freedom of movement exceeds the right of innocent children to survive. All in the interests of economy of transport. What would be the cost of a simple speed bump at each end of the shopping high street? Or outside every school? 

One village had a gentle hump to remind drivers to slow down for the 50kph [30mph] speed limit. The hump was eventually dug up and flattened. Probably because the council had to pay some lunatic compensation after he smashed his sump by driving over it at 100mph. Despite its very gentle contours the hump was always heavily scarred and already well within the speed limit signs.

The school is only a couple of hundred yards further the village entrance. Hundreds of children swarm out mid-afternoon onto the pavements, gathering around bus stops, riding their bikes or crossing the busy road without any protection.

Not even a traffic island to provide a midway refuge for children crossing the road. The road past the school is wide and perfectly straight. I'll leave you to guess the average speed there.

Late morning ride to the shops. Only 7 miles. Going well again.

Click on any image for an enlargement.

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16th May 2018 Sensory overload.

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Wednesday 16th 60F, 15C, overcast with a light breeze. Walked to the woods via the marsh as the sky slowly cleared to spotty clouds. A solitary Red-necked grebe, with a pale forehead and black eye stripes, kept diving and reappearing on the big marsh pond.

They are supposed to have black foreheads so I can't explain this oddity unless it was something else altogether. Fortunately it seemed quite unmoved by my presence as I stared at it through my binoculars for several minutes carefully memorizing its plumage. Other than that, I could see only a pair of Coots. Not even a single Mallard or Heron today. Back when it was still cold, there were many hundreds of immature mallards on this small lake.

I have mentioned this before but it is amazing how crops, only a couple of feet high, can alter the gently rolling, Danish landscape. Add the summer foliage on the trees and the vistas can change completely. As hedges are cut down and regrow the apparent isolation of protected skyline trees changes with the seasons. The light changes constantly on the shining crops. As clouds throw their shadows and a breeze sends silent waves racing across hill and vale.

I am extremely lucky to have such a range of easily walkable routes in the gorgeous countryside right outside my door. I can usually return with an hour and half after enjoying the woods and fields. It almost make me resent the inevitable walk along the busy road in either direction before I can take any of my safe exits. Even reversing the direction of travel, from clockwise to anticlockwise, alters my appreciation of everything I see.

Almost every tree and bush seems to house a songbird at this time of year. With a cuckoo softly filling in the background. It is fortunate that my increasing deafness has not yet robbed me of being able to hear the birds.

Though I grow steadily more afraid of not hearing cars taking the completely blind corners [badly] at high speed. So many of them clip the apex that I have no chance to jump up the bank or dive into impenetrable weeds.I have taken to walking a yard from the verge to give then and myself a chance to escape. Some corners have sloping concrete blocks to protect the edge from tyre erosion. Seeing hundreds of black tyre marks a foot or more above the asphalt doesn't exactly fill me with confidence!

Danish police caught 15,000 drivers speeding IN ONLY ONE WEEK. That is 6,000 more than one month earlier, again, in only one week.

Police officers, on duty, in unmarked cars, may not speed either. An officer, on duty, was fined £100 equivalent for driving at 56kph in a 50kph [30mph] limit. He claimed that he was confirming a driver, whom he was following in his unmarked police car, was not wearing a seat belt.

The police officers federation is now banning any officer from speeding in the course of their duty in unmarked cars. This in protest at the impossibility of doing their work without the risk of being fined for doing so. The court argued that the police officer should have engaged his siren and blue flashing lights before increasing his speed above the local speed limit. At least, this is my understanding from scanning the story in Danish.

Click on any image for an enlargement.

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14th May 2018 Sun + RSI = Bandanna. QED.

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Monday 14th 61-75F, 16-24C, bright and breezy again. Will it never end? We have been having the most amazing run of good weather. "Good" being dependent on one's point of view. I find it too warm to work out of doors in unfettered sunshine.

A decent range of pith helmets is no longer available at the village Co-op. So I have been [reluctantly] relying on a battered and sun bleached baseball cap. This provides some protection from being dazzled but is far warmer over my swollen cranium than I would have liked. This may well explain some of the problems they have in the USA where, I hear, they are much approved of. [Baseball caps, that is, not swollen heads.]

The constant application of thick sun screen is very wearing and can easily lead to RSI. [Repetitive Strain Injury] Meanwhile, The Head Gardener informs me that my neck has taken on the appearance of a sunburnt rhino. Since I have no eyes in the back of my head I must [unfortunately] indulge her on this matter. 

So I am now forced to wear a gypsy/cowboy-style bandanna. The struggle begins after slapping on the recommended two tablespoons of sun blocking grease. An unlikely combination which is not immediately providing the supposedly desirable pallor of "pale and interesting." But rather confirms me as a Red Neck. In all but manners and politics and even then...

