After a week of running from Paris to St. Denis, Reims, Rouen, Chartres, and Beauvais and back again, my arrival to Skagen, Denmark and the little home I’ve rented for three weeks is a welcome breath in and breath out.
My rental hosts
pick me up from the train station even though it’s only a ten-minute walk from
the house. Even though I was a few hours delayed in my arrival and it’s after
9:00 PM when I finally step off the train. At the house, they show me the bike
I can use while here and the essentials; bathroom, bedroom, keys. After they’ve
left me to myself, I find they’ve stocked the fridge and pantry with a
collection of such beautiful food I feel the need to ask if it’s actually for
me. My heart is full. I feel welcomed and at home.
I unpack and rejoice in all this space to myself. My own place. This is the last leg of my three month adventure and I am thrilled to be spending it here.
In the morning, I stand at the sliding glass doors that lead into the backyard and stare at the sky. The Scandinavian sky which seems bigger, more open, and always full of promise. Today’s sky has textured, moody clouds that will look perfect in pictures. After I have my tea and breakfast, after I get some additional groceries from the nearby store, I walk to the beach. It’s still cool enough for a jacket and I’m happy for that.
I walk past the bascule light used since 1627 to warn ships of the reef here at South Beach (the bascule light here is not the actual one from 1627 though it is an exact replica put up in 1958. Though no longer needed to warn ships, the basket is filled with flammable material on Midsummer and the counterbalance used to lift it into the air to the delight of locals and visitors who gather for the Midsummer celebration) and down the short boardwalk and then on to the sand.
I’m here for the special light of Skagen. I’m here for these clouds and this sky. And today is just about perfect.
Down the beach, off in the distance, I see the grey lighthouse. I amble along in the sand in its direction, past the old war bunkers, along the shoreline, and out in the wind and the brisk open air.
With no reason not to, I eventually wander far enough to reach the lighthouse. Looking up, I see some people standing at the viewpoint and think, if they can be up there, why can’t I?
Inside the birding and lighthouse center, with the help of a friendly staff member who had been outside with binoculars pointed to the sky (later, I ask him what he was seeing and he said he thought he’d seen some rare eagle), I buy a ticket and start the tour of the Sand Exhibition that eventually winds me around to stairs that lead up the lighthouse.
From the top, I can see all of Skagen; the beaches, the city, the grasslands, and trails. Three weeks is going to go by so fast.
After appreciating the view from all directions, I descend the 202 steps and find my path back the way I’d come. As usual, a short trip to the beach has turned into a well-rounded excursion. It’s so easy to get caught up with what is around that next bend, over that one sand dune, past that tree. It’s that glorious luxury of time all of my own to spend.
I walk a little faster, like a horse headed to the barn, knowing I have a few miles to retrace to get back to my little home and the comfort of a waiting dinner. Above me, the clouds darken and then the rain comes. Delighted, I pull my hood on and zip my raincoat up as far as it will go.
It’s not the wild rain of the Faroe Islands, but it’s wild enough. The waves raise their arms in the wind. The clouds tighten their belts as they drop rain. This is what it is to be outside.
Back at the house, raincoat hung on the mudroom’s hook, wet pants set out to dry, I get myself cleaned and warmed up, and think about how lucky I am.
