Maddin rolled in minutes after myself on his all-black 660 Tenere. Great, we hadn’t done a single kilometer yet and I was already envying it. We filled up at the next gas station and hit the autobahn towards north. The last exit before the border was our first stop. Simply set, the ‘Bordershop’ is nothing else, but a huge liquor shop and the last possibility for the Scandinavians to benefit from Germany’s low taxes on alcohol. Exactly, what we needed.
The autobahn all through Denmark was almost uneventful. A traffic jam. We filtered through the cars until a man waved at us to stop as there had been an accident. It turned out that 2 motorbikes had crashed and both riders were severely hurt. A soldier from one of the cars had provided first aid – probably much better trained on open wounds then anybody else. We couldn’t do anything, but watch the ambulances and a helicopter. When we were finally allowed to go on, we saw the rest of the biker group standing at the side of the road. All packed up, probably as well just starting their holiday trip up north.
Getting closer to the ferry port, we saw more and more vehicles with an adventurous note: Jacked up Land Cruisers, loaded bikes, 4×4 trucks … We arrived in Hirtshals in the very north of Denmark in the evening and decided to check out the ferry port before looking for the camp site. Here, we met Ernst on his red GS and recruited him.
A disposable BBQ grill and the beer were just right to celebrate the first camp.
