THE TRAVEL GUIDE — AN ADVERTISEMENT FEATURE IN


9 MAY 2022


5


The coast is clear


To live around the cradle of Horsens Fjord and on the wild islands scattered across its mouth is to embrace the elements — and a dozen diff erent jobs. On a


journey through Denmark’s Coastal Lands, meet the multitasking locals serving up a smorgasbord of food, stories and slow-travel tours. Words: Adrian Phillips


HIGHLAND CATTLE; BELOW FROM LEFT: THE HORSENS FJORD REGION OF EAST JUTLAND IS KNOWN FOR ITS SWEEPING SEASCAPES, EARNING IT THE MONIKER OF DENMARK’S


‘COASTAL LANDS’; THE PRETTY COTTAGES OF ENDELAVE, AN ISLAND KNOWN FOR ITS SALT MARSHES AND POPULATION OF WILD RABBITS/LOLA AKINMADE AKERSTROM


What really shapes this community is the narrative of the island itself, the sense of identity forged in the fi re of its legends and history, its rumours, anecdotes and incidents


Jørgen Petersen is the harbour master. He also repairs the roads and can turn his hand to a bit of roof thatching. When I fi rst meet him, he’s astride a shabby red tractor, chugging across his farm’s stable yard to saddle up the horses he keeps for the riding tours he runs with his wife, Nette. “I’m the island’s chief fi re offi cer and policeman, too,” Jørgen tells me, as if worried I might judge him to be one of those idle types with time on their hands. T ere’s no room for idle types on


Endelave. T is small island off the east coast of Denmark’s Jutland peninsula is home to an ageing population of just 150 people, which means the fi t and able are kept busy putting on the many hats that need wearing to keep the community alive. But it’s quickly clear that life here is about something more


than mastering the harbour and repairing the roads. What really shapes this community is the colourful narrative of the island itself, the sense of identity forged in the fi re of its legends and history, its rumours, anecdotes and incidents. “T ere are so many stories,”


Jørgen observes with satisfaction, as we ride a circular route through the southeast of the island, our horses’ hooves clipping against pieces of fl int. “See that house? In the 1940s, a lion tamer lived there with four lions. One day, a neighbour was milking his cow when he looked up to see a lion stalking him! T e animals had escaped, you see. T ree of them were shot, but the fourth was never caught. T ey say it still prowls the forests.” It’s the stuff of fairytales in the country of Hans Christian


Andersen, a piece of local history with a twist to delight and scare the children. T e landscape is fertile ground for such imaginative fl ourishes. Crows fl ap across big skies above fi elds of wheat and mixed wild fl owers. An old thatched cottage sits at the edge of a wood, a hydrangea blooming purple and pink outside and a wolf perhaps waiting within. A hare with dark ears freezes at


our approach before tearing off over the brow of a fi eld. But the island is best known for its rabbits, which lollop more casually from the trail before us. T ey’ve been here since 1925. “An islander ordered some chickens from the mainland, but rabbits were sent by accident,” Jørgen tells me. “He released them in disgust and, well, here we are.” For a long time, they were seen as a major


pest but then someone recognised their marketing potential and established a 13-mile hiking route dedicated to the rabbits. “People have come to realise we need tourism as well as farming, and the tourists think the rabbits are sweet,” says Nette. “And I like to eat them,” adds Jørgen, a detail you won’t fi nd mentioned in the tourist brochures. T e track narrows, brambles


catching at my trousers, and farmland gives way to a forest of oak, silver birch and dark green pine. We pass a pair of teeming anthills and I’m ambushed by a low-hanging branch whose twigs whip across my riding hat. “T ose oaks on the left were planted during the English Wars,” Nette says, referring to a period of confl ict between Britain and Denmark in the early 1800s. “You Brits took most of our fl eet at the Battle of Copenhagen, so our king ordered the villagers to plant oaks for new ships.” Jørgen takes up the tale with a loud guff aw. “In 1975, the Ministry of Nature sent a message to the Ministry of War to inform them the trees were ready. Only 150 years too late!” We reach the coast and follow


a curve of beach fringed with smartly painted summer cabins. Behind them, the oaks are stunted and gnarled, bullied by the sea winds so they stoop inland like a line of wizened witches. In front, the water rolls and rolls from the horizon. “I’ll tell you another story,” begins Jørgen. “Once upon a time, during the English Wars, a British battleship anchored off the shore near here. A couple of local farmers,


full of bravado (and probably beer) decided to take a potshot at it with their guns. T is didn’t please the ship’s captain, who responded with an irritated volley of cannon fi re, before the terrifi ed islanders sent a priest to apologise.” Jørgen continues, “I repaired a


house in the village recently,” (it turns out he’s a carpenter, too) “and the lady showed me a cannonball passed down to her by her grandmother. Apparently fi ve or six of them survived. T e farmers used them to grind wheat.” Yes, the people of Endelave are a


resourceful lot — they need to be, for amenities are few and far between. T ere’s no supermarket or hospital or school (the children must take the 6.30am ferry to the town of Horsens on the mainland for their lessons). As I explore later that afternoon, I reach a beach where a couple are wading in the shallows to collect shellfi sh for supper, picking through clumps of seaweed they scoop into large sieves, and stowing their catch in string bags. In a patch of forest, I meet four elderly locals foraging at the trackside. When they’ve gathered what they need, they squeeze back into their little car, pulling away slowly and raising glasses of wine to me in farewell through the windows. I wave frantically at them to stop; they’ve left the open bottle on the roof of the car.


First published in the December 2021 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). Read the feature in full online at nationalgeographic. co.uk/travel


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