August 8, 2023 by Alisa D. - 4 Comments

A wet, wonderful farewell

What a wonderfully wet day to ride my last few kilometers in Norway.

It has been raining here in Bergen since yesterday and I knew rain was in the forecast for today, but riding in the rain was the least of my concerns. Been there, done that, had the gear for it.

I was more concerned about getting to the bike shop that had said they’d have a cardboard box waiting for me. Wasn’t sure about my next move after that, but the bike box was the critical ingredient to any possible game plan. Airlines require bikes to be packed.

So all my communication with the bike shop had been via e-mail. They told me last week they had a box and they’d set it aside. Then I found out just yesterday they were closed on Mondays. What if they had forgotten and thrown the box away? Man, if they didn’t have a box, I would be working in panic mode to find something for my 3:30 p.m. flight.

They opened at 8:30 a.m., but I decided I needed food and coffee beforehand to be ready for whatever. After a hit of caffeine I was prepared for a scramble, if need be.

But as soon as I walked into Pedalen sykkelverksted all my worries were put to rest. They not only had a box for me, they let me break down my bike in their dry shop and pack it there; they offered me coffee; helped with the breakdown and eventually helped me carry the loaded box to the nearby Bybanen stop where I could board the wlight rail to the airport. What a Norwegian send off!

Pedalen sykkelverksted, you guys are the best! Thanks for the send off!

And speaking of Norwegian send offs, as I was riding toward the city center from my hotel, rain in my face and the wind whipping, there were a couple of guys along the cycle path with big green signs saying “Takk syklister” (thank you, cyclists). I was by no means the only one cycling this morning, but it was nice being cheered on. I was participating in the cycle culture of a big European city. Pretty cool.

Now I’m at the airport. Cost me less than $4 to get here by public transportation. Had help along the way with lifting, turning, navigating.

I think the thing I’ve appreciated more than anything on this trip is the kindness of strangers and the beauty in making those connections with other human beings.

After 30 days on the road I found myself in a big city tourist stop hotel. When I went down for breakfast two days ago the very first thing I noticed was that nobody made eye contact, much less said, “Hei!”

What had happened? On the way back to my room I realized I was now the guy in the homeowners’ insurance commercial talking to strangers in the elevator. They were a bit shocked, but they responded. I guess I had them trapped.

I read a book about human contact, human relations last spring. The basic gist of the Harvard 80-some-year study (the longest of its kind) was that humans need humans. Deep relationships make for a good life, but even talking to strangers in public places on public transport, etc. generates a sense of well-being. I have confirmed that on this trip.

Gaytan, the French girl, made me aware of it first, but there were so many others: From the Italian from Verona with whom I talked across the highway with cars passing between us, to the sweet elderly ladies in the organized camps that squeezed my shoulder and wished me a “God tur,” to the Pedalen staff, to all the cyclists on the ferries.

More than proving to the Norwegian immigration officer from Oslo (and to myself, for that matter) that this viejita can ride the length of his hilly country and live to tell the tale, this trip was really about how I’m just one of a multitude of sojourners on earth. We’re not so very different: we need one another in the flesh. There are no substitutes for that. Even strangers have their very necessary place in our lives.

Thank you, Norway, and thank you, Lord, for the lesson.

God tur!

August 6, 2023 by Alisa D. - 4 Comments

That was fun

Kind of the back side of Bergen. I snuck in the back door. The bike route takes you through back roads and neighborhoods to avoid traffic.

My arrival to Bergen was pretty anticlimactic.

First, I arrived to the wrong hotel. I had been looking at two different ones last night and had it in my head that I had booked the other one. “I made it! Uh….oh, sorry. Wrong hotel.” Something along those lines.

When I arrived at the hotel I had actually booked the lady at reception was dealing with some problematic guests so I stood to the side waiting maybe 15 minutes until that was resolved.

The approach. I was still about 5 km away. Busy place. Lots of tourists. I heard a lot of American accents. So this is where all the Americans hang out!

Nevertheless, I’m feeling mighty fine. As I was rolling in to the harbor area, I couldn’t believe I had just done that. Nobody was aware of my accomplishment. None of the thousands of tourists milling about and taking pictures knew that my odyssey was ending except me. And it didn’t really matter.

