Ystad to Lund, Sweden

Prins Carl Hotel in Ystad, Sweden

We slept with the window open for the cool sea air, forgetting that at daybreak, the seagulls might start in with their squawking, but that racket was only the final straw that shook us out of bed before our alarm was to wake us at 5:45. Throughout the night, the nearby church rang the appropriate number of gongs to represent the hour. After midnight that wasn’t really a problem anymore, but then on the half-hour, there was a single gong to remind us of where we were on the clock. We were simply too tired to care enough about the disturbance to get up and close the window.

Downstairs, for the breakfast buffet (included with the room), we met Felix, Sven’s son. Sven, the owner of the hotel, had checked us in yesterday. Felix gave us a quick lesson in the differences between the Danish and Swedish economies as he’s worked in Denmark for a time. At our table, we listened to Albin Lee Meldau sing Segla på ett moln to us about sailing on a cloud. We placed our bags in storage so we could check out and take out our bikes for today’s big adventure.

Riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

Off we go with our e-bikes toward Kåseberga, about 18 km (10 miles) east of Ystad.

Riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

Just as in cars, Caroline is the navigator, which becomes important on this trek as the bike trails and exactly where we are aren’t always evident.

Riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

Riding past a field that might have live ammunition seems strange at first, but we’ve driven past at least a couple of places in the United States where that is true as well. Maybe the proximity due to being on a bike next to a simple barbed wire fence instead of driving in a car next to a chainlink fence topped with razor wire made the difference.

Riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

Yep, that’s the fence on the right that stands between us and our annihilation from stepping on something that goes boom.

Riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

In an early iteration of our travel plans, we were going to jump on a ferry to the island of Gotland, Sweden, and visit the historic village of Visby, which is said to be the best-preserved medieval city in all of Scandinavia. Due to the time of year in which are traveling, train schedules and routes, and not wanting to rent cars, Gotland wasn’t going to work, but in trying to find a way, I discovered the place where we are headed today.

Riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

We brought ponchos with us and a waterproof camera bag should we see rain while out on this bike ride, determined we didn’t want to allow the weather to derail our journey over the Swedish countryside. Our wish for blue skies seems to be happening, but we are well aware of how quickly things can change.

Caroline Wise riding down the southern coast of Sweden east of Ystad

While some of our ride has been shared on the open streets, Swedish drivers have been polite and always give us enough space even on narrow roads, so there’s been no real stress getting down the coast aside from the nervousness that travels with us due to previous experiences.

Kåseberga, Sweden

We’ve reached the village of Kåseberga and are nearly at our destination.

Kåseberga, Sweden

Pushing heavy e-bikes up an unrideable hill is never fun, but the weather on our side makes up for that.

Harbor at Kåseberga, Sweden

At the top of the hill overlooking the Kåseberga harbor on the Baltic Sea, we left the bikes with Caroline’s backpack to the side. Nothing is locked up or secured; we are trying our best to hear what those around us have been telling us over these early days of our vacation: you can trust things and leave your paranoia behind. I wish it were so simple. Anyway, the rest of our trail must be walked.

Ales Stenar (Ale's Stones) in Kåseberga, Sweden

We’ve reached Ales Stenar (Ale’s Stones), which might as well be Stonehenge from our point of view. Prior to my trip planning, I’d never heard of other stone circles, and the one I stumbled upon happens to be the largest one in Sweden. We are in awe.

Baltic Sea seen from Ales Stenar (Ale's Stones) in Kåseberga, Sweden

So much unknown history and so much uncertainty about everything that exists between us and what lies before us. Nobody will ever know a fraction about our planet, its people, our past, or what we might discover tomorrow.

Baltic Sea seen from Ales Stenar (Ale's Stones) in Kåseberga, Sweden

Just beyond the doors and gates of our perception are mysteries that most will never care to explore, and even when we venture into these new domains, the onion skin we peel back is but a molecule of the whole that will leave the majority of knowledge that might be gleaned hiding in the space beyond our senses.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Ales Stenar (Ale's Stones) in Kåseberga, Sweden

Quick, take a photo to remind yourself that your experiences are real, or nobody will ever believe you that your life has been so rich, loaded with rare experiences, and enchanted by love. To hedge our run of luck, we move around the circle clockwise and counterclockwise, touching each stone as we go while also knowing it can’t hurt anything, even if it ultimately contributes nothing.

Ales Stenar (Ale's Stones) in Kåseberga, Sweden

What a peculiar thing this existence is; we flash into life like a glimmering sparkle capturing sunlight before the cloud of death, and the setting sun of life obscures even the idea that we were once here. As we linger here trying to pick up something intangible as though the voice of history or our ancestors will reach out, we’ll never be able to spend enough time here at Ales Stenar that the images and experiences are burned deep enough into our memories.

Ales Stenar (Ale's Stones) in Kåseberga, Sweden

These 59 stones are laid out in the outline of a ship which has some archeologists suggesting this could be a monument for lives lost at sea. This type of circle, also called “stone ship,” is not uncommon in Sweden, Denmark, and other Baltic locations. Traditionally, stone circles have been found over burial sites, and urns of remains have been found here below the surface, so this could be a final resting place. Then there’s the fact that the sun sets over the northwest tip of the stone circle at midsummer and rises at the opposite tip during midwinter, so it possibly served calendaric functions. The age of the monument is also in question, with some saying it has been in use for about 5,500 years while others suggest it first came into existence around 1,500 years ago; nobody really knows.

Baltic Sea as seen from the harbor at Kåseberga, Sweden

Mysteries, how are they necessary in order for our mind to compel our curiosity in a forward motion? What might life be like if everything was spelled out and our questions were easily answered? I don’t believe we’d be the same species as we are at this time. By nature, humans, or those who actually desire to explore their humanity, will find themselves on a trajectory of uncertainty where the enigma and ambiguity of what they don’t know hold intrigue instead of fear and apprehension. For me, the connection across space and time and the knowledge that has traveled through this part of our universe never fails to amaze me while the antics of those wasting time and thought on inanities to the exclusion of self-discovery exist in an endless pit of despair. Their shenanigans risk my ability to focus on the potentialities I feel that I live for.

Riding up Peppingevägen in southern Sweden to the Valleberga Church

Our next stop has an address in Löderup, though we don’t need to be in the town proper, nor should we head in the direction of Löderups Strandbad, which is a campground, so not left or right turn for us: we need to go north following bike path number 3 with the red sign that directs us to go straight ahead.

Riding up Peppingevägen in southern Sweden to the Valleberga Church

The name of the road is Peppingevägen, which Google wants to translate to Peppin Route, so what’s a Peppin? The confused answers from Bing would like me to travel down the weird rabbit hole, claiming it has something to do with Pippi Longstocking or King Pepin the Short, who preceded Charlemagne. While I kind of liked the second search result, this all felt wrong, so I asked Claude 2 for their thoughts. I was told that “Peppin” refers to a small farmstead in an isolated rural area, which sounds about right. I can already hear Caroline, “I thought you already knew that?”

Riding up Peppingevägen in southern Sweden to the Valleberga Church

No thoughts about the House on the Hill or the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, though I could believe that this could be the next setting for Human Centipede. I’ve just been informed that Tom Six has apparently said that there will be no part 4 but that he would consider making a movie called The Human Caterpillar.

Riding up Peppingevägen in southern Sweden to the Valleberga Church

Small farms in a rural setting – it seems the road has been appropriately named.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

Valleberga Church in Valleberga is not in Löderup as I first thought, though it is nearby. As we rode up, Caroline had been reading up on the church and saw mention of a runestone here at the church. We ran into a groundskeeper after scouring the cemetery for the Viking-age relic, but she’d never seen or heard about one here.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

What an undertaking it must have been to build a church in a rural area such as Valleberga, as very little at the time would have compared in scale to such an endeavor for a relatively small community. This particular church was built in the mid-1100s with labor that must have been comparatively equivalent to building pyramids or giant malls, albeit at a different scale. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a 900-year-old farmhouse or barn, but these heavy old churches survive the elements and passage of time, affording us windows into the past.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

Cavernous spaces built before the arrival of electricity meant that natural light was required to play a role in illuminating the interior, and as it’s not all that often we are able to visit places that had to be constructed with that in mind, the appeal of the quality of lighting remains a huge draw in what attracts me to churches.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

These frescoes are now over 600 years old, having been painted in the 1400s.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

From Wikipedia: The baptismal font dates from the 1160s and was sculpted by the Master of Tryde, also called Majestatis. It depicts scenes from a legend about the apostles Peter and Paul. I wish more was known about this Romanesque anonymous master sculptor but at least there’s a list of churches where his work has shown up should we ever again have the opportunity to see other pieces from him.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

An old part of the church and the only remaining round church still standing in southern Sweden. In 1343, the round church was rebuilt to conform to the traditional cruciform shape we are more familiar with at this time.

Rune Stone at Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

Separate from the church was a large tower Caroline thought might have held bells at one time. I was certain the door would be locked, but I couldn’t really be sure unless I checked, and wouldn’t you know it, the door was open. With some reluctance, Caroline joined me, which was made easier when I announced that the “half-finished” runestone was in there.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

Swivel Stones (Svickelsten) were stones used between a straight wall and a round arch structure. These two are found near the runestone. What we couldn’t have known at the time was that two of the gravestones on the floor were carved by the Master of Tryde, who also created the baptismal font pictured above.

Valleberga Church in Valleberga, Sweden

This is not a bell tower as Caroline had thought; it is called the Castle and is believed to have been part of a defensive wall at one time. In the not-too-distant past, the village wanted it and the church torn down to make way for a modern building, but the authorities in Stockholm shot down that idea, and now we can all be happy that this corner of history still exists.

Riding northwest to Glemmingebro, Sweden

But wait, there’s more, as we are not done with this bike ride yet.

Glemminge Kyrka & Kyrkogård in Glemmingebro, Sweden

For one reason or another, we didn’t stop in at this church, which is a shame because built into one of the cemetery walls is a runestone. This is the Glemminge Church inaugurated in the summer of 1900 after it was built on the site where an 11th-century Romanesque church stood. One possible reason for omitting it was that it wasn’t on my itinerary and as much as we’d enjoy unlimited time to do what we’d like on a spontaneous basis, we have other things to see and places to be. After getting home and while writing this post, we tried to identify this church but were having problems as we couldn’t find an exact match. Well, it turns out that the church suffered some damage, and in repairing the roof, a steeple was removed.

On Roemollevaegen in Glemmingebro, Sweden

What a beautiful little oasis among the farms with this thatch-roofed cottage under the chestnut trees. One strange element was the sign to my right of the photo that warns that the property is under video surveillance.

Tosterup Church in Tomelilla, Sweden

We almost didn’t make it to the Tosterup Church in Tomelilla as road construction looked like we’d have had to take a fairly big detour to make it up the hill, but the guys working the site allowed us to walk our bikes through the area. Once up here, we found the church locked up and the castle next door requiring a group of 10 or more to arrange a guided tour in order to visit.

The Tosterup Castle in Tomelilla, Sweden

The Tosterup Castle is one of the locations that the astronomer Tycho Brahe grew up in and that we’ll likely never see for ourselves other than this shot from the gate.

The countryside on the way to Svenstorp, Sweden

Off in the distance on the far right is a rather large windmill, though it’s nearly invisible in this photo due to the size in which I have to present it, it’s there, I can assure you. As a matter of fact, I think you should just make it a goal to see all of this for yourself because while we will have seen amazing sights on this ride, we had to skip seeing Bjärsjöholm Castle and the Borrie Church in order to take in the next destination that we only learned about yesterday afternoon.

Old Mill House in Svenstorp, Sweden

Nope, not yet; this old mill house in Svenstorp was not our next destination it was just a place on the side of the road.

Burial Mounds on Fårarpsvägen in Köpingebro, Sweden

While at the Gråbrödraklostret (Greyfriars Abbey) and St. Peter’s Church yesterday, there was a photograph in one of the exhibitions that piqued my interest, and the woman at the register offered us a general idea of where the “objects” are located. The funny thing was, we had just ridden past the intersection of Svenstorpvägen and Fårarpsvägen and were discussing the idea of giving up on our search as it felt like we were on a wild goose chase. Alright then, it’s decided, let’s get on down the road and head back to Ystad so we can catch our train, and it was just then, on returning to the intersection to turn right, that we spotted the hills right in front of us. These burial mounds are on Fårarpsvägen, just north of Köpingebro, and I could not find a single word online about their existence.

Bike route in Ystad, Sweden

You see things correctly in this map of our bike path; we did not peddle back to Ystad. On the road across the street from the burial mounds, Caroline’s bike started to behave strangely while making odd sounds – it was because her rear tire was nearly flat. Though she tried pedaling through it, we required a rescue out in the middle of nowhere. We were on Boställesvägen near an old sugarbeet factory, but from the bike trail that wasn’t easy to figure out. It took a minute to convey exactly where we were in a meaningful way to offer instructions to Erik so he could fetch us, but fetch he did, and we ended up having a great conversation with him about his co-ownership of a bar in the States and his visits to the U.S.

