It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
Charles Dickens
The Vikings’ secret defense in Roskilde Fjord
I will take you back to March 28, 2014, on a beautiful sunny day at Roskilde Fjord.
Roskilde Fjord is a beautiful area. I was born at the sea, but grew up in this fjord environment.
Always being near the water brought me many lovely experiences.
The fjord is idyllic, and you can plan many a good walk.
The history is exhilarating, and exceptional relics are left by the Vikings.
My walk starts at the ridge at Skuldelev. The silence is striking except for the song of the larch.
It is unusual to find silence today, but it is still possible here.
You can see the Skuldelev Ås in the background.
Skuldelev Ås is 5 kilometres south of Frederikssund, and is Denmark’s best preserved ridge. Most of the four kilometres ridge is publicly available.
Out there in the fjord is the two islands Peberholmen and Kølholmen.
This is where they found the Skuldelev ships from the Viking Age.
Five ships were sailed out to block the entrance to Roskilde for enemy ships, as a part of a deliberate defence strategy.
The ships were filled with stones, and the only important task was that the ships were properly positioned when they sank.
The Skuldelev Ship; The Sea Stallion from Glendalough was supposed to block the two major shipping lanes with its 27 meters. The ship could almost reach over both channels simultaneously.
Here is the Sea Stallion under reconstruction at the Viking Ship Museum.
See the most beautiful photos from Sea Stallion’s many voyages.
The photos are taken by Werner Karrasch: Sea Stallion
Wish you a happy walk and leave no trace behind you unless they are of significant importance 😊
A lake named after a little fish
The lake is named after the little fish, Bleak. The Danish name for the fish is Løje, hence Løjesø.
In the north-east corner of the lake is a good bathing spot. Though I will always prefer the beach.
I find a deep dark forest lake a bit scary.
You can catch shells and perch in the lake and it is a beautiful peaceful place to fish.
The Ancient Oak Tree
The last day of February
Where ravens fly
The raven masters the most spectacular voices. Once we sat on a mountain in Sweden.
We thought we were in hidden camera because of an unusual sound slamming around between the mountain walls. Boing! Boing! Boing !!
We went home without finding the team behind the film, or being offered a dinner as compensation for the teasing.
Now we know it was the raven, with its unusual calling.
The Fairies
I believe in everything until it’s disproved.
So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons.
It all exists, even if it’s in your mind.
Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?
John Lennon
Do Ducks Smile?
People were queuing in parks, woods, everywhere.
All the houses stood back empty.
The sun was shining, and the air was warm.
The buzzards circled high above. Children flew kites on the meadow, and the skylark flew singing over my head for the first time this year.
Some girls directed their horses through the shallow water into the lake but one of the riders came too far out.
The horse sank in, and so did the rider. The horse was gasping for air and the girls squealed.
First in fright and later in laughter, as everything went well.
And then I ask you again: Do ducks smile?
After the fight
“There’s been a fight going on!”
My first thought was that some people couldn’t agree on the bill at the little restaurant by the pond. But it turned out much more poetic.
The Cob had successfully defended his pen against another cob.
When I arrived to the pond, he was brushing the feathers as if it was a glorious knight armour and he certainly was impressive.
Dust of Snow
The sun shines from a sparkling blue sky and I feel an urge to see the thick patches of snow spread over my nearest landscape of wilderness.
The snow has already started to melt when I walk into the forest and I hear an unfamiliar sound among the trees.
That is snow, that reluctantly let go of the branches and falls to the ground. Not heavy as for snow which been around for weeks.
No, it’s the dust of snow that falls as in the poem by Robert Frost.
HANNA'S WALK 
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