Sylt and Flensburg

Monday 31st July 2006, Dagebüll, on the North Sea, Schleswig-Holstein
This really is a very pleasant site. It has only the minimum of facilities so does not attract large crowds. They tend to use the main site further down the road. The facilities here are clean and adequate and now that there is a cool breeze blowing the lack of shade is not so urgent. The site is called Moin Moin. This is a regional word which we have discovered means Good Morning or Hello. Most of Germany uses the word Morgen but Moin Moin is equivalent to the Bavarian Gruss Gott. This evening we have sat outside with glasses of wine while our supper cooked in the tiny oven we have with us. Until today we have not used it for weeks as it has been far too hot to cook.

Last night we eventually had a little rain and this morning everywhere felt much fresher though the rain that fell had completely disappeared into the grass which felt as dry as ever as we breakfasted outside.

We drove into Niebüll where we have spent most of the day. At the library we were unable to load material on to the internet as they did not permit us to use our USB stick. However, we solved this problem at the railway station before returning to the town centre for a very nice, inexpensive lunch at the local butcher/delicatessen where every day they offer a particular dish. Today it was roast lamb with vegetables which we ate at a table shared with others outside the shop front. Here we ended up talking to a couple who had visited Exeter and had fond memories of the cathedral, but most of all, memories of Pizza Express on the cathedral green. They reckon it serves the best pizza they have ever tasted!

During the afternoon we visited the Friesland Museum. It only opens for a few hours a day and is run by very well informed volunteers. We were the only visitors this afternoon and were given a guided tour by the curator. It took two hours to see around the farmhouse which is conserved as it would have been over the last few centuries. It was in use until the 1920s. Our guide was a very friendly man who quickly warmed to his subject when he realised Ian could cope with German and with translating the bits Jill didn't quite grasp – though that is improving very quickly. He was the same age as us and had attended school in Niebüll at the time Ian was here so long ago. They speculated they may even have met at that time!

He took us around the museum, room by room, explaining how the farm would have been run and how thatching with reeds was carried out, showing us the necessary tools. He explained the workings of the kitchen - bread making, the way the huge cast iron cooking pots would have been used, how water was drawn and heated and how farm produce was preserved for the winter months He showed us the box beds where the family slept and the loom where fabric was woven. He was frequently able to draw on examples from his own life, speaking about his grandfather and even showing us skates similar to the ones he used to get to school across the frozen winter landscape. Here the water level rises in winter, freezes and forms a sheet of ice over whole areas of the countryside. He showed us cupboards filled with women's lace bonnets, equipment for making candles, paintings and samplers done by local people, farming tools and nineteenth century ledgers with the farm accounts neatly written down with a quill pen. He showed us the stalls where the cattle were milked and livestock housed over the wintertime. It became clear from his descriptions that the whole building was efficiently designed, from its east-west orientation with the cattle at the east end - down-wind from the prevailing westerlies, to the seats of the farmer and his wife beside the south-facing windows, the farmer with his rack of pipes readily to hand, the wife with her embroidery and lace making equipment fixed to her side of the table.

Farmhouse museum in Niebüll

Main living room and bedroom at the farmhouse museum in Niebüll

Best parlour at the farmhouse museum in Niebüll

Candle-making equipment at the farmhouse museum in Niebüll

Kitchen range and cooking equipment at the farmhouse museum in Niebüll

Usually we prefer to look around a place at our own pace and work out how things function. In this instance though, it was really good to have someone so enthusiastic and knowledgeable to explain things to us in such a friendly manner. He obviously got as much pleasure from it as we did and he was in no hurry to get off home at closing time when we were still there chatting.

Later, back in town, we picked up a pretty Porthmerion mug for peanuts in a junk shop. Obviously it is not recognised or appreciated here as it is in Britain and other parts of Europe. We've been very good about not buying anything as we travel, knowing we would have to carry it around for the rest of the year. Now though, with only four weeks to go, we can perhaps afford to be a bit more self-indulgent.

Tuesday 1st August 2006, Dagebüll, on the North Sea, Schleswig-Holstein
Yes, we are still here! Having found a nice campsite why rush off up into Denmark? Everyone we have spoken to warns us it is expensive and there are still interesting things to do around this northernmost tip of Germany where we can understand the language and everyone is so friendly.

Looking at the map a while back it seemed as if it would be interesting to take Modestine to Sylt, a strip of land off the westernmost coast of German Friesland, linked to the mainland by a causeway and stretching right up to the Danish border. However, we discovered the only way out is across the Hindenburg Dam, a stretch of reclaimed land across the mudflats with the sea lapping at either side where drainage ditches and dykes are helping to reclaim a gradually widening strip back from the sea. The dam is only wide enough to support a railway line which is single track for much of its length. Vehicles have to be loaded onto navettes at Niebüll to be carried across the causeway and unloaded in Westerland, the only town of any size on the long, narrow strip of land that is Sylt. Having no real need for Modestine on the island, or indeed for Hinge and Bracket, we left them together in a car park in Niebüll and took the train across the causeway without them.

