I awoke in Skovdallund to rain. However, it still wasn't warm or humid, as the first week had been, so it ended up being pretty raw. Stephannie, Roger, and I started out from the kro fairly early, and rode the few kilometers into Jelling, the nearest town. We got food for lunch, and looked around a graveyard. Despite the pervasive bleakness of Denmark (or perhaps as desperate protection against it), the graveyard was by far the best kept and cheeriest I had ever seen. And around it were ancient burial mounds and runic stones.

The bleakness of Denmark is profound. And I'm at a loss to explain exactly what causes it. It must have something to do with it being so far north--at the edge of the world in some sense. It was often overcast, but not always, and in early July, it was light from 4:00 in the morning until after 11:00 at night, so it wouldn't be a lack of light. I can only imagine how hopeless it must be in December, when the sun is out for, at most, a few hours a day.

Bleakness aside, the countryside through which we rode was beautiful--rolling fields, forests, and lakes. It was Sunday, and unlike Belgium, there was no one out and about. We stopped for lunch in a shed with picnic tables in a deserted recreation area. It was strange to see such a place empty on a weekend in July. The rain that had been threatening never really came. It was overcast and there was no wind, so it was an ideal day for riding.

Late in the afternoon we reached Silkeborg, the largest town that we had seen since Vejle the day before, nearly 70 kilometers to the south. Because it was Sunday, the town seemed to be empty. We passed quickly through it, and rode on to Svostrup, which again was in the middle of nowhere.

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