Tag: tour

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 19: Nøss – Mefjordvær

Distance: 60.3 miles

Time: 5:49

Elevation Gain: 4,751 feet

After arriving at the camping spot, beside the toilet with the exceptional view, I was accosted by an Italian cyclist as I pulled up at the side of the road. ‘Are you camping here?’ ‘We’ve got a great spot down this way’, he said.

The ‘we’ he referred to were the hardcore of the cycle touring fraternity, the Italian cyclist himself, and a Swiss rider who he had been riding with for the last couple of days. The Italian rider, had set off from Finland, travelled up to Nordkapp and was now working his way south again, but he was finding the food prices in Norway prohibitively expensive so planned to head back over into Sweden before continuing south back to Italy. His Swiss friend had started from Bodø, travelled north to Nordkapp, and was now on his way south, planning to travel all the way to Lisbon, he was worried about a sore knee, but had calculated that if he could keep pedalling 88 km a day, then he would be done by October, when he was due to start back at work.

My plans for the day were partly informed by the fact that the Belgian, Hans, had pointed out that the ferries from Andenes to the island of Senja – my next port of call – were infrequent, and didn’t start running until 8:45 in the morning. He’d been hoping to reach there for the early ferry, but as it was still 25 miles away for me, I decided that that was unrealistic, so I’d be aiming for the next one, at 1 PM, instead.

Just after setting off, I passed the Andøya Spaceport, before continuing past an idyllic beach on the way to Nordmela, where I stopped at the shop just as a pair of cyclists were leaving. I picked up some milk for my granola, and also a large bottle of water to refill my bottles for the day. The toilet block the night before had only had a warm water tap.

Further along the coast, I reached the beautiful beach at Stranda where it appeared that the wild camping areas almost intertwined with quaint Stave campsite, where it advertised a 38° hot pool, if only I’d been tempted to do another few miles the night before.

Rolling into Andenes, it was only 20 minutes until the ferry, but I made time to stop at the shop to pick up some lunch, as it would be a relatively long journey, and prices would be steep on the ferry.

Once onboard, I found a nice seat by the window, before realising that I was sitting just across from a French couple who had ridden past me at a layby the day before. Quite soon into the journey, they started to get quite animated and pointed out that there was a pod of 4 Orcas directly in front of us, amazing to see as they jumped, in sequence, in and out of the waves.

First impressions of Senja, were that it was an altogether hillier beast, and as I pedalled out of Grylleford and along the fjord, I was concerned that there didn’t appear to be any breaches in its steep sides. However, when I got a little closer, I saw that a bridge crossed the fjord up ahead, and led directly into a tunnel, and although the tunnel was a kilometre, uphill, I was confident that the climb would’ve been a lot worse if it wasn’t there.

After circumnavigating the large open fjord of Bergsfjorden, and having been waylaid briefly by a reindeer ambling along the road, the walls closed in around me again, and on this occasion, there was no tunnelled escape route.

The road climbed at an unrelenting gradient away from the fjord, and in the 20°C heat, with clegs drawing blood as I struggled on up the hill, the experience couldn’t have been much less pleasant. Half way up, one of the cyclists I’d seen earlier in the day, powered on past carrying a lot less luggage and stripped down to just his cycling bibs.

The road summited at a high lake before disappearing into a tunnel. Through the other side, the road dropped down to an impressive viewpoint walkway, and I stopped to soak in the views.

It was also time, before the rest of the descent, to finally tighten up my brakes, they had become borderline dysfunctional, but I’d been able to make do on the less undulating terrain of the last few days. This was a proper descent, though, and I didn’t want any mishaps at this late stage of the trip.

Having chalked up 50 miles, I reached the turn off to the campsite at Skaland, and was sorely tempted to call it a day, the heat and the insects were getting to me and I was very keen to have a shower.

But looking ahead, I could see that it was another 10 miles to Mefjordvær campsite, and I knew that if I was to make it there this evening, it would leave me with a more manageable final day to Tromsø, despite the fact that there were a couple of climbs shown on the onwards route.

Luckily, the final stretch was easier than I’d hoped, with a couple of lengthy tunnels giving me some respite from the sun. The 2.2 km Geitskartunnelen, almost like a theme park ride, as it meandered around in a dark subterranean world of patchy lighting and dripping water, before opening out into impressive Medfjorden, the cliffs gleaming silver in the evening light.

On arrival at the campsite, I was a little concerned that there was only one washroom for all the campers, but by this stage I was definitely in need of a shower, so a shower I would have, and after two days of cycling and a night‘s wild camping, for a few minutes, it was bliss, until a disgruntled camper started banging angrily on the door. Some people really should take a holiday.

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 16: Brustranda Fjordcamping – Hammerstad Camping

Distance: 39.6

Time: 3:55

Elevation Gain: 1,438 feet

In the campsite, a German man quizzed me about my trip, before apologising that his English wasn’t better. Unfortunately I didn’t know the German for ‘I’m sorry that my German isn’t better’, so left it unsaid.

He was driving, from Germany, all the way to Nordkapp and back, down through Finland and Sweden one way, and back through Norway and Denmark, all in a 1960s VW Beetle. I tried to find out its vintage from its registration plate, but only succeeded in finding that, in Germany, the letter H is appended to plates of cars over 30 years old.

The wind had picked up a little this morning, and it was coming from the North, so luckily my route didn’t keep me pointing in the same direction for long.

I set off along the quiet 815, emerging from the fjords onto a pleasant stretch of coastline.

Seeing a handwritten sign for ‘kaffe og vafler’ outside a building at the side of the road, I went inside, finding myself in a small jumble sale with a few stallholders all standing around looking unoccupied. I asked the lady nearest the door about coffee and waffles and was directed to a kitchen hatch, where she served me a small cup of coffee and handed me a plate with a waffle on it, and pointed me in the direction of some jam, sour cream, and brunost cheese, obviously trusting me to know what best to do.

Just before the 815 rejoined the E10 again I saw the beautiful turquoise waters of a sandy beach off to the right hand side, so grabbing a few things to eat, I sat overlooking a very pleasant view. Shortly afterwards a group of 6 cyclists emerged out onto the beach down below, having some lunch, and one by one, tempted out into the inviting looking, though it appeared chilly, waters.

Soon, the 815 turned onto the E10, and the road crossed onto the island of Grimsøya, and back off again, on a pair of new looking bridges, with a fine looking range of mountains providing the backdrop.

The E10 along this stretch provided some of the least enjoyable riding of the whole route, on what was actually quite a busy road. The patient, courteous driving that I’d encountered for most of the route, seemed to have gone out of the window for a while, it seemed that most of the traffic was keen to get back towards the major town of Svolvær for the evening.

Arriving there myself around 18:00, I was in the mood for a pizza, and found the ideal spot at Fellini’s, down near the harbour. Enjoying a Calzone with yet more impressive mountain views in the background.

I set off in yet more blustery conditions, intending to do another 10- 15 miles for the day, but 5 miles later, wearied by the heat and the wind, I arrived at Hammerstad Campsite, and it was in such a pleasant spot that I thought I should stay.