Tag: cycle

Norway Day 20: Mefjordvær – Tromsø

Distance: 52.8 miles

Time: 4:55

Elevation Gain: 2,595 feet

Having nipped in for a shower in the morning, I was relieved to find that no one was waiting around angrily outside when I emerged from the bathroom. When I queued to go back in later – to clean my teeth – I ended up speaking to a Finnish couple who were having a lovely first trip to Norway, I had been struck by how popular Norway appeared to be as a holiday destination for countries such as France, Germany, Poland, Sweden and Finland.

I had a simple plan for the day, and it was to arrive in Tromsø before 7 o’clock, as that appeared to be when the bike shops in a retail park out at the airport seemed to be open until, and from what I’d ascertained, they could offer the best opportunity for me to pick up a bike box in which to take my bike home.

But first, there was the small detail of the rest of the route, pedalling along the remainder of the island of Senja, taking the ferry to the island of Svaløya, crossing that, and finally crossing the bridge onto the island of Tromsøya, and reaching my ultimate destination of Tromsø.

It was another beautiful sunny day, and I was surrounded by majestic mountains all around as I pedalled back along the road to Senjahopen, where I stopped at the shop to stock up on supplies for the road ahead.

Carrying on along towards the end of the fjord, the sides started to steepen until the road was funnelled towards an open tunnel. The open tunnel, then, in turn, began to burrow into the rock, and I was about half way through, pedalling determinedly through the gloom, when I was surprised by two cyclists coming the other way.

At the end of the fjord, the road turned sharply inland, and I was pleased to have arrived at the first hill, I knew there was only one climb before the ferry, so better to just get it over with, I supposed. The gradient was steep, but I felt equal to it, and soon I was looking back impressed by how much altitude I’d gained, and how quickly.

Arriving at Botnhamn, it was an hour or so until the next ferry, and it seemed like there were an awful lot of people already waiting, on top of that, the ferry didn’t look particularly big.

After fish and chips from a food truck beside the port, I joined a legion of other cyclists in pushing our bikes aboard, for what would be my 20th and final ferry of the trip.

On reaching the other side, at the port of Brensholmen, I was last of all the cyclists to get underway, and my thoughts started to turn once more to those bike shops in Tromsø and the possibility of other cyclists aiming to procure a box that evening as well.

Luckily, there was a nice tailwind along the long narrow Sørfjorden and I started to pick off some of the other cyclists as I went.

Turning back again into the wind, I could sense that others would be struggling at least as much, and when I paused before the second and final hill of the day at Liafjell, I found that two of the riders I’d passed were riding hard not far behind, did they have boxes to collect too?

The final hill was tough, but I gave it a good go before I overheated and paused to rest for a moment. The road continued climbing gradually before a series of long straight downward pitches thrust me down the other side, and onto a major road at Henrikvik.

Shortly afterwards I passed a sign showing that it was only 20 km to Tromso, and shortly after that, a cycle path started alongside the road and I was delighted to take the more relaxed option for the last few miles.

Crossing the final bridge to Tromsøya, I found myself passing the end of the runway at Tromsø airport, and just across the other side was the retail park that could hold the answer as to whether my trip would have a successful conclusion or not…

Norway Day 18: Stokmarknes – Nøss

Direction: 62.77 miles

Time: 6:01

Elevation Gain: 1,695 feet

While I was finishing setting up camp for the evening, another cyclist turned up looking for a flat piece of ground on which to pitch his tent, not an easy task at LOVE (Lofoten and Vesterålen Islands) Campsite. He was called Hans, and he was from Belgium, he was a seasoned touring cyclist who, after 30,000 km of use, was contemplating swapping out some of the componentry on his fancy Rohloff hub and gates belt drive touring bike set up. He’d never flown with his bike though, so he was inspired by the fact that I’d taken my bike to Vietnam and Morocco.

The next morning, I was in the campsite kitchen, talking to a pair of Swedish cousins, one of who I’d spoken to outside the shop in Melbu the day before. One of them asked me if I was doing the detour today, to which I responded that I probably would be.

After I’d set off though, I realised that they were referring to an alternative cycle route that would be a very long way around to Sortland, so having watched as the two Swedes and another big group of cyclists all headed off on the detour, I headed along Highway 82, wondering if I was the only cyclist planning on carrying on along the main road.

But on stopping to photograph the different aesthetic that the east side of the Vesterålen Islands was providing over the one the west had the day before, the group of 6 Norwegians from the previous few days yelled a greeting as they breezed on by, there were enough cyclists around for all the available routes it seemed.