Vehicles being carried to the island of Sylt

As we left the mainland it started to rain. We have been longing for it to return but on an exposed spit of land almost devoid of trees, it was not quite the moment to welcome it back

According to our German guidebook Westerland is the most chic of all the German seaside resorts. Germany does not actually have many seaside resorts and perhaps we were naïve to assume this meant it was a rather nice place. We were generally disappointed with Sylt. While it was worth a single visit, we would never bother to go again. Westerland is overcrowded and overpriced. The streets in the centre may be chic but within half and hour we had become bored with shops selling locally made chocolate, smart coffee shops selling marzipan gulls' eggs and quark cake, expensive china shops selling Meissen porcelain and cheap souvenir shops selling mugs and teeshirts inscribed with "My family visited Sylt and all they bought me was this mug/teeshirt" accompanied by a long thin wormy looking shape with a hook at the top. (See a map of Sylt.) The enthusiasm for using other languages in Germany is sometimes carried to extremes. So, an expensive lingerie shop in the town centre is called "Touch Me Dessous" which strikes us as verging on the obscene! We strolled through the town to the sea front. Here our way was barred by a barrier and a ticket office. If you want to see the sea, you are expected to pay for it!

Manhole cover, Westerland

Uncovered woman, Westerland

Outside of the immediate town centre the roads were full of traffic jams – amazing when you think everything on the island from vehicles to foodstuffs has to come across the Hindenburg Dam! The streets were boring, stretching away into the distance with flats, trading estates and sand dunes to either side. There are only two roads to speak of on the island. One stretches about eighteen kilometres north of Westerland with the sea on either side, the other does much the same in the opposite direction.

Near the station we found the number 1 bus about to depart to the north of the island. (Presumably the number 2 bus goes south but we didn't investigate!) Bored with Westerland we took a ride up the coast to List, almost at the furthest tip. From here a ferry leaves for the Danish island of Rømø, a short hop across the water. This area proved to be more interesting though is only a small port with several cafes and bars and a few tourist shops. We explored the port and some of the shops, particularly those selling fresh fish and foodstuffs. The most northerly fish shop in Germany is called Gosch. We were impressed and bought Bratherring rolls there for our picnic lunch. Gosch, they were nice! We recalled today that we had found the fish menus around the Mediterranean region not really to our taste, being either full of bones or like rubber bands in expensive sauce, or to be swallowed whole and raw. Here though, we have really enjoyed all the fish dishes we have tried and have actually been eager to appreciate all the different possibilities. For one thing we can see them displayed, already prepared and clearly labelled so we know what we will be getting, and they are very much cheaper than the expensive menus we have seen in southern Europe. North Sea fish is also something with which we are more familiar. A herring is a herring, a mackerel a mackerel and a sprat is exactly that. (We still shudder to recall the plate of Devil's dentures we saw in Santiago de Compostela and wonder what on earth they were!)

Harbour at List

Most northerly fish restaurant in Germany, List

Friesian freezer, List

Smoked eels – sold by length, List

Smoked fish, List

At List the sun was really hot one moment and the wind and rain came sweeping in the next, only to disappear just as suddenly. It didn't take long to exhaust the possibilities on offer on the northern point of this landspit so we returned down the island to Westerland and caught the train one station back towards Niebüll to the village of Keitum. This used to be the historic "capital" of Sylt before Westerland developed as a seaside tourist resort. Here the houses were all in traditional style with reed thatched roofs, brick walls and pretty gardens. They were rather like those we had seen on Föhr but not quite so picturesque. Incidentally, we have learnt that while the buildings are traditionally reed covered, because the drainage of the Koogs has been so effective, reeds are no longer found here in sufficient quantities for thatching. Now the reeds are imported from the Hungarian Pusta, probably the very Hortobagy region we crossed in the torrential rain with the permanent chorus of frogs!

Reed covered cottages amongst the sand dunes near List

As we strolled around the village streets we could hear a very plummy British commentary from a loud speaker system at the polo ground on the far side of the railway track. Apparently Germany and Switzerland were locked in mortal polo combat but why the commentary needed to be in English we do not know. Fortunately the result was a tie which was a jolly good show all round what what!

Suddenly our friend the Rain discovered exactly where we were and spent the next ten minutes boisterously soaking us and eagerly accompanied us back to the station. Here the train was running thirty minutes late. British Rail is not the only one to have delays. Being single track for much of the route delays are almost inevitable. Nobody seemed too bothered and the girl waiting to board the train to sell refreshments had very little left by the time it arrived. Delayed travellers, crowded together on the platform seeking warmth and shelter from the rain, had consumed her Kuchen and emptied her Teekännchen!

