The Storebæltsbroen, the bridge that was to be the longest single span ever built, but ended up being the second longest by the time it was finished, and currently sits about sixth in that competition, seemed to make the perfect symbolic gateway this morning.
Even though we were travelling at one hundred and ten kilometres per hour, it was a gigantic reminder that we are slowly coming to the end of our time in Denmark, and Copenhagen is now well and truly behind us.
Technically we are already travelling towards Belgium and our dear “Joyeux” who is no doubt aware of our impending return and chomping on her bit, waiting to unleash Mr Perkins and charge forth into the vast blue yonder at our customary six kilometres per hour.
She will have to wait for a few more days, while we, in cruising ship parlance “reposition” ourselves. Tomorrow we still have a few more road kilometres, a plane flight, a bus transfer, a night in a hotel and a short train journey between us and her.
Today, with a car filled to where the rafters would be if cars had rafters, with summer house tools, left over food, their holiday stuff, our worldly goods stacked around our ears as we headed vaguely west for several hours, we must have looked a little like something from one of those “summer vacation” movies filled with characters too happy for their own good.
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