Saved, we were soon back in town, collecting our bags and boarding a train to our next destination, Lund, Sweden.

Caroline Wise at Aunt Hulda Yarn store in Lund, Sweden

Of course, our first stop would be in Lund’s sole yarn store, Aunt Hulda’s. Caroline is only holding this yarn for dramatic effect as there’s only so much we can afford and carry with us; this didn’t really come home with us. Right, Caroline would rather buy a new suitcase or hit up the local shipping agency to send yarns back to the States than miss the opportunity to take home the hues soft feels of yarn that yank at her heartstrings. Yarn has a kind of hypnotizing effect on this woman, like a reverse Medusa thing that compels her to collect as many skeins as her hands can transfer to the counter and leave with the satisfaction that life is good and at least she’s not been frozen into stone.

Lund, Sweden

As for me, I’m a prisoner of collecting the photos and stories that will travel home with us, such as this mural from Lund-born artist Finsta.

August Strindberg lived here in Lund, Sweden

We checked into our hotel, and upon walking out, we passed a house with a sign that caught my attention: August Strindberg lived here in 1897 when writing Inferno. Wow, on the adjacent corner, just by chance! I’m staying next to the house where Strindberg wrote this book I was in love with back in 1986 after I first encountered it. This is a wicked coincidence that leaves the hair on my arms standing up as if I were a Beatles fan visiting the crosswalk at Abbey Road. I’m in awe that this author and playwright has walked these very streets I’m about to explore this afternoon and tomorrow morning.

While I was searching for something about Ystad yesterday, I came across this quote from Inferno referencing their small village, “The little town to which I now betook myself lies in the extreme south of Sweden, on the seacoast. It is an old pirates’ and smugglers’ haunt, in which exotic traces of all parts of the world have been left by various voyagers.” I had no recollection of this reference but was excited to know a circle was closing in some way.

Lund Cathedral in Lund, Sweden

Lund Cathedral appears to date to the latter half of the 11th century, but exact dates are sketchy. What isn’t ambiguous is that in a late 19th-century renovation, the architect responsible for updates tore down the entire western end of the cathedral and replaced it with a new entry and towers of his own design, pictured here. When the church was first taking shape, this part of Sweden belonged to Denmark.

Lund Cathedral in Lund, Sweden

There’s a lengthy article on Wikipedia about the nearly 1,000 years of history of this old church. With simply too much information for me to try encapsulating here, it’s certainly worth a read.

Lund Cathedral in Lund, Sweden

The altar right in front of the photo was consecrated in 1145, while the altarpiece in the background was donated in 1398. The 78 choir stalls in between date from 1361 and 1379. On the left is one of the six organs found in the Lund Cathedral,

Lund Cathedral in Lund, Sweden

We arrived at the cathedral in the minutes before it was closing; just seconds after I took this photo the lights on it were turned off. Hopefully, tomorrow, we’ll be able to find time for another visit, especially to watch one of the two daily performances where the two knights at the top of this astronomical clock clash. The clock was made back in 1425 and features the smallest of the six organs in the cathedral that plays In Dulci Jubilo, thought to be by German mystic Heinrich Seuse.

Lund Cathedral in Lund, Sweden

On occasion, I love the magnificence of architecture.

Lund University in Lund, Sweden

We are at a tiny corner of one of the most prestigious and largest universities in Northern Europe, Lund University. It also happens to be where Jaap Haartsen studied; he’s the person who gave the world Bluetooth technology, naming it after Viking King Harald Bluetooth, though I’ve already shared part of this info in a previous post.

Lund, Sweden

Lund was ordered to be established in 990 by King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark (son of Harald Bluetooth), remaining a Danish city until 1658 when treaties ended the Danish-Swedish wars. My main interest in sharing this point in history was nothing more than my keen appreciation of the name Forkbeard.

Lund, Sweden

I seem to also have a keen appreciation for red brick buildings.

Lund, Sweden

Accentuating an environment with artifacts of a different age adds charm to a place instead of always surrounding ourselves with images of modernity that scream consume at us.

Lund, Sweden

Replacing painted indicators of what traffic is allowed by installing stones that signify that this is bicycle territory makes a solid statement and is much appreciated. I’m impressed that so many cities in Europe are making consideration for how pedestrian zones improve the quality of life for those who live in these historic districts.

Lund, Sweden

The restaurant we are having dinner at, called M.E.A.T., is also on a pedestrian street, meaning that as we eat with the windows of the place open, we are not listening to cars driving by, nor are we listening to TVs.

Lund, Sweden

Approaching our hotel, we decide it’s too early to head to our room, so we veer to the left for a walk over to a nearby park.

Stadsparken in Lund, Sweden

We are in the Stadsparken. Prior to the city walls being removed the area was a pasture within those walls. In 1911, the park was inaugurated, and now, here before 10:00 p.m., we are walking through with some minor trepidation: while some areas are well-lit, others are a bit dark. Our conditioning from America suggests that danger could be lurking in the shadows.

Stadsparken in Lund, Sweden

Two things happened on the way back to our hotel. First, Caroline noticed a young woman, maybe even a girl, walking by herself wearing over-the-ear headphones, seemingly without a care. We’d seen other women doing the same with full over-the-ear headphones (not just earbuds), walking through cities apparently oblivious and without concern about who might be around them. This is NOT a freedom girls and women have in the United States.

Second, we were drawn by the sounds of a party or nightclub coming from somewhere in the middle of the park. It’s after 10:00 p.m. on a Wednesday night, and we are curious. Following the sound, we come to a pavilion where about 40 young adults are singing and jumping up and down to an amplifier blaring the sound of a Macklemore song that is exciting the night with, “So, we put our hands up like the ceiling can’t hold us.” The sense of this being a wholesome gathering cannot be overstated. Caroline and I stood there for that song and the better part of another, wondering why this doesn’t exist in the “Most free country on earth”? Obviously, we in the U.S. are not the happiest because what we are witnessing here in Lund is evidence of a society not existing in fear.

First Day in Sweden

Morning TV in Copenhagen, Denmark

We don’t often look at the television, but when we do, we do it in foreign countries. Wouldn’t you know it, we turn on the TV for the first time in Copenhagen just before leaving Denmark, and there’s Lærke Bagger, the author of a book about knitting we’ve been seeing all over Copenhagen. It’s even in the window of the 2nd yarn shop we visited on our first day here. Something else about our first day that relates to this image: in the background near Lærke, you might spot the Burger King sign; that was where the vegan demonstration we followed yesterday ended up.

Two days ago, I was kvetching about the crass behaviors of Americans; today, I’ll lean into a stereotype about East Europeans. At breakfast, as in so many other places, the people from Slavik countries have the loudest ring tones while nobody else’s phones around them make a sound. I’m likely a bit grumpy as we got in late last night, around 11:00 pm, and were too tired to deal with packing, so we were taking care of that after sleeping in a bit. This has the effect of us leaving Copenhagen about an hour later than I’d hoped for.

Leaving Copenhagen, Denmark

Our last morning in Copenhagen is like the last day most anywhere: we’re sad to go. From Orientkaj, we need to make our way over to Østerport station, where we’ll board a train to Malmö, Sweden. Ahead on the M4 line, we see the 2nd most frequented station of our time here in the Danish capital: Kongens Nytorv, or the King’s New Square. Now, consider the 1939 RKO film King Kong; it seems to me that this was a sly usage of Danish for this American classic film, meaning King of Kings.

Øresund Bridge between Sweden and Denmark

While out here on the Øresund Bridge, it occurs to Caroline that the Danish word “Bro” translates to bridge; I wish I could reconcile this with the American version of bro, which is English for douchebag. In this usage, bro is an intellectual hindrance to moving over an impasse of the mind; he specializes in being an obstruction, a kind of stench that is difficult to navigate around or clean away.

Hyllie Water Tower in Malmö, Sweden

Under the alien spaceship disguised as the Hyllie Water Tower on our approach to Malmö, two Bulgarian bros who’ve been loudly Facetiming somebody somewhere else with their phone speaker on full blast were controlled for tickets. It turns out they were supposed to exit the train at the Copenhagen Airport in Denmark but were so busy being self-absorbed in their performance of annoyance that they missed their stop and were about to be escorted from the train here in Sweden, but not only that, they were riding without tickets which comes with a fine of between $72 and $135 per person.

Main train station in Malmö, Sweden

Even peeing in Sweden isn’t cheap at nearly $1.00 per person, but when you’ve got to go, you gotta go. Our first stop in the station before finding the toilet was over at the baggage storage lockers that are coming in handy for our brief four-hour visit to Malmö. Note the credit card reader – no need to carry cash for even the smallest amounts.

Malmö, Sweden

A few steps out of the main station and we were immediately drawn to this lighthouse which turned out to be in the wrong direction of where we should be going. With such a limited amount of time, we have to make each minute count in considering what and where we’ll be doing stuff. The first thing stricken from our itinerary was a visit to the local yarn store, but we have more than a few left to visit over the coming two weeks. Trying to get closer to the lighthouse, we continued in the wrong direction until we reached the bridge down there, turned left, and left again to walk back up the canal.

Malmö, Sweden

This is the view from that bridge I just mentioned. The sculpture I photographed the lighthouse through is way down there by the other bridge.

Nett Hier in Malmö, Sweden

This sticker and the advertising campaign for Baden-Württemberg (the German state where the famous Black Forest is located) must be one of the most successful viral campaigns ever created as we’ve seen this, “Nice here. But have you been to Baden-Württemberg?” all over the United States.

Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

I’ll get this out of the way right now: our choice to visit the Malmö Castle and Museum wasn’t the greatest decision. In retrospect, we should have gone over to Södra Yarn, hung out at Lilla Torg (the Small Square), and grazed the various foods at Saluhall (Market hall), but one can’t tell when planning from 6,283 miles away and not knowing anyone else that’s been to this corner of Sweden.

Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

Don’t get me wrong, visiting castles and forts is typically great, but there’s something about the Malmö Castle and Museum that seems to lack focus, though we will learn a few things about the history of the place. The first castle on this site was founded by King Eric of Pomerania, who ruled over the Kalmar Union (the combined kingdoms of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway) after the death of his great-aunt, Margarethe I, so there’s that connection to history. One hundred years later, that castle was torn down, and King Christian III of Denmark built this one. Subsequently, it was used to imprison James Hepburn, 4th Earl of Bothwell, third husband of Mary, Queen of Scots. From the photo in the background, you’ll see refugees arriving from German concentration camps near the end of World War II who would stay at the castle during a transition period.

Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

A bit of a strange layout and a randomness about where things are. On our way in, we passed an exhibition featuring modest clothing for women with details about the global demand and examples of such things as sports clothes that incorporate hijabs, abayas, and tunics. After that, we enter this turret that is sparse in information about its history.

Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

There are two of the turrets still existing but from the grounds, it appears there once had been four. There also appears to be far more to the castle than the small part we are allowed to visit. I should understand this as during my first visit to Versailles Palace, the majority of it was off-limits, and as I’ve seen from the old mansions in the Eastern United States, especially the Newport, Rhode Island area, mansions, forts, castles, and palaces are extremely expensive to maintain and is it not always possible to find organizations that are willing to add to an inventory where budgets are already stretched.

Anders Christensen's Silver Hoard at the Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

A wealthy brewer from Malmö named Anders Christensen buried a silver hoard during the siege of 1677 to protect his riches. He and his wife died with his treasure lost, this was until 1880 when it was rediscovered.

Prisoners held at the Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

For a long time, the castle fell out of use until 1828 when it was turned into a prison until 1909. These are some of those prisoners.

Etching from Francisco de Goya at the Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

Due to the years of neglect and then use as a prison, there’s really nothing left that exemplifies how the castle was once used by royalty. In the scattered approach as to what the museum should function as, there’s even some art here, such as this etching from Francisco de Goya.

Apolloff Interior at Malmö Castle and Museum in Malmö, Sweden

This sealed cabinet display is called the Apolloff Interior. In 1853, Captian Christer Frederick Abrahamsson had the furniture made for his family, which his daughter Alma Apolloff inherited. Since she and her husband never had children, they bequeathed their estate to the museum in 1928.

Malmö Saluhall in Malmö, Sweden

I want a Saluhall (Market Hall) in Phoenix that’s as amazing as this one, serving a city of only 330,000 people compared to the Phoenix Metro area of 4.85 million people. The demand for quality in other countries can be extraordinary when I consider what we have on offer back home; it’s actually confounding to me. This is the Clemens Kött & Husman meat stand that also serves hot food. On Friday, they can be found cooking steaks on their grill, but this is Tuesday, and we have something very different in mind.

Swedish Meatballs from the Malmö Saluhall in Malmö, Sweden

We were here for köttbullar, a.k.a. Swedish meatballs. With mashed potatoes, pickle, lingonberry, and four meatballs the first thing we learned about this traditional dish is that Ikea is ruining it. We’ll have köttbullar again on this trip, but these right here in the Malmö Saluhall will forever define what perfection is.

