How it began...
It started on a North Sea ferry from Newcastle to Esbjerg. Now I’m retracing Britain’s lost sea crossings.
This story began 39 years ago almost to the month. At spring half term of 1987, I was driven to Tyne Commission Quay in North Shields from our home in Gateshead with my sister and parents.
That holiday was one of many firsts. In the boot were two brand new suitcases for me and my sister Lizzie, our very first. We packed with great excitement for the five night holiday - our first one overseas. Until now, all our holidays had been fairly local. Apart from the occasional trip to relatives in the Midlands, we stuck largely to Scotland, Yorkshire and the Lakes.
Our school friends’ holiday destinations were positively exotic in comparison. At the start of term, they’d share sweets from Yugoslavia or show off their Tenerife T-shirts. Even their cars left tell-tale traces of European travel: GB stickers and the yellow tinting of the headlights required for driving in France.
But now, our Citroen Visa had its own GB sticker on. We were heading for Esbjerg on the west coast of Jutland, an unusual destination compared with my classmates.
Our holiday got off on a bad start for my Mum. I remember her catching her pocket on a chair in the ferry waiting room and tearing her new trousers. It wasn’t her last misfortune that holiday as she left her camera on a bench in Aarhus and was not able to recover it.
D for Denmark?
We returned to our car, boarded the ferry via the loading ramp and once parked, got out onto the windowless car deck. I remember a distinct smell, like cold tinned spaghetti - the smell of diesel. I looked around at the cars and lorries, and saw few GB stickers. They were mostly D... for Denmark? The number plates all had two small circles stacked in a gap in the registration. The diesel smell slowly disappeared as we climbed the stairs.
Out on the deck, we enjoyed the views of the banks of the Tyne, very different to the ones you get now. At Tynemouth we passed the harbour walls. Then we looked back as they disappeared into the distance along with the Priory and St Mary’s Lighthouse.
The journey with DFDS was an overnight one. We had an inside cabin with bunks, which was exciting for us both. There was a hint of that diesel smell in the cabin. We spent the first few hours exploring the decks. There was a cinema - although no kids’ films were showing - and a red and white furnished cafe, where I had some decent chips.
On the viewing deck, I tried to befriend a blonde girl who was about the same age as me. She smiled but didn’t respond. At the time I took it as a rejection, but in reality we probably just didn’t speak the same language.
I remember staying awake most of the night. The loud hum of the engine, that smell and general excitement put paid to any sleep. The next morning I saw Denmark for the first time, wind turbines strung along the coastline. By 2026, the sight of wind turbines along the coast of the UK would be a familiar one, but in 1987 it was a novelty.
My memories of Esbjerg itself are hazy. We left the ferry to drive across Jutland to our chalet on the Baltic coast for five days of pearly white beaches, old wooden towns and Legoland. Meanwhile, the D stickered cars headed south. Not to elsewhere in Denmark, but to Hamburg, Dusseldorf and beyond. I soon learned that the “D” was for “Deutschland, not “Danmark”.
For the next 15 years my international holidays would involve a ferry trip. I only took my first flight in my early twenties. Now, a parent myself, my holidays still involve ferry journeys. But the route travelled in 1987 is not one I can share with my daughter, because it was axed 20 years ago. In 2014 the final ferry route from the UK - from Harwich - to Denmark sailed for the last time.
Severed links
Sadly, these routes are not the only ones lost over time. Many more of Britain’s passenger links to Europe have been severed. In the early 2000s, you could reach Bergen and Zeebrugge directly by ferry. Now, no more.
And the decline of Britain’s international ferry network has also affected the destinations they served. Ports from Stranraer to Ramsgate, have lost regular services and are seeking a new role. This is mirrored in former destination ports like Ostend and Dun Laoghaire whose international routes have either been axed or relocated.
The loss felt for these these vanished ferry routed ignighted a passion in me which wouldn’t be subdued. That passion inspired an audacious project.
In May 2026 in Ardrossan, Scotland, I began an exploration of these ghost crossings and the haunts of their former passengers. During this project, I will write about my journeys and the people I meet on the way, sharing some of those stories here. I would love to hear from anyone with memories of these lost ferry routes and the destinations that they served.
I have no idea where this journey will ultimately lead, but I hope you will come along for the ride.
Rosie Niven is a former journalist whose specialisms included urban regeneration, transport and local government.