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Middelgrundsfortet is an unrestored island military fort just west of the more or less restored Flakfortet, another island fort in the western half of the Øresund, the strait that separates Denmark and Sweden.
When we left the harbor in Copenhagen I steered the boat around both fortets; completely circling both. Flakfortet presents a welcoming appearance; there's a harbor with several boats visiting, a restaurant, trails and a museum.
Middelgrundsfortet is far less welcoming. The harbor was empty, a Post Forbudt! Bliv Væk! (Entry Forbidden! Keep Away!) was posted at both the entrance and the wharf.
Middelgrundsfortet still had the muzzles of cannon easily seen from the water and some of those cannon looked REALLY big. There was the red and white cross flag of Denmark flying ... just one ... while Flakfortet had much smaller Danish flags everywhere.
There was a man, probably Artillery Corps, watching us with binoculars while we were watching him with ours; he followed us all the way around the island. Interesting.
Whatever.
We didn't stop at either fortet.
With Helsingør to our port and Heslingborg to the starboard, we sailed through the narrows and out into the Kattegatt, the big bay between Denmark and Sweden.
Then out past Skagen at the tip of the Jutland Peninsula and into the Skagerrak. The Skagerrak is the body of water that fronts three countries; Norway to the north, Sweden to the east and Denmark to the south. The North Sea is to the west. The North Sea can be boisterous.
We could have saved a great deal of time and money if we had taken the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal ... that's the real name of the Kiel Canal.
But we would have missed Malmö and the Ball. The island fortets would have slipped from our memories. The kids would have missed the Copenhagen museums, the Palaces and the tests. We would have had to motor the entire way and we DID buy a Sailboat.
The Kiel was reasonably notorious for floating timber and missing barges. AND ... it's not called a Ship canal for nothing; and they take their half out of the middle. No thank you. If I'd wanted to hug the coast I'd have stayed home.
Once in the actual North Sea, I assembled the crew, handed each one a pencil and a scrap of paper and spoke.
"You all get a vote. Bremen, Germany, or Amsterdam, Holland. Wait ... not yet. It's between a grungy grimy industrial German port city and milk, cheese, and bicycling. Ok ... Vote."
Wendy taught me Olav the autopilot. We set it for Amsterdam and went to bed.
After the vote, while I was snuggling with my wife, I said, "I rigged the vote."
She didn't look surprised.
"What do you want to bet if I'd said Hamburg instead of Bremen we'd be sailing for Hamburg instead of Amsterdam."
"I don't know ... let's ask them," Wendy said.
"Not a chance ... I know what those forever empty bellies would vote for."
"Even if you told them they couldn't get a hamburger in Hamburg."
"Are you kidding, those two would find a sausage shop and talk the owner into grinding up half a cow. Germany has great beef cattle."
"You're right."
"You better believe it. Stick with me, sister. I won't do you wrong." And then I laughed.
"What about Holland?" Wendy asked.
"What?"
"What kind of cows do they have?"
"Holsteins ... milk cows ... great for cheese, terrible for meat," I told her.
"Well ... I never," Wendy said.
"You do too ... you have two kiddies ... wanna try for three?" I lifted an eyebrow.
Seriously ... I stuck a finger up and raised one eyebrow by pushing it ... I never did have a very expressive face.
"Feeling frisky? Are we?" she asked.
"I sure am ... I hope you are too," I said.
She was.
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