Møns Klint And Mud Monsters
As we awoke with the rising sun at 6 a.m., we tried to quietly scurry around the room without waking up the fellow bunkmates in our hostel. Since Zen and I had already spent a day in the city, we wanted to use our second day in Denmark to go on an excursion. We geared up, checked out of the hostel and headed south to Møns Klint (The Cliffs of Møn)! The hour-and-a-half drive was a breeze (it helped to be in such a beautiful country). We stopped a couple of times along the way to grab breakfast at a bakery and see a couple of cathedrals.
When we arrived in the forest area of Møns Klint, we were immediately immersed in unacquainted territory. We had to navigate our GPS in a foreign language since we could only input directions in Danish. We were also unable to translate any of the signs due to not having any phone/internet service. We were on our own. This slight language barrier prompted many hindrances during our trip, such as having to park almost two miles away from the cliffs. We were directed to a little cottage-type building on the outskirts of a cattle ranch where we parked for free, unlike at the visitor center (win for e.Z.!).
We decided the only way to the cliffs was walking through the cattle ranch. There was a maintained pathway we followed through the field, eventually leading to the actual trails. The morning fog was just burning off as we arrived at the edge of the cliffs. From here, we were able to see the chalky white walls in all their glory. It was a major contrast between the blue-green ocean, stark white tall cliffs and the dark foliage that topped them. The trail system went both ways and we were able to hike around enjoying the beautiful chalky cliffs from above. After scouring the tops of the cliffs for a bit, we found a set of wooden stairs that led down to the beach. After several hundred steps we reached the bottom.
The view from the shore was daunting and made us feel the true scale of the giant cliffs. The beach was covered with large black pebbles making the water sing as it ran over them. Other than a couple of lone fishermen out in the surf of the ocean, we were the only ones on the beach. Zen and I danced along the little trails yearning to discover more of the foreign beauty when, suddenly, the trail disappeared. The tide had recently swallowed up a part of our path forcing us to find an alternate way to the other half of the beach.
First off, I am NOT a wussy! Secondly, if anyone (especially Zen) calls me a “wussy,” I have no other option than to prove them wrong. This being said, when we were trying to maneuver our way over a very muddy sinkhole, Zen started calling me a “wussy” because I didn’t want to get my shoes and clothing muddy. Of course, I stubbornly persevered and continued to sink and struggle through the pool of cold muddy sludge to get to the other side of the trail. Although Zen was trying to convince me that his way across the mess was easier and less risky, I decided to scoot and shuffle my way over a different route. Not long after going our separate ways did I hear Zen cursing behind me. I looked over only to see him hopping around on one foot. While I had been delicately trying to cross, Zen decided to jump over the whole pool of sink mud. This grievous mistake not only got him covered in mud, but it also lost him a shoe. His foot landed short of the solid ground, and a mud-monster slurped his shoe up devouring it deep below the thick sludge. Karma always has a way of taking immediate effect in my life! I couldn’t contain my amusement as I watched him fish for his shoe for a good five minutes. I attempted to capture the moment with pictures and videos, but I was only able to take two second videos because I was shaking so hard from laughter.
After we washed off in the brisk ocean, we were determined to find another way to the tops of the cliffs, rather than retrace our steps across the mud to return up the stairs we had descended. We followed the beach as far as we could, until we came to the realization that there were no other designated ways back to the top from that side of the beach. We had two options: cross through the mud again, or scramble up the mountainside. The only sensible choice for two rock climbers, especially one who had just lost a dirty battle to a muddy sinkhole, was to climb a relatively steep rock cliff. When we first accessed the climb, we didn’t take into consideration any other condition than it being a free-climb scramble. As we ascended the cliff, Zen and I kept slipping and sliding down after every few steps because of the rain sodden leaves. As we attempted to cling to trees or bushes to stabilize ourselves, it was as if they had no root system and came flying out of the ground. After a half hour, we were finally at the top. We were scraped up, smothered in dirt, covered in twigs and leaves, and we had no idea where our car was. Looking back, I’m not quite sure if climbing the cliff was the right decision. Laughing, we decided to make the best of this hilarious situation and enjoy ourselves as we wandered through the beautiful forest. Somehow, we made it back to our car without any mishaps and didn’t get lost along the way.
Although our Møns Klint escapade was far from the normal tourist experience, it was a truly great memory. Great stories don’t come from normal experiences, and I wouldn’t hesitate to relive the adventure exactly as we had.