My skill at performing an efficient reef knot, in front of the mirror, is not improving with my sun-inflamed temper! The Head Gardner denies all responsibility for 'kerchief tying as it is not listed under "Official Domestic Chores."

Quite naturally I have fully investigated its unexpected absence but must, belatedly, concede her point. I do admit, though, to having been quite tempted by a well-thumbed copy of "The Compendium of Additional Household Chores" on eBay. Then decided the modest purchase price of this early edition might well have robbed me of later additions to The List.

For outdoor use in such extreme weather, as this, I have always rather favoured a wide brimmed, ventilated [i.e. perforated] Mexican style sun hat. But sadly, have never been able to find a sombrero of suitable girth. Were I prone to holidaying in the popular, but much less favourable, European getaway spots I might have secured an XXL and lived happily ever after.

Alas, most of my extremities seem to exceed the [adjusted] norm. I have much the same problem in finding decent gloves. Don't even get me started on socks! I often think one of those weapons grade, exo-skeletons would help me to don my huge walking boots for my habitual, morning stroll. Alas, I was born well before my time, despite rumours of my early reluctance to join the world as we know it.

My walk to the village was unremarkable save for the number of Marsh warblers competing vigorously with the traffic noise. Though even that was muted in comparison with most, "normal," working days around here. There was a small mallard drake skulking on the far edge of the church pond. It was obvious he wasn't taking his decorative responsibilities seriously. Nearby, several ducks were messing about in a mud bath from a former winter flooding event. I just hope the mud does not bake hard in the heat of the midday sun! When even Jamie Oliver would struggle to make a meal of it.

Afternoon ride as it reached a cloud-free 75F. Whew! Only 7 miles returning laden with a tailwind.

Tuesday 15th 60-74F, 15-23C, bright and breezy, again. Walked to the far woods. A Marsh harrier was circling overhead while looking for breakfast. It was still hunting an hour and a half later on my return. A willow warbler was singing on the very top twig of a roadside tree. Two hares were sitting back to back, like book ends, out on a large, almost bare field.

I have discovered the driving etiquette for illegally overtaking on double white lines. As occurs when a pedestrian cannot see the high speed approach from behind on the "wrong" side of the road. One toots the horn to alert the pedestrian who is walking [as usual] to face the approaching traffic on his own side of the road. So now I know. The psychopath's need is always greater than everyone else's. Already 70F at 10.30am but with a pleasant breeze. Too busy for a ride today as it reached another boiling hot 74F by mid-afternoon.

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9th May 2018 Thick and proud of it.

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Wednesday 9th 63-74F, 17-23C,  bright and clear and warming rapidly again. A bit of a breeze moving the trees. The spring heatwave continues. I'm off to enjoy the spring before it gets too hot. Not much to report apart from the birds, butterflies and the fresh green trees. 71F at 10am.74F @ 12.00. No ride today.

If you should ever find yourself driving in Denmark there are a couple of <cough> fast rules:

1) If you overtake, at an illegal speed, in any town or village then you absolutely must "fall asleep" at the next traffic lights. The faster the illegal speed at which you overtook, the longer you must wait until you notice the lights have changed. This is a strict rule and must be observed at all times.

2) Conversely, if you find yourself driving in the beautiful Danish countryside and overtake illegally: Then you absolutely must show piss poor cornering skills for the rest of your journey. Failure to allow the overtaken car to catch you on the very next corner. Then follow you for miles. As you race along the straights and crawl around every corner, is a sign of complete indifference to Janteloven's Strict Rules of the Road and will be severely punished.

BTW: Janteloven roughly translates to thick as a village idiot and proud of it. You'll know it when you see it. There's an awful lot of it about. Spraying crops in 15m/s, 32mph gales is as common as muck and barely scrapes the tip of the iceberg in Danish rural affairs.

Thursday 10th 58-63F, 15-17C, light breeze, bright but the sky is rather milky and cloudy. Increasing cloud, leading to thunderstorms, with cloudbursts, is forecast for this afternoon and early evening. A change in socks to smooth cotton instead of loop pile has helped the Ecco boots become more tolerable. Already warm on my walk to the village. A dozen large geese were breakfasting on new shoots on a newly sprayed crop on the prairie in front of the forest. They were gone by the time I returned into a pleasantly cooling breeze. No ride today.

Friday 11th 50-63F, 10-17C, light breeze, only a few clouds. Yesterday's storm missed us. Hardly any rain and only a couple of flashes and a rumble or two. Nyborg had a 40mm downpour in half an hour!

