Havørred: Chasing Sea-run Brown Trout on Saltwater Flats in Denmark

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This article originally appeared in Fly Fisherman's 2025 Destinations special publication.

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I’ll be the first to admit it: Denmark was never really on my fly-fishing radar. In fact, the only thing I truly associated with the country was Danish butter cookies—that iconic blue tin that so often led to childhood disappointment when I’d open it expecting sweets, only to find sewing supplies. That, and design.

As a kid, I spent hours with Legos—building little dream houses, rearranging walls and windows, always adding the tiny flower pieces to bring it all to life. Later, I came to admire Danish furniture for the same reasons: clean lines, functional beauty, the freedom to shape space exactly how you want it. Understated and striking at the same time.

I didn’t think of rivers. Or wild fish. Or flats fishing. I thought of cookies, and of design. Of furniture, Lego houses, and clean Scandinavian lines. Not tides or trout. But this trip wasn’t just about discovering a new fishing destination, it was about reconnecting with a good friend and seeing a place through his eyes.

My dear friend Omar Gade owns Denmark Fishing Lodge. He’s originally from Denmark but has spent much of his life bouncing between Italy and his homeland. We’ve traveled together previously to Italy, the Bahamas, and a few places in between, but this one felt different. This was Omar’s native country. A place rooted in his story. And being able to experience Denmark through him, to explore the waters and culture of his roots, made it incredibly special.

Omar has that rare ability to blend worlds, and you can feel it in every corner of the lodge he’s built. His refined Italian taste meets the soul and simplicity of Danish culture, creating a space that feels both elevated and deeply grounded. From the wine and meals we shared, to the curated selection of fly gear, to the welcoming, lived-in elegance of the rooms—it’s all intentional. The lodge doesn’t try to impress; it just does. It’s elegant without being overdone, thoughtful without feeling staged. A reflection of Omar himself: warm, worldly, and quietly meticulous.

That same attention to detail echoed across the rest of my experience. Like great architecture, great fishing is about craft, caring about the details, and noticing the things that matter.

Fyn (pronounced “foon”) is Denmark’s third-largest island, nestled right in the heart of the country. It sits between the larger island of Zealand—home to Copenhagen—and the mainland of Jutland. On a broader map, Fyn lies just south of the southern tips of Norway and Sweden, and north of Germany, across the Baltic Sea. It’s connected to both Zealand and Jutland by bridges, making it easily accessible while still offering the charm and easy pace of island life.

To reach the lodge, I flew to Copenhagen and opted to take the train from the airport directly to Odense—a simple, scenic, and nonstop one-hour ride that offered a beautiful first look at the Danish countryside. If you prefer to explore at your own pace, it’s easy to rent a car and drive yourself. The drive from Copenhagen to Odense takes about an hour and 45 minutes, and it’s a smooth, well-marked route. At Odense, lodge staff will meet you for the final stretch: a peaceful 40-minute drive across farmland, along coastal roads, and through small villages before arriving at the lodge.

If you have time in Copenhagen before or after your fishing trip, spend a day exploring the city. Start with a stroll through Nyhavn, the colorful harbor district lined with 17th century buildings and old ships. Don’t miss the famous Little Mermaid statue, inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytale. And make sure to sample some local favorites—like smørrebrød, the traditional open-faced sandwiches stacked with everything from herring to roast beef, or a classic Danish hot dog (pølse) from one of the city’s many street carts, loaded with crispy onions, pickles, and remoulade.

This was my first time fishing for sea-run brown trout in salt water, before they head upriver. They are a native species in Danish waters, with genetics that go back thousands of years. There’s something different about casting to a fish in its ancestral waters. You feel like a guest. A welcome one, maybe. But still a guest.

We were sight fishing on the flats. Yes, the flats. The water looked more like what I’d expect in Belize or the Bahamas: shallow, sandy-bottomed, and gin-clear. And just like bonefish or permit, the trout here will ghost into view in a flash, then disappear again just as quickly if your cast isn’t on point. My eyes scanned the bright water, and then I saw it—a subtle shadow gliding just above the sand, barely perceptible but unmistakably a fish. Omar’s voice was low and calm: “Okay, go ahead.”