Nørdkapp to Bergen, a journey of 1,850 miles following the Euro Velo 1 Atlantic Coastal Route (Norway section), in 30 days.

Yesterday, I asked the Brit, who had done a number of long bike tours, how he felt after each one. (I guess I was kind of examining how I was feeling about getting near the end.) “There’s a lot of satisfaction, if I’m quite honest.”

My sentiments exactly.

By the way, if you check out my Strava feed, see if you can see all the times I got lost. There’s one smudge in particular. It’s me wandering around in a playground trying to find the trail. Playground wasn’t part of the trail. Had to back track to figure it out.

August 5, 2023 by Alisa D. - 0 comments

Headed to the barn

Years ago I went pony riding in Wales. My friends had really talked it up and we all went one weekend.

When I saw the ponies I was not impressed. Stubby little things, mostly nags. When we each got ours and headed out they never did more than a slow walk the few miles over the skirt of the hills to the pub where we met our other friends for lunch.

Then it was time to head back to the barn.

I’ve never seen such a transformation. All of a sudden these ponies were racing, jumping ravines and kicking up mud as they ran. In fact, I had a clump of mud lodged between my eye and my glasses, but couldn’t get it out because I was holding on to the reins for dear life.

Well, this isn’t quite that, but I did get a little inspired when I saw my first sign for Bergen. And I did put in another 16 miles after my third ferry, rolling into the campsite at nearly 10 p.m. (It gets dark at 10:30)

I was in a hurry to get to camp before it got dark, but had to get this pic. Very nice.

I woke up tired this morning from all the hills yesterday. Really didn’t know how far I’d go. Not really feeling it. But the day ended up being a fun one because there was a small group of us meeting up at each ferry.

We were three French, one Brit, one German (whom I had previously met near Ålesund), and one American (me). I also met a German girl at the ferry terminal on her way north. Just good camaraderie all the way around, comparing notes, talking campsites, commiserating about the hills.

Turns out, I’m the only one that did the first of the two big climbs yesterday. They had all heard that the mountain road was closed so they hitched a ride through the tunnel. I guess technically the road was closed. There was a sign saying so at the bottom, but this wasn’t my first closed road that was really open so I just climbed and hoped for the best.

Anyway, before the last ferry I started seeing road signs for Bergen…and more importantly Euro Velo cycling signs for Bergen. And my guidebook said that after the third ferry the hills were “gentle.” After a month of riding all sorts of hills, I know my gentle hills and I love them. I decided to push on to get within a short day’s cycle from my final destination.

I am now 31 miles from finishing.

More later. It’s 11:30 p.m. I’m now dry and warm and my tent’s waiting for me…one more night.

August 4, 2023 by Alisa D. - 0 comments

7 percent

Not my favorite road sign in the world. This was a short bit. I did one today that was six at least fue miles long.

As in climbs at a 7 percent gradient. My guide book calls them “mountain gradients.” I realized from my Strava app that I had even done a 10 percent. I just know they’re hard and I’ve done several of these climbs in the last couple of days. My legs are tired.

My stuff is on it’s last leg as well. I knew I would need some duct tape at some point before the journey was over. I usually bring some, but I didn’t this time. Then a strap on my back bag broke. It’s nice to know Norway knows about duct tape.

Duct tape to the rescue. Hang in there. We only have a few more days.

70 miles down today. Around 120 to go to get to Bergen.

August 1, 2023 by Alisa D. - 1 Comment

From Myklebost

It’s not like I don’t have time to write.

I’ve been sitting at a bus stop for an hour now. Sat at a ferry dock for nearly two hours before that, waiting on a ferry that stopped running last year.

I’m thankful that the Norwegian cyclists who got off the bus saw my bike and came to check on me and to tell me the only way off this Island is by bus.

Yep, by bus because as I’m finding out around these parts, they like making tunnels under the water. I already had to ride one bus out of Kristiansund because of the tunnel. Bicycles are prohibited. They are in this series of tunnels as well.

