The Sea Fog of Klitmøller, Denmark (Cold Hawaii) Shot on Film

The Sea Fog of Klitmøller, Denmark (Cold Hawaii) Shot on Film

1800 1013 Leah Damgaard-Hansen

Klitmøller is an odd little place, one of countless fishing-villages dotting the northwestern coast of Denmark. The houses are low and oblong, with thatched or tiled roofs, and with the exception of some newer glassy boxes, are largely white, yellow, or unpainted brick. During the summer, its population swells three- or fourfold; during winter, it is besieged by bitter offshore winds and becomes almost a ghost town, inhabited only by the sturdiest and most obstinate of north shore Danes. It is the sort of place where you might see fish hung out to dry on a line next to kitchen towels or the all-weather onesies necessary for anyone, child or adult, to tolerate the colder months. 

Unless you’re a cold-water surfer, a German summer tourist, or a native, you might never hear of Klitmøller. The name means “mills in the dunes” and refers to three mills that used to stand near the sea and mill grain for export to Norway back in the 1600s. Back then it was a town of fishermen and fishwives, like so many other towns on the sea. A few colorful boats still operate out of Klitmøller, the last stubborn, independent remnants of pre-industrial fishing.

During the 1990s, Klitmøller surprised everyone by becoming a surf-town. A quirk of geography blessed the place with the best surfable waves in Europe. And it wasn’t long before wave fanatics from all over the world gave Klitmøller a nickname – “Cold Hawaii.” The most apt part of this nickname, for me, may be the “cold” part.

But the weather gods allow pleasant days, too. One languid afternoon last summer in Klitmøller, no one was fishing and no one was surfing. I was settling in to house-sit for a friend. I’d just fed her cats and stashed my film (Kodak Tri-X 400, some Ilford HP5+, and a couple Kodak Golds) into her fridge when the sea fog came in. When this occurs (in Danish, the term is havgus) it feels as if someone somewhere has pulled a cosmic lever and you’ve been removed to a distant planet.

Danish summer daylight is bright, powerful, and long-lasting, still lingering at half past eleven at night; but it vanishes like a snuffed candle with the advent of the sea fog. The fog is thick, heavy, damp, grey, and all-encompassing. The temperature at once drops several degrees. Houses become mysterious half-hidden geometries. Sound alters too – cheery voices disappear from backyards, the leaves cease rustling among the branches of the trees, and birds retreat silently into scrubby local evergreens. Roads which led to ice cream shops moments before now appear to run off the edge of the world. 

I snatched up my Pentax ME Super already loaded with my go-to walk around film Kodak Tri-X, and struck out into the grey. This Pentax, my first film camera, is the one I always gravitate back to despite several delightful other camera purchases since. It goes with me everywhere, every day; it’s the one I reach for the way I reach for wallet and keys. Although I own more technically advanced cameras, the Pentax just ticks all the right boxes for me: it’s small enough to be comfortable in my small hands, light enough to hang over my shoulder all day without a second thought, capable and fast enough to handle just about any shooting situation I might stumble across. If I carried a purse or bag, it would easily fit into even a small one. But I don’t. I like to be light on my feet. Wallet. Keys. Extra film in my pocket. The Pentax.

Klitmøller is on my home turf, very close to where I grew up, and I’ve spent a lot of time there. Nonetheless, as I took to the spidery footpaths meandering through the dune heath, I wondered if I would in fact find the water’s edge or end up somewhere else. Visibility shifted as the sea fog coalesced around me; it breathes as it travels, a ghostly beast. Once, some years earlier, I happened to be atop a hill as it came in on a golden afternoon and watched in astonishment as the vast hungry cloud swallowed the entire landscape. 

I arrived at the shoreline by following the sound of tiny waves washing over wet pebbles. Here, though I was right next to it, the sea fog hid the town completely. The world belonged to me, a liminal space of water, rock, and sky. My footsteps, the wash of the surf, and the click of my Pentax’s shutter were all that I could hear, until two shadows loomed ahead in the mist. Presently they formed into two young Danes who, it turned out, had just arrived in town to surf and were wandering about in search of lodging. With my hair in a scramble from the briny damp, an old camera hanging off my neck, and bits of seaweed, shells, and ocean pebbles filling my hands, I cannot have seemed a source of reliable information, and they seemed hesitant to ask. As it was, I didn’t know much about local lodging anyway. We exchanged a few words, then drifted apart. A squat form appeared in the distance, resolved itself into a fishing boat as I approached, then disappeared back into the havgus.

