LAND 34 Dawn at Aarsballe. The thick fog of last week was gone, revealing an undulating agricultural landscape with dark, heavy soils. The pewter grey skies were almost imperceptibly tinged with the subtlest rose, the only hint of the sun rising behind the thick layer of clouds.
I headed down the hill towards Almindingen, the central forest, for one last time. Turning off the road into the sopping wet grass, I followed lightly trodden deer paths through tangled scrub and dense stands of beech and oak. The forest was almost silent, the atmosphere still and secretive. Some trees were already yellowing, and the humid air was thick with the scent of rotting mushrooms and overripe berries.
I meandered onwards through the forest, sometimes walking on tracks, but often going off-piste and stumbling through thick undergrowth, brushing leaves, branches, and strands of spider silk out of my face. Every now and then, I came across some of the lakes that are now mostly hidden by the forest. Mosquitos and ticks were my companions.
Around noon, the sun came out and I tried to capture the dappled light shining through the beechwood.
I continued my meandering path through the woods, stopping at Langemose where some twisted old oak trees overlooked the wildly overgrown edge of the swamp. When these oak trees were young, Langemose must have been a lake surrounded by an open heather moorland. Now it is concealed by the spruce and beech plantations that were planted around it.
I crossed the road into Hestehave bakke, following old overgrown paths, all new to me. The sun was long gone now, replaced by a fine mist. My eyes were drawn to signs of life in the otherwise still forest. A kestrel in flight, a lizard in repose, a spider hiding under a leaf.
Deep in the tangled forest by Gammelmose, I walked alongside the dry-stone wall built by labourers nearly two hundred years ago to mark out the first forestry plantations. Now moss-covered and largely hidden from view, it is slowly being consumed by the very forest it was created to protect. I thought about how each and every stone had been carted and transported, lifted and placed by invisible hands.
I was attracted to some cracking mud on the path, the patterns of which reminded me of the dry stone wall somehow.
I carried on, exhausted now from all of the cross-country tramping. Close to the road, I tried to draw some sheep grazing in a large paddock.
A little later on I passed close to a large pond where, to my surprise, a Great white egret stalked amongst the reeds. Hiding behind some trees I managed to get some good views, and with my binoculars managed to make some quick and energetic studies.
Completely energised by my chance encounter, I carried on with my spirits lifted immeasurably. A poorly waymarked path took me through a wood and over a small hill and into a secluded valley with a lovely small lake. Another new place for me, and definitely one to return to. As the day drew to a close it started to rain and I finished the day, back on the main road and less than a kilometre away from where I had started over fourteen hours earlier.
LAND 34
WEATHER REPORT – Cloudy with some sunny periods, mist in the afternoon. Temperature 16 – 22 degrees. Wind 2 – 5 m/s, changeable. Hours of precipitation: 0.5 hours. Hours of sunshine: 2 hours.
STOPS with the BIVVY – 0
KILOMETRES WALKED – 20.06 km
DAY LASTED – 14h and 13 m
PEOPLE TALKED TO – 0 (all visitors to the church)
BIRDS SEEN and HEARD – 28 species! (1 new, great white egret) = 126 species
LESSONS LEARNED – my phone uses just under 5% of battery every hour with the GPS running – it had not properly charged overnight and I was terrified of my battery running out and not being able to record my ‘red line’
IN MY HEAD – Henry the VIIIth
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