So here I am waiting for the bus l think and hope will be coming by in the next couple of hours. I cycled back to the other end of the island (3 miles) to buy food at the grocery store and the guy there seemed to think my bus would come by. So now I’ve cycled back, eaten my “taco burrito” and now I’m waiting at the entrance to the tunnel.

This morning I was up and breaking camp at 6 a.m. to race to catch my first ferry so I’d have enough time to cycle to my next ferry. I think I broke a personal average speed record. I did 13 miles in a whopping 12.6 miles per hour, then beat that on my next six with a 12.9. I hit those ferries just to get stuck at the third on Harøya Island.

I will say that these islands have been lovely and not all due to the fact that they are generally flat.

Lots of boats and no public transportation.

Grass on the roof. I’ve seen this all over Norway, but even more on the islands. Not sure what that’s about.

My goal today is Ålesund. It’s meant to be a lovely harbor city. Today, I think, will be more about mastering public transportation in Norway than cycling. Even so, if my calculations are correct, I’m less than 400 miles from my final destination, Bergen.

Just a little practical information for anyone that might be planning to ride the Norwegian section of the Atlantic Coastal Route (or for the authors of the Euro Velo 1 guidebook, or for Google, for that matter) there is no longer a Harøya-Brattvåg ferry.

Random, but I had to take a pic. I don’t think they get Mexican. Kind of goes along with the “taco burrito”

July 29, 2023 by Alisa D. - 0 comments

From Kyrksæterøra

Don’t have a lot to report, just wanted to write the name of where I am: Kyrksæterøra.

Actually, it’s kind of nice being back on the road. Did my 67 miles today. That’s exactly what I need to log daily to get to Bergen in time to find a bike box, pack up and fly out. It was also exactly the distance to the campsite where I’m staying so that worked out.

I guess I do have one thing to report. Today I met a Christian on the road. I was cycling uphill on a cycle path and this guy is walking down and holding out something. At first I’m getting stranger danger vibes, but as I pass him I see it looks like a tract. I stop and ask what it is and he says something about “it will help you.” I ask him, “Are you a Christian?” He says, “yes.” I say, “Me too.” He says, “Hallelujah.”

We talked a bit, took a photo together, and then he says something about Ezequiel 34 and that the Lord’s day is coming September 16. And so…not much you can say to that. Time to move on.

The rest of the ride was good. It was nice to set up my tent again, meet my neighbors. A group of three is cycling from Bergen to Trondheim. He’s Norwegian. Wife’s Filipino. Not sure where the other guy is originally from, but they all live in Norway. Fun and friendly and full of tips. They brought the whole house and the dog. Quite a setup.

Cold’s gone, by the way. The good rest in Trondheim helped. Your prayers did as well. Life is good.

I forgot how good chocolate milk is after a ride. I’ll be looking for this from here on out.

July 28, 2023 by Alisa D. - 1 Comment

From Trondheim

Everything is squeaking, creaking, scratching and fraying both on my bike and gear, and on me. …and for good reason. 1,239 miles of this crazy trip down. 611 to go.

I say crazy trip, but it’s pretty tame compared to others. Like my Swedish traveling companion for a day said: “you think you’re out here doing something insane, then you meet some of the ones who are doing even more insane stuff.”

For instance, I’ve met several people en route from Finland. That’s a lot farther than Nordkapp. Met a Swiss couple who have been traveling for a year-and-half. And there’s this other guy – whom I didn’t meet, but I saw his bike – who rode one of those 19th-century big front wheel bikes all the way from Italy to Nørdkapp. Now that’s crazy.

But even on this tame little trip of mine, both Prieto and I are feeling the wear and tear of the road. I’m fighting a cold and my joints are creaky. And there is some unidentified squeak coming from Prieto.

We hit it pretty hard this week – 450 miles over six days. Had one day that was relatively flat. Again the operative word is “relative.” Nothing is really flat in Norway, but it felt like it compared to every other day this week. Lots of small country roads over beautifully hilly farmland that my guide called “consistently hilly” and “undulating.” Yep.

I think I went through Norway’s wheat country, but maybe someone reading the blog can help me with an identification of the grain. Looked a little different from Oklahoma wheat.

