After a delightful week with Miranda I was going solo for the next two weeks on my journey north. I caught the train from Copenhagen to the top of Denmark and a ferry over to Langesund in Norway.
It was a beautiful day when I rolled past the queuing cars for my first encounter with Norwegian turf. Clear blue skies and a shimmering sea greeted me as a pedalled along the dock, rounding the first corner into a village and BAM. My wheels ground to a halt and legs locked forcing me to quickly unclip to stop myself from toppling over.
Hit by a car? Puncture? Wild moose?
Nope just the first hill I had seen for a week came as a bit of a shock. Flushing crimson and with my head down I pushed my bike until the gradient eased off a little. Notice I didn’t say to the top of the hill. That is because there is no ‘top of the hill’ in Norway. It is an unrelenting roller coaster of crawling climbs diving directly into hair-raising descents.
In case you didn’t realise, Norway is very large. Even with four weeks I wasn’t able to cycle everywhere I would like. So I began by taking a ride on the Oslo – Bergen railway. One of the most scenic railways in the world, it is the highest in northern Europe and travels through remote communities, mountains and fjords via 188 tunnels. It really is a miraculous construction, especially when you consider that the route lies under metres of snow for half the year and that the highest stations cannot be reached by cars.
Before works could begin on the route, a new access road called the Rallarvegen was built. This road is now a dedicated cycle route between Haugostol, Finse (the highest station on the route at 1222m) and Flam, on the edge of Aurlandsfjord. So I hopped off the train at Haugostol and waved as the train pulled away to continue its journey to Bergen.
The Rallarvegen makes for 85km of magnificent cycling as the road weaves around peaks and along lake shores, accompanied by the faithful railway track which ducks and dives into tunnels, popping out again further down the line like a playful puppy. Glimpses of giant glaciers can be seen from the saddle offering a taste of the vast fields of ice which lie hidden behind. The roadside it dotted with wooden huts, formerly lodging for railway workers, most of which have now been refurbished into holiday homes.
It was along this route that I settled down for my first wild camp of the trip. Boasting views of the glacier I was pleased with my choice of spot and quickly began preparing my staple meal of pasta and pesto. I was minding my own business chopping some olives when I heard a menacing bleating from my right. I looked over to be greeted by a piercing pair of eyes emerging from behind a rock. Their wooly owner was approaching me rapidly, eyeballing me with a death stare. Clearly the ring leader this likely lad was accompanied by an intimidating gang of at least ten other sheep. They quickly had me surrounded and reduced my initial giggles to wild yelps and feeble threats. These were the cockiest sheep I had ever met, nothing like the timid flocks you meet at home. I was still clutching my pen knife from olive chopping and waving it manically in the air, I had to quickly consider if I was capable of using it as a weapon against these intruders. One pocket knife didn’t seem enough to take on ten sheep and there was bound to be some consequences of sheep slaughter, but if they came much closer I wouldn’t be left with much choice. The last straw was when one of the lambs started nibbling my shorts which were hanging out to dry. I reached out to snatch them from his hairy muzzle and they eventually started to retreat. Their leader never breaking eye contact until he was over the hill. I spent the rest of the evening jumping at the sound of distant bells which some of the sheep wore around their necks.
After a blisteringly hot day on the rocky trail I enjoyed a 20km downhill to deliver me into Flam where I quickly devoured an ice cream before jumping into the sea in all my clothes, an efficient way of washing clothes and body in one. That evening I was to stay with warmshowers host Jakub and his girlfriend. I spent a very enjoyable evening at their house which had an exceptional view of the fjords. Jakub’s girlfriend’s family were farmers and I learnt how farms on the fjord have different levels that are used throughout the seasons depending on the snowline. They also treated me to goat salami straight from the farm.
They recommended a hike to do the next morning up to the Stegastein viewpoint. The walk itself was a 2.5km uphill trudge which was definitely more about the end result than the journey. Suprisingly I didn’t meet any other walkers on the path. Assuming I would have the viewpoint all to myself I was shocked to find it teeming with tourists who had cheated and driven up in their cars. Nevertheless, not fancying the scramble back down the hill, my feeling of superiority was not enough to stop me from hitching a lift back to the village. It didn’t take long to thumb a ride in a swanky air-conditioned car with tinted windows. Hopping into the front seat I turned to greet my travel companions in the back who were elegantly suited in delicate saris with handbags perched on their pretty little knees. I was suddenly very aware of my unsociable appearance, smeared in a delicious cocktail of mud, sweat and pollon balls, and thought I was very lucky to have been picked up at all. The ride highlighted the stark differences in our holiday choices, and although it was a pleasant drive I was happy to jump out 20 minutes later and resume my dirt bag existence.
Despite wild camping being legal in Norway and the endless supply of great views, it can still be problematic finding a tent spot due to the complete absence of flat land. The only flat space is the road and you can’t pitch a tent there. During one of my hunts I approached a sunbathing couple on the off-chance they knew of a good location. They were called Bjorg and Stein and they kindly offered their garden as a campsite. As they were to remain sunbathing a bit longer they gave me directions to their house. After a swim and shower at the beach I went to find their garden. Settling on a suitable flat spot I began laying out my tent and hanging up my washing. As I was arrangin the last of my wet underwear a car came up the the drive with a complete stranger at the wheel. I flapped around for a while then went to approach the woman who looked pretty confused as to why an apparently homeless person was hanging up her pants on the fence. After a rather awkward exchange it turned out I should have been next door and I hurriedly pushed my bike away to leave this poor lady in peace.
Now Bjorg and Stein turned out to be complete angels! First we went to visit a local cousin to watch the end of the Tour de France whilst eating ice cream and drinking beers. We then went back to their house for dinner. That morning I had stolen two small tins of mackerel in tomato sauce from the breakfast buffet and was planning on eating them with pasta. Instead I found myself with a starter of traditional bread with mackerel which Stein had caught and smoked himself! This was followed by various cooked meats, a scrumptious deer stew, mashed potatoes and fresh fruit washed down with red wine. I had a lovely evening with them chatting away and after a hearty breakfast the next morning they sent me off with a packed lunch.
I was heading west for the coast in the hope that I could escape the hills, and they did relent a little as I hopped my way from island to island using the small ferries. There were many delightful hours snaking round the edge of the fjords, sandwiched between the lapping waves and the steep mountainsides.
Another wild camping experience was not so luxurious. Pitched by the sea it rained briefly before I made my dinner. The weather woke up a swarm of teeny tiny flying blobs. They were everywhere, settling on my clothes and my face, getting in my ears and my socks and they itched like crazy. I tried everything from sitting really close to the stove to pacing up and down but they were unrelenting. Caught up in my swatting I didn’t notice that the tide was coming in and my kitchen was about to be swept out to sea! In the end the only escape was in the tent, so I ate my dinner under canvas, left the washing up until the next day and settled down for an evening of watching back-to-back episodes of Fleabag on my tablet, which was ironic given my current situation.
Fortunately I had lots of great hosts to make up for my run ins with Norwegian nature. In Alesund I stayed with Marius who gave me a locals tour of the most beautiful city in Norway. After Alesund burnt down in the early 20th century wood was banned in the reconstruction and as a result it has a very different feel to the other cities I had seen. And in Meisingset I stayed for two days rest with Erland who took me boating and hiking in the local area.
Despite its lumps and bumps Norway has to be the most continually beautiful country I have ever cycled in. I am now heading north to meet up with Deano for two weeks cycling in the Lofoten Islands. According to Marius they are the ‘creme de la creme’ of Norway so I cannot wait to see what they have in store!
megabikes 