What makes this place even more extraordinary is how rare this kind of fishing experience is. These sea trout, known locally as havørred, are not only native to Denmark, they’re part of a migratory lifecycle that adds another layer of complexity and beauty to the pursuit. Born in freshwater streams and rivers, they migrate to the sea to feed and grow, then return inland to spawn, much like salmon. This salt-to-fresh migration gives them their silver sheen and powerful, athletic build. They’re opportunistic feeders, often cruising the shallows in search of shrimp, small baitfish, or worms—especially during the spring and fall.

Fyn’s coastline, with its maze of shallow fjords, sea grass beds, estuaries, and sand flats, provides the ideal combination of feeding grounds and staging areas for their journey. And that creates a truly unique opportunity: sight fishing to wild, sea-run browns in gin-clear, ankle-deep water—just as you would for bonefish or permit. In Europe, and even globally, that kind of experience is nearly unheard of.

We fished 6-weight rods with floating lines and long leaders to keep our presentations quiet and clean. Jan, one of the guides, even took the time to show me how to tie a couple of his go-to patterns—one for sea trout and one for northern pike. For trout, we tied a small brown baitfish pattern dubbed the Jan Kenobi, named after the one and only Jan himself. It was inspired by an older pattern from Morton of Ahrex Hooks and turned out to be surprisingly effective during my time on the water. For pike, we tied red-and-white streamers, which we jokingly named the “Denmark Canadian”—a playful nod to our countries’ shared colors.

As I was putting the finishing touches on my Denmark Canadian fly—noticeably less polished than Jan’s—we both leaned in for a closer look. With a grin, Jan pointed out how my fly looked like it had an Alfalfa cowlick. We laughed as we joked about the energy it would have moving through the water. This was one of those easy, lighthearted moments that reminded me how much joy there is in the imperfections and how much connection happens in the in-between.

When it came time to target pike, we swapped our sea trout setups for 9-weight rods. We fished private freshwater lakes tucked into the Danish countryside, mirror-still waters surrounded by old-growth trees and filled with lily pads. These lakes felt like secret gardens. But unlike the sea trout, with their subtle, cautious movements on the flats, these pike moved with deliberate intent, predators on the hunt. It was a striking contrast: two very different species, with distinct behaviors and habitats, existing within such close proximity.

Between fishing sessions, we took time to explore. We visited a few local castles and spent a morning wandering the cobblestone streets of Odense, Hans Christian Andersen’s birthplace. The town feels like a fairytale, with its half-timbered houses, hidden courtyards, and the kind of quiet charm that sneaks up on you. It’s also an echo of what you feel across Denmark as a whole: a country that blends history, design, and culture with remarkable ease.

Danes are often ranked among the happiest people in the world, and it’s easy to see why. The pace is calm, the public services are strong, and people seem genuinely content. There’s an understated warmth in how they interact—polite, welcoming, and proud of their country. Danish is the native language, but nearly everyone speaks English fluently, and I never once felt out of place.

It’s also one of the safest countries I’ve ever traveled in—low crime, clean cities, and a strong sense of order. And then there’s the cycling. Denmark is one of the most bike-friendly countries on Earth. Whether you’re in a rural village or in downtown Copenhagen, dedicated bike lanes are everywhere, and people of all ages commute on two wheels. I didn’t bring my bike on this trip, but every single day I found myself wishing I had. Next time, cycling won’t be just an afterthought, it’ll be part of the plan that gets me to the water.

The Danish Tourism Board puts real emphasis on active travel: fly fishing, cycling, hiking. Not just for the young or the elite, but for everyone. There’s a cultural push here to keep moving, to spend time outdoors, and to keep playing, no matter your age. It’s a way of life that shows up everywhere you look.

But the real story here isn’t just about the catching. It’s about the restoration.

It brought me back to my childhood building a Denmark fishing lodge with Legos for hours, imagining how I wanted my little world to look and feel, always placing those tiny plastic flowers at the end to make it beautiful. Or crouched beside the creek near my childhood house, scooping up brook trout with a bucket and trying to build them a home out of rocks. It was my first attempt at river restoration—though really, it was rooted in something simpler: I wanted to keep the trout so I could continue marveling at their beauty. I wanted to create a world that worked for me.