Walked around the [rural] block. Everything is looking lush and pretty. With roadside hedges competing with gardens for masses of blossom. A Goskawk[?] was circling and soaring while looking for breakfast. Saw several hares today but no ride. I had to collect something in the car and the villages I passed through were looking absolutely gorgeous. Another hare ran across in front of the car. We found a large Slow worm by the compost heap.

Saturday 12th 52F, 11C, rather dark and overcast. Though it's supposed to be sunny.  Enjoyed a walk up through the woods and back along the road. Saw a hare and two deer. A gentleman in a van stopped to chat about birds. He says he has an owl nesting in his garden which upsets the blackbirds. He wished he knew the names of all the birds he sees. In braking [sic] news: 300 Danish researchers have condemned Denmark's abject failure to live up to the Paris agreement on climate change. I am being allowed a ride later this morning. Headwind going. Quicker coming back laden. 15 miles. I need to check the head bearings. I'm getting odd clonking noises at times.

Sunday 13th 59F, 15C, bright, with cloud clearing to another, warm and sunny day. An hour and a half walk in the peace of the countryside. There seemed to be a warbler singing every few yards. I saw two hares. Including one large, chestnut-coloured example. Which did not see me standing perfectly still only a few yards away. The Velcro on my camera case alarmed it and it shot off across the field. Already 66F at 10am. The sky is milky again with haze softening the distant views. We have already had more summer, this spring, than in last year's miserable summer.

Mexico says round-the-world cyclists were murdered - BBC News
 

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8th May 2018 Flashing a nutter.

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Tuesday 8th 60-73F, 15-23C, clear, calm, bright and sunny [again.] Yet more perfect weather for those who like sunburn and sweat, in no particular order.

Highest water table for years in the marsh after the recent, torrential rain.

The Danish police are having a blitz on speeding motorists this week. 1600 caught on the very first day. Meanwhile Gravely Blighted is using less expensive volunteers with speed guns to deter speeding motorists.

The volunteers have no right to prosecute but a third report of a car speeding will usually require a visit from a real policeman. As always, the raving psychopaths hurl abuse at those simply trying to bring greater safety to our roads.

The Danish speeding psychopaths used to attack civilians in police camera cars. So they had to put [normally armed] officers in them to stop such psychopathic behaviour. Though at much higher expense, of course. An officer manning a camera car is obviously unavailable for dealing with other crime. Except controlling and recording an attack by a driving, raving nutter.

Am I the only one who thinks that someone who speeds, then blames and attacks the camera car operative, is a raving nutter? A lunatic who should never [ever] be allowed to drive again? They are obviously working with a rule set completely at odds with any normal society.

Why is causing death by dangerous, or drink driving, not a reason for a lifetime ban on ever owning another license? How can any drunk or drugged driver be allowed to commit a second or third offense? How is it even possible? Is it simply because they are wealthy enough to afford a "proper" lawyer?

Is there any more pleasant experience than a spring walk before the unexpected heat of the day? The air full of bird song. Including the late arrival warblers with their myriad catchy tunes. Fresh green leaves and masses of blossom obscure recently seen vistas. A vast, but distant crop sprayer is safely downwind towards the cauliflower canopy of the beech forest. Acid yellow, oil seed rape competes with flourishing crops of warmer Dandelions. A gentle easterly breeze takes the edge off the climbs. The road falls silent between racing commuters. Those who could no more learn to leave on time than they could fly.

The Danish media is discussing the 80 years since the first road safety film emphasizing the dangers of speeding. My own experience is that I was ALWAYS the slowest driver on the road when we moved here 20 years ago. I simply stuck to the speed limit and had cars, buses and lorries climbing all over my rear bumper. Everywhere I drove it was NEVER fast enough for other drivers. Nothing has changed. The Danish speed limits signs are merely advisory.  I could place speed cameras in several villages locally where only a vanishing small minority of drivers actually stick to the speed limit. Whether they be driving 7-axle, articulated lorries, buses, trucks, coaches, vans or cars it makes absolutely no difference.A school with kids milling about on the pavement as they arrive or go home is absolutely no deterrent to speeding. Far from it. The speeder has a god-given right to speed at will.

We gave up using the motorways because driving behaviour was simply lunatic. Several times we were caught in cloudbursts on motorways and cars were still travelling at 20-30 mph ABOVE the legal speed limit. On one occasion we took the next exit. Because the fastest speed on our wipers would not allow us to see safely ahead at 30mph as we ploughed through 4" of standing water! And still the lunatics were racing along the outside lane and leaving a trail of spray hundreds of yards long.

