Note
It rained heavily in the night and was still raining when I woke up at 5am so I read my book for a couple of hours (am wishing now that I'd brought a couple of my old favourites which I'm capable of reading over again, rather than books which I don't particularly care about and can chuck when I'm done). Was feeling a bit under the weather and disinclined to run - also tight hip flexors from pack carrying - but I did want to show G the castle. It was drizzling when we set out for our hike, but never got a great deal worse, and eventually cleared after lunch. Information boards at the castle implied that there will be a brand new visitors' centre, environmentally sensitive and built into the hillside so that the view is not obscured, opening Easter 2016. I don't like their chances since there was no sign of its construction having even started yet...
We walked down the little path to the harbour, with G marvelling at the fat sheep and juicy grass in the paddocks and me thinking that the scene was like not unlike the pictures I've seen of fishing villages in Greenland (was very tempted to go to the orienteering there next weekend but it clashes with the conference). Got excellent sandwiches from the tiny café and ate them reading the signboards in the shelter shed while it rained. Incidentally, I am having great difficulty in breaking the long-held habit of saving up information from my travels to tell my grandfather.
After lunch we headed north along the coastline, where patches of heather and juniper were interspersed with clumps of low windswept oaks, and birch trees in the gullies. We caught a glimpse of the Hammerfyr lighthouse, so climbed the hill to see it, and were rewarded by being able to climb the internal spiral staircase to the very top and having remote views of the Swedish coastline 37km away. Then back down to the water's edge past granite outcrops with the rust tinge so common to East Coast Tasmania (actually, the elderly seaside hotels remind me of this region also) and to the tiny Hammer Odde Fyr lighthouse at the very northernmost tip of Bornholm, before walking back into the village and up to the hostel.
It was my turn to crash out for a couple of hours' nap, but in the evening we headed back down to the village to see the underwhelming Tuesday beachside markets (mostly kitsch, and about one busload of tourists wandering around - it's not yet peak season), and the Midsummer bonfire set up for burning later this evening, complete with an effigy of a witch on top (apparently a Danish tradition). As the sky grew blacker, we were comfortably ensconced in a restaurant eating steak, and after the downpour had passed, we headed back to the hostel wondering how much petrol the witch is going to require at 10:30pm!