Caroline Wise and Fika at the Malmö Saluhall in Malmö, Sweden

We’ve moved down the aisle to St. Jakobs Stenugnsbageri (stone oven bakery) for our first Swedish fika with our two americanos yet to be delivered. With one Kanelbullar (cinnamon) and one Kardemummabullar, we were ready to find out which one was the winner. Caroline opts for the cardamom while I lean towards the cinnamon.

St. Petri Church in Malmö, Sweden

Another St. Peter’s church and the oldest surviving red brick structure to be found in Malmö. The design is thought to have been inspired by the Marienkirche (St. Mary’s) of Lübeck, Germany, which we visited ten years ago.

St. Petri Church in Malmö, Sweden

Constructed in the early 14th century, this Gothic church was built when the city, like the rest of Europe, was of the Catholic faith. I don’t believe much about the Reformation is taught in the U.S. and a brief survey in a coffee shop confirmed this thought. The idea of the relative fundamentals of religion taking a dramatic turn that would result in wars, death, iconoclasm, and societal divide seems alien, and yet here we are almost 500 years later, and some would say we are at a similar precipice due to cultural, social, economic, technological, and racial issues that are splitting societies between those who are capable of adapting with tolerance and those afraid that the changes have been an onslaught of destruction of their beliefs producing fear and anger.

St. Petri Church in Malmö, Sweden

The altarpiece is from 1611, as most everything in the church had been destroyed and whitewashed in 1529 at the height of the Reformation.

St. Petri Church in Malmö, Sweden

Of the five original side chapels, only three still exist, including this one dedicated to St. George but popularly known as the Krämarkapellet (Chapel of the Vendors), which was built for Malmö’s guild of cloth dealers. Notice the baptismal font and its octagonal shape, which I wrote about during our visit to the Rosenborg Castle. The murals in this chapel were also painted over like the rest of the church, but between 1904 and 1910, they were uncovered and restored.

St. Petri Church in Malmö, Sweden

There are other guilds represented in the chapel with elements from their coat of arms; to the left, you can spot a griffin that is part of the coat of arms from the city of Malmö. I have to wonder why more of the ceiling wasn’t restored, but such is the state of things when religion is involved.

Malmö, Sweden

The Main Square on an overcast day is better than not visiting a main square, even when we are on the run and taking things in quick impressions instead of being able to really soak in the history of the place.

King Karl X Gustav in the Main Square in Malmö, Sweden

This statue of King Karl X Gustav stands in the main square and depicts a leader who apparently loved war but died at the young age of only 37 years old due to complications of misdiagnosed pneumonia instead of combat.

Lilla Torg in Malmö, Sweden

The old Rikstelefon payphone booth is no longer functional and while not as ornate as what we were seeing in Copenhagen, it’s still nice to see these relics of another age reminding us how quickly life changes.

Lilla Torg in Malmö, Sweden

If half-timbered houses don’t instill a sense of history when visiting an old town center such as Lilla Torg here in Malmö, then nothing will. This was also the end of our time in town before returning to the main train station for our ride to Ystad, Sweden, where we’d be spending a night.

Uh-oh, Houston, we have a problem. Our bags have either been stolen, we don’t understand how to use our retrieval code, or our credit card and a different card are not able to be used here in the baggage lockers. Not only are we panicking about our bags but our train is leaving shortly. As I guard our locker, where our bags are hopefully safely stored, Caroline headed over to the toilet stall we visited earlier, looking to find someone who could help us. It turns out that the personnel at the facilities offering relief of certain bodily functions are also tasked with dealing with the faulty software that operates the baggage locker system. A couple of reboots of the software and we are in, grabbing our bags, and doing our version of sprinting to the track to hop on the train. We just made it as it turned out our train was late and were able to laugh about our small dilemma.

Except, we don’t have tickets. Well, I have the Swedish Rail app on my phone so I get busy right away buying our tickets. Good thing I was right at the moment of getting credit card authorization as a controller was moving through the train to check tickets. He could see where we were in the process and that this wasn’t a response to seeing him, so he told us he’d come back shortly to check on our progress. Everything’s good, and Caroline turns to working on my next pair of socks, and I get to taking notes.

Ystad, Sweden

Forty minutes later, we are welcomed to Ystad by absolutely nobody. With a population of about 20,000 people, this is a fairly small town. We are down in southern Sweden on the Baltic Sea for one very specific reason you’ll learn about tomorrow. First up, we needed to drop our bags in our room at the Prins Carl Hotel, which ended up being the greatest bargain out of all of our lodgings, not because of the price alone but everything that came with our room. Checking in, Sven, the proprietor, was on hand and welcomed us with real enthusiasm. While making our reservation a month earlier, I had questions for him about restaurant recommendations and a bike rental, he was gracious with regards to both requests. The ambiance at the check-in desk and lobby is an experience in itself; let’s just say that Sven’s wife has an eye for art and strategically placed fruit.

Ystad, Sweden

I just told you about a bike rental, and so with map in hand, we started our half-mile walk to the Gösta Svensson Cycle shop, but being John and Caroline, we’d just have to detour. We verified that they were open till 6:00 pm, but we were also on a bit of schedule because we wanted to lock up the bikes in a storage area at the hotel, and that had to be done before 6:00 also. The reason for this arrangement is that we needed the e-bikes first thing in the morning.

St. Peter's Church and Abbey in Ystad, Sweden

Drats, it appears that the Gråbrödraklostret (Greyfriars Abbey) and St. Peter’s Church are closed, that was until we found the right door.

St. Peter's Church and Abbey in Ystad, Sweden

Established in 1267, you should know by this time what came around and acted to disestablish the abbey in 1532. I’ll offer you a hint: this being Sweden, it wasn’t the Spanish Inquisition.

St. Peter's Church and Abbey in Ystad, Sweden

Some hundreds of years ago, the northern and western wings of the monastery were torn down, and at one point the remaining building was used to manufacture Aquivit, followed by it becoming a granary. Finally, by the 19th century, the complex was left to decay.

Caroline Wise at the St. Peter's Church and Gråbrödraklostret (Abbey) in Ystad, Sweden

In 1909, the old abbey and church were starting to be renovated, and as you can see by the photo of Caroline, Ystad is still trying to figure out how to best make money with their historic property.

St. Peter's Church and Gråbrödraklostret (Abbey) in Ystad, Sweden

On one of the occasions that I don’t photograph the placard offering some interpretation of what we are looking at, I get home to find out that this wood carving of a baby angel head has never been shared on the internet before; how can this possibly be? As I stare at this baby with stoned, sleepy eyes, I can’t help but think how cool it would be to convert a cathedral loaded with religious iconography into a psychedelic experience with celestial video projections on the ceiling above the nave while the sounds of gods and angels talk to adherents of the trippy sitting comfortably in recliners instead of the hard pews. Maybe I’m too old at this time, but this would have been my ultimate Disneyland/Cineplex about 30 years ago.

Ystad, Sweden

We left the church and finished our walk across town to the bike shop. For one reason or another, I got the owner’s e-bike, which was nearly brand new, while Caroline was using one of the shop’s e-bikes, also in immaculate condition. If only there were enough time left in the day before the Prins Carl lobby closes, we’d have taken a ride around town and up the coast but so it goes.

Ystad Harbor in Ystad, Sweden

With the bikes secured, we went out for a walk in the direction of the harbor, walking past the ferries that shuttle visitors to and from the Danish island of Bornholm and further on to Poland.

Caroline Wise at Engelska bryggan (English Jetty) in Ystad, Sweden

Just 552 kilometers (343 miles) out over the sea is Binz, Germany, on the island of Rügen which we visited just a couple of years ago. A bit further on to the left is Poland, an occasional adversary but, more recently, an important trading partner. We are currently standing at Engelska Bryggan (English Jetty), where the rotting seaweed is giving off a distinctly sulfurous smell and not in that almost pleasant Yellowstone kind of way.

Ystad, Sweden

The map said the road goes this way; this hasn’t been a road in a long time, but it sure is a scenic path.

Home of fictional detective Kurt Wallander in Ystad, Sweden

As Caroline scoured the map for our way back to where we’d have dinner, she recognized a spot on the map that made note of fictional detective Kurt Wallander’s house. While neither of us has ever seen the show, we still swung by, so when we get home and watch a clip or two, we can say that we’ve been there.

Ystad, Sweden

This is right where we’d live up on the third floor if we could live in Ystad. The prices are reasonable, but in such a small town, speaking Swedish would be mandatory. While the place has a kind of Binz, Germany, kind of vibe, there are very few people on the streets, and one gets the impression that the economy is suffering, thus producing more disaffected youth than we saw in Copenhagen. While superficial observations don’t tell of the deeper story that might be going on here, I’ve never allowed my biased opinions to slow down my interpretations.

Ystad, Sweden

Bäckahästens Kaffeestuga is open from 10:00 to 4:00 every day of the week, and while the sign alone inspires me to visit, we have arrived too late, and tomorrow won’t work in our favor either. From the name of this place, were you able to figure out that this is a coffee house?

Ystad, Sweden

On the left of this white building is Restaurant Store Thor, where we dined on yet more Swedish meatballs in gravy with boiled potatoes, lingonberries, and pickles.

Ystad, Sweden

We continued walking around the old town as tomorrow night we’d be staying in yet another city, so this was it for the opportunity to see a little more of Ystad. Soon, though, we needed to end the transmission as we were busy mastering the art of tiredness and needed the use of our hotel to crash into sleep, leaving note-taking for the morning over breakfast.

Roskilde to Dragør

Copenhagen, Denmark

Taking the subway at Orientkaj nearly feels routine by now, except this morning, we experienced a slight snafu that left a look of shock on Caroline’s face. In Germany, when somebody wants to hold the door for someone else to jump on the train or bus, the door won’t shut if it senses pressure against it closing. Denmark doesn’t play that, and Caroline, who was already on the train, had to pull her hand out of harm’s way before I was able to catch up to her. In a second, she was starting to accelerate to the next station, but not before shooting me a look of astonishment on the verge of horror. I wasn’t worried because I knew that in five minutes, I’d be catching up to her at the next stop, where I was certain she’d be waiting. Sure enough, we reconnected and were soon at Osterport to catch our 45-minute ride out to Roskilde, Denmark.

Roskilde, Denmark

We stormed the coast, plundered, and were generally rude in the mayhem we spread upon our arrival because what else should one do when landing in a historic city that played an important role for the Vikings? The lives lost today due to our raid of the village were simply the cost of us adopting our new roles. Had Copenhagen not been suffering from overpopulation and a dearth of farmland, Caroline and I might have been able to make it there, but instead, we felt we had no other choice than to flee to the countryside and burn the abbey to demonstrate to the locals we meant business.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

We should have, at this point, stopped in the cathedral to beg forgiveness (for such fabulous lies), but the doors were locked, so we decided to just hang around nearby, get some boating in, find a decent place for smørrebrød, and then return here to commune with the ancestors, even if they are not our own.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Early tech pioneer and trendsetter King Harald Bluetooth, son of Gorm the Old, founded Roskilde back in the 980s, and I don’t mean as found on some AM radio frequencies either. Seriously, the founding of Roskilde is attributed to Harald Bluetooth, the namesake of the wireless protocol. Construction of the Roskilde Cathedral was initiated by Absalon in the 12th century on top of the church that previously stood there. This is the same Absalon who moved on to build a castle where Christiansborg Palace stands today and who is considered by some the founder of Copenhagen. Unironically, I must admit feeling a sense of tragedy that we failed to utilize a Bluetooth device while in town.

Roskilde, Denmark

The human-based navigation system I’m traveling with is the Caroline Model 55, and it’s telling us that this is the right way to our destination at the harbor, but first, we must navigate this sea of flowers.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

While planning our Scandinavian adventure, one wish of my wife’s was that we would stop in Oslo, Norway, to visit the Viking Ship Museum, where the best preserved Viking boat is kept. The Oseberg Ship was found in a burial mound, and based on the photos, it’s an amazing find. But we’ll not be visiting it on this trip because the museum is under renovation and will remain closed until 2026. Nothing would make up for that, so instead, I looked for something fun that still had to do with Vikings, and that’s when I found the Viking Ship Museum of Roskilde.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

The museum wasn’t open yet when we arrived, but adjacent to its small restaurant, we ran into half a dozen workers, marine conservators to be precise, who were working on cleaning and protecting pieces of ancient ships that had been brought up from the sea and were being prepared to be shipped off to other museums. On the open grounds are a number of workshop areas, such as this one focused on rope making, while others deal with woodworking and other aspects of shipbuilding.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

This is why we are here; we are going out on the high seas for some sailing aboard a replica Viking ship. Now, you might better understand my earlier description of plundering and mayhem upon reaching this coastal town.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

With time to spare and our tour including entry into the museum, we headed over to get an early look at what’s featured inside. On the left side of this photo, you can see the type of boat we’d be boarding in due time.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

Wow, even if they are fragments, I’m thoroughly impressed with what we are seeing of original Viking ships. Back in 1962, five ships were salvaged from the mud about 12 miles north of Roskilde; they are now known as the Skuldelev ships based on the area where they were discovered. The ships were scuttled in order to create a hazard for others who might have been considering attacking Roskilde. This particular ship, known as Skuldelev 2, was a 30-meter-long warship built in the Dublin, Ireland, area around the year 1042. Over the course of four years, shipbuilders here in Roskilde built a replica of this ship, naming it the Sea Stallion from Glendalough (in Danish: Havhingsten). They painted it black, red, and orange, and you can see it in the photo following the rope shop above.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

Approximately 39 generations ago, some of our ancestors helped in varying capacities to build these ships. Lucky us for being able to see these five old Viking ships today as this museum, too, will close at some point in the future because the ships need to move to a new facility (yet to be built) that doesn’t expose the old timbers to the sunlight which damages them.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

These may be the faces of pillocks, but they are certainly not angry Vikings. It was just a dozen years ago that nobody would have confused us for anything other than serious marauders as we were getting our Viking on like it was nobody’s business; just check this post here to verify the ferocity.

Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

That is not us out on the fjord but some other Vikings (tourists) because getting photos while on the boat rowing or dealing with the raising and lowering of the sail in tight confines doesn’t make for very good images. The one-hour adventure included safety instructions, getting onboard, learning how to row as a group, and finally getting out on the water and back to port. Before you know it, the $89-a-person journey is already over, leaving us wishing for a longer three-hour trip onto the fjord.

Caroline Wise at the Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde, Denmark

It’s only our 3rd day in Denmark, and there are so many reasons to come back.

Smørrebrød at Pipers Hus in Roskilde, Denmark

Reason Number 1: more smørrebrød. These fine specimens of open-faced yummy treats were taken at Pipers Hus up the hill between the port and the cathedral. You couldn’t ask for a better setting on a beautiful day which was exactly the day we were having in Roskilde.

Note: upon getting home and being determined to add smørrebrød to our diet, we are finding it nearly impossible to find bay shrimp in the stores. Not even Whole Foods is offering them, though we are having no problem finding raw horseradish root.

Wasp on Caroline's finger in Roskilde, Denmark

While I and others frantically gesticulate, even jumping from our seats to avoid the wasps, Caroline tries calming me by demonstrating that these flying insects are not bloodthirsty ferocious incarnations of Vikings. I think she’s only mastered this level of calm due to her practice of dealing with my antics for over 30 years. She should be thanking me for this ability to manifest zen in the face of such a deadly threat.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

This is the King’s entry to Roskilde Cathedral that we’ll not be entering through. Not that we ever skip out on visiting cathedrals, churches, chapels, temples, mosques, or synagogues if they are available, but this particular cathedral has been getting the endorsement of everyone who has heard about our plans to come to Roskilde. We’ve been to a good number of incredible places that are dedicated to worship, so we are curious why this one has elicited such enthusiasm.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Upon walking in, nothing really stands out that screams, you’ve arrived at the place.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Near the entry, a custodian has opened an otherwise locked gate and is inside the crypt cleaning coffins. I interrupted him, thinking this might be my best chance to catch an unobstructed view of some ornate coffins; after a second of thought, he welcomed me in. Little did I understand what was still to be found here.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

A few chapels down, King Christian IX and Queen Louise are buried in this tomb, and what we’re about to discover is that nearly every other king and queen from about the last 1000 years are buried here at the cathedral, too. Something else that is interesting about this particular burial site is that the grieving maiden looks very much like the mermaid statue in Copenhagen, and that is no coincidence. They were both created by Edvard Eriksen using his wife and an actress as models for the body and head of each statue.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

From the 11th century until 1443, Roskilde was the capital of Denmark. Maybe it was this distinction that elevated the city to be the place where royalty would be laid to rest. To date, there are between 37 and 40 tombs of Danish monarchs taking up permanent residence inside this old building, with parts that date back nearly 900 years, while the main cathedral was finished only about 460 years ago.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

This is Denmark’s largest organ, with more than 6000 pipes and 100 stops. Forgive me, but I didn’t know what was meant by stops, and I likely am not alone, so here’s a simple explanation: stops are sets of organ pipes that the organist activates to control timbre and pitch range, enabling the performance of intricate polyphonic music unique to the organ. Known as the Raphaëlis Organ, the original organ from the Middle Ages was rebuilt in 1554 by Herman Raphaëlis, hence the name, and then in 1654, it was renovated, taking into Baroque elements that were popular at the time. The last restoration occurred between 1988 and 1991.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

There are so many details that become increasingly difficult to see here in the cathedral as we look over into the side chapels where the many monarchs of Denmark are entombed. The Renaissance era altarpiece standing tall before the congregation was made in Antwerp around the year 1560 while the altar turns out to be relatively new from the 1850s, with two previous versions being lost to time, possibly. The choir stalls on the left and right of the chancel were carved of oak and still feature intricate details, even though they are now over 500 years old, having been crafted between 1490 and 1500.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Queen Margrethe I is probably best known for bringing together the kingdoms of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway in the Kalmar Union. As her husband, King Haakon VI, died early in his reign at only 40 years old (she was 33), the queen took on the role of regent as her son Olaf was too young to rule. He, too, died young, leaving Margrethe to continue ruling until 1412, when she died at the age of 59. She was also known as the queen who pushed back on the powerful Hanseatic League.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

We are in Christian IV’s Chapel, which houses the sarcophagi and coffins of no less than five dignitaries, including King Christian IV himself, who rests in the casket on the right in the background. Christian IV was the king behind the building of Rosenborg Castle that we visited yesterday.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

The sarcophagus of Queen Sophia Amalia, wife of King Frederick III, who’s entombed on her left, is also in the Christian IV Chapel.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

King Frederick IV and his wife, Queen Louise, are interred in these extravagant marble sarcophagi; there’s one directly behind the one in the foreground that appears as a mirror image.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Queen Charlotte Amalie, wife of Christian V. Charlotte, came to Denmark from Kassel, Germany, north of Frankfurt, adding the Danish language to her repertoire of French, German, Italian, and likely a smattering of Latin. It was while reading about her life that I learned about “court dwarfs.” These people of short stature were traded and owned by members of the court and used as gifts to kings and queens. As a kind of sidekick, the dwarf next to a king gave the impression of the king being a giant while the dwarf also offered the appearance of being a “Kobold,” a magic and mythological goblin or hobgoblin. Charlotte’s dwarf went by the name Frøken Elsebe (Miss Elsebe), a quite magical name if you ask me.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Christian V – the first absolute monarch of Denmark. There are so many interesting details on the sarcophagi and coffins that one could gather 100s of images of details while also photographing the entire tomb before also capturing it in its setting; each angle is as interesting as the first. It was Christian V who ordered the clearing of Catholic artifacts from the chancel, creating space for his and his wife’s internment.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

The Absalon Arch is the bridge between the cathedral and the Roskilde Palace. A very small corner of the arch can be seen in the third photo down on this post. The original crumbling Gothic arch that was here since the time of Absalon was torn down and rebuilt as an exact replica of the 12th-century arch.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

In the foreground is King Frederick IV on the left and to the right Queen Louise. The farthest sarcophagus, centered just behind the altarpiece, is the resting place of Queen Margrethe I, while her brother Christopher, Duke of Lolland, is in the small tomb at the center. It turns out that his sarcophagus is empty, and the young man is likely buried under the church as his original tomb was destroyed during the Reformation.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Private box of Christian IV that is no longer in use as current monarchs sit in the chancel.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

More than 1,000 nobles and citizens are buried under the floor of the church.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

Frederick V, the drunken king, somehow still earned an impressive sarcophagus. His father, Christian VI, had considered declaring the man incapable of becoming a king, but in the end, his broken son was allowed to assume the role, though his advisors likely played a greater role.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

King Christian III (August 12, 1503 – January 1, 1559) was the first Protestant king. As a prince, he met with monk Martin Luther, and in 1536, he implemented the Reformation, turning his country Lutheran.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

The Chapel of the Magi, also known as the Three Kings Chapel, where Christian III and Frederick II are interred, was likely built between the 1360s and 1370s and was commissioned by Christian I.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

In the background to the right is King Frederick II (1 July 1534 – 4 April 1588), who was the son of Christian III. The center column is referred to as the King’s Column where more than a few Danish royals have had their heights etched into the column, including Peter the Great. While in the chapel, we failed to see any of the markings, probably because we were overwhelmed with the room and the ornate tombs.

Roskilde Cathedral in Roskilde, Denmark

With that, we concluded our three-day immersion in the history of Denmark and turned our attention to some simple sightseeing that required the exercise of no brain cells, only the exercise of leg muscles, but more on that after our return to Copenhagen.

Caroline Wise in Roskilde, Denmark

In our ongoing series of photos in poor taste where Caroline has ridden the Wild Wiener and Kissed the Cock, I present you Caroline at the Skänk bar.

Roskilde, Denmark

For a city that was once the capital of Denmark, Roskilde is understated and seems to have a rather small population. It turns out that they’ve suffered a number of fires that caused serious damage including one in 1968 that burned over 100 buildings, many of them historical. On our way back to the train station, we stopped along the shopping street for coffee, an ice cream neither of us enjoyed, and a bottle of rhubarb soda.

Main Station in Copenhagen, Denmark

And lickety-split, we were back in Copenhagen for the next leg of our vacation of intense exploration.

Caroline Wise in Copenhagen, Denmark

First up, we’ll need a couple of bikes courtesy of Donkey Republic. We are heading south out of town on those incredible bike paths we first enjoyed just a couple of days before.

Tårnby Church in Tårnby, Denmark

Through Tårnby, past their 12th-century church, we were pedaling to Dragør, Denmark, on a 30km (18.5 miles) roundtrip in order to gain another perspective of the country, and what a beautiful day to be able to do this.

Caroline Wise on the way to Dragør, Denmark

We just passed the Copenhagen airport, and we have yet to see a hint of hill or mountain anywhere on the horizon.

Caroline Wise on the way to Dragør, Denmark

We did find some friendly horses and some apples that weren’t fully ripe yet, although that didn’t stop us from taking a couple of bites as one never knows how often one will get to snack on Danish apples on a late afternoon bike ride under blue skies. Further down the trail, we passed the Store Magleby Church from the 12th century, not knowing that there were traces of an Iron Age settlement from 200 AD nearby. Not that we might have been able to see anything, but this is part of the trouble of going off the beaten path and not having knowledge of everything beforehand.

Dragør, Denmark

Obviously, we’ve reached the harbor in Dragør.

Dragør, Denmark

Back in the middle of the 15th century, there was an annual herring market here in town, which brought in up to 30,000 traders and fishermen, but by about 1500, it disappeared. One can only wonder if overfishing contributed to the decline or if there were political reasons that intruded into the trade.

Dragør, Denmark

Even as the sun starts to dip low in the sky, we are not finished with our exploration of the harbor area, which will be about four hours too little for our liking. Add yet another reason to return to Denmark.

Dragør, Denmark

The opposite side of the harbor is as enchanting as the other.

Caroline Wise in Dragør, Denmark

Caroline’s enthusiasm for things, places, stuff, and even me is such an endearing large part of who she is, but here at the water’s edge, it is the Øresund Bridge in the background that holds her imagination right now, that and the shells she was looking at.

Copenhagen, Denmark

It’s getting late as we approach town to the spectacular glow of sunset.

Copenhagen, Denmark

Riding over the Dyssebroen wooden pedestrian and cycling bridge, we had to stop for this look at the Amager Bakke (hill), also known as Amager Slope or Copenhill. According to Wikipedia, the artificial hill stands 85 m (279 ft) tall with a sloped roof that doubles as a year-round artificial ski slope, hiking slope, and climbing wall. The climbing wall is the world’s tallest climbing wall at 80 meters.

At this point on our ride, we are passing through the notorious Freetown Christiania, which at one time was not recommended to visit without a local as your escort.

Copenhagen, Denmark

We are riding over the Inderhavnsbroen pedestrian and bicycle bridge near Nyhavn and are growing sad that our time in Copenhagen is quickly approaching its end. True, another adventure in a country neither of us has ever visited begins tomorrow, but our time in Denmark has been nothing less than perfect, as easily evidenced by these photos.

Copenhagen, Denmark

Seeing we were already in Nyhavn and a bit reluctant, having dinner in the single most touristy spot in the city felt like a mistake, and we expected that we’d likely overpay for a meal that would leave us flat. Restaurant Galionen at Nyhavn 23 was the place we chose because they had tartars on the menu. The complimentary fries with chile mayo helped improve our reluctance, and the rhubarb trifle went far in making our last dinner in Copenhagen a worthy one.

Caroline Wise in Copenhagen, Denmark

The look of satisfied tired as we board the M4 to Orientkaj one more time. Tomorrow, we land in Sweden.

