The erra­tic boul­der Sen­ge­ste­nen (‘The Bed Rock’) in Nord­s­kov is both a remar­kab­le relic of the ice age and a wit­ness to the ritu­al tra­di­tions of bron­ze age com­mu­ni­ties

GPS: 55.522470, 11.606450

Par­king: If you come by car via rou­te 57 at Sten­lil­le, the­re is a spa­cious par­king lot to the left of Nord­s­ko­vvej at the begin­ning of the forest near Hjor­teb­jerg­hus. On the oppo­si­te side of the road the­re is a sign poin­ting towards Sen­ge­ste­nen.

Near­by attra­ctions: The Blood Sto­ne, The Sna­re Hill Dol­men, The Cross At Con­ra­di­ne­s­lyst

The landsca­pe of Western Zealand is sha­ped by the retre­at of the gla­ci­ers from the land approxi­ma­te­ly 11,700 years ago, when the Wei­ch­se­li­an gla­ci­a­tion gave way to a more tem­pe­ra­te cli­ma­te, cre­at­ing a rol­ling morai­ne landsca­pe strewn with sto­nes and gra­vel. The landsca­pe is cha­ra­cte­rized by its roun­ded hills and lakes for­med in kett­le holes left by dead ice, such as Tis­sø and Mag­le­sø. The retre­at­ing ice also left behind the lar­ger so-cal­led gla­ci­al erra­ti­cs — rocks of unusu­al size that evo­ke the impres­sion of a hid­den bedro­ck thrusting scat­te­red rid­ges up through the san­dy soil lay­ers.

Wit­hin this landsca­pe lies Nord­s­kov near Sten­lil­le, a small wood­land domi­na­ted by beech tre­es, whe­re the hill Hjor­teb­jerg rises bene­ath forest cover with a clea­ring-cairn — a buri­al mound built from smal­ler rocks  — a rem­nant of the Bron­ze Age peop­le who lived here during the peri­od 1700–500 BCE.

A few hund­red meters from Hjor­teb­jerg lies the gla­ci­al erra­tic Sen­ge­ste­nen –  lite­ral­ly mea­ning ‘The Bed Rock’, which, with its circum­fe­ren­ce of 15 meters, is an impres­si­ve pie­ce of expo­sed gra­ni­te, almost rectangu­lar in sha­pe with a slight­ly con­ca­ve sur­face that invi­tes one to climb up and lie upon it. The rock con­sists of red­dish coar­se-grai­ned gra­ni­te, tex­tu­red with whi­te plagio­cla­se and glea­m­ing quartz crystals.

The Bed Rock real­ly lives up to its name. A gre­at pla­ce to take a rest in betwe­en all the eve­ry­day hust­le and bust­le.

A local legend tells of a troll who grew tired of hea­ring the church bells in the vil­la­ge of Und­lø­se and there­fo­re hur­led the rock at it. The legend does not say whe­re the troll stood in rela­tion to Und­lø­se, but if this was inde­ed the case, the troll mis­sed its tar­get, sin­ce Und­lø­se lies 11 kilo­me­ters from Sen­ge­ste­nen.

The Bed Rock also fea­tu­res seve­ral cup marks— petrog­lyp­hs from the Bron­ze age for­med as small depres­sions, often 4–10 cen­ti­me­ters in dia­me­ter, found throug­hout most of Scan­di­navia and bea­ring wit­ness to widespre­ad ritu­al acti­vi­ty — can be found on the nort­hern end of the rock, alt­hough they are not par­ti­cu­lar­ly distin­ct. The rock lies par­ti­al­ly exca­va­ted in the forest floor, and whet­her the Bron­ze Age peop­le had access to the rock in its full extent is dif­fi­cult to know. Nevert­he­less, the rock’s size and sur­face evo­ke thoughts of ritu­als, offe­rings, and cere­mo­nies. 

The beech forest sur­ro­un­ding The Bed Rock is young and bright, a typi­cal Danish pro­duction forest. We there­fo­re know not­hing of the landsca­pe that sur­ro­un­ded the it during the Bron­ze Age — whet­her it was enclo­sed by the gnar­led oak fore­sts of antiqui­ty with their dark and impe­ne­trab­le under­growth, or whet­her the rock stood expo­sed amidst cul­ti­va­ted land whe­re the sun hor­se could ride across the sky in direct view of Sen­ge­ste­nen. Yet when one spends time upon the rock’s sur­face, regard­less of the weat­her, one still expe­ri­en­ces a sen­se of direct con­nection both to Denmark’s enig­ma­tic pre­hi­story and to the geo­lo­gi­cal for­ces that tore Sen­ge­ste­nen loo­se from the bedro­ck of the North and, through the immen­se power of the gla­ci­ers, car­ri­ed it into the gra­ce­ful morai­ne landsca­pe of Western Zealand.

Sour­ces

  • Geus.dk
  • Lokal­hi­sto­risk arkiv for Sorø og omegn
  • Dan­marks Natur­fred­nings­for­e­ning
  • Sjæl­land­ske Nyhe­der