Tag: Tromso

Norway 2025 Day 6: Eide – Mauseid

Distance: 55.96 miles

Time: 5:21

Elevation Gain: 3545 feet

Waking at my resting point, on a disused road hairpin, I was put off from going outside by the astonishing number of midges silhouetted against the fabric of the tent.

Finally, braving the potential onslaught, I headed out into the world, surprised to find that the midges had suddenly vanished, probably because the rain was about to start.

After I’d polished off the rest of the climb from Eide, I then dropped down to Vanylsfjorden, before stopping at the Joker shop in Åheim, availing myself of the free coffee. I also picked up a Kanelknute (cinnamon bun), surprisingly the first I’d seen in a supermarket since Oslo.

I carried on around Syltefjorden to Fiskå, where the road turned inland, and started a long drag, not made easier by the hot sun.

Dropping down to Syvdefjorden, the fantastic mountain scenery, and the light tailwind along this stretch, eased my passage to the next ferry over to the island of Gurskøya.

After stocking up on energy – in the shape of a bacon cheeseburger from the petrol station in Larsnes, I kept on until Dragsund, where, even though I’d covered a relatively low number of miles for the day, I was disappointed to find no campsite where I expected one.

Feeling unmotivated in the low evening sun, I had a choice, drop down into Ulsteinvik, and hope there were toilet facilities near the beach, or push across the island to the large port town of Hareid, a definite chance to find some facilities, charge my phone, and if I made it in 45 minutes, the 22:30 ferry to Sulesund.

On exiting the ferry, I was dismayed at just how steeply the tree-covered landscape of Sulesund dropped to the sea, this was not the wild camping Mecca I’d been hoping for, but, 4 miles later, I was confronted by a stunning lake, and on its shore, a flat green haven, just waiting for a tent.

Norway 2025 Day 5: Florø – Eide

Distance: 43.44 miles

Time: 4:18

Elevation Gain: 2,846 feet

I rushed to pack before heading for the ferry to Smørhamn, arriving at a much larger port than I was used to and not quite sure where the boat would appear. Suddenly, I saw a large high-speed catamaran pulling in near the terminal, so rushed to have a look. When I saw that its destination was Frøya, I thought it must be the wrong boat, until I realised that, although the port of Smørhamn was on the island of Bremangerlandet, it was very close to a causeway to Frøya, so I joined the queue.

The ferry had me across the sound in no time, and I took a little time to soak in the surroundings on what was a beautiful day. A fellow cyclist from Austria, Peter, arrived and we tried to figure out when the next boat would be going the other way. Peter had started out from Nordkapp, 2 and a half weeks before, and was really going some, covering 150 km a day.

The road across Bremangerlandet was one of the most stunning I’d ever ridden, and for the most part it tracked the edge of the waterline of lakes and fjords while mountains loomed above. Soon, I realised that the ferry off the other side of the island was a little earlier than I was thinking, but that I might just make it if the road remained flat…

But with 2 miles to go the road turned a corner and started to rise, into a headwind, and I knew the game was up.

Emerging from the tunnel at the top of the climb. I could see the boat had already set off, and a few minutes later I was at the pier, with an hour and three quarters to kill.

Finding a kebab shop in Måløy, I took on a few calories, before heading to the supermarket to stock up for an evening in the saddle. Some granola, yoghurt, cinammon flavoured lefse (Norwegian flatbread) and a Skolebrød (sweet bread roll topped with custard and icing), being some of the items now commonly found in my panniers.

At half past 6 I set off across the sweeping bridge out of Måløy, all set for a night in the fjords. The going was good, with long flat stretches and quiet roads. There was little activity in any of the small settlements that lined the route, the harbour at Flatraket being the exception, with a small motorboat heading out to sea.

For the last hour or two of the day, I was scouring the landscape, looking for anywhere that might give the impression that it would make a suitable camping spot.

With no such luck, I was quickly approaching the hill up and over to Aheim, and it was nearing 10 o’clock. I was concerned that starting up the hill would be a non starter as it would be windier and that would be a problem for my compromised tent.

But, Komoot had a possible solution, a user had marked a point at the top of the switchbacks that was out of sight of the road, so I took the chance, and on arriving there thought it was perfect. It was a flat area on top of an old road that had now been overcome by vegetation, and there was some protection from the wind, so I quickly built up my tent, lashing the broken joint with glue and tape, and hoping it would hold the night.