One day I saw a girl standing in the outside lane with her car ripped wide open by a collision with the motorway's central barrier. The car was facing the wrong way as she was struggling to get her baby out of the passenger seat. Meanwhile, cars were brushing past her at well over 100mph. [Local speed limit ~70mph] Moral limit [say] 30mph?

After that horror show we never used the Danish motorways ever again. It is nothing more than a terraced, mobile lunatic asylum. No day passes when the news is not reporting a Danish motorway is closed due to an accident. Some body, or other, is now saying that it takes far too long for motorways to be cleared of debris after an accident and this is SERIOUSLY SLOWING the traffic. Woohoo! Fat chance!!

Another lunatic behaviour is the slow speed at which the ALL drivers join the Danish motorways. They NEVER EVER match their speed to the motorway. So they ALL join the motorway at the speed they were previously travelling. Normal road +10mph. Which means vehicles already on the motorway have to brake, swerve into the overtaking lane or lift off the gas every time somebody joins.

What follows is completely unbelievable if you didn't see it with your own eyes. [again and again] The driver, who has just severely baulked the motorway traffic, will floor the accelerator. They will shoot to the outside lane to begin illegally speeding. I have seen this happen so often it must be a genetic aberration of many Danish motorway users.

Another, very popular trick, is to cut in wildly in front of a car which has just been overtaken. It is a form of vehicular punishment for driving at the legal speed limit. Many driver cut in so quickly the car visibly wobbles at the limit of stability, with such an inferior driver at the wheel. Having achieved their purpose, in intimidating the "Sunday driver," they will then floor the pedal and blast off down the outside [overtaking] lane.

Most Danish motorways were still only 4-lane [2+2] when we stopped using them. You may well imagine the fun that lorry convoys can cause other users. With only one overtaking lane available and that lane constantly hogged by zombies. It's no wonder the Danes race just to get off the motorways!

Zombie lane blocking is obviously a global phenomenon. If you ever watch one of the YT videos of a high speed run by motorcycles you always see cars sitting in the outer lanes. Usually with nothing in front of them for miles. Or even as far as the eye can see. One can only presume they are all struggling with a very low intelligence quotient. Or, they see themselves as proxy policemen to stop others overtaking?

Today I was sent on a shopping trip to catch up on the items omitted only yesterday when I was still expectant of another ride. 12-15mph going into the easterly breeze. 15-17mph coming home fully laden. A tractor was crawling at snail like speed across the green blush of a spring prairie as two young chaps gather upturned rocks and boulders, on foot, with heavy forks.

The supermarket had no stock of advertised special offers. As is the norm around here. When does repeated failure to supply what is advertised to attract more custom become fraudulent enticement? An Audi driving 'Napoleon' raced past the village school. Obviously over-inflated by delusions of grandeur. Only 7 miles. It was already 73F by 11am. 74F by 2pm.
 

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7th May 2018 Mudwash!

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Monday 7th 61-72F, 16-22C, still sunny, breezier and even warmer. I ought to do my walk in shorts and sandals but I'm not sure my commuting audience is remotely ready for this. Many complete strangers wave as they pass. Except for the lorry drivers, of course. They, who have no hands left to wave as they drive their vast 7-axle  container lorries around the blind hairpin bends with their mobile phones constantly welded between their hands and ears. I presume the iPhoney is today's CB radio.  

Breaker, breaker... got your ears on? Genocidal Idiot calling! I'm hauling 30 tons of petrol and heading  for the school bus convoy coming the other way. And, I've only got one hand left to hold my iPhoney! Dugh! What should I do?

Artificial intelligence is the wrong term for a vehicle's automatic pilot. Normal, human intelligence would do. But is almost impossible to find amongst human drivers.

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I couldn't stand the trike looking so scruffy, with thick mud baked onto its tyres and rims. So I gave it a good scrub with a washing up brush and plenty of collected rainwater. Danish tap water is far too expensive to misuse for such frivolity due to all the additional taxes. I'm also pretty sure it must be illegal to wash a bicycle by yourself. You wouldn't want to use the electricity for pressure washing either. For exactly the same reasons.

Once the wheels were clean I had to complete the rest of the trike to match. I even re-greased the front hub bearings in a fit of utter madness. Probably the first time some of my cone spanners had actually been used in anger.

I still have a black, Campag cone spanner which I bought when I was 15 or 16. That was back in the last century before colour TV, computers and mobile phones. It's probably worth a fortune by now but it cost me at least that much in hire purchase repayments over the decades. The original hub grease was fine and the hard chromed Shimano cones unmarked. So that'll teach me to get overexcited with the spring cleaning!