Eventually though, we rejoined Modestine in Niebüll and retuned to our campsite here at Dagebüll. Rain followed gleefully behind and, making up for lost time, has spent most of the evening teeming down while we have been snug and comfortably warm inside Modestine. It has been an interesting day but unless Denmark is very different from here, there may not be enough to keep us happily occupied for the final month of our travels. We are in the process of rethinking our future plans.

Wednesday 2nd August 2006, Flensburg, Baltic Coast, Schleswig-Holstein
This evening finds us on a pleasant campsite within cycling distance of the town of Flensburg, still just within Germany on the eastern side of the Jutland Peninsula. We want to visit the town and in particular the museum as we were told by Frau Feddersen the other day that there are a number of paintings by Hans-Peter Feddersen on display there and one of the curators is a specialist in his works. We expected to arrive in time to visit the town during the day but it was evening by the time we arrived so instead we made straight for this campsite.

We left Dagebüll after breakfast but decided to use the internet in Niebüll before moving on as we still have rather a backblog to load and we needed to check ferry times for our return to England. By that time we decided we might as well get some wine and tins of food before we go into Denmark where we understand prices will be a lot higher. Then we thought we'd have lunch. Then we discovered the church was unlocked and went inside to explore. Then we decided we needed a coffee. Then we remembered a museum we intended visiting at Seebüll out on the polders, dedicated to the works of Emil Nolde. So that really was our day. We considered returning to Dagebüll again for the night but decided to press on to Flensburg and hope we could find a campsite when we arrived.

We really enjoyed the last few days in and around the little brick town of Niebüll. It is small enough to be friendly and relaxed but large enough to have everything you might need. It is also a pretty little town with attractive public gardens and quiet, tree-lined roads. Today we visited the simple brick Lutheran church, built in the 1730s.
Inside the walls are plain white and hung with several oil paintings including one of Luther himself. There is an impressive 17th century carved and painted pulpit with bible texts in Low German. There is also a painted altar piece flanked by carved angels. The pews and woodwork are painted in dove grey and pale green. There is an old, incised granite baptismal font and nearby a huge cross flanked by carved wooden figures.

Lutheran Church at Niebüll

Looking towards the altar and pulpit in the Church at Niebüll

From the Altar looking to the back of the Church at Niebüll

Font and Crucifixion in the church at Niebüll

Carved and painted pews dated 1730 in the church at Niebüll

Wooden pulpit with Low German inscriptions in the church at Niebüll

We were taken aback to discover here the original of one of the paintings we had been admiring in the book we were given about the artist Hans Peter Feddersen. Called "The return of the prodigal son" it hangs in the local church rather than one of the museums or private collections of his works. We felt quite excited to have seen it. It was only chance we went into the church and only chance too that we recognised the painting for what it was.

The return of the prodigal son by Hans-Peter Feddersen, in the church at Niebüll

Hans-Peter Feddersen (1848–1941) was an older contemporary of the artist Emil Nolde (1867–1956). Both painted local scenes and landscapes but their painting styles were very different. Nolde became more and more expressionistic in the way he worked. We drove out along little lanes right up to the Danish border - he was in fact born over the border but settled at Seebüll in Germany in a house built to his own design during the 1920s, set remotely amidst the polders where cattle graze under dramatic skies.

Cattle grazing under dramatic skies near Seebüll

Emil Nolde's house seen from the garden, Seebüll

Emil Nolde's garden house, Seebüll

He had the double-edged recognition of being included in the notorious Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art) exhibition in 1937. During the war his works were banned by the Nazis and many paintings confiscated. He was however a prolific artist and spent the war years secretly working on smaller water colours for himself. These now form the basis of the exhibition. We expected to be the only people around, not realising how widely appreciated he was. When we arrived at his gallery and studio it was crowded with art enthusiasts from both sides of the border, many arriving in coach loads. The house had been his home, where he worked, lived and died. Now it displays a selection of his paintings, woodcuts and engravings.

We were impressed by his works and particularly by his vivid use of colour. Earlier works were more traditional portraits and local scenes but soon colour took precedence over form and they became increasingly expressionistic, often with an emotionally charged harshness. Apparently, according to Frau Feddersen, Hans-Peter Feddersen did not fully sympathise with the work of Nolde, asking him once why he chose to work as if he didn't know how to paint when all the time he was a first rate painter! Downstairs his original studio had been given over to his canvases of self portraits and religious paintings. The latter were particularly interesting being in wonderfully bright and frequently unexpected colours, bold splodges of colour that almost naively conveyed scenes from the life of Christ. The painting of the Holy Family was one of the gaudiest and most cheerful nativity scenes we have seen. Even today when we have become used to using colour and form in so many different ways it makes a very pleasurable impact. Regrettably we cannot show any photos of his works but try the Nolde Stiftung website.

Outside we wandered in his garden, beautifully maintained and, like his paintings, bright with vivid colours as dahlias, golden rod, climbing roses and nasturtiums jostled for space and gentle bees droned amongst them, their legs heavy with pollen.

