Sightseeing is one of my favourite things. I love a day out to see a thing. The more eccentric or unique the better in my opinion.
The sights of the west coast were spectacular and beautiful. Sand dunes, vast seas and sunsets. All with a thorough blast of wind. Skagen marked a half way point and the end of my planned route. Rather than push through more bad weather and cycle south I decided to look at what I wanted to see. I’ve crunched the dates and organised trains and overnight stops so now we’re onto the cycle-lite/ culture heavy portion of the hols. I have this ‘it’s a holiday’ revelation most years.
Today with that in mind I headed off to the station. I just missed one train. I hadn’t expected to be near enough to just miss it so I didn’t mind. Instead I went for a cycle around. On time for the next train and ticket bought through my 4th national (in addition to one international) train app I was ready. Only it got cancelled so I waited an hour for the next one.
This simple plan was to save me retracing my steps. By the time I got to my destination I could have cycled it. But still, I arrived at the museum I wanted to see fresh and relaxed. I have read - on one source - about something I wanted to see at the museum but haven’t seen it mentioned anywhere else including on their own website so I wasn’t expecting much.
I wandered through the rooms. Interesting information about the women of the house, it seems to be comparable to Bloomsbury. Then, by sticking my nose into what I thought was the scullery (I should mention that I was totally alone in this place throughout my whole visit) I reached my goal - the largest collection of hair jewellery in Europe! It was really impressive. So intricately worked and such interesting shapes. Delicate. Not macabre but so personal and so distant. I mean, I was delighted. Although it possibly doesn’t quite come across in the photographs.
The rest of the museum was worth the visit too. An art exhibition exploring themes I like, a ship wreck and then a wing dedicated to the war years which is always confronting. A very different narrative.
By the time I left (still the only visitor) it had started to rain and, it hasn’t stopped since. Considering I’d only cycled 10 miles I must have looked quite a sight because the man at reception was very sympathetic. The one thing about camping this way is that no matter where you end up, your bed is always the same. I’m cosy and find the pitter patter of rain drops a pleasant change from the wind.
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