With the trike now probably a couple of pounds lighter [of crud] it badly needed a test ride if only to to dry it off. So I was let out by the under-gardener's gate on An Errand. 8 miles later I had confirmed it was really quite warm out at 72F, 22C. I stopped for a few minutes to watch crows mobbing a bird of prey over a distant copse. After much dive bombing and squawking they gave up. With the BoP still happily soaring with wings outstretched like two short planks.  

I can't say I'd noticed the trike was any lighter due to the sheer weight of the medieval, Dreadnought Class, Coal Fired, Blacksmith Forged, Solid Wrought Iron, pre-WW1-era, Abus, Mini U-lock Anchor and General Purpose Ship's ballast.

I tried hiding the lock in the saddle bag but it didn't feel any lighter. "Out of sight, out of mind," obviously doesn't work on trikes. The image [down below] shows the Overboard bag crushed completely flat by the Abus [Gravitas] U-lock in its back pocket. I wonder whether Abus makes road rollers as well? And, are they still steam driven?

Talking of saddlebags: The Overboard duffel bag's inner waterproof coating is flaking badly inside. It doesn't bother me much but anyone using one on the water ought to keep this in mind. The nylon sleeve of the Carradice saddlebags soon used to flake too.

Not that anybody would be daft enough to take a Carradice on the water. Except, perhaps, while fording a known stream. Anything involving a snorkel is probably just asking too much in the waterproof department.

There is a rumour going around the huts that I may be allowed out again. I had better oil the hinges on the under-gardener's gate! It wasn't to be. I was promptly demoted from Head Shopper to under gardener again and my gate pass and all its privileges withdrawn.

I haven't mentioned the Vetta saddle is behaving itself apart from looking a bit tatty around the edges. My run of Brookes B17s is obviously at an end unless I increase my mileage significantly. I still have a B17 "Special" in reserve which has never been ridden. It was set aside to replace the last one in case of any untowardness in the comfort department. I probably extended that one's life significantly by lacing its skirts. This made it harder but not so likely to stretch or sag.

A mixed blessing in retrospect. I soon resented the eventual saddle-back [sag] when it came to getting down low. My <cough> "anatomy" got in the way of the relatively raised nose. The much flatter Vetta offers no such resistance at the nose and saves a couple of pounds in weight. Which I can now pretend to use up [as a freeby] on the [now completely weightless] Abus ASBO Mini-U. It's a bit like filling your tyres with helium and has almost identical effects. Imitating The Bee Gees at the checkouts in the local supermarkets lacked a certain charm. Particularly when dressed as the only tricycling clown in the village!

I had already removed the tri-bar extensions from the trike because of the <cough> forward discomfort on the Brookes. I found I hardly ever used the extensions due to the falsetto voice which immediately resulted from their use. I'm far too old to consider a career in opera now.

My Vetta saddle is unusual. Endless research suggests it is an MTB model and may even be a lady's example of the type. It being both shorter and flatter across the back than the many road SLs to be found illustrated online. The vinyl cover hides a series of deep pockets of foam. It still felt like a rock after 50 miles! It came free on the Higgins "Ultralite" and I was very grateful for it at the time.

When I started tricycling seriously again this was the only saddle I could bear to ride of the 24 or so road saddles I had at the time. I used to collect "recycled" bikes from recycling yards for small change. The saddles almost always belonged to a family of strongly curved benches.

Tuesday 8th 60F, 15C, clear, calm, bright and sunny [again.] Yet more perfect weather for those who like sunburn and sweat, in no particular order.

The Danish police are having a blitz on speeding motorists this week. 1600 caught on the first day. Meanwhile Britain is using less expensive volunteers with speed guns to deter speeding motorists. They have no right to prosecute but a third report of speeding will usually require a visit from a real policeman. As always, the raving psychopaths hurl abuse at those simply trying to bring safety to our roads.

The Danish speeding psychopaths used to attack civilians in police camera cars. So they had to put armed officers in them to stop such psychopathic behaviour. Though at much higher expense, of course. An officer manning a camera car is obviously unavailable for dealing with other crime. Am I the only one who thinks that someone who speeds, then blames the camera car operative, is a raving nutter? A lunatic who should never be allowed to drive again? Why is causing death by dangerous, or drink driving, not a reason for a lifetime ban on ever owning another license? How can any drunk driver be allowed to commit a second or third offense? How is it even possible?

 

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6th May 2018 New 850km N8 Danish Cykel / cycle route.

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Sunday 6th 60-68F, 16-20C, clear, bright and sunny with light winds. Just a short walk before getting on with my project. Have to make the most of the dry weather. As do the few cyclists out training. Don't racing cycle tyres make a racket? I keep being overtaken by weekend warriors on my walks and it sounds like a Tesla is going past!

