Rønne, Denmark
June 7, 2023
There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark.
Or at least under it.
Last September, near this port…beneath the Baltic beside the island of Bornholm…US-sponsored saboteurs sailed from Rostock, went to the bottom the sea, and blew the Nordstream pipeline to bits.
This was an act of war…not only against Russia, but upon the German people who rely on affordable gas the pipe provided.
It was an attack on a NATO ally that to this point has drawn no response. That’s probably because most misled Westerners seemed to support this reckless act, and for weird reasons.
Most of Europe and much of the world is under an illusion…a delusion…that an industrial society can survive on pre-industrial power.
Beside our ship at the port of Rønne, turbine blades pile high. They are destined for the inefficient machines multiplying like rabbits across this island, besmirching the landscape and sullying its shore.
The mindless incantation repeated at conferences, colleges, and cocktail parties around the West is also chanted here. We are assured…with no plan for how it will happen or contingencies for when it doesn’t…that this lovely island “will be carbon neutral” within ten years.
We don’t know what that means, aside from more offshore eyesores. Neither do those who make the claims.
But “sustainable” energy usually means “inadequate” energy, that’ll need to be sustained by shunned sources our meddlers implore us to ignore.
Today we don’t have that luxury. This island is small. But to see it all we need a bus, which requires gas. The tank full, we hopped aboard, and hit the road.
Today’s weather, like conditions everywhere this week, should hang in the Louvre. The water is calm, skies clear, the sun warm, the air cool. Sweaters are nice, but not necessary.
We’ve returned to Denmark, but are on an island closer to Poland, nearer to Germany, and closest to Sweden.
Agriculture and tourism are the most significant industries. Bornholm boasts 154 farmers and 27 dairy cooperatives. Almost 7,000 acres of agricultural land comprises 60% of the island’s acreage. Approximately 10% of that is organic.
Like succulent meat among hungry dogs, this strategic spot in the Baltic bowl has been tugged for centuries by rival powers. Russians, Danes, Germans, and Swedes have all grasped this enticing dish. Like a Vietnamese village, Bornholm has often been destroyed in order to be saved.
Denmark holds it today. But regardless who controls the island, this Baltic Bermuda is a thing of beauty. Along the coast, lush vales undulate over ancient rock or Bronze Age burial grounds.
From them, above the shore about fifteen minutes from Rønne, rise the ruins of Hammershus Castle. The origins of this former fortress are shrouded in myth.
According to one of them, the castle was constructed in center of island, but kept being destroyed. The vandals were rumored to be fairies and trolls who disapproved the location.
To choose a new location, legend has it the locals let their horses run free. This is where they went, and selected the spot. Apparently, no one knows who, when, or why castle was built. Perhaps as defense against the Swedes, or as an interim stop en route to Poland and Germany.
David and I made the ten minute trek to and thru the ruins, while Rita and Alexander absorbed a fascinating presentation of the site’s origin and history.
From the castle remnants and thru a couple charming villages, we drove another fifteen minutes, to the Østerlars “Round Church”.
Four of these distinctive structures dot the island, adopting a circular shape since four corners are harder to defend. The one at Østerlars is the largest and, ostensibly, the oldest on the island…and among the earliest Romanesque churches in Denmark.
Dedicated to St Lawrence, this church was constructed in the mid-12th century, and contains a round nave and three stories, the highest of which served as a shooting gallery.
Alexander, David, and I ascended the narrow steps as far as they’d go. But the journey down the steep stones was a more precarious trip.
Fourteenth century frescoes adorn the central column in the middle of the nave, providing a pictorial chronology from the Annunciation, thru the Passion, to the Last Judgment. The column is about twenty feet in diameter, and features an entrance to a small room (known as “the oven”) within the column.
Around the church is a fieldstone wall on a limestone base. Between it and the church are lovely gardens, featuring flowers (lilacs and acacias) that by sight and scent recalled my wife’s childhood along the Black Sea.
Having explored the remains of medieval stone, it was time to watch the making of modern glass. The Baltic Sea Glass company sits on a beautiful bluff overlooking the sea. Within view up the coast is the town of Gudhjem, where we’d be going next.
Inside, we watched the heating and cooling of Baltic sand into clear liquid that would become glass. Among the results were exquisite vases that float at the touch of a hand while fitting perfectly within its grasp. We purchased three, in hopes each survives shipment to the states.
From the glass we went to Gudhjem, an idyllic fishing village the Vikings thought was “of the Gods”.
Since 1513, Kings of Denmark have been called either Christian or Frederick, which alternate with every coronation. In the distance…within sight of Bornholm on the road to Gudhjem…are a couple islands, one bearing each royal appellation.
For half an hour we absorbed the adorable town of the Viking gods. Boats rocked in the harbor as Danish flags fluttered on the breeze. We strolled the cobbled streets, bought some chocolate, and made our way back to Rønne.
From the sea, the red roofs of Rønne rest like a bed of roses in the lap of coastal hills. They shelter an assortment of quiet homes, quaint shops, and sidewalk cafés lining the cobbled streets and central square of this enticing town.
Like the island for which it’s the administrative hub, Rønne is influenced by competing powers on either side of the Baltic. It’s been passed like ouzo at a Greek wedding (and sometimes with similar effect) among Swedes, Danes, Russians, and Germans.
The Soviets bombed it to rubble at the end of the Second World War. A year later, the town returned to Denmark, under which it was slowly rebuilt into the Baltic jewel we enjoyed today.
We appreciated our peaceful day in this lovely place. But like beautiful weather in an Arctic sea, we know such conditions are fleeting as stone, and fragile as glass.
JD