Polite Culture Shock – Danish Style

Main River in Frankfurt, Germany

There we were, after little more than three full days in Germany, dragging our bags out of Heddernheim over to the Zeilweg tram stop to make our way to the airport. We’d powered through the jetlag and did everything we intended to during our first 72 hours in Frankfurt, though, on the other hand, there’s never enough time for family. Talking with Rouven at Jutta’s assisted living facility yesterday, we discussed the problem of elderly people and those with dementia who’ve not accepted or become aware of their situation. Well, about to leave for Denmark, I considered our hefty itinerary and had to wonder if this was 30-year-old John making plans for 60-year-old John and his 55-year-old wife. At what point will my ambition outgrow the circumstances of our stamina? Maybe the best answer is to remain in motion and always be aware of what we’re typically able to do on a day-to-day and week-to-week basis and use that as a measure of what we might be able to carry into our vacations.

Main River flowing into Rhein River near Mainz, Germany

Seated onboard on our flight out of Germany without my book, all I have are my thumbs to twiddle. Of course, I could write, and that’s what I’m doing while not playing Guess Where We Are, which, of course, is where the Main flows into the Rhein River at Mainz, but the idea of doing so for the 80 minutes we’ll be in the air feels impossible since my ability to identify geography from 35,000 feet over earth is fairly limited. Maybe I should close my notebook and focus on what shenanigans I can break out to bother my seatmate, who also happens to be my wife because there is nothing like deploying some pesky little annoyances I’ve gained such mastery over to entertain at least one of us.

The captain of our SAS flight starts addressing us passengers with, “Herdy dur schmer floompty flerpty der a florgen bork glurgan.” Oh my god, Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show is at the helm! Minutes later, food service began so I can only guess that his announcement was saying something about lunch. Hmmm, our lunch is not like the others. I’d forgotten that we bought business class on this flight, which could easily be overlooked because the seats were not separated from the rest of the flight, but we were in the first group to board, so there’s that, and now there’s this lunch. Yum, an open-faced pastrami sandwich with a salad of roasted carrot, quinoa, pickled canola seeds, and lovage, a side of rutabaga pickled in apple cider vinegar, and a cream of Sörmlands Ädel cheese from Jürss Mejeri.

Caroline Wise in Copenhagen, Denmark

We land just before 11:30 and are quick to negotiate the ticket automat for the metro from the airport to Kongens Nytorv, where we’ll transfer to another train that will take us to our hotel in Nordhavn. With our bags stored until we check in this evening, we are right back at the Orientkaj metro stop looking for Donkey Republik rental bikes. In a couple of minutes, things are figured out, and we are on our way, in a bit of a hurry, actually.

Caroline Wise at Woolstock Yarn Store in Copenhagen, Denmark

Wow, proper bike lanes segregated from cars with their own lights make for a totally different riding experience that feels incredibly safe. And what could be so important here on our first-ever visit to Copenhagen that we raced there? Our first Danish yarn store experience should be the only plausible answer. I should point out that this won’t be the only yarn store we’ll visit today and that is the real cause of the need for expediency. Prior to leaving the States, I could see that the way between the two shops was best traversed by foot or bike, but with the second shop located closer to the historic center of Copenhagen and closing at 3:00 pm, we’d have to reach Woolstock first and then head into town. Public transport wouldn’t work, so I searched for a bike service and came up with a plan that would have us cycle west from the hotel, south from the first shop, and then, from the next shop, we’d be well positioned for lunch, which could also be considered second lunch seeing we ate on the plane.

Caroline Wise at Woolstock Yarn Store in Copenhagen, Denmark

The truth needs to emerge: our flight and landing time in Copenhagen was strategically calculated to thwart Caroline’s ability to linger too long in each yarn store because if there wasn’t some kind of limiting factor going on, she’d spend the entire day petting the skeins and rubbing them on her cheek in a softness check verging on the sensual side of near-naughtiness. This shop has the “Keep them here all day” formula seriously figured out, with their tables and chairs strategically placed in the windows to subconsciously appeal to these cat lovers and the idea of relaxing in the warming sun. Second, they have a cafe with a fully loaded pastry case and a coffee and tea menu. Third, computers are not welcome, but lingering to knit and enjoy the company of your fellow fiber junkies while indulging in sweets and yarn is seriously encouraged, catered to even. Okay, I was joking about the timing to limit Caroline’s moments of indulgence. These vacations are all about mutual basking in privilege. Finally, the green yarn was my choice, but it turns out that its weight might not work so well for socks, so how about a beanie or scarf, Caroline?

One of the lakes in Copenhagen, Denmark

Riding next to one of the lakes on our way to the next stop, it feels as though Richard Wagner was here with us, conducting the Walkürenritt as Caroline leads the way to Valhalla. As she goes forth, she’s reciting the 10th-century poem titled Eiríksmál, taken from the Prose Edda compiled by 13th-century historian Snorri Sturluson, which was originally written in honor of Erik Bloodaxe:

What sort of yarn is that, Odin?
I dreamed I knitted before dawn
to clear up Val-hall for fiber artists.
I aroused the Einheriar,
bade them get up to wind the skeins,
clean the needles,
the valkyries to serve tea
for the arrival of a knittress.

Caroline Wise at Uldstedet Yarn Store in Copenhagen, Denmark

If this were a pirate-inspired story, Caroline would have pillaged her way to collecting the finest fiber booty, but this being a Viking-influenced narrative means that after riding to the lake, she ditched her bike, sailed across the lake to arrive at Old Town Yarn (Uldstedet) in order to raid it and plunder it of all of its best yarns. With only a small Karve (Viking longship) docked at the shore, she’s acting as a responsible seafarer, and, not overloading her craft, only four skeins were seized.

Husmanns Vinstue in Copenhagen, Denmark

Searching for authentic flavors of Denmark, I came across what is possibly the most famous dish of this country, Smørrebrød, and the restaurant that serves up some of the best in Copenhagen is known as Husmanns Vinstue. They’ve been serving up these open-faced sandwiches called Smørrebrød since 1888, and the basement dining area looks like it hasn’t changed in a century. Oddly, there’s only one other woman here.

Husmanns Vinstue in Copenhagen, Denmark

We are in awe sitting in this place with our only wish possibly being that we were here with others to celebrate the authenticity that is washing over us. Before the dishes arrived, Caroline ordered a Nørrebro Bryghus Ravnsborg Red Beer and a shot of Aalborg Taffel Akvavit (Aquavit) to accompany her three types of herring while I stuck with sparkling water (alcohol-free) paired with my first steak tartare of the trip and not the last. With two egg yolks, onion, caper, curry pickle, and freshly shaved horseradish on a slice of rye bread, I was ecstatic with my perfect choice. Seeing other customers enjoying a fried Camembert Smørrebrød with lingonberry jam as a savory treat after their main meal inspired us to share one.

What an amazing environment! We are definitely at home here and of the right age. Alcohol is flowing fast in this relic from yesteryear, which only adds to the charm and volume of the patrons. There’s no way to capture what this place offers the senses. Smørrebrød will forever be defined by this afternoon as this single experience in a local joint without one other foreigner will have cemented the idea that we’ve had a real Danish moment outside the more typical tourist stops. While we’ve hung out for more than an hour by now, we are not ready to leave, but there’s so much more to see, so off we go.

Protesters in Copenhagen, Denmark

From pickled fish and raw meat indulgences, we fell into the street to catch a demonstration of peaceful vegans protesting meat and fur that was heading to Burger King. With bellies full of sin and having left our rental bikes behind, we walked along for a few minutes, though we abstained from joining the chant lest we appear to be hypocrites.

Copenhagen, Denmark

With all the important stuff out of the way, we could now focus on our touristic obligations with jaws agape, gazing upon history and the elegance to be found in capital cities. The building in the background is part of the University of Copenhagen, while we are about to visit the National Cathedral of Copenhagen on the left.

Vor Frue Kirke in Copenhagen, Denmark

This is the Vor Frue Kirke (Church of our Lady), a.k.a. the National Cathedral. While the site has hosted a few church buildings since about 1187, the longevity of each iteration was marred by fire, war, and the move to Lutheranism.

The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

The Round Tower observatory was built in 1642 and is part of the Trinitatis Complex, a project initiated by King Christian IV of Denmark (1577 – 1648), who was also the longest-serving monarch of Danish royal history.

Trinitatis Church as seen from inside The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

This is the Trinitatis Church, which is connected to the Round Tower. Fortunately, I took this photo through a pane of glass from within the tower because by the time we made it back down, it was after 4:30, and the church was closed.

The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

Back in 1716, Tsar Peter the Great of Russia rode his horse up the tower, and while the article mentioning this specifically says “ascended” there’s no mention if he rode it down. Here we were 307 years later no longer having the option to ride a horse up the 7.5 spirals that lead to the top of the tower. Caroline had to drag me instead.

View from The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

While Tycho Brahe (1546 – 1601) hailed from Copenhagen (his name will come up a few times while we are here), this tower was never visited by the famous astronomer who died before the invention of the first telescope and the construction of the Rundetårn (Danish for Round Tower).

View from The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

Seen left of center in the distant background is the Øresund Bridge connecting Denmark to Sweden, which at a length of 8km is the longest bridge in Europe, but that’s not the reason Caroline knows of it. She has been watching a Swedish/Danish crime show called The Bridge.

The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

While the Round Tower is the oldest functioning observatory in Europe, light pollution has effectively rendered that title meaningless. Though for its historic relevance, it’s still an amazing piece of architecture to visit.

Caroline Wise at The Round Tower in Copenhagen, Denmark

From Wikipedia: The winding corridor has a length of 210 m, climbing 3.74 m per turn. Along the outer wall, the corridor has a length of 257.5 m and a grade of 10%, while along the wall of the inner core, the corridor is only 85.5 m long but has a grade of 33%.

Considering this is the only building of its kind and knowing that most everything visited by tourists would be closed by the time we left the tower, we were in no hurry to depart. Then there was the spectacular weather we’d not expected, so why not linger for a while and enjoy the view?

Copenhagen, Denmark

This statue depicts Bishop Absalon, who is said to have founded Copenhagen back in 1167. I’d like to share here that when noting things such as this is a statue of Absalon, as he’s also simply known, I end up reading quite a bit about the history of people, persons, and places that I identify. I often look for interesting facts to offer here, but history tends to be so complex that writing anything more than a date or tidbit of trivia would do a disservice to the story that should be included in greater depth should I say anything more than what’s written, so I simply have to skip it.

This being a blog, I’ve already exceeded the acceptable idea of how long a post should be in consideration of the attention spans of potential readers, but the reality is that this content is written for Caroline and myself. On the way into these histories, I connect dots such as the fact that Snorri Sturluson was alive at the same time as Absalon. While I’m not sure what good this will do me as I write this, it does fill in a part of the history of different geographic regions that allows me to better understand an age that might otherwise be a void.

Copenhagen, Denmark

While I love city centers I have some ambivalence about focusing on them, especially when they’ve become major tourist attractions. It’s hard to take the pulse of a place if we don’t have some understanding of everyday life for the people who call that place home. Our first day in Copenhagen started in the Nordhavn neighborhood, and the first leg of our bike ride took us over to Ydre Østerbro before riding into the city core. Enjoying the luxury of not having to rush to open sights, we walked not exactly aimlessly, but still, it was a bit of a meander.

Copenhagen, Denmark

Gathering a sense of the layout of a city has always been one of the great aspects of my introduction to a new locale. One downside of this introduction comes with the need to typically be expedient about our exploration instead of having a week or two to linger in observation. Obviously, I could never truly be satisfied with a couple of weeks either because then my curiosity turns to differences experienced at various times of the year. With the majority of tourists gone when January rolls around, who are the people who’ll be found on the waterways in a kayak at daybreak on a Sunday morning, enjoying the quiet solitude of paddling through their city? As winter gives way to spring and the jackets are put away, what’s the vibe in the cafes knowing that longer days are ahead?

Copenhagen, Denmark

As we stroll along, I’m on the lookout for Lars von Trier, as one never knows whom one might run into. While not encountering any celebrities, we were granted a glimmer of a rainbow out on the horizon, but my photo of it wasn’t as glamorous as I would have hoped for, so no rainbows in this post. Out on the waterways, it appeared that nobody cared about stars or rainbows. The nice weather here at the end of summer invited those who could join the flotilla of partiers to bring out their boats and friends for a drink and a bite to eat while casually motoring through the city. What a nice contrast to our life in the desert.

Church of Our Saviour in Copenhagen, Denmark

The spiral tower here belongs to the Church of Our Saviour, and while it’s open late, it is sold out for the day, which will prevent us from visiting it this trip. That’s right, we have our sights set on a return. Not that I didn’t already know this when we arrived in Copenhagen earlier today, but then again, it should be evident that we’re always up for return visits to cities of historic importance.