New figure-of 8-cycle 850km cycle route N8 in south Denmark: Website with partial coverage of Aerø [an island] section in English: Some ferry rides may be involved if you take in the islands. For example:

Cycling route N8, Aeroe | Visitfyn

Further websites:

 Hop i sadlen: 840 kilometer lang cykelrute skal lokke mange turister til | Fyn | DR

Danish Cyclists' Federation: Your entry to Danish cycling | Cyklistforbundet

Danish language website:

Cykelturisme | Foreningen Dansk Cykelturisme

Some Danish websites will have a small Union Jack for an English version so do look out for it. 

The rest of the N8 [or any other] cycle route will not be entirely on official cycle paths. Many official and blue road sign marked, Danish Cycle Routes use normal roads. Some without cycle lanes marked with white lines, let alone separated cycle paths. Using the shortest or straightest route is also unlikely on a Cykel Route.

Traffic in Denmark is usually lighter than the UK and usually much better behaved towards cyclists. There are almost no [UK style] pubs or cafes on the open road. They are mostly found in cities. So food and refreshments should be carried. Or bought in a supermarket along the route. Unlike Britain, Almost every decent sized village seems to have a supermarket. Though the numbers are shrinking rapidly as economies are made due to fierce competition between the [few] chains.

There are almost  NO [UK style] public toilets in Denmark. But note: Most rural churchyards have a decent toilet. You can also ask in any supermarket. Most will allow you to use the staff toilet which is usually in the warehouse behind the scenes. Ask a shelf filler and you will usually be guided there. Except in Fakta in Svendborg harbour where I was abruptly refused.

Toilets are handy for refilling water bottles on a hot day. Because they always have a wash basin. [In case you were wondering.] Don't ask the manager of the cycle shop in Fåborg for a bottle refill though. As I did on an 85 mile ride in scorching weather after getting lost on my way back from Nyborg. [Top right on Fyn. Faaborg is bottom left of middle].]

I was on the point of collapse by then. He will point you to the filthy hose resting on the yard in front of the workshop which [ironically] does have a very visible sink with taps. Fortunately the toilet at Super Brugsens [The Coop] was only a hundred yards further into town and provided me with a desperately needed bottle refill and a second after I'd swiftly downed the first.

Nor are there many camp sites in Denmark. Not even on the coasts. Though there are B&Bs [bed and breakfasts] and [rather expensive] hotels. Coastal commercialism for tourists and 'day trippers' is almost unknown in any part of Denmark which I have visited.

Many Danes speak [at least some] English and many are fluent in a strangely accent-free dialect. You would be amazed how few English speaking Brits lack any accent at all. Even the BBC News reader has a strong accent. So don't be afraid if you are lost and need guidance: Just ask anyone you meet: Do you speak English? Speak clearly and you will usually get a useful response. The young have years of learning English at school so have no [real] excuse. Particularly since so much of the global media is in English.

BTW: A bike in Danish [cykel] is pronounced cookle. Hence I am a tri-cooklist. Not that many Danes will recognise a lightweight machine, nor its English name. Tre hjul cykle, pron: Tray-hyool cookle, Three wheel cycle, is as close as I've heard in 20 years. Or, usually, Handikap Cookle. Get used to it. I've been asked what is wrong with me so many times I just laugh now.


Above all: Do remember to cycle on the right. 2WD trikes enjoy the opposite camber better than a UK 1WD LHD. Though you'll soon begin to avoid the roadside shrubbery. If, you survive long enough!

BTW2  If you come to light controlled traffic lights you should NOT turn LEFT as if you owned the road as you would turning right across the traffic in the UK. You are expected to pull over to the right in front of the waiting traffic queue and set off only when the lights change for that lane. Daft, I know, but you'll soon get used to it. Or die trying. Odd, considering it is a cycling country to make cyclists wait twice at the lights. Some city traffic lights do have smaller cyclists-only lights. So keep an eye out for those. They usually just give you enough time to get away before the traffic practices its next 1/4 mile drag to the next lights. Speeding is the Danish national sport.

There is no traffic light sequencing to ease traffic flow as there is in the UK. You'll soon learn not to go off in a mad sprint every time you see a green light. Because the next lights, and the next, AND the next, WILL ALWAYS, ALWAYS be red! Odense should be world famous by now for the time it can take to travel only a couple of miles through umpteen red lights. Odense hasn't independently invented the mini roundabout yet. So you will just have to be patient! Or, be sensible, and avoid it completely! Though they do have a lot of cycle shops. Cookle forratninger. 😉

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5th May 2018 Mini roadrunners and auto-giros.

