In April 2022 I walked from Hirtshals Harbour to Hanstholm Harbour along the beach on Denmark's west coast – about 110 kilometres by my planned route. It took around 33 hours, with no sleep and no proper breaks.
This wasn't a scenic day hike. It was a test: how would I cope when it got genuinely hard?
The short version
About 110 km in around 33 hours, from 5.10am on 25 April 2022. Three rules: no outside help, carry everything myself, never leave the beach. The distance was hard – but the soft stones underfoot, the night and my feet were what really decided the walk.
Why walk 110 kilometres?
The year before, I'd walked almost 100 km along the beach from Hirtshals to Grenen at Skagen and back in one go. That started with a TV programme about people trying to walk 100 km – I thought it couldn't be as hard as it looked, and decided to find out. I finished, and wanted more.
By spring 2022 I also had a mountain trip to Nepal ahead of me. Being fit is one thing; being able to keep going when you're exhausted and questioning everything is another. This walk was meant to train exactly that.
I set three rules: no outside assistance, carry everything I needed myself, and never leave the beach. And I'd keep walking rather than take proper breaks.
At 4.45am I weighed the pack: 11.5 kg, supplies included.
5.10am: leaving Hirtshals
I parked near Husmorstranden in Hirtshals, walked down to the beach and set off south at 5.10am on 25 April 2022. The weather was good, the beach was quiet, and I settled into a rhythm with an audiobook in my ears.
The trick early on was not to think about 110 km at all – just the next section.
Rubjerg Knude, Løkken and Blokhus
At 12.16 I passed the old bunkers of Furreby Kystbatteri, then the high cliffs below Rubjerg Knude Lighthouse, with the landscape shifting between open sand, villages and rougher stretches. At Løkken the famous white beach huts weren't out yet – it was still before the season.
Around 4.20pm I reached Blokhus – more than eleven hours in. I changed into dry merino socks. On a walk like this, anything that bothers your feet early becomes a serious problem later.
Stone after stone
After Blokhus I carried on past Rødhus towards Tranum and Slettestrand, and that's where the walk changed. The beach turned stony – loose, soft stones that shifted under every step. My rhythm disappeared and my pace dropped.
The audiobook gave way to heavier music – Parkway Drive, among others. I needed something to keep my head busy. I'd expected the distance to be the main challenge. The ground turned out to matter just as much.
Through the night
As evening turned to night the beach went quiet: just the sea, the dark and the headlamp beam ahead. The solitude was one of the best parts – and the point where the walk became mostly mental.
Around 2.45am I passed fishing boats drawn up on the beach, and reached Thorup Strand at about 3.15am. I wanted a proper toilet and water – I was running low – but the toilets were locked. With about half a litre left, I kept going.
About 45 minutes later I watched fishing boats being launched and hauled along the beach with cables and winches. Seeing that in the early hours, with the beach otherwise silent, was something special – and a welcome distraction. At Lild Strand I finally managed to refill my water.
Vigsø: when my body started shutting down
By the bunkers at Vigsø Bugt, around hour thirty, I could feel my body gradually shutting down. Shorter steps. Slower pace. The stones were so soft my feet sank in around the ankles.
My feet were in bad shape. My little toes were under so much pressure I was worried about losing toenails – my shoes were slightly too small for this kind of effort, a lesson I've taken with me. And no sleep. It had become a test of patience as much as endurance. There was no breakthrough, no second wind. I just had to decide to continue. I did.
The last kilometres to Hanstholm
Eventually I could see the wind turbines at Hanstholm Harbour. Maybe a kilometre and a half left – which after more than thirty hours felt like a long way. I'd stopped thinking about 110 km. I was thinking about the next three steps. Then three more.
Kristine and our dog Maggie came out to meet me and walked the last 500 metres with me. It didn't change what the walk had been – but it gave the finish a personal ending.
About 33 hours, no sleep, no proper breaks. Much longer than I'd expected, mostly because of the stones. But I'd made it to Hanstholm.
One peach yoghurt
Kristine had called earlier to ask if I wanted anything. The answer was oddly specific: a peach yoghurt. I don't normally drink yoghurt. After 33 hours, it was all I wanted.
What the walk taught me
The value wasn't the distance. It was learning to keep going when it got far harder than I'd expected. I'd underestimated the terrain and what it would do to my feet, and I had to keep adjusting until the challenge was very simple: keep moving.
It didn't teach me I can do anything I want – it also taught me how much preparation matters, especially footwear, supplies and knowing the conditions. But it showed me I can tolerate a lot more discomfort than I thought, and with Nepal ahead of me, that was worth knowing.
A hard journey is rarely one heroic moment. It's hundreds of small decisions to keep moving, when the next step is the only thing you can think about.
Practical notes
| When | 25–26 April 2022, start 5.10am |
|---|---|
| Route | Hirtshals Harbour – Furreby Kystbatteri – Rubjerg Knude – Løkken – Blokhus – Slettestrand – Thorup Strand – Lild Strand – Vigsø – Hanstholm Harbour, all on the beach |
| Distance / time | About 110 km (planned route), around 33 hours |
| Pack | 11.5 kg including food and water |
| Lessons | Shoes with room for swelling feet; plan water stops – toilets and taps can be locked outside the season; expect long stretches of soft stones |