Copenhagen, Denmark

We just kept on walking until we started lagging, but that was rectified by a coffee and a shared pastry, or would that be more accurately described as a Danish? [Note: Danish people call “Danish pastries” wienerbrød, or “Viennese bread” – Caroline] Revitalized, it was time to return to the polite streets of Copenhagen. I have to say “polite” because, unlike in Germany or the U.S., pedestrians have rights of way I’ve not seen elsewhere. When pedestrians approach an intersection with a crosswalk, we are not expected to slow down or stop. We just keep on walking as the drivers are aware that we are about to step in front of them. This is a difficult habit to pick up quickly enough for the drivers who are not going to pass through the intersection until after we’ve crossed the street.

Nyhavn in Copenhagen, Denmark

Possibly the most photographed spot in all of Denmark aside from the Little Mermaid: this is Nyhavn.

Copenhagen, Denmark

Amalienborg Palace is a massive complex that will remain unvisited by us aside from this walk through the courtyard because time will not allow a proper tour of the interior. This might also be due to some small amount of cynicism that we’ve seen plenty of ornate rooms where royalty has lavished opulence upon themselves in much the same way as other rulers have over the centuries. Intimate spaces lived in by artists and creators where we can gain a glimpse into their creative environments are far more interesting.

Copenhagen, Denmark

That’s King Christian V (1646 – 1699) mounted on his horse on the pedestal at center court.

Frederik's Church in Copenhagen, Denmark

Back in 1749, King Frederick V (1723 – 1766) laid the foundation stone of Frederik’s Church, but after the death of the original architect six years later, the project fell into disrepair, and for over 100 years the building, what there was of it, lay in ruin. Construction commenced in the 1870s, and by 1894, the church was finally opened to the public for the first time. We were minutes too late to gain access to its interior, but will make an early morning attempt to visit the largest church dome in Scandinavia.

Alexander Nevsky Church in Copenhagen, Denmark

Had we been able to visit the Alexander Nevsky Church, it would likely have been the first Russian Orthodox church I’d ever stepped into. In keeping with our adage of leaving something undone that will bring us back, we added this to the list for Copenhagen, too.

Ivar Huitfeldt Column in Copenhagen, Denmark

I’m beginning to think that most of the history worth remembering for Danes surrounds Christian V somehow. Here’s a statue in honor of Ivar Huitfeldt, a naval officer who was killed in action in 1710. His connection to King Christian V is that Ivar sent an application to the king when he was 16 years old, asking permission to join the Navy.

The Little Mermaid in Copenhagen, Denmark

Yes, I know, it feels like a visit to the Little Mermaid is obligatory and gratuitous, but it’s on the way to something else.

The Genetically Modified Little Mermaid in Copenhagen, Denmark

That something else is the Genetically Modified Little Mermaid farther up the harbor.

Nyboder Historic Row Houses in Copenhagen, Denmark

It was after 9:00 p.m. when we started considering our dinner choices, and while anything would have done at this point, kitchens around us were already closed. A pizza shop was packed with a long wait, but as we strolled along Store Kongensgade, we saw that Restaurant Vita was still serving. With beggars not able to be choosers, we took it. And anyway, taking the walk in Nyboder’s historic row house district at dusk had been more important. Begun in 1631 as Navy barracks, they are still standing and are now inhabited by civilians. It was almost 11:00 p.m. when we finally checked into our hotel and collected the bags they’d been holding for us.

[As it turned out, Restaurant Vita was a good choice. Unlike the table of loud and obnoxious Brits nearby, we enjoyed our food very much. After a starter of tartare, we tried the “other” national dish of Denmark: fried pork. I ordered stegt flæsk (slices of crispy fried pork belly), while John opted for flæskesteg (pork roast with a crispy fried crust). Both dishes were generous portions of delicious comfort food. Our server thought that stegt flæsk might be a bit too salty for novices, but we didn’t mind at all. It was reminiscent of chicharron, except it was served with boiled potatoes and parsley sauce. Since stegt flæsk comes in slices, it is often served “ad libitum,” which translates to “all you can eat.” We really lucked out stumbling over this restaurant serving very traditional Danish food. – Caroline]

As the title of this post suggests, there is a kind of culture shock that we are experiencing here in Copenhagen due to the politeness factor. From the front desk attendant at our hotel who earlier in the day was explaining the necessity for trust in Danish culture to someone else along the way who told us that if something weren’t safe, it would imply a greater societal problem, so obviously trust, a sense of decorum, and the sharing of those expectations with each other is part of the common dialogue here in Denmark. Compare this to where I was a week before in Arizona, where a gun on the hip tells others exactly how much trust is had for their fellow citizens.

Deep Surprises in Oregon – Day 10

Yurt at Bullards Beach State Park in Bandon, Oregon

Welcome to the tenth and final day of our coastal vacation that saw us waking in this yurt at Bullards Beach State Park in Bandon, Oregon. We watched a rafter of turkeys stroll by, and while I tried to get a decent photo, it just didn’t work out with our car as background, a curb in the shot, the motorhomes across the way, etc. So, with the sadness that arrives at the last moments of all of our getaways, we pack up one last time, say fond goodbyes to inanimate things that don’t care that we were here, and offer wishes that we might return again one day.

Cosmo the Tufted Puffin in Bandon, Oregon

Might not have been able to capture a nice photo of a turkey, but Cosmo the Tufted Puffin had no problem keeping a pose until I got something reasonable. Cosmo took up its perch here at Coquille Point back in 2018 in celebration of Earth Day. Made from recycled materials found on Oregon beaches, it was the efforts of Angela Haseltine Pozzi and her non-profit Washed Ashore that brought Cosmo to be a fixture here on the southern coast. This tufted puffin is likely the only 6-foot-tall bird made of marine debris on our entire planet.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

In poor light and an angle that doesn’t exemplify what others see, this is Elephant Rock. Don’t bother trying to catch sight of what I’m failing to bring attention to; let it suffice that the arch is the place between its legs. While Face Rock has always been obvious to me, I just learned that this one is officially called Elephant Rock, and I fail to see why.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

With the weather holding, meaning it’s not raining, there’s no time left to waste if we are going to get some beach exploration in.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

And so, down we go.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

This will not be further musings on the world of barnacles, though this is definitely one of the largest clusters of tiny ones. I’m more curious about the blood-red rock sandwiched in the surrounding metamorphic rock. I just learned that the sacred Sae-Tsik-Na (“Grandmother Rock”) that used to stand out here was quarried out of existence for the building of the Bandon jetty back in 1900. Well, that sacred rock to the Coquille people was made of blueschist speckled with red garnets, and if this is some ancient metamorphosized sandstone with a high amount of iron oxide in it, this would be the deepest red sandstone I’ve ever seen. I understand that the red rock is not translucent, so not likely to be red garnet, but could it have been on its way to becoming a gemstone had it remained in the deep miles below the surface for a bit longer?

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Looking up the rocks standing out here, I learned that they are called knockers (cue John’s childish giggles) and are formed after the softer rocks and soils wash away. The really cool thing is that some of the rocks out here formed hundreds of miles apart, but thanks to millions of years of subduction, they’ve ended up here.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

All of a sudden, the gloom of the sky, in a sense, lifts, and I see the beach here in Bandon in a whole new light. If we might have thought that this trip to the Oregon coast might be our last, it is nearly certain that we’ll have to make a return as there are obviously things that require deeper examination.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Between two sides of the beach is an outcropping with a cut in it that is filled with boulders and large pieces of driftwood. We only need to scramble through it to reach the other side.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Doing so without distraction is another matter, as there are thousands of details here worth scrutinizing.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Once on the other side, we get a better view through the arch between the legs of the elephant, except for the backed-up water that obscures the view.

Seals at Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

I took more than one photo of these seals, and this was the best of them, which is not saying a lot as they are almost unrecognizable, but they are reminders to Caroline and me that we saw them and maybe for others to gather a hint of what’s to look for while along the coast. I’m pointing this out as one of the other contenders showed a large part of the rocks above them, which to my eye looked incredibly ancient, not as in billions of years, but still quite old. Good old research to the rescue, but also bad for me as there is now ZERO doubt of our return to this area.

There are blueschist knockers out here, and of course, there are chunks of it in the jetty. This stone turns out to be very rare, as in seriously rare. The conditions for its formation are the reason: they must be near a subduction zone, and they can’t go too deep below the surface; otherwise, the pressure and heat will change the minerals into something else. They are typically not old rocks because subduction zones are chaotic places pushing large pieces of earth to and fro. From the Scientific American article I was reading, I learned that it’s easy to find examples of blueschist here in Bandon that were created under 10 kilobar of pressure, meaning these rocks were once 22 to 25 miles (35 to 40 kilometers) below the surface of land we were standing on while here in Oregon. If this means little to you, I’d surmise you have little understanding about time and should get yourself out in the world and question what you are seeing.

Highway 101 north of Bandon, Oregon

In the fog and mist, we move slowly, not really out of caution regarding the driving conditions but more out of the desire to bring to our senses as much as possible due to our event horizon coming to a close.

Highway 101 north of Bandon, Oregon

Knowing that last impressions are what we are gathering, we have to look hard at the gray environment for those things that, in years to come, we’ll hold close from our days in Oregon. These perfect examples of yet another wonderful day full of experiences are worth remembering forever.

Coos Bay, Oregon

Over the 20 years, we’ve been passing up and down this coast, this corner here at Coos Bay has held a special interest that I’ve always failed to satisfy my curiosity about. It seems apparent that at one time, long before we ever visited, this must have been a major center of the timber industry, and while remnants are still here, I get the sense that it had a much more significant presence here.

Coos Bay, Oregon

The old adage “be careful what you wish for” needs to be updated for me to “be careful what you research.” Looking for information about the history of logging in the Coos Bay region, the first thing I learned was there are 41,000 acres of old-growth trees still remaining in 1.15 million acres of Coos County. Trees older than 400 years old have been clear cut, and with that, I’ve read enough; this includes a recent 2019 harvest approved by Anthony Davis, a dean of Oregon State University entrusted with lands under their forestry protection program who axed a 16-acre tract of land because they needed the money due to cost overruns regarding a university construction project. Pardon me, but this is bullshit.

Coos Bay, Oregon

While I’m out in this beautiful place, I only want to enjoy the solemnity of it all. Now, back in Arizona and knowing that our form of capitalism will only continue to exploit everything that can make money, my wish is for either a meteorite to splash down in the Pacific and wash humanity from the surface of our planet or maybe even for a certain Russian megalomaniac to let the nukes fly so our planet can get to the business of repairing the profoundly ugly damage we perpetuate on these lands, waters, and atmosphere on a daily basis.

Coos Bay, Oregon

The presence of humans over the course of history has left impressions for centuries into the future; things like cave paintings, old middens, burial sites, certain buildings, and even some artifacts have been found. Today, though, we consume and throw away everything we touch as though some omnipotent god could wave a hand and repair the horror we are leaving in our wake. While I can pause and appreciate the aesthetic of a rusting nail from a disused dock, I’m also reminded of how little we care about what’s left behind as long as we got ours.

Coos Bay, Oregon

But if I don’t leave this track of destruction and neglect behind me, I’ll be ending this series of blog posts on a negative note, and that’s not really where I want to go.

Road to Umpqua Lighthouse State Park in Reedsport, Oregon

So, let’s return to the intense pockets of beauty that still exist out here and share those impressions. From here I can hope that others might stumble upon these posts, not only to see what had been but to inspire them to visit and see for themselves an environment cared for and protected where not everything need be fouled for the sake of exploitation.

Road to Umpqua Lighthouse State Park in Reedsport, Oregon

Certainly, this forest view is one of wonderment, but you might notice there are no old trees here. Maybe others in the centuries to come will be afforded the opportunity to see this place still filled with the trees that were standing here back in 2022.

Caroline Wise leaving the Tsunami Hazard Zone north of Reedsport, Oregon

Maybe instead of telling people passing through that they are entering and leaving tsunami hazard zones, we should have signs in life that we are entering an exploitation-free zone where nature is being allowed to present itself in the rawest format without anything more from humans than pathways through and maybe accommodations that leave no impact.

Highway 101 in Gardiner, Oregon

It’s not lost on me that, in effect, we modern humans are not as “modern as we might pretend and are instead half-stupid creatures stumbling through the fog of our own arrogance.

Highway 101 in Gardiner, Oregon

It’s with great sadness that we inch ever closer to the exit.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

Then again, maybe, just maybe, there’s enough time for us to capture one other new place we’ve never visited before that is to be found right here at the Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

Is it the melancholy of distance that stimulates ideas not realized while I was at a place where I should have tried pulling back from the abyss of being overwhelmed to gather yet a different perspective? In this instance, I wish to see the forest from the level of a newt, between mushrooms, while walking across the moss and sand.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

As I said, we are here in the sand dunes, among mountains of sand.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

With a lush forest growing on top of it in spots.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

While the trail could have taken us to the ocean (you can see the sign points right to it), we are limited regarding goof-off time. Being mindful of that factor, we reluctantly return to the car.