On arriving in Sortland, after 16 miles, it was time for lunch, and taking inspiration from Hans, as he had done from me, I decided to copy his dinner from the night before, picking up some smoked salmon and cream cheese, and pairing them with some bread I was carrying in my pannier.

After Sortland, it was time to get my head down and power through a few miles. The closer I could get towards the ferry port of Andenes today, the better chance I had of getting there for a ferry earlier in the day tomorrow.

Still not quite able to shake off the urge to stop to take the odd photograph, however, I was soon passed by the squad of three that I’d last seen early the day before. But then, almost as soon as I’d started up again I found them stopped along the road, and that started a new game of leapfrog as we kept passing each other, until eventually, after we’d all surmounted the extra steep bridge over to Risøyhamn, we all ended up at the local Joker store at the same time. As I’d expected, the group was Polish, but what was a surprise, was that it was a family unit, father Conrad, his wife, and their 13 year old son. It was amazing that they were riding along so strongly together, and quite an undertaking for their son that they would be spending two and a half weeks travelling from Bodø to Nordkapp, apparently it had been a long time in the planning.

After Risøyhamn, it was all about banking a few extra miles for the day, but as the road crossed to the west coast, the landscape became something very special indeed, the land interfacing with the sea in a way that reminded me of, not only, those islands on the edge of the Atlantic in Scotland, the Outer Hebrides, but also where the Pacific meets the Oregon coastline, in America.

The area around Nøss was clearly a very popular wild camping area, with lots of great spots, but I was running low on water so looked to see if there were any public toilets up ahead. Then I found one just 1 km away, a toilet block, with sea views. I would be able to get water to cook my dinner, not that it mattered as it seemed I’d run out of gas.

Norway Day 15: Moskenes – Brustranda Fjordcamping

Distance: 54.01 miles

Time: 5:45

Elevation Gain: 2,590 feet

Moskenes campsite looked like a veritable gold mine, and as I sat on the terrace at just gone 10 o’clock, sipping an £8.71 half litre of Nordland Pils, and watched another raft of potential clientele rushing up the hill from the ferry, it seemed like business was booming.

In the morning, I’d just been to the kitchen to clean my pans when I overheard a group of 4 men readying their bikes to leave. They sounded Scottish, and what’s more, one of them was also riding a British racing green Thorn bicycle, what were the chances?

Going over to say hello, I ascertained that they were from Glasgow, they’d been in Moskenes long enough to do some kayaking and a midnight sun hike, they were now setting off to Tromso by bike, and were flying back to Scotland a week on Monday. So the day after me.

Most of the site had emptied again by the time I left, and that seemed like no bad thing, as I was happy to share the road with as few campervans as possible. I felt like I might be looking to stop quite often.

On leaving the campsite, the views came quickly and often, and as I rounded a corner a cliff towered above me, and as I stopped to take a photo, I noticed a sinuous and almost completely unbroken line of people zig-zagging up the steep flank to the pinnacle of what must have been an incredible viewpoint, looking out over the fjord and the sea and the tiny village of Reine jutting out between the two.

Stopping at a viewpoint, near Reine, I was readying to take a photo when I was taken aback by a ‘hello Michael’ from behind me. It was Simon, and Margot, who I had shared the Atlantic tunnel bus to Kristiansund with a week ago. When I had last seen them, as they left the town, we commented that we might see each other in the Lofoten Islands – as I was skipping ahead to cycle to Bodø, and they were continuing to Trondheim, but then taking the train to Bodø – well that was quick!

It turned out that they had only just arrived off the ferry, at 10 o’clock the night before, quickly pitching their tent and nipping up Reinebringen – the midnight sun hike – on the trail I’d just seen from the road. They’d got the sunset shots alright, with a cloud inversion, it looked incredible.

They recommended that I should take a look around Reine, so I rolled down the hill, stopping off at a rather souped up version of the Extra supermarket with a fast food counter and cafe area.

Quickly polishing off Norway’s unofficial national dish, the humble hotdog, I carried on around, and across, Reinefjorden, with an incredible, majestic backdrop of towering peaks, cobalt blue waters, all punctuated by tiny red and white stilted homes, the colours of the Norwegian flag found everywhere I looked.

After an incredible series of open tunnels, I found a few scattered people on a clifftop staring out to sea. Slowing up to take a look, I caught sight of what they were watching, the black fin of an Orca circling out in the open waters.

The E10 cut a swathe across the island, all the way to Ramberg in the north, where I found the four Scots returning from a side road where they had deviated to climb a hill.