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Saturday 5th 50-63F, 10-17C, bright, clear and calm. There won't be any wind power to give away to foreign grids today. The forecast is for sunny weather as far as the eye can see. A perfect morning for a walk. I managed half a mile without hearing or seeing a single vehicle. Then a yellow auto-giro went over making quite a racket. Flying cars are claimed to solve all our traffic problems in the future. Pass my ear plugs and hard hat, please?

Now I have a new bird to identify. Several arrived as I as watching a skylark on bare field soil. Overall rather dark grey, bold black eye stripe, black lower back with a white breast. Look a bit like a wagtail in size and similar colours but without the wagging tail. Given to short dashes across the ground of several yards while foraging. Possibly a Northern Wheatear with different colours or even a Loggerhead Shrike for better matched colouring Though I think the shrikes are far too large and Loggerheads aren't European birds anyway. Too small and far away to capture a photograph. I was watching them for several minutes through my 8x40 binoculars. They were all gone again on my way back.

The British government is tentatively talking about banning the sale of genocidal diesel cars by the middle of the next century. This in a response to the news that 9 out of 10 humans breathe traffic polluted air. Meanwhile, Denmark is calling for a complete ban on the import of all electric cars until at least the year 3000. Now there is panic amongst some manufacturers that their <cough> hybrids may be targeted for exclusion. Particularly if they can do less than 50 miles on battery power alone without any assistance from their hybrid, triple turbo and compressor supercharged, V8 7 liter engines. Hot and still but no ride today.

Sunday 6th 60-68F, 16-20C, clear, bright and sunny with light winds. Just a short walk before getting on with my project. Have to make the most of the dry weather. As do the few cyclists out training. Don't racing cycle tyres make a racket? I keep being overtaken by weekend warriors on my walks and it sounds like a Tesla is going past!

New figure-of 8-cycle 850km cycle route N8 in south Denmark: Website with partial coverage of Aerø [an island] section in English:

Cycling route N8, Aeroe | Visitfyn

Danish Cyclists' Federation: Your entry to Danish cycling | Cyklistforbundet

Danish language website:

Cykelturisme | Foreningen Dansk Cykelturisme

Some Danish websites will have a small Union Jack for an English version so look out for it. 

The rest of the N8 [or any other] cycle route will not be entirely on official cycle paths. Many official and blue road sign marked, Danish Cycle Routes use normal roads. Some without cycle lanes marked with white lines, let alone separated cycle paths.

Traffic in Denmark is usually lighter than the UK and usually much better behaved towards cyclists. There almost no pubs or cafes on the open road. They are mostly found in cities. So food should be carried, or bought in a supermarket along the route. Unlike Britain, Almost every decent sized village seems to have a supermarket. Though the numbers are shrinking rapidly as economies are made due to fierce competition between the [few] chains.

Nor are there many camp sites even on the coasts. Though there are B&Bs [bed and breakfasts] and [rather expensive] hotels. Coastal commercialism for tourists and day trippers is almost unknown.

Many Danes speak [at least some] English and many are fluent in a strangely accent-free dialect. You would be amazed how few English speaking Brits lack any accent at all. Even the BBC news reader has an accent. Don't be afraid if you need guidance: Just ask anyone you meet: Do you speak English? Speak clearly and you will usually get a useful response.

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Friday 4th May 2018 Green bin brown shirts!

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Friday 4th 46F, 8C, bright but cloudy, almost calm. I was less than calm after finding the green "recycling" bin had not been emptied. Worse, that the bin emptying service had gone to the trouble to print a special card to hook over the handle. Not content with our having to drag the damned great bin 70 yards to the nearest pickup point. Where they will deign to empty it. [Every bloody time and back again!] I'm over 70 you know! They want us to do their sorting job for them but without any intensive training or instructions. There are far more things one isn't allowed to put in the green bin than things which are. Only it's a complete secret until they leave the specially printed card with the hook on it.

The binmen have the [voluntary option] to empty the bin with a reminder to us of our mortal sins, but they didn't. There is  absolutely no mention inside the bin lid instructions on not binning black plastic. We had dropped a couple of small, organic tomato trays in on top of the rest. That was enough to warrant corporal punishment and another fortnight with a full bin.

Ironic, considering our lifetime's green credentials. Just as the Danish <cough> Environment <cough> Minister takes his leave with a fat, lifetime pension and allowances. His high point, in having faithfully served the intensive, big prairie, big-chem, big-agro, under his false title pretenses? The shooting of a fully protected, solitary, wild wolf from the safety of a car as it crossed a distant field. So proud were they of their [piss poor] skill at hunting their elusive prey that a video surfaced of the exact moment of bloody carnage. It wasn't even a kill shot but the beautiful animal obviously suffered if only briefly.



A tiny handful of wolves are moving north into the empty, mono-culture prairies of Jylland from Germany. Agricultural animals never venture out of doors in Denmark. Except for a few organic cows. Which make the news headlines every year as they bound excitedly from their winter quarters. So it is difficult to see any real danger to livestock. Wolves are very nervous of people but people are even more nervous of wolves, it seems. Perhaps the farmers are afraid the wolves will bite their giant tractor tyres? Whatever.

A self styled "anti-wolf in Danish nature" club was set up. Rumours are that one of their committee was involved in their deliberate target shooting of an innocent animal. Worse, the needless slaughter took place on the land of a budding politicooze. He felt obliged to stand down from his hugely rewarding career on the endless gravy train with generous allowances for life and beyond. 

A new pro-wolf club has now been formed to bring science, intelligence, understanding, logic and the basic truth to having wolves exist in Danish [60% farmland] nature. Given my own habit of wandering the woods, marshes and fields, alone, I am far more afraid of our neighbour's aggressive bløødy dog! It runs free without even the slightest restraint of a gate or fence and is probably the same size as a wolf.

A ride to the more distant shops. Nearly taken off at a roundabout by someone indicating they were leaving at the first exit. Then went straight on! Ironically, there were new warning signs to take care at roundabouts. Dogh.

The Danes do not indicate to show they are taking a later exit on a roundabout. So, unlike in the UK, you have to wait for the car on the roundabout to complete their journey before they finally indicate for their exit. On a mini roundabout I consider this particularly  dangerous. Cars are crossing your path abruptly as you wait to join. If they were taking the second exit [of four] then one has no warning except the absence of an exit indication. 

Guess what? Many Danes never bother to indicate before they exit! Particularly if they are going "straight ahead."  You may well imagine the pointless delays this causes where there is no 'sharp' 1st exit. Car after car drives straight across without indicating as a queue forms on the main roundabout entrance on the main road. You'd think they'd learn, but they never do. It's only driving after all and any idiot can do that [badly.] 17 miles, going well, still not out.

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2nd May 2018 PostNord's innadequate nerds!

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Wednesday 2nd 48-58F, 9-14C, bright and breezy, though not without cloud. The roads and fields are well puddled from the previous days of heavy rain. An early ride, to catch up on the shopping, instead of a walk. Bit of a cold breeze so I wore fingered gloves but went bare legged. The long drag up to the forest went much better than expected. I was maintaining upper 90s and topped out at 106rpm but was hardly breathless.

I turned into the wind after that but was still going well. None of this makes much sense because I ought to have lost my cycling fitness by now. Only ten miles so far but I'm to be allowed out again. Another 14 miles after lunch with, and against, the wind. I was cruising at 20-22mph going. Down to 10mph on the way back.

A raving lunatic overtook me at 80mph in a village and nearly hit a speeding, oncoming car. Only half a mile later a lorry carrying a JCB overtook me right on a blind bend. Straight into the path of a bus! The bus came to a standstill and somehow they missed each other. So life could continue without international headlines.

Thursday 3rd 45F, 7C, grey and dark but almost calm. I had better check whether I have lost the ability to walk after yesterday's hiatus. Slept in this morning until 7.30am. It must be all that cycling.

I had completely misjudged the weather this morning but had taken my winter jacket in case of rain. There was a cold westerly wind and I was grateful for the protection of the jacket with my hands safely in the pockets.  Some two hundred, fidgety rooks were out on a newly sewn field beside the road. They seemed unable to decide whether I was a serious danger and kept lifting off, moving away and then coming right back again. There is a well established rookery in a small wood to the west. So they may well have come from there. Too busy for a ride.

PostNord sins again: When you send a packet [parcel] in Denmark you must use one of their silly sticky labels. You know, the one with the tiny little address boxes. Where you must quickly scribble. Legibly because the postman is going to read it to see where it is going from the handwritten address. The vital label which must be filled out on the spot. While more customers breathe down your neck in the long queue waiting behind you.

Of course the label is made of thick paper and is duplicated [badly] for your own copy underneath. The parcel is given a tracking number from the serially printed number on the label. The label, where the tracking number is separated into short groups.

Now, guess what? No, you wouldn't believe me even it if I told you. But here goes: If you religiously/pedantically enter the number, exactly as it is printed on the label, with all the gaps. Well, PostNord's very own tracking website can't cope. You must manually delete the gaps for PostNord's tracking to instantly recognise the long, continuous number. I told you, you wouldn't believe me. But it's true! Dugh? Even with the finest army of workers in the world if the leadership makes these sorts of pathetic decisions what hope is there for a decent service?

Click on any image for an enlargement.

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