Fjords & rain (day 10-16)
Day 10-16 (22nd - 28th Aug)
2,614 miles
Oslo to Trondheim
I didn't realise today would start of 7 days of rain when I checked the forecast and noted I needed to pack the tent before 09:00.
I reoganised all the electronics from unlockable tank bag into the panniers and topbox then rode into Oslo and parked the bike as close to the Munch museum as I could, hoping that thieves don't like rain either.
The Munch museum is 12 (or 13?) stories high, but I think a lot of it is housing his 26,000 donated works of art gifted to the city. The primary exhibitions were spread over 2 floors with a couple of additional floors with articles from his home (turns out the museum are the thieves..) and a level dedicated to work by artists of the period, influences of his styles and feeders of inspiration to him. I'm not a die-hard museum fan, nor am I particularly well read with artists, and to be honest I think you can see a few pieces and feel like you don't need to complete the rest, but I felt different about Munch. The captions of the exhibition which gave some insight to the processes behind his pieces were interesting, he had a large section relating to the interactions of humans and the natural world, cultivating the land and the need to work with the earth not against it, to both get something from it (lets be real its to extend the ability of humans to extract, not to give back, Earth was just fine without us). He also spent a fair bit of time capturing human interactions, depicting love, loneliness, happiness, death, all sorts. I think the variety of his art and the use of wooden print, lithography, oil painting, water colours, basically most forms of imagery, is why I remained interested. For someone who famously doesn't like change, I realise I like variety (in work, activities, people etc) - not sure how those two meet in the middle but there we go. It was still raining outside by mid-afternoon, so I stayed in the café writing until it closed then suited up and went back to the soggy bike. Everything was still intact which was quite the relief (it had been sat in my mind all day but I just resolved that whatever happened was the situation I'd be in), I found a potential camping spot an hour from the city and set off.
I realise that Norway caters for outdoorsy folk very well. There are a plethora of camps and shelters for walkers and hikers, presumably skiiers and every version of nordic escape, but they aren't all very acccessible to vehicles. I sat facing a prohibitive gate on the side of a mountain at 7pm in the rain referring back to google, with my visor down and my gloves still on, as every action becomes awkward when rain is involved. The bike can get past most gates, and skirt obstructive rocks on trails, but it rarely results in a win either way because you just annoy locals and spend the evening wondering when you'll be told to decamp and pack your stuff up and move on again (unless.. you are in the middle of nowhere..). I found another trail to try hoping it wouldn't be another hiker only shelter, but from the bottom of a road could see the 'no cars, no bikes' sign, and stopped again. I turned round and slumped onto the tank bag wondering how far to ride as it got darker and later, when a van stopped asking if I was looking for a hotel, I told him I was looking for somewhere to camp and he openly said you can camp anywhere in Norway! I looked at the surroundings, grass verge outside a hotel, front garden of neatly kept neighbourhood - I asked where and he pointed to a small car park in front of us, "beside that car park there's a track down to the lake, its steep and muddy, walk it first". He wasn't wrong, steep and muddy and slippery, walking it wasn't that easy, but it led to a bank by the lake with unkept grass and a small boathouse. I wish I had changed the rear tyre before today, but I set off down the track, across an off-camber field, round a fallen tree through some 6ft high weeds and stopped on the waters edge, by a derelict campfire over looking the lake - perfect.
Before I set off from home, I had been wondering how best to manage the distance with tyres on the bike. I could buy hard compound off-road tyres which would be crap on tarmac especially when wet, or road tyres which would be crap off-road and not last 16k miles anyway, buy local but risk not being able to wherever I was, get some flown out to a pre-determined location but need to trust they would actually be there, and also that I wouldn't need them before or later. In the end I found a way of setting off with part worn tyres on, taking 2 rear and a front strapped to me and knowing I can change on the fly. As it turns out, strapping tyres to the bike is one of the best things I've done for social interaction.
The tyres strapped to my bike are what made the chap in Sas Van Gent chat to me on my first euro-morning when I wasn't feeling great about it all, they brought the campsite owner over to talk in northern Germany, they are the ice breaker that introduced me to Peter in Copenhagen at the campsite, the reason John and his neighbours spoke to me in Frillesas, and the reason Alfred spoke to me at Karlingesund. Indirectly they've been the source of multiple interactions with strangers almost daily, which has led to food, accomodation but more significantly the opportunity to meet kind people. Once I start using them up, I've decided I won't carry the third one on the back seat because it makes pannier access annoying, but I'll keep the other two on the front and carry worn tyres with me. They shield me from the weather a little, they're like fenders to the barge I'm driving, if I shred a tyre in the middle of nowhere and puncture repair doesn't work they're a viable spare (albeit eventually without tread) but mostly, they are an indicator that I'm not going home for a long time, and they bring people to me. There's a life lesson for you - 'always carry a spare rubber', take that how you will.
