"Biking in a Spring Splendor Land"...

Every one of my delightful 11 days in Hornlet began in the same charming way with a call from my faithful Danish alarm clock--Hans the pheasant. Despite his tattered feathers, he functions very reliably, cackling up a storm every morning around 0600. Whatever happened to his tailfeathers (almost certainly a fight with another rooster), it must have been impressive because he had attracted a harem of three very loyal hens that always hung around him.

The wake up call was followed by a breakfast of bread, cheese, boiled egg, or marmelade with Ole and Annette, and then we set out for the day's adventure, be it visiting Århus, going sailing, or going to area museums so I could do some research on museum organization and management configurations.

One day, when Ole needed to do some work at home, I borrowed his bicycle and went off scouting around to see the greater Århus region. I've always found running or bicycling to be the best way to get to know an area, to develop a mental map of the land and the curosities and vistas tucked away in various hidden corners.

Riding out of Hornslet on one of the smaller roads, I soon found the local castle which was once home to the wealthy landholder that owned thousands of acres and several of the surrounding towns. The castle is really more of a palace in design than a fortification, but it does have a rather sizable moat--but even that functions as more of a reflecting pool than a defensive barrier.

This castle was also the site of the first Danish university, established in a little gazebo in the garden sometime around Vasa's calamity.

The most prominent feature of the 'castle' is actually its huge stables and barns--gargantuan brick stuctures reeking of maneure. Clearly they are still occupied...and if my personal word on the odor doesn't convince you, take a look at the fully-stocked hay shed in this photo.

The nobles that once lived here are long gone and the massive agricultural estate has been reduced to the castle itself, but the place is still in use for other purposes--mainly as a banquet hall and a riding club.

Then I got back on the road and wound my way along a lovely wooded road enjoying every moment of the impending spring--ya know, that delighted release you feel that comes a few weeks before the leaves, that euphoria that you later laugh at when you realize all the photos you took of 'spring' are really just a bunch of boring images of dead trees.

Peddaling along the road, I went deeper into the forests and everything turned to pine--finally a few 'leaves'. The Danish pine forests are wonderfully enchanting, though. They are so surreal with their soft beds of moss and dried pine needles covering the open forest floor.

Riding onward--and already feeling a bit sore. It'd been months since I had a bike--I broke out into the open farmland. Oh, that was nice. The almost-but-not-quite warm winds and the rolling hills dotted with barns and woodlots could almost have been Wisconsin.

Turning onto the side roads to avoid traffic, I rode out across the fields... admiring Ole's fancy bike and the way it would 'fly' off the little hummucks on the road.

My lifetime fascination with lazy farm dogs and mechanical devices brought the bike to a screeching halt more than a few times as I peddled through the Danish countryside. I was particularly taken with the opportunity to view some of those wind generators up close. My lord they are huge... I wonder, given a 10 knot wind, how many microwave pizzas those things could cook at once?....

A little further on I was nearly thrown off the bike again when I skidded to a stop to take a look at this little gem. I knew that while bicycling in Denmark I would naturally have a few of those uniquely 'European' moments. Well, this was definitely one of them--a little French Citroën painted in blindingly patriotic Danish colors.

Then I headed down over the rolling fields for the coast...as usual, hoping to find some pretty, little, wooden boats bobbing around.

Instead I found about the least mobile, least wooden, least curvaceous and therefore least boat-like thing Denmark had to offer--a huge castle-palace. Like a big white glacier, it sat there testifying to the enormous wealth of its builders--now long destitute. The owner of this castle was actually the landowner that held Hornslet in his grip.

Well, no boats. So I went back up the hill, huffing and puffing despite Ole's super-light-weight, ultra-geared bicycle. I was a bit out of shape... Winding along twisting little roads skirting the forests and fields, I made my way back up onto the morraine.

At another one of those breakpad-burning stops, I found an old Massey-Furgusson tractor out working over a woodlot. I had never seen one of that vintage that wasn't all polished up for the county fair. Good to see them still doing genuine work... like the '57 chevies in Cuba.

Having expended all the energy in my atrophied legs (thanks to a winter of academia), I was happy to make the turn off the town road and grind my way down Ole and Annette's gravel driveway to the farm again. All tolled, a fine day.