If we were to make it to Flensburg before dusk we'd best get going. It was around 50 kilometres along a straight dyke that ran almost along the frontier between Germany and Denmark. The route was generally quiet but badly potholed. It seems strange that it is the routes along borders that tend to be neglected. It was the same on the German/Polish border. This campsite is at a useful crossing point between Germany and Denmark and many of the people staying here are Danish. They sound a remarkably boisterous lot with rather loud voices. It still sounds very strange to our ears but over the next couple of weeks we should get used to it even if we cannot understand it. All the signs on the campsite are in German and Danish. As Jill still finds it rather a struggle with German she's hoping she won't end up having to cope in Danish!

Thursday 3rd August 2006, Flensburg, Baltic Coast, Schleswig-Holstein
What do you think of when Denmark is mentioned? Bacon, open sandwiches, raw herrings, modern furniture, pastries, fairy tales and of course Lego. This was Jill's list. When she asked Ian for additional suggestions he immediately responded with "blonde naked ladies in the sand dunes."

This morning we cycled from the campsite the four kilometres into Flensburg where we have spent the entire day - and a very pleasant, if exhausting one it has been. It is a town of 87,000 inhabitants and the old centre stretches out along one main street with little courtyards off to either side. Formerly these were stores and warehouses for the port which lies on the fiord, parallel to the main street. Now these courtyards are full of flowers, craft shops and sunny cafés. Although we are still in Germany there is a definite feel that we are on the edge of Scandinavia here. Ian has purchased a German-Danish phrase book which he is eagerly studying. Danish seems rather like a mixture of German and English with several new diacriticals. So long as we say "Tak" and "Skål" a lot we should be okay.

Courtyard off the main street, Flensburg

In the 18th century Flensburg was an important trading port, particularly for the ships from the West Indies fleet. They would return here with cargoes of rum which were distilled and refined in the town. It is still famous for its distilleries today.

We started our tour of the town exploring the flea market where we bought a wooden budgerigar. No, we don't really know why either. He looked rather sorry for himself on the junk stall and we decided to pay up to a euro for him. As the man on the stall said, it was a bargain as we never needed to feed him.

Südermarkt, Flensburg

Further along the road we stopped to look in at a rum dealer's warehouse. Here we had glasses of rum slipped into our hands to try! What with that and the budgie on her shoulder Jill was beginning to feel like Long John Silver! The rum was very warming and made a change from a mid-morning coffee. We learnt all there must be to know about rum before we left. It has a history of being very popular with the Danish and the Norwegian fishermen who would drink it to give them courage before setting off to fish the North Sea.

A rum business, Flensburg

The main street is a long pedestriansised area of shops and cafés at ground level but the upper floors of the properties reveal the history of the town as a prosperous trading port full of merchants' houses with elaborately carved doors and windows, ornate gables, statues and decorated brickwork.

Nordertor, Flensburg

Down by the port we looked out across the fjord to the many sailing vessels and explored the old boatyard where in the past the wooden fishing boats were made. Now it seems to concentrate more on restoring some of the older boats rather than building new ones. It is though a very interesting area to explore. Nearby is a museum on the history of boat building in Friesland.

Sailing craft in the harbour, Flensburg

Boat builder's yard, Flensburg

Kompagnietor, the guildhall of ship owners and merchants, built in 1602, Flensburg

The salt water around the boats was full of jellyfish. They have a wicked sting but look quite beautiful as they propel themselves through the dark water by pulsating their delicate, transparent umbrella shape, their tendrils flowing out behind. Later in the museum we learned something of their life cycle. They are strange organisms. At this time of year the waters here are quite infested with them.

Jellyfish in the harbour, Flensburg

For lunch we went to a cheap Chinese restaurant for bean sprouts and noodles with duck and a bottle of Chinese beer. It wasn't what we expected to be doing but made a nice change from our practice of always trying out the local dishes. It seemed strange to be ordering a dish from the Chinese waitress in German on the border of Denmark, but the cosmopolitan mix is all part of the joy of travelling around Europe like this.

Flensburg seen from the museum

The afternoon was spent in the museum and art gallery perched high above the town on the first hill we have seen for ages. Our reason for being here was to seek out some of the paintings by Hans-Peter Feddersen. There are several in the Flensburg museum and even a couple of miniatures by his father, who had the same name. We were fortunate to be able to photograph a few examples of their work.