I packed up camp from the lakeside and made a plan to stay near Kjeragboulten via the spiral look-out at Drammen as suggested by Pa. I've just been accepting suggestions and recommendations from people so long as they aren't hugely different from the loose plan I already have, as it adds a bit of spice to the day doing something I hadn't come up with myself. The spiral tunnel was disorientating, its 6 full loops but without any reference it felt like many more than 6, and except the fact I could only go one way, it would be very easy to get lost in how disorientating it was! At the lookout, I sat on the bike for a moment and .. looked.. out. As I was about to leave, got chatting to a couple who ended up giving me a little hand-painted momento rock they were about to stow somewhere for others to find which was kind of them!
The next few hours of riding were largely managing the water. Sometimes the rain isn't really trying that hard, its wet, but you wouldn't wear your 'big coat' and you wouldn't anticipate arriving somewhere particularly worse for wear, thats not the rain I had. I stopped for fuel mid-afternoon still a few hours from Kjerag, and was sodden. The Klim gear is good, but once the rain decides it wants to properly greet you, it will, regardless of what you're wearing. I took half an hour in the cafe of the service station for some warm food and a coffee, watched the finch's shelter from the rain under the awning and got chatting to a Norweigan biker who was laden with gear heading to a wet biker weekend at Troll. I asked about the severity of fines and speeding in Norway, I knew it was strict but I wanted a recent anecdote to see if things had changed. He told me he had been caught doing 96kph in an 80kph, which is basically 10mph over the limit and was fined 500EUR. He said if you are 26kph over the limit (a little over 15mph) then they can take your licence - yikes, it is as strict as I remembered from 2006. I asked if he still speeds, with a huge grin he admitted he did, regularly - okay good enough for me. I've spent a bit of time wondering why they are so heavy with the enforcement and I've got a theory. I have seen 3 police cars outside the Royal Palace in Oslo, I saw a police car in Bergen, and I have seen one traffic cop coming the other way through a tunnel north of Bergen. In (writing this in hindsight from Trondheim) 1,100 miles of Norway, through some of the most touristy areas, I have seen 5 police cars but 3 of them were on donut duty. With that light a police presence, and the size of the country, the miles of open road, precarious corners, shear cliffs everywhere, fjords, its going to be much harder to get to someone who has an accident because they over-cooked a corner.
I think, Norway really care about speeding because if it goes wrong you're basically on your own, so they give a huge margin of error on the limit to prevent it being a problem. The road surfaces are good, the phone signal is the most comprehensive 5G cover I've ever had, but there are a lot of opportunities to get it wrong. They also appear to instil a sense of hesitation with drivers which I've noticed more and more. When you approach a roundabout or a giveway, there's no pre-guessing the road or reading it, they get there and stop even when its clear, confirm its clear, then go. When drivers approach a pedestrian crossing, they almost stop at it to see if anyone is going to cross, and surprisingly when the lack of pedestrians mean no one does, they continue. The thing is though, that doesn't mitigate good driving. I've been pulled out on twice now, when someone looked at me, then crept onto the roundabout in front of me anyway, or pulled out of a junction after looking straight at me. Neither aggressively, and nothing happened quickly (except the first one when I had to manually ABS the rear wheel and skid to avoid round the back of the car), but the hesitation doesn't necessarily mean they drive well, its just something they do before they continue anyway.
After the coldest wettest day of riding so far, I got to the car park of the Kjeragboulten hike, which was deserted. It was 20:00 and 7 degrees, windy, raining, and I was hungry. I wanted to camp near the start to have an early up and go, but thought if the weather doesn't sort itself by morning I don't know if I'll bother as its a 5 hour hike, I'll have no view and I need to stow my riding gear somewhere safe and dry too. On the way to the car park I spotted a tunnel with a light on up a track a mile or so back, so went to explore. I think it was an access tunnel for the hydro power station at the bottom of the mountain, either way the gate could be unpicked and once inside, I could pitch my tent and park the bike out of the weather. It felt a little uncomfortable, and I would be sleeping beneath lights all night but the longer I stayed the more comfortable it felt, until it was late enough and I slept.