North Jetty Beach in Florence, Oregon

And then, before we know it, we are back in Florence, where our encounter with the coast began ten days ago. By this time at the North Jetty, we’ve already lunched up at the Little Brown Hen, where, for the second time, we shared a warm bowl of the best brown rice pudding you’ll find on the entire coast of this state. The need to walk off that indulgence is part of what brought us out here.

Caroline Wise at North Jetty Beach in Florence, Oregon

That, and Caroline’s need to bring out Happy McKiteface for a final flight in the cool coastal air we’ll soon be missing.

North Jetty Beach in Florence, Oregon

If I can’t take a multi-hundred-pound souvenir with me today, I can bring a reminder.

Exploding Whale Memorial Park in Florence, Oregon

Speaking of reminders, who doesn’t want to be reminded of that day 52 years ago when too much dynamite was used to remove a whale carcass from a nearby beach but instead blew car-crushing, possibly life-extinguishing chunks of rotting whale in all directions?

Exploding Whale Memorial Park in Florence, Oregon

This warning sign at the Exploding Whale Memorial site regarding soft sand and mud should include some text that the incident did NOT happen here but somewhere on the other side of that dune. I didn’t want to visit some random place for a moment of remembrance; I wanted to stand on ground zero where said whale failed to vaporize and instead was sent off to chunkidom.

Petersen Tunnel east of Mapleton, Oregon

With a bunk memorial site behind us and Dutch Bros. coffee along for the ride to Eugene, we have now left the tsunami zone.

Happy McKiteface Over Oregon- Day 9

A Stellar Jay at Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

Good morning, Steller’s jay! I hope you enjoy your morning meal courtesy of the vanlife guttersnipes that squatted here overnight. Caroline and I have been visiting the Oregon coast for about 20 years now, and I can say with certainty we’ve never seen so many roadside freeloaders who don’t have the respect to pay attention to the “No Overnight Camping Allowed” signs. I can only surmise that their sense of being free to roam America’s roads allows them to feel a sense of entitlement that arrives with their chosen form of homelessness for the sake of social media status. Regarding the homeless situation, it has spilled out of the bigger cities and now shows up on the coast in ways we’d not seen before. From more people living in cars (not in the aforementioned vanlife configuration) to people struggling with loads of stuff being moved through town and those who will join the ranks in the coming year due to the problem of rising rents, the situation is one of ugly proportions. Back to the vanlifers, Caroline and I used to pull into overlook parking lots where we might be the only people, but when we pull in, and there are people just waking, finishing their ablutions, or putting away the cooking gear, I try to imagine what our experiences would have been like if people in motorhomes had exercised the same liberties, especially considering two large vehicles could fill up a pullout and stop anyone else from stopping for a moment. Just because we didn’t park at an ocean overlook doesn’t mean our waking experiences are any less valid or someone else’s even greater because they flaunt convention. Enough of that, I look forward to the day that vanlife is no longer a thing or I’m dead and gone, no longer able to witness the arrogance.

Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

Normally, waking near the shadow of a lighthouse is a terrific thing, but driving into someone’s temporary bedroom sure puts a damper on that. Fortunately, they were soon gone after we spoiled their perfect isolation with our intrusion. Oops, I said I was done with all that, but the truth is that I’m never done once something gets jammed in my craw.

When we travel on weekends, it’s often been difficult for Caroline to connect with her mom in Frankfurt for her weekly call, but it just so happens that our brother-in-law Klaus is visiting Jutta as we were packing up the yurt and is going to bring us into a video chat. While my mother-in-law has certainly been here at the lighthouse, we have some skepticism about how much she remembers or whether she simply learned to just go along with things and agree to fond memories rather than admit these things are largely gone from her book of memories. It’s really not a problem, though, as she smiles a lot, and we know she’s still very aware that she’s been to the United States many times, even if many of the details are lost to the passage of time.

Umpqua River in Winchester Bay, Oregon

Do you remember how years ago there was a floating restaurant off in the distant corner here in Winchester Bay? We fondly do and have often wished to visit again, but it’s been closed for years. We first dined there back in 2006; such is the good luck of having blog posts to remind one of something that might have been forgotten otherwise. Today, we sit next to the Umpqua River for breakfast after choosing the place with more cars parked outside, figuring the locals know something.

Umpqua River in Winchester Bay, Oregon

Never believe in 10-day forecasts, or better yet, simply don’t look at them because would they really change your travel plans? This is probably bad advice because at least they offer some idea of how to dress for potential weather conditions. As for the location, we are on the other side of the restaurant for a post-breakfast walk under perfect skies.

Umpqua Lighthouse State Park in Reedsport, Oregon

This isn’t just any old forest; it is the forest that goes back…

Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

…back to the Umpqua Lighthouse because without Tillamook Creamery around for breakfast dessert, this will have to do.

Oregon Dunes seen from the David Dewett Veterans Memorial in North Bend, Oregon

We are looking across one small part of Coos Bay from the vantage point of the David Dewett Veterans Memorial in North Bend. It almost never fails that the reflections of the Oregon Dunes catch our eye, and poetically, it makes sense that a place of such great reflection should be the site of a veterans memorial.

McCullough Memorial Bridge in North Bend, Oregon

In the opposite direction, you’ll find the McCullough Memorial Bridge.

Rail bridge over Coos Bay in North Bend, Oregon

In all the years we’ve been passing through here, we’ve yet to see this rail bridge in any other position or to see trains crossing the bay. We can only guess that this is a relic of the age of forestry as it existed in the past.

McCullough Memorial Bridge in North Bend, Oregon

From this fascination with bridges, one might think Arizona doesn’t have any, but it turns out that Arizona and Oregon are nearly equal in that department, which suggests that the bridges in Arizona are not remarkable in any way. Before you object: yes, we have the Navajo Bridges over the Colorado River and the London Bridge that was moved from the U.K. to Lake Havasu, along with the Black Bridge down in the Grand Canyon, but other than those, I cannot think of any other memorable crossings in Arizona. [May I suggest Roosevelt Lake Bridge?  Caroline]

McCullough Memorial Bridge in North Bend, Oregon

For 86 years, people have been using this bridge, but has anyone else taken so many photos of it?

Traveling Highway 101 south of Coos Bay, Oregon

I’m always trying to remind myself to not only stop and take photos of the most iconic things but also the mundane ones along the way, as they are just as important a part of the attraction that draws us back year after year.

Old rain shelter on Riverside Drive in Bandon, Oregon

In addition, we try to turn down side roads we might have missed on previous travels, and today, that worked in our favor when we turned onto Riverside Drive. At first glance, this might look like an outhouse to those of us not accustomed to living in rainy places but upon looking closer, it was obvious that this was a long-neglected bus stop for kids who needed shelter while waiting for their school bus.

Big Foot and child on Riverside Drive in Bandon, Oregon

That, or it was a hiding place from a marauding Big Foot and its daughter.

Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Also from Riverside Drive, a view of the Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge we’ve never seen before.

Caroline Wise at the Wool Company yarn store in Bandon, Oregon

The same cannot be said of the Wool Company yarn store in Bandon that we’ve visited countless times and must have bought 50 skeins of yarn from by now. Yes, there is new sock yarn there, destined for my feet.

The famous Langlois Market in Langlois, Oregon

Another place becoming a regular stop on our journeys is found here at the famous Langlois Market, best known for the more than 1,000,000 hotdogs they’ve sold from their little roadside market in a town of only 370 people.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Not being able to remember offhand the last time we visited the Cape Blanco Lighthouse, we decided to drive down the road through the state park to have a gander.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Oooh, it’s windy and cold out here, but the sky demands that we take the short walk in the elements to nab a photo of the lighthouse should it happen that I’ve never taken one in such nice weather.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Apparently, Neptune has raised his Sword of Damocles against those who live above the surface of his vast ocean, threatening all of us should we not heed our own knowledge that we are ravaging his seas.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

And to our right, as we walk out on the spit of land that is home to the lighthouse, is this view of the deep blue sea that just yesterday was dark green.

Lighthouse at Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

At this time of year, nothing is open; the season is over. No matter, as the tower itself is not currently visitable even during the summer.

Caroline Wise at Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

As I said, it’s windy out here, which Caroline thought was as good a time as any to break out the new kite and test how it compares to the one it’s replacing. We’ll just call it love.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Our car is out there in front of the tree line, and looking at the photo above this one, you might have noticed that Caroline was standing in the old parking lot. Even if the road to the lighthouse was still open, you should be reluctant to drive it as the adjacent cliffside is eroding.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

This is still part of the Cape Blanco State Park, and to the left is the Historic Hughes House built in 1898 that is visitable.

Port Orford, Oregon

There are a lot of places I can say with certainty we’ve visited before, even multiple times, but this pullout looking north towards Port Orford seems to me to be one of the surprisingly many new sites we’ve stopped at during these days.

Looking southwest from the same vantage point offers up a crisp sky and a horizon nearly devoid of any fog. Of all the times we’ve been asked if we’ve been here or there, this country or that, nobody has ever asked if we’d ever had the opportunity to be out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

While our yurt at Bullards Beach State Park in Bandon is now 30 miles behind us, we have a date with a rock 35 miles ahead.

View from Highway 101 north of Gold Beach, Oregon

Persistence paid off in my attempts to figure out where the heck we were on the road, but it is mislabeled on Google Maps and is not identified at all on Bing; the address is roughly 35690 Oregon Coast Highway, identified with Port Orford, and it is NOT Foramen Arch.

View from Highway 101 north of Gold Beach, Oregon

Turn and look south, and this is your view from the photo above. To the left of the image, you can see Euchre Creek spilling into the ocean.

Wedderburn Bridge in Gold Beach, Oregon

Moving down a hill and between the bushes, we were offered this view of Wedderburn Bridge in Gold Beach. I wanted to snap a photo from the road, which gave a much better view; stopping for a photo would have been too dangerous though, so this one will have to do. It’s yet another bridge designed by the famous civil Oregonian engineer with a Hitler mustache named Conde McCullough.

Caroline Wise at Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

Meet our southern date here at Meyers Creek Beach, the Shark Fin. This visit, though, now comes with 100% more kite.

Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

No more disappointment trying to fly the previous pathetic little kite that was reluctant to take to the sky, as this one is a natural.

Caroline Wise at Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

Caroline is so happy with this new kite that she’s named it Happy McKiteface. Cute name and all, but I think it actually describes her.

Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

Until next time, Shark Fin, it’s been great.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

There we were, driving north as though we were doing so with purpose when, not even two miles away from our last stop, a steep road up a hillside on my left seemingly demanded that I pull a quick U-turn to investigate. Why hadn’t the Cape Sebastian sign caught our attention before?

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Seeing how we are now up here, we should check out what is down the hill, not this way but the one in front of us.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Nope, this is the view to the north, but in a second, you’ll know what I’m speaking of.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

This is the trail I wanted to bring your attention to.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

It apparently brings us out to the edge of Cape Sebastian.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Where exactly it’s going is uncertain as there was no trail map at the parking lot, and at this moment, we’ve not passed anyone else who can tell us anything more about where we are. Checking our phones is not an option as we have no signal.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

If this were as far as we’d been able to go, it would have been worth every moment and more. Around this time, we’d met a couple coming at us on the trail, and we asked how far they went; they’d gone all the way to the beach but warned us it was too late to try that as it would certainly be dark by the time we got back to where we were talking with them. Something to come back to.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

With that, we turned around for our walk back through the forest until we found a slightly different view north.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

In the distance to the south, way out there, that’s Arch Rock.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Back at the Cape Sebastian parking lot and ready to tackle the last 65 miles to the evening’s yurt accommodations.

Visitor Center Beach at Gold Beach, Oregon

We’ll still have 60 miles left after this “last” stop, but who could blame us? We’ve stopped at the Gold Beach Visitors Center, which appears to be the name of the beach, but that can’t be.

Visitor Center Beach at Gold Beach, Oregon

While I busied myself photographing the last moments of the setting sun, Caroline quietly pulled out Happy McKiteface and threw it aloft before I could protest. With that smiling face beaming at her new kite high above the beach in the fading light of day, there was no way I was going to rain on her moment of finding yet more joy.

Never too Gray in Oregon- Day 5

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

The ocean is dark this morning under stormy skies. At the moment, the winds haven’t arrived, and so without further ado, we breached the comfort of shelter to venture into the potentially wet day. As always, when out on the Oregon coast, we are excited to see what comes next; at this point, we are just hoping for breakfast and a walk. I did get the order of things backward here because we stopped at Stonefield Beach to see the differences between yesterday’s low tide and the approaching high tide this morning.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

The view was disorienting as things shifted so dramatically that the only certainty was our uncertainty regarding just where we’d been. There wasn’t a reflective beach or a thing signifying what we’d seen.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

To our left on the south end of the beach, I find familiarity with that little cabin atop the cliff where, late yesterday, I snapped a photo of Caroline to the west of it out in what is now the ocean.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

Standing between the cliffs and the sea, I try to decipher what is visible and wonder if there’s any opportunity to determine just where we are, but it all looks so foreign. It’s as though amnesia struck overnight, leaving us with only the name of the place we’d been while erasing most everything else. It also seems that even now, back in Arizona, while I’m trying to write about that morning, the ocean is still playing a game of amnesia with me, denying my imagination the words that might convey other aspects aside from the obvious.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

Just like staying out here on the shore under uncertain circumstances regarding what the weather would bring, I’ll remain vigilant, sitting before these images and looking for that change in the situation that will inspire an interpretation of things no matter how difficult it may be.