Just beside the tent, there was a handily placed picnic bench, just waiting for me to set up my stove, but wait, what was that? Oh, the midges…

Norway 2025 Day 1: Bergen – Sletta

Distance: 38.08 miles

Time: 4:32

Elevation Gain: 2,696 feet

It might not be the most sensible way to start the first day of a 1200 mile cycle tour, but I had engineered my whole trip so that I could factor in a parkrun, so it seemed unlikely that I’d back out now. It was a kilometre to the start of Lovstien parkrun, and much of that was steeply uphill. Not that this was a surprise as the terrain to the south of the hotel towered over the city, the lower reaches covered in the colourful wooden houses for which Bergen is famous, and above that a thick forest rose into the sky.

The parkrun course ran through the forest and was a double out and back, twice, if there is such a thing. On the first lap of the course, I was happy that I’d kept my effort to a manageable level – despite the steep hills and super-high humidity – but inevitably on the second lap I saw that there were a few places to be taken and got a little carried away, finishing in a reasonably satisfying 10th place.

Happy with my morning’s efforts, I made it back in time to have breakfast in the hotel’s 5th floor restaurant, which gave lovely expansive views over the city.

Finally packed and ready to roll – just as check out finished at 12 o’clock – I made my way into town, keen to sample the ambience of Bryggen’s historic port before joining the Norwegian section of Eurovelo 1, The Atlantic Coast Route.

Almost instantly I was muttering in annoyance as the cycle path I was on suddenly disappeared in front of me – due to repair works being carried out on a tunnel – so I had to bump back down onto the road.

As I pedalled around the first headland, the terrain was relatively flat, and shortly afterwards I was sitting overlooking the cojoined fjords of Sognefjord and Hardangerfjord, eating a picnic of Flotemysost (a version of the traditional Brunost, brown cheese, made with sheep’ milk instead of goats’) and strawberry jam, on pancakes (traditionally waffles), a flavour combination I’d first tried at the cafe on the previous day’s train.

Some steeper inclines sapped my strength in Morvik and Mjolkeraen before the stiffest test yet took me up and over to the first of a pair of bridges that would see me hopscotching across the bay to Knarvik.

After stopping at the Kiwi supermarket in Ikenberget for a tasty pasta salad, I’d had enough of overcomplicated cycling infrastructure when I ended up steeply dropping down into an underpass, before struggling up the other side, all to cross the road to a cycle path that stopped at a bus stop, 50 yards later.

Luckily, soon afterwards, the cycle path alongside the 565 petered out, and when the route forked off to meander around in a tangential direction, I opted to carrry on along the pretty fjord, on the direct, quiet road I was on. And, with one last climb to overcome, the road dropped down to Sletta Kai og Fritid, the only campsite I could find for miles around.

Norway 2025: The Skrik

If you are wondering why I am starting a journey from Bergen to Tromso, in Oslo, an option that is vastly more complicated and quite a lot more expensive too, it is because I have long been due a trip to the Norwegian capital and this seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.

When I was studying art in school, the work of Edvard Munch captured my imagination with his expressive brushwork and dramatic use of colour. If it hadn’t been for the fact that first the Nasjonal Museet and then the Munch Museum had been closed for lengthy periods to move into new buildings, I would have been long before now.

On the way back into town Google maps managed to pare the 6 mile route down to 7.5 miles, tough going in the bright sunshine. Luckily, if the 20°C temperature was too much for me, my itinerary for the day largely comprised of visiting art galleries, so I wouldn’t be complaining for too long.

Passing by the Opera House, it looked resplendent and I tried my best to drag myself away for my 1PM appointment at the Munch Museum next door.

In its current home since 2021, the building has 11 floors but surprisingly little exhibition space considering the quantity of works by the Munch they must have, much of which must be in storage.

At the heart of the exhibit is a rotation of 3 lesser versions of the Scream, each of which was being displayed for half an hour at a time before transitioning to a neighbouring work. The more famous version of the painting has lived at the Nasjonal Museet since it opened in 2022, and if my visit was anything to go by, is constantly guarded. Perhaps, due to the fact that versions of this painting do seem to go missing…

After completing the cultural element of the trip impressively early, I picked up a new bike pump at the supersize sports good warehouse XXL, before making my way along the dock to Vippa, an international food court and beer garden in an old warehouse building beside the fish market.

It was promisingly busy, which I decided must be testament to, either: the quality of the food, or the low price of the beer, which at £7 seemed reasonable considering Norway’s reputation for being eye-wateringly expensive.

As it happened, the food was worth staying for too, and I was furnished with Himalayan pork dumplings – called Momos – from one stall, and chicken gyros from another.