So having done 450 miles of undulating, I decided to take a rest day before the last third of the trip. The final push to Bergen. And where better to do it than Trondheim. The “home of the throne“ is the basic meaning.

Trondheim is a wonderful historic city established as a trading post during the Viking Age (997) and put on the Christian European map when King Olav was sainted in 1031, a year after dying in battle. From that time a cathedral slowly emerged that by the 16th century was Lutheran and the capital of Norwegian Christianity. Nidaros Cathedral also happens to be the northernmost gothic cathedral and the site where some of the kings and queens of Norway were crowned.

That busy gothic style does seem a bit out of place in functional no-nonsense Norway, come to think of it.

Trondheim is also where you see some of those typical Norwegian postcard views of houses lined up along the waterfront.

In short, the day off has been well worth it. It’s fun to be a tourist every once in a while. And yes, I’ll admit it…I hit the Starbucks right around the corner.

July 23, 2023 by Alisa D. - 0 comments

From Nesna

It’ll stop raining…or maybe not. That was all the assurance my fellow traveler Kristen, the Norwegian, could give me. This is Norway.

Today I actually looked forward to the half dozen tunnels on the route. They were a welcome break from the rain. Tunnels and two ferry rides helped, but I was pretty much soaked all day. The rain gear did a decent job, but not on the feet or hands. Wet feet, wet soggy gloves. Wet everything from a combination of rain and sweat.

What a day! If I hadn’t felt a little peer pressure from several other cyclists, including Kristen, I probably would have called it a day 40 miles ago. But Kristen assured me that I’d make it to Nesna, piece of cake…this from the one who’s on her way home from the far northern border with Russia carrying about three times as much as I’m carrying. She says she takes off every summer to cycle around Norway. Has done it for the last 20 years. She’d like to cycle in Europe, she says, but that takes too much planning. Norway is easy.

This is the one that’s telling me that 80 miles of cycling in the rain will be a piece of cake. There’ll be hills at the end, by the way.

Well, I did it, but it wasn’t a piece of cake. All I can say is I’m pretty impressed right now with being warm and dry and full. Not full of cycling, but full of pizza. I’ve given up trying to find Norwegian food. Kristen says she just eats hamburgers and fixes the good Norwegian stuff when she gets home. Not much good fare on the road.

I’m learning a lot from Kristen. She knows her way around these parts. All this is from talk on the ferry because everybody pretty much cycles alone. Everybody has their own pace and own schedule for eating breaks. And yet, they made me raise the bar on distance. Maybe I’ll make it to Bergen on time to catch my flight after all.

Finally crossed out of the Arctic Circle. Crossed the line on one of the ferries. I had thought I was already out of it. Nearly 1,000 miles into the ride and I’ve finally crossed it. That’s pretty crazy.

No photos today except one. I was too busy being wet.

July 22, 2023 by Alisa D. - 1 Comment

From Ørnes

Prieto was gimpy this morning.

I got up around 5 am to get packed up and on the road early, but Prieto was having none of it. Prieto is my bike. Not every bike of mine gets a name. There have only been two, really: Prieto and Meg.

Meg was the bike that was with me the first time I traveled with all the gear. She was nearly stolen in London, but a little malfunction kept the thief from riding off. She flew a couple of times from the highways in Africa and crash landed ejecting all my panniers, but we escaped being flattened by the bus baring down on us. She even tackled the back roads of Mexico when I first moved there.

She was actually the bike onto which I strapped a backpack and sleeping bag and took off into the woods for my very first adventure. We camped in the mountains between Taos and Angel Fire, New Mexico. I got her used in Taos, in fact. That’s where I was living at the time.

She became such a faithful ride – though not much to look at – that I named her Meg after Tam’s hag in the Robert Burns poem, Tam O’Shanter: “My good mare Meg, a better never lifted leg.”

But Meg is long retired now. She still hangs in the workshop at my parents’ place. She earned a good rest. Now Prieto is with me. He’s a Trek Checkpoint. A generous gift.