View near Deezbüll by Hans-Peter Feddersen, Flensburg Museum

Another view near Deezbüll by Hans-Peter Feddersen, Flensburg Museum

Dagebüll by Hans-Peter Feddersen, Flensburg Museum

Italian scene by Hans-Peter Feddersen, Flensburg Museum

Miniatures by Hans-Peter Feddersen the elder, Flensburg Museum

The museum also has a large collection of paintings by other North Frisian artists including several by Emil Nolde (even in the museum we were not allowed to photograph his works.) The open landscape and the clear light encouraged local artists during the nineteenth century and there seems to have been a proliferation of excellent works depicting the local landscape, peoples, buildings and interiors of that period. There is currently a large exhibition of paintings by Erich Heckel who produced many paintings of Flensburg and its surroundings. The exhibits have come from museums throughout Germany, in particular Berlin and Dresden. Like Nolde, Heckel was an expressionist painter making powerful use of colour in his works. He was part of the Brücke group of expressionists in the early 20th century.

For a change, and because it was included with our entry ticket, we pottered across from the art gallery to the museum. Here we found several more paintings by Feddersen but also an excellent local and natural history gallery with exhibits on the birds and animals of the area. Upstairs were recreations of rooms appropriately furnished to illustrate 17th and 18th century middle class Frisian houses complete with wood panelling, stone floors and huge, heavy, beautifully carved cupboards, tables, chairs and buffets.

By now we were rather weary so returned to our bikes, stopping only to retrieve a rubik cube being thrown out as unsellable junk by the stall holder we had purchased our budgie from. No doubt it too would have ended up in the rubbish skip if we'd not bought it earlier! We cycled back to the campsite to discover it had been pouring with rain here and the washing we'd left out to dry this morning was still soaking wet. We'll have to pack it into a bucket tomorrow morning and dry it off in Denmark.

North Friesland

Friday 28th July 2006, Dagebüll, on the North Sea, Schleswig-Holstein
During the night we were woken from our fitful, sticky sleep by the slight patter of rain on the roof! Seconds later we were outside in our night clothes hoping for a thorough soaking. Alas, after a few sputters the rain departed leaving us with nothing but a few ineffectual rolls of thunder. This morning all evidence of the rain had disappeared and the sun rose as hot and bright as ever.

We left the campsite as quickly as possible, having not a speck of shade around Modestine, and returned to the little town of Husum. Acting on local advice, at the railway station we discovered everything we needed - an air conditioned café with a really effective and cheap internet connection plus large mugs of good filter coffee and croissants that tasted every bit as good as those in Paris. From then on things seem to have gone so much better for us. With the cooler temperature we felt well and comfortable again for the first time in ages and the internet worked like a dream for us. We found ourselves smiling again and starting to make plans. Outside in the streets it was as airless as before but we hugged the shadow of the walls as we passed through the streets of this attractive little Friesian town. Ian wanted to visit the home of the local writer Theodor Storm as he had studied and enjoyed his writings at University. Jill had never heard of the writer but was more than happy to explore the interior of one of the lovely early 19th century houses. Ian found great pleasure in reading various letters and manuscripts displayed in the house by the Theodor Storm Society, and we both enjoyed seeing the rooms, much as they would have been in the 1860s, with the writer's own furnishings, photos and artefacts. Despite the large rooms and high ceilings, the air was stifling inside and the curator told us the weather here has been like this for weeks with the few drops of rain last night being the first for ages.

Theodor Storm's house, Husum

Garden, Theodor Storm's house, Husum

Interior, Theodor Storm's house, Husum

Theodor Storm's study, Husum

Interior, Theodor Storm's house, Husum

Interior, Theodor Storm's house, Husum

We looked briefly at the harbour and walked up to the pretty little castle set in shady parkland where Ian had vainly hoped to find some exhibits from the North Friesland museum which is currently closed for restoration. Back in the town we discovered a store with air conditioning and spent far longer than we needed choosing a map and guide book in German to Denmark.

Manhole cover, Husum

Street organ grinder, Husum

Harbour, Husum

Castle, Husum

Castle gatehouse, Husum
There seems to have been considerable subsidence during construction to judge by the alignment of the portico

We left Husum around 3pm and drove north by minor roads that enabled us to explore the polderlands, tiny villages, isolated farmsteads, dykes, canals, small sluices and drainage works, sheep, cabbages and wheat. Climbing up on top of one of the dykes we could see where gradually the mudflats were being reclaimed, silt building up behind low hurdles and little by little being drained and eventually planted with tough grass on which sheep seemed happy to browse. The open sea was invisible, far away across miles of shallow, oozing grey mud and reed beds.

Hurdles used to assist in land reclamation, North Friesland

Typical landscape, North Friesland

View down onto thatched cottages from the top of a dyke near Wobbenbüll

The land all along this coast has been reclaimed from the sea and a high dykes hide it from view, protecting those inside. There is a saying here that while God created the sea, the Frisians created the coastline. This is undeniable. How long they will manage to hold it against the sea is questionable. Little by little the sea is winning, as shown by comparing some of the older maps with those of today.

Eventually we arrived here at Dagebüll on the west coast. Apart from being a very agreeable tiny North Sea bathing resort, it is the port from where the ferries leave taking passengers and vehicles regularly out to the islands of Föhr and Amrum. Further out to sea, completely isolated, lies Helgoland.

