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This is the tip of the top of Denmark...
..where two great bodies of water meet.
Look at this!
Denmark is a country that actually comes to a point!
A few steps this way, I'll be in the North Sea, headed towards home.
A few steps that way, and I'll be in the Baltic,
headed towards Russia.
Now, this is my kind of coast-to-coast walk.
And I'm not the only one -
crowds of Danes come here to witness the eternal battle
between the twin seas.
..to watch opposing currents collide as two waters wrestle for control.
Heading away from the open sea is the Lim Fjord
which twists and turns as it carries the coastline
deep into the heart of Jutland.
Carved out in the last Ice Age, the landscape around Lim Fjord
has had a surprisingly large impact on the British breakfast.
On the banks of the fjord, Nick's making himself at home.
For generations, Britons have been connected to this country
by what's written on the back of their bacon -
Mass marketing has always been a vital ingredient
in the Danish recipe for success.
But what got them started on the business of selling us bacon,
and why did we gobble it up?
'One name is enjoyed by more homes in this country
'for its consistent high quality than any other.'
# Oink! Oink!
# Oink Oink!
# Oink Oink!
It's British consumers who have helped to make the Danes
one of the biggest exporters of pig meat in the world.
There are two porkers for every person in Denmark.
That's over 12 million pigs.
Surprisingly, this rich bacon business
was built on very poor coastal terrain,
a landscape familiar to rural expert Flemming Just.
# Oink! Oink!
Is this is beach or a field?
It's a field.
And in fact, it is very typical of Jutland - sandy.
It is just sand, isn't it?
And there's not a lot of nutrients in sand.
Until the middle of the 19th century,
it was totally covered by heather
and almost no forest.
Once, this was a windswept wilderness, without a pig in sight.
Its transformation to Bacon Central
began with a disastrous defeat of the Danes some 200 years ago.
In the Napoleonic Wars, Britain attacked Denmark
to capture its fleet.
In the aftermath, the Danes lost control of Norway
as the map of Europe was redrawn.
Later, the Germans grabbed a chunk of Danish territory,
their rich agricultural land in the south.
To survive, the Danes had to make the most
of their fertile coastal plains in North Jutland.
Denmark's bacon boom was about to begin.
So from that time on,
they started to cultivate the heather land here in Jutland.
So a kind of agricultural revolution at the same time
as Britain had its Industrial Revolution.
Those two revolutions, they combined,
so Britain deliberately decided only to focus on industrialisation
and not care about farming.
Britain couldn't feed itself,
whereas Denmark became the larder for the British industrialisation.
These sandy fields weren't good for growing crops.
But pigs aren't that fussy.
So this coastal region became farmland to feed us bacon.
As intensive rearing replaced this rural idyll,
pigs grew into big business.
And 100 years later,
Danish was one of the first foods advertised on British TV.
Hello, there! I'm the Danish Bacon Viking!
The majority of Jutland's pigs end up here in Esbjerg.
Denmark's largest North Sea port was founded in 1868,
especially for exports to us.
140 countries now buy Danish,
but they claim the best cuts head our way.
These are backs of bacon - 7,000 of them are going through here today.
And they're all bound for Britain.
It's staggering to think how from humble beginnings,
shipping pig meat from this port really did save Denmark's bacon.
Denmark's flat western coast
takes a constant battering from the North Sea.
The winter storms throw up 20ft waves,
so it's no wonder exposed towns like Thyboron are under threat.
That's why the Danes are busy sucking up sand...
..only to pump it back onto the beach.
A wee stroll along the shore suits me fine,
but some people feel the need for speed.
The North Sea beach marathon
is one of the few anywhere in the world run entirely on sand.
Which makes this marathon especially tough.
Taking up the challenge is 68-year-old
retired Methodist minister Malcolm Brookes from Hereford.
I hear it's pretty tough, but the tougher a marathon is,
the more attractive I find it.
I'll be really in touch with human being's basic instincts -
muscle, body, the air, the sea, the sand, the landscape.
Basic, primitive, fundamental things.
Bring it on, bring it on, I'm just up for it. Great.
I've got my shades to stop the glare from the sea, and the sun.
I've got my energy gels.
See you later!
With 26 and a bit miles of soft sand to negotiate,
in temperatures touching 30 degrees Celsius,
Malcolm's got his work cut out.
It's much softer, much sandier.
Quite slippy and slidy.
I've done 19.7 miles.
CHEERING AND CLAPPING
The race has been on for almost seven hours,
but you are still having runners struggling
to get to the finish line.
And the last runner is Malcolm Brookes.
Yeah, I'm running on my own. I'm right at the end.
But I don't mind that.
Malcolm's twice the age of most of the competitors,
so there's no shame in coming 236th out of 236.
With Malcolm in, they can all go home.
The last bit was really, really tough.
I came home pretty breathless.
Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd