3 - Dispatch From a Saga

Inspired by her Norse ancestors, Jean and I set off from the comfort and protection of good queen Margrethe’s capitol, to brave the perils of the realm’s unknown.  Our quest is a cryptic legend from a well-worn guidebook - the small isle known in the old tongue as AEro. (I can’t make ol’Mac type that AE combined letter, so help me Odin!) 

A voyage to AEro is whispered to be a long trial by foot, train, bus and ferry - but we opt for Avis.  That does not shield us from the fiery hell of $8 gallon gas, or the evil troll’s $40 to cross the bridge from Zealand to Jutland. (Tell whoever is printing dollars that they don’t buy much over here anymore.)  

Fearing naught, we brandish our sacred VISA card, skirt whirling giants and venture on into the wind.

After sacrifice of another $40 to the old boatman, our ferry’s prow cuts thru the glasslike sea to slide up onto the cobbled street of the village of AEroskobing.  

Sainted Susanna, enchantress of an antique-filled 1784 vintage B&B, soon grants us sanctuary. With barely breath to survive steaks and wine, we collapse under goose down for the night.

But we have not time to long slumber.  Emboldened only by simple fare of coffee, juice, yogurt, honey, jam, fresh breads, cheeses, fruits, ham, bacon - and soft-boiled eggs fresh from the hens scratching in the leafy gardens outside - we press ahead.   






We are, by early noontime, mounted on rented steeds - and ready to peddle the length and breath of AEro. 

Oh enchanted AEro, this alluring land of dark forests, thatched villages, hairy beasts, crying fowl, and wildest of flowers - moated all about by a glinting sea, ruled by pitiless sun. 

For hour upon hour, we follow hardened paths marked with runic bicycle symbols.  Armed only with a picnic, we strive through this storybook realm to, at long last reach Valhalla ... the AEro brewery. 

We fall to the grass, spent, perchance to rest ... until their ancient icy elixir bids us rise up - to roll down, down, down to shelter again under Susanna’s downy wing.

 - Saga Singing Stew