The weather had relaxed a little by morning, I packed up and headed to the tourist info kiosk and met a Spanish chap Serge who kindly let me leave my biking gear there for the day whilst I did the walk. It was a steeper ascent than I had realised with 2500ft of climbing over 3 inclines, some were particularly steep and had chain handrails to support. It felt like Via Ferrata at times, with the exposure of rounded rock surface which disappeared off to a shear face if you felt far enough. After an hour a bit of marching up the hills, I got to the boulder jammed between two faces of the cliff. It had 50 ish people around it, taking the spectacle in, but for the hour or so I spent there, I saw fewer than 15 people actually go on it. There is no concealed safety out of the photos, access is round the back, over a slightly sloping 0.6m wide ledge to the edge of the boulder which is continuously rounded, no flat surface on it. Below - 1000m of nothing then an abrupt stop. If you google it there have been no reported deaths, Serge told me there are a total of 9 but it sounded as though they weren't accidents, but people wanting a scenic place to go. I got my photo (after going on it 3 times to reconfigure camera and set up!) then got chatting to an Aussie/Polish who was there on a bus tour for the day from Stavanger. Evie's travel plans take in some of Eastern Europe in a few weeks so there's a chance we may be in the same place again in September, which would be good to catch up again if the dates work out. After managing to wrap up the hike in 3hr20 (I see the estimated walking durations as targets to halve) the weather window collapsed and brought the rain again just in time for the onward journey via the village of Lysebotn for a view of the bottom. I rode toward Stavanger and decided that enough was enough with the rain, I needed to dry out. I sat in a bus stop and found a hostel in the city center and headed there. After a confusing self check-in which was aided by another traveller from New Zealand I met staying there Myrene, I was in an empty dorm room in what felt much more like a multi-occupancy student house, and had the space I needed to start drying. My passport, wallet, cash, diary, camping gear, riding gear, face - everything was soaked. The room had a radiator I could tweak and a hair drier that seemed to not mind 2 hours of continuous use. When it was clear no one else was staying in the room I continued to spread sleeping bag roll mat and everything else across the bed floor and window.
By morning things were slowly starting to return to normal, but I had already booked a stay in the hostel in Bergen for further respite so headed that way. It wasn't a long ride but it included the lowest altitude I've been so far, a tunnel 266m beneath sea level, bringing my total vertical range on the bike to over 1300m total in the last 24 hours. The ferries linking islands in Norway aren't free, but they are bizarrely cheap and almost silent - a stark difference from the churn of CalMac ferries on the west coast of Scotland. The first was free as it was ANPR and no one came to collect from me, but subsequent ferries have cost between £1.60 and £3, for 30 minute crossings through stunning landscape. They've all been electric and charge every time they dock for approx 5 minutes, I presumed they get a full charge at night but the routes are thoroughfares for the country and many run 24/7, helping the islanders remain connected to the other communities and faciliate the commuting traffic around the coast.
I arrived at the Bergen hostel which was very much more hostel. Cupboard space per allocated bed, huge communal kitchen and sitting area, a staffed reception and a free food cabinet. Individually there was a lot less space per person, so I was lucky to have gotten most of the drying done in Stavanger and spent the evening meeting other travellers, Greg who used to make CNC furniture, Richard who informed me they were going to open up the Newcastle - Bergen ferry in 2026 again (after closing in 2008) which is fantastic news for Brits wanting to explore Scandinavia, and Myrene was there again after flying up from Stavanger the same day. I spent most of the evening chatting, planning my contniued journey up through Norway and charging things. Myrene mentioned she was travelling further north to the Lofoten Islands which I hadn't given much thought to but looked absolutely stunning so we made a loose plan to potentially meet up there in a week or so and do some hiking. After picking up the vibration dampener I set about finding somewhere to change the rear tyre because I wanted to head toward the Jostedal Glacier (Jostedalsbreen) and figured better tread was a good idea now. I found a service station that had a free air compressor and was happy for me to spend an hour under cover doing the work, which took 28 minutes in the end and didn't use the bead breakers to get the rubber off as I have found a way of doing it with spoons (flipping one tyre lever over and pressing it into the well of the tyre after working the tyre off a little first). I had lunch there then rode up to Voss and disposed of the old rear at a car graveyard with a chap happy to take it for no charge so I am down to two tyres now, and will be able to give an accurate mileage for the life of the TKC80 (fitted it at 46,249).