And somehow, Denmark has taken that very idea and made it real—but for the sake of the fish. They’ve turned imagination and care into action and infrastructure. And as I stood beside one of those restored rivers, I found wild roses blooming along the bank, like the flowers I used to dream into place as a child.

The rivers and coastlines of Fyn have undergone a massive transformation over the past decade. More than 4,000 restoration projects have been completed, driven by local communities and organizations like Havørred Fyn (Sea Trout Fyn). These efforts target the entire lifecycle of sea-run brown trout—from headwaters to estuaries. Teams have restructured spawning beds with clean gravel, removed concrete culverts and outdated dams, reconnected wetlands, and reshaped entire stream channels to restore flow variation.

They’ve planted native vegetation along the banks to stabilize the soil and reduce runoff, cooled water temperatures with reforestation, and even created side channels where juvenile trout can safely grow. In places where the waters were once nearly lifeless, wild fish are now returning and thriving.

It’s thoughtful. It’s methodical. And it works. It’s the kind of slow, intentional work that reminds me, again, of architecture—the idea that when you care deeply about what you’re building, it shows.

My time at Denmark Fishing Lodge was more than just a fishing trip. It was a reminder that there’s a beauty to this world worth noticing. A beauty that shows up in the places where people care enough to preserve it.

The lodge itself sits with a view of the water in a quiet corner of southwestern Fyn, surrounded by open fields, coastal breezes, and the kind of calm that makes you exhale the moment you arrive. The lodge can accommodate up to ten guests at a time, which keeps things intimate. It feels more like a well-kept secret than a tourist destination. The rooms are minimalist in the way only Danish design can be: clean lines, cozy duvets, natural light, and subtle details that make the space feel both elegant and lived in. Each room has a private en-suite bathroom, and the beds are the kind you melt into at the end of a long day on the water.

Omar has brought his Italian side into the kitchen, and it shows. Each evening felt like a dinner party, with homemade pasta, wood-fired pizzas, and plenty of wine to share. The meals were rustic but refined, with just the right amount of flair. It wasn’t just nourishment, it was connection. Meals were a chance to slow down, trade stories, and reset for the next day’s adventure.

One unexpected joy was discovering a piano in the main room. Because I travel so much, my days at home are few and far between—but every morning I am home, I start my day by playing a couple of songs on the piano. It grounds me before the world gets busy. So seeing one at the lodge felt like a little piece of home tucked into the Danish countryside. Before heading out each morning, I’d sit down and play. And often, Jan, a much more accomplished pianist than I, would join in. We’d trade songs, and fill the space with music as we prepared for our fishing day.

Fly fishing connects. Meals connect. Music connects. And when something is built to belong—whether it’s a lodge or a river—something deeper settles in. Somehow, at this little lodge in Denmark, it all just comes together.

And now, when I think of Denmark, I still think of design. But not just Legos or furniture. I think of the lines I cast. The fish I saw. The quiet beauty of something built to last.

I even think of those iconic Danish butter cookie tins—except this time they weren’t filled with sewing supplies, but with exactly what I came for: surprise, substance, and something unexpectedly sweet.

Recommended Gear

Most of your flats fishing can be covered with a fast-action 6-weight fly rod with a weight-forward floating line. For pike, bring a 8- or 9-weight rod with floating or intermediate lines to present streamers.

• Skwala RS Wader | $850
• YETI Panga 28L Waterproof Backpack | $300
• Skwala RS Jacket | $500
• Costa Grand Catalina polarized sunglasses | $309
• Scientific Anglers ECOastal Stripping Basket | $100

Book Your Destination

To reach the lodge, fly into Copenhagen and take the nonstop one-hour train ride from the airport directly to Odense. You can also rent a car and drive from Copenhagen to Odense in less than two hours. At Odense, lodge staff will meet you for the 40-minute drive to the lodge.

denmarkfishinglodge.com

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Emily Rodger is a leadership coach (emilysrodger.com), former elite cyclist, triathlete, and 70.3 Ironman world qualifier. She is the subject of the short film Cadence, the story of her near-fatal collision and how she recovered (emilyrodgercadence.com). A one-hour version of the same film entitled Chasing the Current is available on CBC and Newyonder streaming service.

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