Caroline Wise at Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

With a tiny, nearly imperceptible amount of wind starting to pulse, it was time for the kid in this relationship to break out her kite that had been stowed away for such an opportunity. Running upon the rocks didn’t work out, so we headed back to the sandy part of the beach where Caroline could really give it a go.

Caroline Wise at Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

For a full minute or two, the elation of flight took hold, as seen in her smile, but as the wind died, so did her hope until, once again, her invisible friend grabbed hold of the kite and tried pulling it high into the sky. Again, smiles climb upon her face as she starts to sense mastery over the one sport she might be good at.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

Spotting this perfect cairn, we realized it was pointing us to breakfast, and so we accepted its guidance and headed into town. Yachats is a tiny outpost with barely 1,000 people living here, and yes, I wish we were two of them. Services are thin, although there are around a dozen restaurants that, at this time of year are not open at the same time. We had two options and went with the somewhat sad place we’ve eaten at before that will remain unnamed to help a business that’s likely not making anyone rich. It served its purpose. Sitting at the window, we watch as the wind kicks up and, with it, the rain racing northward. Our hopes of taking up a table at the Green Salmon Coffee House are dashed as they are closed today through Friday; the same goes for the Bread & Roses Bakery. The only thing left to do is go plant ourselves in the Nest if we don’t get distracted on the way back.

Caroline Wise at the Shags Nest Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

If you don’t think I got worried when Caroline voiced her desire to go fly her kite on our tiny deck sitting atop a steep cliff, you’d be wrong, as in my imagination, it wasn’t beyond impossible that a sharp wind would take her and that pocket kite aloft and drop her a couple of miles out to sea. I could only bite my nails and hope she’d know the right moment to let it go. Luckily, the wind was so strong that all the kite wanted to do was dive into the bushes to hide from the insane forces beating it into submission. Caroline, now equally beaten, conceded defeat and brought herself back into the warmth of our cabin overlooking the raging tempest.

Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Between staring mindlessly out the window and trying to write a thing or two, I tended to a pot of black-eyed peas that would certainly be the comfort food befitting a wet gray day.

Caroline Wise at the Shags Nest Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

On the far north side of our deluxe chateau, Caroline took to the Barcalounger (which happened to be invented in Buffalo, New York, where I was born) and with yarn from Cambria, California, (picked up recently on a trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium), she sat oceanside in front of a massive picture window with her cup of Heiße Liebe tea (Hot Love) to work on my newest pair of socks. Not that Hot Love tea is necessary for such moments but this looks like love to me.

View from the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Sitting before our window at the Shags Nest or sitting in a coffee shop, there are times when the mind would rather meditate. There’s a need in all of us at times to allow the lines to blur and let the uncertainty of what comes next take hold, to just kick back and listen to the full length of a favorite album or watch the surf roll in.

View from the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

A lot of nothing has passed by though somehow we remained busy in that nothing. The black-eyed peas allowed us to stay in, enjoying one of our favorite comfort foods while not budging from our perch. As the day went on, it appeared that we might be able to start growing moss due to our near-total lack of activity.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

But then the clouds started breaking up. Always in need of accumulating more steps on our path to walking into better health, we decided to go check out Bob Creek though I figured we’d quickly pack it in and return to Stonefield for more hopeful encounters with wild sea creatures temporarily living outside of the ocean.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Just then, the Eye of God looked down from the sky and commanded us to give good ‘ole Bob Creek a proper chance, and, well when God speaks, atheists listen.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Oh wow, tidepools featuring exotic lifeforms we’d never witnessed before! I thought this would sound better than saying we’re just seeing plain old mundane sea stuff we’ve seen a hundred other times, which wouldn’t be true either because neither Caroline nor I have ever seen a barnacle that wasn’t far more interesting than any Kardashian or wet noodle clinging to our colander.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Mussels with barnacles provide space for other barnacles. It turns out that mussels attach to other mussels using excreted stringy fibers called byssal threads. While working with adhesive threads is interesting enough, it is the barnacle that is truly amazing when it comes to attaching itself to things. You see, before it settles down, the baby barnacle is adrift looking for a suitable home; when it finds one, it uses body fat to clean and sterilize the surface. Once that is done, they deploy a mixture of six different proteins to glue themselves to their perch, be it on a whale, ship, rock, turtle, mussel, or another barnacle. This glue is said to be multiple times more adhesive than anything made by humans.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

This obviously brings me to the size of the barnacle penis, which, Caroline informed me, is the largest in proportion to the body size of all species on Earth. A little bit of internet searching confirms this, but my imagination takes it to frightening lengths. First, I’m seriously intrigued that the lowly barnacle is able to change the size and shape of its penis to meet local conditions for mating, but it is the length that baffles the mind. I need to put this in perspective: the average American male is approximately 5 foot 9 inches tall or 175 centimeters. If we could whip out what barnacles can, there would be situations where our penis would be a respectable 552 inches long or about 46 feet in length (14 meters). At this point, I think our wieners would be weapons, and I, for one, wouldn’t appreciate the guy behind me in traffic on a summer day with my windows down casting his tool into my car, maybe even into my back seat, looking to mate. If penis length is the root of all intelligence and power, as many men believe them to be, then the barnacle should be the hero of any young man’s youth.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Comparatively, there are thousands of miles, possibly a million or more miles of penis before me.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

As far as I know, and not that I’m willing to research information on this particular type of seaweed, there is nothing very peculiar that should be found or shared concerning this plant. Heck, I don’t even know the name of this seaweed, so I’ll call it Suzie.

Anemones at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

There’s nothing left to tell you about anemones nor of my most obvious impressions of delight that are taken when seeing these meat eaters. Oh wait, there is that small detail about its mouth being its anus.

Anemones at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

I think these anemones might have swallowed some raver’s glow sticks during a beach party.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Hi blue sky, nice of you to come out to see us! Might you be letting some sun through your veil in order to astonish us with another majestic sunset?

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

There’s something about these rocks that feel as if they’d been sculpted by fast-moving water like that running through a river. Was Bob Creek at one time a river bed?

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Like sunburned skin, these rocks appear to be peeling. Upon closer inspection, it looks as though sheets of barnacles were removed, but after just learning about their superglue qualities, the question arises: how’d this happen so uniformly across areas?

Caroline Wise at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

While I can speculate about the various species temporarily exposed to our senses out here, and I can use the internet to learn more about them after I go home, I cannot really know where Caroline is when she stands before the ocean and examines the scene. If I ask her, the answer is likely to come back that she’s just looking at stuff, but what does she feel? What is offering her wow moments? Are we seeing the same things, or are our eyes focusing on absolutely different things?

Sea Stars at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

While the sea stars capture my eyes first, it is the more than 50 anemones that got me thinking about how they decorate their body as they do. While they are curled up with their tentacles withdrawn, maybe the camouflage helps them avoid predatory crabs because at night, while the anemone sleeps, the nocturnal crab is out looking for food.

Sea Stars at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

In an effort to demonstrate fair representation and give an example that I don’t have a bias for orange sea stars, I present you with no less than half a dozen purple sea stars, or are they burgundy in color?

Sea Stars at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

In a pinch, sea stars will eat anemones, but what they are really interested in is the abundance of mussels that live here on the rocky shore.

Caroline Wise at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

I can’t say I’ve explicitly thought or expressed this before, but these excursions and the subsequent photo prep and writing requirements hold Caroline and me in these environments well after we’ve left a place we were visiting. The lingering begins as I bring photos in for cropping and color adjustments, and then I identify where each was taken. As one day is finished, Caroline joins me to whittle the selection down to the best representations and I guarantee you that there’d be a lot fewer images posted here if it were up to my ruthless wife. And then, if I have taken notes, those are transcribed from the notebook as I work to decipher my handwritten words. As those are matched to photos, there are huge gaps between images because there is no way to write in the field about specifics, and who knows which photos and impressions will find their way here? During what amounts to rewriting what’s in the notebooks, I also find inspiration to write about particular images due to something or other that’s striking me at that moment. Finally, I set down to fill the empty spaces. In the case of this post, it’s now 31 days after we stood at these tide pools, and we are still, in a sense, visiting the Oregon coast. One last thing: before this ever gets pushed to the public, Caroline applies her deft editing hand to bring (or at least attempt to bring) to clarity those things I found relevant, capturing memories we’ll hopefully return to in many years to come.

To belabor a point, I’m not playing video games, watching TV, or otherwise wasting my time with frivolous things as this adventure continues to travel within me during the weeks since we left the seashore. I find this luxury to be incredibly valuable: instead of impressions of vacation being made and quickly fading, I indulge in examining details over and again to possibly know more intimately what would otherwise be difficult to carry with me.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

A moment arrives when I see glimmers of insight that I’m the foible; my desire for knowledge driven by curiosity is a weakness as it informs my disappointment that so many in our species do not truly share that quality. It is here at what amounts to a mussel farm that I see that many of these mussels will be sacrificed as food for birds, sea stars, fish, and even us humans. So, it behooves the local mussel population to just keep cranking out mussels as its evolutionary knowledge understands that the greater the number, the greater the chances of surviving all disasters or sacrifices. Why have I failed to see this behavior in people? I’m often crushed by human stupidity and don’t want to accept that it is our norm, but why should the average person be any smarter than a mussel? Their presence is to ensure there are seeds and eggs available tomorrow should something catastrophic befall us. In this sense, what I consider stupid is nothing more than the norm, and I the anomaly, an intolerant foible of our species’ presence who simply isn’t happy sitting on the rock attached to a million clones who don’t mind being part of the collective.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

I am transfixed by this inky pool that rarely exists. It can only appear during negative tide situations while the rings are created by the water dripping from the mass of mussels hanging overhead. As surrounding rock is eroded by the motion of the sea, making what looks like toadstools above the ocean floor, the harder rocks obviously make for a great home if you are a mussel, barnacle, sea star, or anemone. The patterns that ripple across the surface are trance-inducing. If I had the proper equipment, a video might better allow me to experience them again, but instead, I prefer to rely on images and words to freeze what once captured my attention. I’m guessing the mussels around me give little care to the evolving aesthetics and only look forward to the comfort of the sea and returning to the place they know so well.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

At this very moment, I was cultivating my inner barnacle and working on a new shape.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

We walk below the sun, below the sky, and this late afternoon, we are offered the chance to walk below the surface of the sea that would typically cover this edge of the shore. There’s nothing easy about leaving here as long as there’s light that allows us to find our footing. We attempt to go further, hoping that more of the mysteries all around us are revealed.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

We use art to bring impressions to people who are not able to witness the breadth of patterns for themselves. Those with the great fortune of seeing rare sights or having been able to cultivate great thoughts bring back approximations of what things look like or how they might be thought of. In this way, the anomalies of our species task themselves with bringing culture back to the tribe, possibly in order to elevate all of us from the ground we are fastened to.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

A triptych by Mark Rothko could hardly compete but if it were the only possibility for a city dweller to see such a thing, I suppose the surrogate will have to do.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

There’s no pussyfooting around this one, I saw a stone vagina fringed with bright green mold looking at this, and so it’s included. As a matter of fact, I think it compliments the vulvic impression I spotted while on a Mystery Valley hike near Monument Valley earlier this year. If you are interested, it’s the 36th image down on this post.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

This might have been a rainy day where the comfort of a warm room and a pot of beans could have held us in cozy contentment, but instead, we were drawn by the potential that something might be happening and that we’d benefit from investigating that change. Our reward was not only trying to fly a kite in the windy rain and witnessing the temporary nature of a fragile and elegant cairn; we were allowed to gaze in on the secret lives of those who live outside of our view.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

And so the curtain is being drawn shut, signaling us that time has arrived for us to depart.

Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

I am back at the table I’d been writing at earlier in the day and on a previous visit. At night, there is no ocean to see, only my blurry reflection in the window that kind of looks like this guy. I hear the ocean but it’s a steady white noise, no collapsing wave sounds, just the hum of the shore machine down below.

Mostly, I’m here not writing, not reading, not really watching much of anything. Maybe this is more of a meditation, though that would be accidental as I’m simply here. Occasionally, it occurs to me that I could be doing something more specific, but I don’t want to expend the effort as nothing feels comfortable. Then a trigger of micro-panic attacks me that I’m missing the opportunity to explore a thing, a subject, a frame of space such as the gap between a barnacle and a mussel if one even exists. Time goes by.

Hey, let’s step outside. Nothing like a good rain to cleanse the air, opening the sky with a clear view of the Milky Way filled with as many stars as we might humanly be able to take in. With no moon in sight, the night is as dark as it can be