I’ve run him a lot. He needed some serious last-minute work on a shifter before I left for this trip. Shout out to the crew at Phat Tire Bicycles, Edmond, OK for doing some emergency surgery on July 4 to get Prieto feeling better.

Today he was gimpy in the back tire. In fact, the back tire was shot and out of whack. I bumped 53 miles to Ørnes just praying the sports store I saw on Google maps had a bike mechanic and parts…and that I’d get there before it closed at 3 pm.

Prayers answered in the affirmative on all counts. God is always gracious with me, but it was just lovely how everything worked out. Stoler, the bike mechanic, had just gotten back from vacation – his first day back!

He took the matter in hand and tried to fix the wobbly fit on the rim, but we both kind of decided the tread was worn thin. It wasn’t going to make it much longer. So I ended up getting a new tire. Stoler put it on, aired up both tires, and Prieto is now feeling like a race horse. Stoler didn’t even charge me for the service, just the new tire. 399 kroners well spent, I’d say.

And the workers at the sporting good store were so friendly. Everyone seemed to be involved, like they cared about getting this traveler back on the road. So to Stoler and the sales people at Sport 1 Ørnes, TUSEN TAKK!

Things worked out so well that I even had a couple of hours before the ferry departure. Just had a cheeseburger and fries at the restaurant that opened two minutes after I arrived at their door. God is good! Today I feel like I’m his favorite.

July 21, 2023 by Alisa D. - 1 Comment

Fish and chips, please

I’ve been craving fish and chips for about a week. The American equivalent to that – or maybe just the Oklahoma equivalent – is to crave Long John Silver’s. It still exists, right? Basically, it’s just deep-fried everything on greasy paper.

The last time this happened to me was when I moved to Mexico. For the first year every time I returned to the states, my first stop after arrival was LJS’s (Remember, Tara?)

I don’t eat at LJS’s. Hadn’t since I was a kid. Haven’t since that first year in Mexico. Now I’m craving that again. The only thing I could figure out then and I think I’ve confirmed it now is that craving fish and chips is a sign that I’m not getting the daily intake of fat to which I’m accustomed or which I need.

Maybe that’s why my first week on the road I ate a half pound of butter. Even considered putting it in my coffee, but I ran out piling it on my bread. Burning calories in the cold make me see how reasonable eating whale blubber might be. I’m not there yet and wouldn’t know where to find it anyway, but it’s an idea.

These are the things I’m thinking while waiting on the fried fish I ordered at the only restaurant in Saltstraumen where I’m spending my day off. While Saltstraumen is special because of the flow of water between two fjords – they call it a maelstrom – which makes it great for fishing, I just took a day off because it was time for a day off.

For one thing, my cycling clothes were getting ripe. For another, I didn’t get to a stopping place until 9 pm yesterday and then had to work out some issues on my return flight next month. Thanks to mi hija Cynthia Burkhart for being the go-between.

So I did laundry in the morning and I walked up to this restaurant looking for some fried fish. At first the restaurant guy looked right through me. It’s kind of a nice restaurant. I don’t know who or what he thought I was. I’m guessing I’m looking a little rough, a little like the riff raff from down the hill. I think I’ve seen Norwegian riff raff and, yeah, I probably do look a little like that.

I also look a little overdressed quantity-wise, not quality-wise. While the locals are wearing shorts and maybe a windbreaker, I’m dressed for Arctic survival. Thermal pretty much everything. I’m sure the cyclists i meet on the road are wondering if there’s a dramatic temperature drop up ahead when they see me.

Nevertheless, I’ve about got the cycling clothes figured out for 54 to 58 degrees for minimum sweating uphill and sufficient coverage downhill. …While others are solving the world’s problems, I’m busy working out what to wear.

This is my life right now.

Left the archipelagos on the Moskenes-Bodø ferry yesterday. It was a 60-mile three-hour crossing. I did what I do best on ferries: I fell asleep. Now comes the mainland. If my mileage-keeping is correct, I’ve got just over 1,000 miles to go.

The fish was good, by the way. Not Long John Silver’s, but it’ll do. Norway comes in dead last on most national cuisine rankings, so…we’ll call it a win!