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.
My brother…bless his heart
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.
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.
Wheat?Maybe wheat countryThis is the “undulating”
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.
Saint OlavThat busy gothic style does seem a bit out of place in functional no-nonsense Norway, come to think of it. Inside Nidaros
Trondheim is also where you see some of those typical Norwegian postcard views of houses lined up along the waterfront.
Old townMy favorite shot of the day.
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.
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.
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!
Prieto getting some attention.
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!
Tusen takk, Stoler!
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.
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!
Algunos han pedido un informe en español. Aquí va.
Lofoten, Noruega.
Hoy decidí tomar un día de descanso. No estoy turistiando. Este donde estoy no es lugar turístico. Solo necesitaba recargar las pilas ( literalmente y figurativamente) y lavar la ropa de ciclismo cuyo olor cada día volvía más desagradable. Retomaré el camino mañana.
Hasta ahí llega el sol en la noche en el Círculo Artico. Son 24 horas de sol.
Hasta ahorita he rodado unos 1,200 km en un viaje de bicicleta desde el punto norte de Noruega en Nordkapp hasta Saltstraumen. La meta es Bergen, si Dios me permite llegar. Queda unos 1,700 km de aquí. Llevo 12 días de rodada y dos de descanso contando hoy. Tengo 18 días mas para poder alcanzar mi vuelo que sale de Bergen el 8 de agosto. (Al escribir esto, siento la presión. Tal vez mi día de descanso fue desaconsejado)
Mi camino es la ruta por la costa atlántica marcada como una de varias rutas que crucen Europa. Es la sección de Noruega de la Ruta 1 de Euro Velo que extiende desde Nordkapp hasta el sur de España. He cruzado camino con cientos de ciclistas, la mayoría de Europa. Y la mayoría de ellos viajan hacia el norte. Yo decidí iniciar en el norte y viajar al sur. Otros han viajado a Nordkapp (hacia el norte) y ahora están de regreso. Tienen meses viajando en bicicleta. Yo no aspiro a tanto. Esa gente tiene todo mi respeto.
Escenas de Lofoten Es que un archipiélago de islas en el norte de Noruega.
Si no llego pedaleando a Bergen, llegaré por algún modo de transporte, probablemente por ferry, el modo indispensable de transporte aquí. De hecho, mi camino incluye varias ferries donde subo al barco igual que los carros y nos pasan a la otra isla. La costa de Noruega es realmente una serie de islas y fjords…y montañas. Si no estoy dando vuelta de un fjord (como un dedo de mar que se mete a la costa) estoy cruzando un puente o pasando al otro lado en ferry. Si no estoy subiendo a una montaña, estoy pasando por un túnel. Los puentes y los túneles, obviamente, traen sus desafíos para un ciclista. Dos túneles de mi camino hasta ahorita no eran para evitar una subida, sino para pasar por debajo del agua. Estos fueron una aventura en sí. Cómo entrando a Kazadum si has visto El Señor de los Anillos.
Pero son los puentes que me exigen más valor. No me gustan las alturas, son angostos y corre algo de aire aquí y más cuando uno está en el punto más alto. De hecho, antes de subir al puente hay un letrero electrónico informando sobre la velocidad del viento.
Es uno de los puentes que tuve que cruzar.
Con todo eso, pedalear en Noruega ha sido una aventura y un desafío. Pude haber conocido algo de Noruega como turista como los miles y miles de Europeos que viajan en sus autocaravanas en los mismos caminos que estoy explorando en bici. Ciertamente no me hubiera costado tanto trabajo. A veces pienso en eso cuando veo que tan cómodos se ven en sus autocaravanas. Pues, no necesito andar en bici para poder probar una hamburguesa de ballena, o un hot dog de carne de reno. Ni para ver las vistas hermosas cada vuelta del camino revela.
Hamburguesa de ballena. Un fjord de miles en Noruega.
Pero hay una medida de satisfacción en llegar a un nuevo destino diario por tus propias fuerzas físicas. Así opino yo. Además, no estoy viendo el mundo encajonado en metal y vidrio. Realmente estoy sintiendo y oliendo el ambiente. Lo que he sentido desde el principio es el frio. Es lo que viene con andar en el Círculo Artico. 15 grados centígrados ha sido el promedio esta semana.
Reno en el camino
Al mismo tiempo, me veo llegando a apreciar las cosas que a veces tomo por sentado, cómo estar seca y caliente en el frío, o tener un lugar – una camita en una casa de campaña – para dormir en la noche. O algo sencillo para llenar el estómago después de un día de trabajo. Me veo apreciando la vida muy básica.