A cool breeze greeted us that made the sun bearable. After sorting ourselves out on a very pleasant little campsite we took Hinge and Bracket and cycled off to explore the area. It has been a wonderfully pleasant evening. The sun has clouded over and the breeze ensures we no longer feel permanently sticky from the heat. On the other hand, the air is so damp and charged with salt that we feel just as sticky but many degrees cooler. Here we are really at the sea. It breaks in waves against the shore lined with beach huts and a cycle track on the seaward side of the grassy dyke. We watched the ferry returning from Föhr as we paddled in the North Sea, though it felt warm enough to be the Mediterranean. On the horizon we could see several of the surrounding islands.

Ian had been here as a child and remembered a special train that made its way along a narrow track and across a causeway out to the Hallige (small islands) of Oland and Langeness. Its timetable was regulated by the tides and the wind as it was driven by a sail. We cycled along the path beside the sea and eventually found the rather overgrown railway track stretching out across the mud flats grazed by sheep, with reeds and marsh birds including a huge heron and an orange-billed black and white oyster catcher. The area is now a nature reserve for seabirds and seals.

Track for the sail-driven railway out to the islands, Dagebüll

Enthusiasts working on the train, Dagebüll

Turning back inland we sought out the engine shed for the train and discovered it being worked on by a couple of railway enthusiasts who were happy to show us the tiny trucks with the mast attachment for the sail. One of them even remembered Tante Magda, the lady who used to sail the train along the track during the days that Ian spent here. Apparently she was quite a local character. Sadly for us the trains do not run very often to the islands which are now nature reserves and when they do it largely to supply the Hallige and for coastal protection work.

So we went to the ferry port to discover if we could take Hinge and Bracket out to Föhr for the day. This looks a lot more promising so depending on the weather we may do that tomorrow. A slight problem is that we should find a garage as we have discovered one of Modestine's tail lights has broken.

Ferry leaving for Föhr, Dagebüll

It was pure joy to sit outside Modestine for supper this evening. The sun had disappeared, leaving a slight pink glow over the sea, and there was a cool breeze. Our skin was sticky with salt and eventually we were actually obliged to put on our pullovers! It seems inconceivable after the heat of this morning! Our energy is fast returning.

A final delight came when we discovered we are now able to pick up the BBC on our radio! It will again be possible for Jill to follow the events in Ambridge, once she can unravel the complex shenanigans that appear to have been taking place in this rural idyll over the past year. We will also be able to hear the news again. Both programmes will probably be much as they were this time last year. Disasters in Iraq and the Middle East, droughts in South East England and corruption in the Labour party. Emma Grundy giving Will and Eddy the run around, Alisdair and Shula at loggerheads and yet another Country and Western event organised by Jolene and Fallan at the Bull. Are we right?

Saturday 29th July 2006, Dagebüll, on the North Sea, Schleswig-Holstein
No two days are ever the same and almost every day turns out to have some unexpected twist to it. We have not been to the island of Föhr today after all. This morning was almost chilly, a perfect day for cycling around on a treeless flat island but we decided we'd better drive into Niebüll, the nearest little town and the last of any size before reaching Denmark. Tomorrow being Sunday we realised we would be unlikely to find a garage where we could get Modestine's lights sorted. So by 9.30 this morning we were already in Niebüll, a town of about 9,000 inhabitants. Here we were directed to the Mercedes garage which had a workshop open this morning. In no time the repair was made, curiosity expressed about Modestine being a right-hand drive and they even checked our tyre pressures for us. When we went to pay, the bill for 30 minutes work and a couple of bulbs was 4 euros! They couldn't be bothered to charge for labour or writing official receipts so just charged us for the bulbs! We do not imagine any Mercedes main dealer would do that in England, particularly for working on a vehicle with which they were not familiar.

There was a market in the centre of Niebüll this morning. As we walked into the town centre we were struck by just how English it looked. It was for all the world like a little Suffolk market town with red brick buildings, a tractor towing a cart loaded with farm vegetables straight from the fields and stalls selling local cheeses, dried sausages, eggs and butter. There were fish stalls selling smoked herrings, mackerel and salmon and flower stalls with potted plants and cut flowers. There were also stalls of table linen, embroidery and lace and knitting wool. In the corner of the square was an English telephone box and tables were out in front of the brick built town hall with people stopping for coffee and a chat with friends. To one side of the square was the Richard-Haizmann-Museum of Modern Art.

Market day in Niebüll

Ian used to stay in this town when he was a teenager and had known a local artist, Pitt Strauss, who made him a gift of one of his works. At the museum Ian enquired after the artist who was well known to the curators. He is no longer alive, nor has the museum been able to acquire any of his works for their collections as he normally guarded them jealously.