Almost as soon as I hit the north coast, the road turned south again around a large fjord, I felt fantastic, I was flying along and my legs felt great. But then I remembered, if you feel great on the bike, there’s only ever one explanation, there’s a tailwind, and that’s exactly what I found as battled along the other side of the fjord.

Reaching a gap between two islands, I saw the Nappstraumtunnelen plummet into the ground, promising 1.8 km of underwater fun. Luckily there was a raised walkway for pedestrians and bikes, but it was still a damp inhospitable place to be, and that was before the climb back out.

Reaching Leknes, I was intrigued to find that the local Remo 1000 supermarket had a separate Sunday opening entrance and that you weren’t allowed into a large part of the shop. Even more interestingly though, although customers weren’t allowed into most of the shop, it did seem that they had shop assistants who would go and find things for you from the unopened section.

Leaving town on the 815, there was a serious hill right out of the traps, but I was feeling comfortable on the climb, and then amused, on seeing a ‘cross country skiiers crossing’ sign.

I spoke to a couple of cyclists from Oslo at a bus stop, I was interested to hear that they were pushing on south to do the tunnel tonight, hoping that it would be quieter than waiting for morning.

I pressed on into the depths of Rolvsfjorden, and on passing Brustranda Fjordcamping at a 20 past 9, I called it a night.

You can probably see too many great views in one day, so I was ending the day with just one more at the campsite.

Norway Day 14: Hopen Lake – Sandnessjøen

Distance: 70.73

Time: 5:31

Elevation Gain: 2039 feet

Keen to get moving on what was set to be the flattest part of the ride so far, Hugo and I set off at 9:45, taking it in turns to push the pace. We had a nice tailwind and it was overcast, perfect conditions to ensure that we could make it all the way to Sandnessjøen in time for me to make the next day’s ferry.

We pressed on past Berg, before finding ourselves labouring into the wind, as we reached the end of Skillbotnfjorden, turning northwest towards the small island of Brønnøy, before the route whisked us south again to the ferry port at Horn, after almost 32 miles, at an average speed of 13.1 mph, most definitely the quickest stint of the trip.

On arrival we found a couple of German cyclists making coffee at a picnic bench, whilst some distance off a pair of French cyclists were chatting to the inhabitants of a motorhome. Soon after, another cyclist arrived, I hoped there wouldn’t be a limit to the number of cyclists allowed onboard.

The German cyclists were both on their way to Tromso, from where one would carry on to Nordkapp alone, and the French cyclists were also on their way to Tromso, but, like me, were also considering taking a ferry to Bodø tomorrow, but from Nesna, 40 km after Sandnessjøen.

The next stage was merely a short hop, with us breezing through the 12 miles between Skjœret and Forvik with a short stop at the shop in Velvelstad, along with all the other cyclists, before rolling down the hill to the port.

From Tjotta it was 38 km to Sandnessjøen and it was still not 4 o’clock yet, so plenty of time to play with. The road followed the coastline, turning back for a long stretch into the wind, before climbing up onto a long plateau, from where the stunning vista of ‘De Syv Søstre’ (the Seven Sisters) became visible, and formed the backdrop for the rest of the day as we were blown past Sandnessjøen airport and down to the port.

I scouted out where the ferry would depart from the next day, and Hugo bought the one thing he felt he was missing by not originally setting off for a cycling trip, cycling shorts.

Hugo had found an interesting looking camping spot, 5 km away, so we followed the road up and down to the edge of the fjord, to a beautiful spot, beneath the 7 Sisters and on the edge of a fjord-side lake. There were some other cyclists around, including a couple, who, like Hugo, were from Grenoble. The next day, the women was heading back to France, but the man was carrying on to Nordkapp, a potential future cycling partner for Hugo?

The next day, I was up at 5, suddenly second guessing myself as to whether I’d left enough time to make it to the ferry, by 6:25, but the climb back to Sandnessjøen wasn’t as bad as I’d feared and I was at the ferry with plenty of time to spare, and took my place on board for a very pleasant 5 hour journey.

At Nesna, the French cyclists got on, broken by the extra 40 km that they’d undertaken the previous day. When they got to Bodø, they were planning a rest day before crossing to Lofoten tomorrow.

After a short walk across Bodø, and stock up on supplies for that night’s camp, I made the 13:30 ferry to Moskenes in the Lofoten Islands. And as I approached the end of the 3.5 hour ferry journey – which was inexplicably free for all of the many cyclists and pedestrians onboard – an outstanding landscape presented itself and I started to see what all the fuss was about.