All Belted Up

Just north of Nyborg the Danes have built a crossing over the Store Baelt (the Big Belt). In the middle of the waterway they have created an artificial island which is linked to Fyn on the west by a two parallel 3.6 mile long bridges each supported on around 70 columns and by a tunnel and suspension bridge on the east of similar overall length. The span between the towers of the suspension bridge alone is 1.5 nm – possibly the largest in the world. On the west side the deck rises from around 8 meters where it leaves the land to a peak height around the 35th column of 18 m – enough for Voltair to get under.

The currents swirled around us as we past beneath this engineering triumph, grabbing our keel and slewing us about. We looked up to see the menacing gap between the railway and road bridges and to the side to see the glory of the suspension bridge set off by the sensuous curve of the approaches.





To the north was a line of sea-based windmills, which we intended to leave to starboard on our course to Kolby Kas on the West coast of Samso, but as the afternoon progressed the wind veered and strengthened - pushing us down to the east. Soon we were beating into choppy seas, and the decision was taken to head for our alternate port on the more sheltered side of Samso – especially in the light of a warning of a westerly gale within the next 12 hours. Alas there was no room for us in the harbour so we anchored off shore - behind some substantial trees whilst Chris cooked up a magnificent repast.

Bright, early and nearly sober next morning we set off for the mainland; this seemed logical in light of the need to get Chris to Arhus airport, and to pick up Jane and Wendy from Aalborg the next day. Creeping down the lee of Samso, all went well. We even managed the windy winding passage amongst the mud-flats and wading birds. Then came the beat up to Arhus. As the waves grew, so our speed fell; by the time we were off Sletterhage, which we were having difficulty rounding, we were only making 1.5 knots towards our destination – still 12 nm away. So for the second day running we opted for our alternate destination, and turned off the wind to make for Edeltoft. Also for the second day running we found there was no room in the yacht harbour, but here the old commercial harbour seemed to offer a viable alternative. By the early afternoon we were tied up alongside a fine Swedish X-boat, and enjoying a belated lunch.

Suddenly there was an enormous explosion! We leapt into the cockpit to see smoke drifting across our stern. A quick check indicated that all Voltair’s parts seemed to be still in place, and the source of the explosion was somewhere up wind. We had moored alongside a quay owned by the Edledtoft maritime museum. Their prime exhibit was the restored flagship of the Danish Navy – the Juilland – a combined steam and sail-powered wooden fighting ship of impressive proportions. At three each afternoon it was their habit, we later learnt, to fire their main fordeck cannon. And where had we moored? Right in front of it!

Ebeltoft is charming. Pretty multi-coloured higgledy piggledy houses line cobbled streets. Restaurants are plentiful and inexpensive. On the first evening we were happily sitting in a café in the town square enjoying our lobster soup, when two beadles appeared in full uniform and armed with massive clubs. They commenced to sing; the song informing us it was ‘past eight o’clock and a fine sunny evening’ or something to that effect; apparently they go round the town doing this at a number of bars. The Juilland herself justifies at least half a day of exploration – especially if you are moored so close that you can roam her decks alone after the crowds have gone. (Photos). We wished we could have spent more time there, but Robin was keen to match off the passage through the Store Baelt with ones through all the other belts. No sooner had Jane and Wendy got to sleep after their long and arduous journey than Robin was waking them up for a quick breakfast, tour round the sights and then off to sea.

The gale had blown itself out by the time we were ready to go, and now, at last, we were able to make Kolby Kas, which turned out to be a rather small harbour, but with one space left for us for a change. From there we were able to lay a course through the Samso Baelt to the wooded shores of the Lille Baelt. Here the passage winds in a series of S bends through the town of Middelfart. No smirking guys, the inhabitants – Mddelfarters all – are proud of their town.

Beyond the narrows, the island of Faeno divides the channel. At the northern end of this a motor-launch’s furious use of its engines to stir up the mud revealed an unexpected mudbank – at least unexpected to them. We anchored in a pleasant spot on its south-eastern corner. In the morning another motor-launch disturbed our beauty sleep with a similar stirring up of the bottom. Perhaps it’s a local custom.





A brisk westerly wind gave us a superb sail the following day, accompanied through the Lille Baelt by a small pod of porpoises. The breeze enabled us to go further than planned, finally reaching a wild anchorage halfway up Horsens fjord as gins and tonics were being poured. Wendy cooked us yet another fine dinner – mushrooms stuffed with blue cheese and black breadcrumbs (accompanied by chilled Pinot Grigio), rare roast beef with a savoury pancake layered on a cabbage and potato mash (with a bold Shiraz), finishing off with Peruvian Nectarines poached in dark rum and of course, the cheese board and freshly ground coffee. David had spent most of the afternoon grinding the coffee between wood blocks when an earlier purchasing error (whole coffee beans instead of ground coffee beans) was uncovered.

After that a shore walk was planned. So we got out Suki the outboard for her first outing of the year under Robin’s command. After much pulling, adjusting and general fulmination, he decided it was easier to start the engine with the fuel switched on.

As we walked along the strand (curiously the word for beach in both Irish and Danish), a pink gibbous moon rose above the distant islands, the water lapped the crushed beach shells while the lights of the navigation buoys twinkled beneath the stars.

Tonight we shall be in Arhus, cultural Mecca of Denmark with a nightlife to equal that of Copenhagen – or so the rough guide says. Jane has spend the afternoon on her bunk in preparation for clubbing the night away. We have all abstained from the full five course luncheon that we might otherwise have enjoyed. So this will be the last postcard for a while.

Love to you all

Wendy, Jane, David and Robin.