Middelfart Marina - Middelfart Lystbådehavn

We radioed ahead to the Marstal marina, as has been our custom in England, France, Belgium and Germany. But no one answered our call.

When we arrived, we docked nose-in and took a while to move Star Mist with lines to the other side of the double berth. It was only the second time we have docked in the Baltic-style dalbs, also knows as dolphins or posts (not floating docks) and our maneuver wasn’t bad for all the technique required. Much smoother than in Kiel, where we became a subject of marina chatter because of our arduous docking, involving the harbor master and two neighboring boat owners holding a few of the many lines needed. The harbor master looked at us sternly over his glasses when we finally got the lines right and checked in. “Sorry,” I said, looking down, with an apologetic shrug. We hadn’t docked in the tricky dalbs since a year ago, and not in winds clocking 20 knots. Yowza! Docking can be humbling.

But wait a day, and there is always another chance to practice. Plus, as we entered the friendly, laid-back Danish sailing culture, everything got easier. You sail in, tie up, and stroll to the marina automat, where you use the honor system to pay for the number of nights you want to stay. There’s no asking permission or getting directed. No requests to see papers, ID or insurance. It’s all DIY and relaxed. Ahhh, the bohemian Baltic!

Marstal lived up to its reputation of a very charming, postcard-perfect sailing mecca of the Danish South Seas. Marstal was a boat-building hotspot in the 17th and 18th centuries. And now, delicate historic architecture and charming towns adorn this bicycling and hiking paradise. The Danish, like the Dutch, are so smart to have preserved the landscape and their culture, which draw visitors by sailboat from all over Europe and the world. We even saw a Canadian flag! What’s special is the clear feeling of being in a place with a distinct flavor, aesthetic, and sound. In other words, the whole reason we travel in the first place.

A visit to the Æerø brewery was required; we slurped the unique walnut and golden brews.

Biking around the idyllic island led us to a shallow, turquoise bay that truly resembled French Polynesia — where the Danish South Seas get their name. Although the weather forecast called for some wind and rain overnight, we decided to anchor for the first time in Denmark in this sweet little nook surrounded by sandy cliffs and forests. We were a little nervous on the approach when all the other boats abandoned the anchorage — getting out of Dodge — for the night, but by sunset one or two other hardy seafarers, including two catamarans, dropped anchor, boosting our confidence. The Dutch sailors on the old cat next to us exuded calm, walking around nude as they checked their position and strapped down a dingy for the night.

We decided to lower a second anchor for extra stability, as the wind would be clocking 180 degrees overnight, gusting into the 20s. It took us two tries to get the second anchor positioned, but the extra security made us feel better when we bedded down as the rain and wind kicked up. In truth, Star Mist rolled quite a bit in the swell, and we didn’t sleep very solidly, waking every two hours to make sure we weren’t dragging out to sea or ending up like a beached whale on shore. After a fitful night, we woke with the dawn, pulled our anchors up, and started north to Middelfart.

Within minutes after take off, we switched off the engine, hoisting the sails to full capacity to fly northward. While the sky was blanketed with clouds, winds of 15-20 kts powered us to a sprint. I stayed at the helm with one fist around the mainsheet to counter the sharp gusts. As I felt a blast coming, my right hand simply let out more line. Easy! Star Mist was averaging 6 to 7.5 knots as we zoomed along the coast of Fyn. We waved on mean-looking squalls that marched past. Finally, just as blue skies ahead promised a lovely last leg of our passage, we got dowsed. But then, an azure stratosphere spread out before us, dotted by little puffs of cotton clouds.

The last two ours of our sail were delightful. We had gained an hour due to the strong steady winds and the lucky course we chose that parlayed the breezes into a steady gallop toward Middelfart. Gero took down the sails and docked us smoothly amid the dolphins. “Smooth as a rabbit!” he noted with a big smile.

We soaked in the late Baltic sun rays, much as we had done in Bagenkop, sipping beers near the marina dock, before the night’s heavy wind and rain started to bring the hammer down. No better place than safely ensconced in a tranquil marina to wait out a storm! Tak Danemark!💕❤️😎🇩🇰