Supongo que pudo haber hecho un viaje similar más cerca a casa, pero quería escapar el calor (aún antes de saber que iba a hacer tanto calor al otro lado del mundo). Con este viaje he logrado eso sin duda. Y quería conocer un lugar nuevo. Hasta ahorita Noruega es todo eso y más.
As the ferry was arriving at Fiskebøl yesterday afternoon, it dawned on me the translation – Fish Bowl – because that’s what it looked like, that little harbor surrounding on all sides by high jutting mountains. I’d already done about 55 miles. Oh my goodness, where was the road out of there?!?
The Fish Bowl on the approach.
The road out did start with a climb, but somehow it was nothing compared to what I feared. In another 15 miles I saw the rainbow. It was right behind me the whole time. I only saw it when I came upon people taking photos. Wow!
Yesterday’s campsite.
My destination was a little hidden away abandoned campground. There was a small shack that had served as a reception/bar, a weird two-story building, the second floor of which was all glass, and some outhouses that by judging by how full they were, had been there for a while.
I say very hidden away, but already populated by a number of bikepackers and a couple of camper vans by the time I got there. Cyclists from Germany, Switzerland and France had already staked out the two-story lookout. Great view over the ocean, but hot. They told me there was a space for me, but it was just a bit too stuffy to be comfortable.
The French girl, Gaytan, explained that her tent leaked so she preferred warm to wet. Gaytan has been on the road three months and probably has three more to go. She’s cycled from the Loire Valley, where her family lives, up to Nørdkapp via Germany, Poland and at least Sweden. I think she went through Finland too, but I may be getting her route confused with the German I’ve been seeing on the road the last couple of days.
Gaytan reminded me that human contact is a good thing. I met the general gang when I first arrived, but she made a point to walk over to my camp and chat. My guess is that life as a solo traveler has taught her that human contact is important. She even came over early this morning to make sure I saw the moose in the field about 30 meters from the campsite. She and the others had spotted three from the lookout.
It was kind of cool waving goodbye to the Swiss guy, the first one to leave, and waving goodbye to Gaytan still up in the lookout, when I headed out. We had formed some kind of pseudo temporary community. Kind of nice.
Today I rode half of the Lofoten archipelago. Crossed some windy high bridges (don’t like) and called it an early day about 50 miles from the southern tip of Lofoten where I’ll catch the ferry to the mainland. I say mainland. I’m not really sure what’s connected and what’s not with so much water around. I’m pretty sure, however, that I’ll be leaving the Arctic Circle on the 60-mile ferry ride.
I’ve covered 650 miles so far. That’s about a third of the way to Bergen, my destination in Norway. The German – who just walked in the door at the campsite restaurant, by the way – has ridden about 3,000 miles. Who knows how many Gaytan has ridden. My little trip is chump change around these parts, but I’m ok with that.
Lofoten.Musli og melk: a nice “snark” while waiting for the rain to stop. These are the bus stop shelters.
The Italian from Verona I met on the road said it well. “I’m full,” he said. He was done for the day.
This was part of a conversation we were having across the highway, cars passing between us. He was heading north. I was heading south. Just a little chat, a “ciao” and one of those Italian blown kisses and that was the end of that.
But today I feel like the Italian from Verona. I’m full. I’ve had enough cycling for today. It’s not that I cycled more than other days. I did 72. Those 72, however, had a bit of everything.
First off, I got an early start because I was in a race to cover 24 miles to catch the ferry at 11 a.m. to Andenes. I started at 8 a.m. For anyone who cycles that sounds like plenty of time, but as my Australian campsite neighbors (also cyclists) said: “it just depends on how many hills.” And there were hills. A pretty big climb, in fact. And there were tunnels, some long dark cold ones, in fact. They’re one-laners so I’m sure they’re kind of scary for cars too. Cyclists push a button before they enter so a flashing light at the entrance tells the cars that there’s a cyclist in the tunnel.
I did make it to the ferry. I ate my hot dog (they’re a staple on Norwegian ferries. I’m making a habit of eating one every time I’m onboard) and fell asleep during the long crossing despite the screaming French toddlers next booth over whose parents seemed oblivious to it. Next thing I know I wake up to a kind stranger squatting down in front of me (I’m laying down in the booth) telling me it’s time to wake up, that we’ve gotten to land. Travel exhaustion nap.