Although still raining, the ferocity had abated to a manageable level as I headed toward the ferry for Dragsvik. The fjords this far inland are very calm which add something to their imposing nature, as the quiet road contoured the waters edge every direction felt like a postcard view. Little red barns and houses perched amongst farmed land without boundaries running down to the water in a quiet harbour with boathouses nestled right up to the edge. I'm not making very good mileage because I keep stopping, turning the engine off and rolling silently listening to the valleys. I left sea level and climbed up the switchback to head toward the glacier the long way round. There has been so much water falling recently the white scars of waterfalls and turbulent water cascade down the mountain faces all around as if coming directly from the sky with no obvious origins. After another hour of riding I got to a viewing point for Jostedalsbreen by 19:00. The place was deserted so I set up and took a staged photo with the glacier in the background, and play with the drone hoping to get a close shot of it but discover Norway is much tighter on its aviation law percolated into the control software, the drone seems to have a hard limit of 400ft from launch point (unlike the UK which permits you to let the drone climb to 500m, illicitly).
I spotted a little deviation from the main road and explore it to find a clearing in the trees in sight of the glacier with flat grass enough to set up camp in the rain and cook under tarp before bed.
When I'd been researching things to explore on the west coast online, there was a recommendation of road from Geiranger to Andalsnes so I headed that way and spent the day riding through gorgeous valley after gorgeous valley. I got to Trollstigen to discover the road down to Andalsnes was shut but still got to meet Victor from Sweden who was working in the cafe there. The doors were just shutting for the day but he kindly gifted me coffee and dinner as we chatted about his travels to India and how much he loves solo travelling, before I weighed up my options for onward travel. I decided I needed to get some more miles in before I stopped so gave myself until 20:00 to ride further north before I could start looking for somewhere to stay, backpedalling the mountain for the long detour caused by closed road (appparently some people got hurt from falling rock so the road has been shut most of the season). Whilst at the side of the road making the decision, someone in a truck stopped and recommended I go to Alesund so I did, and begin hunting for a camp as the darkness set in. After a few dead ends I found a place to camp by the beach off an island north of Alesund.
The next morning, every midge on the northern hemisphere was waiting the otherside of my mozz-net. We introduced ourselves, then I packed up and hastily made for the town to get some breakfast and plan my moves. Sat at the cafe eating a cinnamon bun 10% as good as those Jax makes, I made a plan to meet Myrene on the 1st Sept, 1500km north on the Lofoten Islands. Having a date and a destination gives me a bit of a target and might stop me drifting up the coast so much. After 2 weeks I'm still only 1/3rd the way up Norway, I want to get to Nordkapp, down Finland, through Eastern Europe, Romania, Turkey, to the far side of Kazakhstan by the end of Oct which is about 9 weeks away, otherwise it'll be too cold and I might struggle through the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. A quick google looks like its about 7000 miles from where I am now with all the detours I keep throwing in, so I am on track with an average daily mileage of 160 (only need average of 120 miles/day ish) but I need to keep moving. Chances are I'll be there in snow anyway.
The morning started damp as I headed to the Atlantic Ocean Road, one of the primary things that drew me to the west coast and to spend so much time in Norway. It's a 5 mile section of coast exposed to the Atlantic Ocean linked by a series of bridges hopping between the islets. The weather made it a little less spectactular than I had hoped for, but as with many things its not the destination of having arrived here but the route and scenery I've been through on the way which has actually validated it. That said it was still very pretty place to be and as Jax said, looked like I was at the edge of the world on the map. I messed around with the drone to get some photos/video of my riding over the iconic bridge then continue north along some more islands linked by ferries, bridges and tunnels. Some of the best riding roads I've ever been on are up here on the west coast of Norway, there are some coveted roads you can research and aim for, but even just the normal routes between towns and villages are incredible, smooth sweeping open with stunning backgrounds, hundreds of miles of quiet playground.
As I neared Trondheim I had the first few hours of riding in the sunshine I've had since Sweden, breaking the intermittent streak of 7 days rain. The roads continued to be playful, the sky a mixture of blue and light clouds, and I saw 20 deg on the thermometer which made a very welcome change from the 9-14 of the previous week. I landed at a hostel in Trondheim to do a clothes wash, some life admin and line up for the next few days ride to the Lofoten isles.
