Bornholm, Denmark
Water washes against the hull with no definable rhythm and yet the sounds created could be likened to a musical composition. They blend with the gentle hum of the engine, the regularity of which provides the bass accompaniment. Slowly this symphony inches its way into our consciousness and we awaken to the joy of knowing we are on the sea.
Darkness surrounds us in the early hours of dawn and it is only the texture of the surface that separates the sea from sky. As our eyes accommodate to the dimness, flashes of white can be seen dashing away from the crests of waves carried by wisps of wind. In the east, a monstrous fire has been set, burning the edges of the clouds and sending glowing embers to the earth below. One ember dominates and becomes the sun and once again our day has begun.
How many vessels have sailed upon these seas? The Baltic may be the youngest sea on earth but it has seen more than its share of maritime traffic. Oh to have been a star in the sky watching the wayfarers passing by. Vikings sailed in graceful lapstrake vessels. Hanseatic trading ships lumbered from port to port. Cannon armed warships gave way to torpedo launching subs. Freighters, big and small crowd the traffic lanes. Private sailing boats zip about tacking back and forth across this busy highway. Throughout all time the fisherman have endured not only facing storming weather but declining and polluted stocks as they attempt to feed their families.
Even on shore we were seldom far from the intimacy of the sea. The rounded granite countenance of tiny Christiansø is adorned with three hundred year old fortifications, the remains of the first remote naval base in Denmark’s history. Much bigger Bornholm was our destination for the afternoon.
Borne to shore by Zodiac, Allinge was our access point for exploration of the northern corner of this rhomboidal shaped island. Did the royal family five hundred years ago peer from the windows of Hammershus Castle watching the ships sailing by? Today the towers have crumbled but the slick and polished cobblestones tell tales of many feet treading down the trails. Who were the builders of the strange round churches of the island? They too had to arrive by sea. Were these fortifications complete with granaries, set far enough from the shore to allow inhabitants to escape from invading armies? Or were they simply small Orthodox churches?
The land undulated up and down, carpeted here by forest and there by newly planted fields where tender shoots of winter grains sprouted. Cattle lowed completing this pastoral scene but no where were we far from the sea. The inhabitants here too are always aware that to travel anywhere they have to cross the water.
It is to the south we go now and the music is playing once again, ready to lull us into slumber.