I sat for a while and watched the water break over a collection of rocks just off the shore. The Pentax and I kept working, each image coming and going like a dream. Eventually the damp cold worked a little too far into my bones. With the strange world of havgus stored away in my camera’s mechanical belly, I walked in solitude back through town toward the warmth of house, cat, and kettle, past rows of fishing hut windows and mysterious roads that may or may not have had an ice cream shop at the end.

Follow Casual Photophile on Facebook and Instagram

[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

Leah Damgaard-Hansen

Leah Damgaard-Hansen is a photographer, writer, and filmmaker. Born in Norway, raised in Denmark and the U.S. Midwest, she now lives between south Denmark and New York. You can find more of her work at

All stories by:Leah Damgaard-Hansen
  • Love these images. Really awesome stuff!

  • Simply : great, magic, wonderful, perfect, fresh !
    Love them.
    Thank you so much

  • Love the writing style. It along with the black n white images gave me the feeling I was there experiencing the moments. Peace y’all

  • I don’t know what your profession is, but Denmark is missing out on a wonderful travel writer/photographer if they don’t hire you! Your narrative and the accompanying photos makes me want to jump on a plane to see this in person. But, since I live in the US, I won’t be allowed in. The cottage photo is my favorite. A nice mono palette.

  • Castelli Daniel July 13, 2020 at 2:38 pm

    I apologize for part of my misinformed reply. I didn’t see your bio when I first read your posting. You’re a good writer when you can make fog exciting!

    • Leah Damgaard-Hansen July 15, 2020 at 4:57 am

      Thank you so much! My day job these days is actually as piano tuner, but I would love to do more stuff like this. I hope Denmark is listening. 😉

      • …Then our neglected Bechstein 10 would love to meet you! There’s an ME Super here too.

        This is a lovely set of images. Creating pictures with atmosphere is hard enough; pictures *of* atmosphere is a whole other level. Good work!

  • Leah,

    What a lovely story punctuated with those wonderful B&W images. You really should work on a book of photographs. Your images have such a genuine and natural feel to them.


    • Leah Damgaard-Hansen July 15, 2020 at 4:58 am

      Thank you so much Ned. I would love to do a book–it’s something I’ve thought about. Hopefully one of these days I’ll have the chance.

  • I can feel the cold and damp from these images! Gorgeous and eerie work, thanks for sharing.

  • Thank you for the beautiful article. Love the photo of the wave crashing against the rocks.

  • Victor Reynolds July 13, 2020 at 6:57 pm

    Lovely haunting images in black and white. The ME Super is a great camera; it was the first 35mm SLR I shot with.

  • The writing, the photography, perfect. I’m still trying to warm up!

  • What an ethereal journey. It brought us all right along. Simply fantastic!

  • Well done, Leah! Great storyline and wonderful photos!

  • Fantastiche fotografie e bellissimo posto.

  • shootfilmridesteel July 14, 2020 at 10:55 am

    Now this is an excellent read. Words about the experience of shooting are always far better than endless technical specifications. More of this please.

    • We’ve got more coming, and I’m in the process of recategorizing many of our older posts that are more focused on telling a story or bringing the reader someplace interesting. Hope you and everyone else enjoy. Thanks again.

    • Leah Damgaard-Hansen July 15, 2020 at 5:05 am

      Thanks so much!

  • Full of poetry and sweetness; thanks for your article.

  • I’m a Californian and I surf. My wife is from Denmark (Hørslev), so we have visited many times. On one trip we visited Klitmøller. Reading your piece it took me right back to that day we walked the beach and the roads of that lovely town. Thanks. Nice work.

  • Fabulous photos Leah! They stir so many feelings and emotions, just like the raging seas. Places such as these in Northern & North-Western Europe draw me in so much. I lived in Northern Germany until late last year and Dänemark wasn’t all that far away (around 4 hours), but sadly I never got a chance to go, as I had some other (not so pleasant) big things going on in my life at the time. I no longer live in Europe, but my trips to coastal towns in various European countries remind me exactly of these kinds of scenes. So, thank you. These images are simply phenomenal, and I love seeing HP5+ used in scenes like this. It’s my favourite B&W fim of all time. The way it looks when pushed 2 or 3 stops is just gold.

  • Beautiful photos, like good travel photos should, they make me want to go there and sit on the beach…despite the cold.

  • Great photos and a story well told with rich language that took me on your exploration with you; thanks

  • Lovely photos and a wonderful read. I really enjoyed this.

  • Great article. And absolutely love these shots. Awesome job!

  • Fantastisk fortælling og billeder! Awesome story and pictures! Love it!

Leave a Reply

Leah Damgaard-Hansen

Leah Damgaard-Hansen is a photographer, writer, and filmmaker. Born in Norway, raised in Denmark and the U.S. Midwest, she now lives between south Denmark and New York. You can find more of her work at

All stories by:Leah Damgaard-Hansen