We explored the town searching out the house where Ian used to stay. Over the years several exchange visits were made with the children of the family. Ian even went with them to the local school where he sat in on English lessons.

Out in the countryside, isolated on one of the Koogs (polders) stands a large brick built farmhouse with a thatched roof, built in 1858 and surrounded by endless fields of waving corn. This is where Ian's mother came in 1928 at the age of seventeen from her school in south London to look after a little girl for a few months when a new baby arrived in the family. It provided her with a unique chance to improve her German at a time when girls rarely had such opportunities. The contact with the family was maintained against all the odds, surviving even the War, and later led to Ian's links with the area and his interest in the German language. Links with the family, named Feddersen, only ended with the death of Ian's mother a few years ago although we knew that the little girl she cared for, now a lady of 84, was still living elsewhere in Germany.

The house had been in the same family since it was originally built and occupied by the artist Hans-Peter Feddersen (1848-1941). His father had the same name and so too did his grandson and great-grandson. The artist has produced some works of exceptional quality that have been highly acclaimed and can be found in museums and galleries across Germany. He was one of the leading painters of the Weimar School of Art before moving to the family farm near Maasbüll and devoting himself to atmospheric oil paintings of the windswept north Friesland countryside.

As we drove along one of the dykes Ian recognised the farm. It still had the original whale's jaw bone at the entrance that he recalled from his childhood visits. We stopped to take a photo. In the courtyard someone was working and Ian asked if the house was still in the same family today.

Ian at the gate to the Feddersen's house

Ian explained that his mother had been at the house in the 1920s and before we knew what was happening we had been invited inside, served with glasses of redcurrant juice and made welcome by a lady who spoke excellent English. This was Frau Margret Feddersen, the widow of the painter's grandson, whose sister Ian's mum had looked after. Curiously, Frau Feddersen had worked in the school in Niebüll teaching English and had actually met Ian at that time when he sat in on her lessons. Ian remembered her, but not surprisingly, she could not recall him. However, there were many threads, and links that over the next couple of hours where drawn together and both Ian and Frau Feddersen obviously got great pleasure recalling the past and filling in gaps in the history of events in the lives of those in both families. She was also able to tell Ian what happened to various children he had known in the town 45 years ago who had been her pupils.

Feddersen's farmhouse, near Maasbüll

We sat, surrounded by memorabilia of the artist, including a portrait of his daughter Lolle as a young girl. Later in life it was she who invited Ian's mother to stay with the family to help her with the children. There were also examples of landscape paintings of this area with its wild, desolate expanses, clear light and wide impressive skyscapes. When we eventually left, Frau Feddersen gave us a copy of a publication about the artist with several beautiful reproductions of his paintings, based on a doctoral thesis by Dorothee Bieske, now a curator of the museum at Flensburg.

In the garden she showed us the artist's studio, still there but unused. She explained that the whale's jawbone at the gate had been brought back from Greenland by her husband, the artist's grandson, who was once a mariner and had acquired it, along with a vicious looking rusting harpoon, from a whaling friend when he died.

Frau Feddersen spoke almost entirely in English, very coherently and with astonishing clarity of thought as she recalled all the different threads of the family's history. This was all the more surprising in that she had been considerably younger than her husband and had entered the family after Ian's mother's contact with the farm had ended. We feel we have been very privileged to have been made so welcome by such a charming, friendly and well informed lady who gave us her time so willingly and without being forewarned of our visit. Ian's mum would have been very touched to know about our meeting this afternoon and what happened to so many of the people who had been so important in her life over so many years.

We have been rather thoughtful for the rest of today. Once we left the farmhouse we returned to the campsite and took our bikes out for a ride in the countryside, visiting the pretty local village with its brick church hiding from the winds of the North Sea behind the high dyke, grazed by countless sheep. We are finding this a very interesting countryside with its own charm, despite its initial apparent emptiness and can appreciate the fascination it held for this gifted painter.

Sheep grazing on the steep landward side of the dyke near Dagebüll

Cycling near Dagebüll

Sunday 30th July 2006, Dagebüll, on the North Sea, Schleswig-Holstein
Today we did manage to travel out on the ferry to Föhr with our bikes and we have spent a really lovely day. This evening though we are quite exhausted, mainly because the weather has turned hot, close and humid again.

The crossing on the ferry takes about 45 minutes. It doesn't look particularly far, showing just as a very low line of yellow sand on the horizon. The water though is so shallow that the ferry cannot simply sail across but has to follow a circuitous route that has been dredged out for it between maker buoys and silver birch trees! It looked most odd seeing the slender white trunks of these leafless birches sticking up out of the sea. There are several ferries running a non-stop service with a fast turn-around at either end. Cars, bikes and passengers are carried, most vehicles having several bikes on the roof or fixed to the back. On the island there are traffic jams of bikes! Apart from those going over on the ferry they can be hired on arrival. Cars are not greatly in evidence but there is a very heavily used network of cycle paths throughout the island, which is about the same size as Jersey, but considerably flatter! We've made the comment before that Ian always heads straight for the highest hill around when we reach a new area. The highest point on Föhr is only nine metres above sea level so we were easily able to manage that.

