Denmark is known for its vast landscapes, the coasts of the North and Baltic Seas, the dunes and forests, the wind and the blue sky, and the “hyggeligkeit” between pølse, cinnamon rolls, and Matilde cocoa. And for its shelters, which crisscross the entire country and offer hikers and cyclists a comfortable roof over their heads in wonderful surroundings.
A year ago, Nils targeted exactly these accommodations with the Shelter Attack and built a 600 km and a 460 km loop through southern Denmark. The first official event started in September 2025, but you can also ride the Shelter Attack on your own.
After the weather had thwarted my plans last year, it was finally time. And I also wanted to use the Shelter Attack as an endurance test for man and material before the Italy Divide.
Originally, it was supposed to start on Easter weekend, but the forecast promised storms and continuous rain. So on Sunday evening, I made a quick decision to reschedule: Monday morning on the train to Flensburg to take advantage of a reasonably usable weather window.
From Flensburg to the North: April Weather Deluxe
Let’s put it this way: that worked out only so-so. But from the beginning: the train took me quickly to Flensburg, where the Shelter Attack officially starts and ends. I already knew the first 70 km from the Christmas overnighter, where we followed the track of the Shelter Attack as far as Haderslev.
But this time the weather was not as stable: it was similarly cold, but that was due to the very strong west wind and the many rain showers. April weather deluxe. And so I worked my way north in rain gear through driving rain. The route repeatedly led along the Baltic Sea coast, which looked quite good during the breaks in the rain. In summer or in good weather, it is certainly very beautiful here.
The track always led through small moors and heathlands, over field paths, and through forests. Unfortunately, due to the rain, the paths were often very muddy and the water in the moors stood very high. This turned some sections of the route and pasture crossings into a sliding match.
In the early evening, I reached the summit of Skamlingsbanken, which at 113 m in height was a kind of Mount Everest of the route. At least here I finally had sun and rolled to Kolding and on to Vejle.
Here in Vejle, I turned west onto the shortcut of the Shelter Attack. Four years ago, I was already here at the invitation of Visit Denmark and was allowed to look at the preparations for the Tour de France start. At that time, I was traveling by bicycle with my youngest son, and the first kilometers of the Shelter Attack shortcut followed the route we rode back then.
Ravning: A Wagon as Shelter Luck
In Vejle, I had resupplied and wanted to head for one of the shelters that Nils listed in his roadbook. Unfortunately, these were all occupied and I wanted to sleep alone.
So, further into the darkness. I followed the old Bindeballestien railway line, which is now a cycle path.
And while looking for the next shelter, I remembered that there was the old Ravning railway station here, which was located directly at the remains of a Viking bridge over 1,000 years old. There was a hut there, modeled after an old railway wagon, which had been converted into a lounge.
Next to it was also a small space for camping, with toilets and water. And suddenly these buildings appeared in the glow of my front light. The best part: the wagon was completely empty – no one had discovered this shelter deluxe for themselves.
So I could spread out for the night and even had electricity. Only the water and toilets were not yet functioning – they are only available from May 1st to the end of October.
Westward Against the Wall
After all the storm and rain, the next day was supposed to be better. But it took its time, because first I had a flat tire in the back for an unexplained reason, which also couldn’t be repaired. And after I had pulled in a tube, it rained for the first few kilometers.
The sun only came out in the beautiful Syvårssøerne heathland. Here, Nils laid the track through a remarkable landscape with lots of sand and roots. The whole thing was reminiscent of areas further north in Scandinavia. And it was quiet here, because the wind was blocked by the surrounding forests.
The wind was initially still tame, but then picked up more and more before throwing me back and forth regularly a little later in Billund. Because of that, it was quite cold, which is why I pedaled hard directly against this wall wearing my thermal and rain jacket. That went quite well in forests or small towns, as these always offered protection from the strong gusts.
But in the open country, I was simply stormed at and pounded like an old marine diesel through stormy seas.
Beach Ride with Tailwind
And then I reached it: after 107 km of headwind, I arrived at the North Sea coast. Before that, the fields had already given way to a marshland crisscrossed by many small rivers. In a nature park just before the North Sea, you had to cross these rivers twice with a hand-rope ferry.
A welcome change, even though I was alone on the ferry each time and needed strength not only for the crossing but also to fight against the ferry drifting due to the wind. A great experience!
But that wasn’t all: with the North Sea, I also reached the fantastic dune landscape and the wide sandy beaches of Denmark in the best weather. I had been here nine years ago with my father and my oldest son with our bicycles and could remember it very well.
Nils was probably similarly taken with this corner, as he laid the track across the dunes to the beach for a few kilometers. And riding a bicycle works surprisingly well here – you just have to stay close to the water, as the sand is firmer there. And even better: I finally had a tailwind!
At Henne Mølle (where I was allowed to stay in the seaside hotel back then), you can cross a tidal creek on a bridge before returning to the beach and following the track further. Or you stay on the beach and wade through the creek (river crossing). However, this was very deep for me and the water very fast, which is why I took the bridge.
Riding by the sea was truly a fantastic experience. Where else can you experience that – especially since the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the waves were whipping onto the beach.
After this beach session, the last section began, which led once again to the cliff coast. After a last look at the roaring sea, I turned back inland and rode via Esbjerg to Kammerslusen – a very small place on the coast in the middle of nowhere, where I spent the night.
Fog and Final Sprint to Flensburg
It was still dark when I was back on the bike the next morning. Thick fog enveloped the land and in the glow of my front light, it felt as if I were riding through a mystical land.
I rode through a still-sleeping Ribe and a moor at dawn, where I expected the Hound of the Baskervilles at any moment. The route leads here for many kilometers through forests and over fields, without any supply points.
Only after 50 km did I stop at a bakery in Løgumkloster to strengthen myself for the rest of the route with the Danish classic Matilde and cinnamon rolls.
It was very cold as usual, but the sun gradually came through and shortly before Padborg, I had the best weather and, above all, no headwind for once. On a small sandy path, I crossed the Danish-German border and a little later was back at the harbor tip in Flensburg, where this little adventure had started 48 hours earlier.
My Conclusion on the Shelter Attack
Anyone who wants to experience Denmark’s wild nature, the shelters, and a fantastic country should check out the Shelter Attack. Whether on your own or together with others in early September, whether 600 or 460 km – it’s worth it, it’s fun, and it’s a great little adventure.
Whether you have to do it at the end of March, I don’t know. When the weather is more stable and beautiful, it’s simply even more enjoyable.