Bicycle park at the beach, near Nieblum, Föhr

Bikes around here are enormous! Real stallions of the road with huge wheels and high handlebars. They cruise casually along sniggering to themselves as they pass Hinge and Bracket with our feet whirring on the pedals and their wheels no more than a blur as they struggle to cover the same distance! It's so flat that nobody need any gears here either on the island or the mainland. While these huge Friesian beasts treat our treasured team members with contempt, their owners gaze in astonishment, fascinated that anything so small can exist, let alone fold up small enough to fit into a bag. It's rather the same story as we have with motor homes and their owners when they see Modestine. (Legoland isn't too far away once we are over the border into Denmark. That's how people seem to think of us here with our miniature vehicles.)

The sea between Föhr and the mainland cannot be more than a few feet deep on either side of the ferry channel. Yellow sandbanks crowded with wading sea birds can be seen showing above the water. All around us sky and sea meet, each a reflection of the other, surrounding us entirely in a multi-shaded aura of blue, from the shimmering iridescent azure of the shallow waters, through the darker blue-green tones of the channel, both flecked with white from the tiny sparkling waves. Above are the paler blues and dove greys of the clouds and sky. There is nothing but a thin line on the horizon ahead that is Föhr and another behind that is the mainland at Dagebüll.

Approaching Föhr

On arrival we first explored the main town of Wyk. Actually it's the only one though there are several very pretty villages, some of which we later visited. The town was crowded with happy holiday-makers and the cycle parks packed solid. Away from the harbour breeze it was very hot and close. Above the beach there were countless little cafes and the sandy beaches were covered in brightly coloured basket seats, small children and sandcastles.

Bathing machine and bathing beauty, Wyk, Föhr

Sea front at Wyk, Föhr

There was a Sunday market on the jetty and we joined the crowds for a Stehcafé lunch at one of the mobile canteens selling jacket potatoes filled with crab meat and shrimps with garlic mayonnaise. Other diners were enjoying rollmops, smoked fish sandwiches fried fish and even Kartoffelpuffer (battered potato cakes) with apple purée.

Lunch – shrimps, not worms! Wyk, Föhr

We have only cycled part of the island. It really has been too hot and close to do more. We were surprised to find how much of an effort it was to force ourselves out into the countryside and head off through some of the pretty villages of reed–thatched cottages with their very beautifully decorated front doors and enclosed gardens bright with climbing roses and hydrangeas.

Typical doorway, Nieblum, Föhr

At Nieblum we parked and explored the village on foot, including the very attractive church yard surrounded by fields of stubble where the harvest had recently been gathered in. This really is a picturesque little village of 19th century cottages. We stopped in the garden of one where refreshments were being served under shady umbrellas. Here we had a couple of coffees to wake ourselves up and Ian managed to find room after his lunch for warm cherry cake and whipped cream. After that he had to struggle to build up enthusiasm to continue our round route back to Wyk along the quiet rural byways where the main traffic was bicycles. On the way we stopped beside a windmill to watch a gymkhana. The chief event seemed to be dads downing litres in the beer tent. Out in the field there were dozens of Brigittes and Brunhildas cantering their ponies around the field but not doing a great deal else.

Village church, Nieblum, Föhr

Churchyard, Nieblum, Föhr

Cottages, Nieblum, Föhr

Cottages, Nieblum, Föhr

Gymkahna, Wrixum, Föhr

Later, back in Wyk, we took Hinge and Bracket for a quick circuit around the Berliner Ring, just to restore their self esteem after being laughed at and looked down upon during the afternoon. Normally this is Berlin's equivalent of London's M25 but Wyk has its very own version, covering about a kilometre around a very pleasant quiet residential area! After that final exertion we sat by the beach licking ices until it was time to catch the ferry back across the sea. On deck it was still very hot and the air hardly moved during the crossing. We dozed most of the way.

Ferry returning from Wyk, Föhr

There is something rather exciting about seeing a crowd on the quay watching the ferry arrive from an off-shore island, frequently bringing friends and family together. Knowing how far we are from our real home, there was a rather nice feeling cycling off the ferry this evening on our little bikes, and making our way through the streets of Dagebüll back to Modestine in the middle of her field. Ian stopped at the café by the campsite entrance and bought a pile of chips and soon we were enjoying them with home-made fish cakes from yesterday's market in Niebüll and lots of salad, together with the rest of last night's wine.

This evening, as we write this, it is becoming apparent why we felt so drained on the island. Thunder is rumbling loudly around the skies, lightening is flickering out at sea and there are even a few heavy drops of rain. We've been standing outside hopefully to welcome him back like the prodigal son, but he's still reluctant to return.