I stumble down to the car deck and wait my turn to ride my bike off the ferry. I’m starting the second half of my ride half-asleep. That might be why I got lost. Instead of checking out the map during the ferry ride, I was comatose.
After a couple of miles worth of passing the same corner “snark shop” -that’s what they’re called – I wake up and get my bearings. I then cycled for 20-some miles before the rain hit. I finally got to use my rain jacket for rain. Mainly I’ve just used it because I was cold, but it works well for rain too. Just couldn’t figure out how to tighten the hood while on the bike so every time a truck came by it would blow off. Aughh… About the time I decided I should stop and put on the rain pants and shoe covers as well, the sky cleared.
So big climbs; cold, scary tunnels; rain and sun, all packed into 72 miles. That’s enough for the day. I’m full.
I’m on Hinnøya Island. Part of the Vesterålen archipelago. Rode the length of Andøya Island after crossing over from Senja. The Vesterålen archipelago is still 300 km from the southern limit of the Arctic Circle.
Finally saw some reindeer on the road. There are caution signs everywhere, but finally saw these yesterday morning on Kvaløya Island near Tromsø. This is a reindeer and beef hot dog. Toppings are potato salad, pickled beets, crispy onions and honey mustard. I had the guy fix it how he likes it. It was pretty good. Unlike the whale burger, I will do this again if given the opportunity. This guy was lurking right behind me waiting to snatch my hot dog. Gotta keep your eye on those gulls. They’re sneaky. Yesterday on Senja. Covered 68 miles. Tromsø to Skaland. Rain ride.
It’s been 10 days since I got on an airplane headed this way, and it’s been seven since I started cycling. Counting my ride up to the starting point at Nørdkapp, I’ve covered 355 miles (575 km).
This is the territory I’ve covered so far. It doesn’t show the little detours to avoid tunnels, but this is the general route.
Wednesday was my longest day this week. I rode 82 miles. I felt refreshed after only about 30 miles and a day of checking out the local museums in Alta on Tuesday. Apparently, it’s a primo spot to observe the Northern Lights, though 24-hour daylight makes it hard in the summer. I hit one cathedral/museum (the government helped build it because until recently – 2012 – the Church of Norway and Lutheranism was the state religion of the country. Now it’s independent, but still receives financial support.) I found that more interesting than the actual Northern Lights Cathedral itself with its architectural design that represents – you guessed it – the Northern Lights, but it made for a nice stop.
Northern Lights Cathedral in Alta
Then it was on to the Alta Museum that protects some of the region’s ancient rock art scattered over a 3 km area. Some of it’s pretty good. Some of it looks like junior was pecking away at dad’s side. Fascinating stuff, nonetheless. By ancient we’re talking 2,000 to 7,000 years old. It’s a UNESCO-designated world heritage site so I felt that was a pretty good excuse to go easy on the cycling.
Alta’s rock art.
At the museum I got to try dried fish and reindeer heart as well. Let’s just say, I’d eat it if it’s all I had after a long ride, which is the same I would say about the whale burger I ate yesterday in Tromsø. Whale tastes like beef with a little fish mixed in. Been there, done that, probably won’t do it again.
Whale burger.
Tromsø is where I am this morning. It’s rainy outside and I’m torn between staying another day here to check out more museums (and rest from cycling) or to hit the road.
Trømso
I’ve rested some (short cycling day yesterday), refueled on whale, had a cozy night at a family-owned hotel and I’ve even washed my clothes for the first time in a week. Ami Hotel is not on the main hotels app. I found it on Airbnb, just fyi. It has been perfect. Free laundry, a fridge in the room, a kitchen and lounge downstairs and a place to store my bike. Oh, and free kaffe and espresso from the little machine down in the kitchen.
I had to cross that bridge to get into Trømso. I think I’ve mentioned that I don’t like heights. Me trying to act cool at the top of the bridge, but that’s a super nervous smile.
I’ve been thinking during my rides over the last few days about sending some clothes home from Tromsø. Thought I wouldn’t need my thermal gear anymore, but the nice Norwegian couple I met on my 82-mile-day told me it was cold and rainy in the south where they were from. They were just sitting at a rest stop in camping chairs soaking up the sun. They asked me if I had clothes for the cold. It was in the 70s at the time and my face was already sunburnt despite factor 70 sunscreen (the arctic sun is intense). I assured them I did, but didn’t tell them I was considering ditching them. How could it be colder the farther south I went? I’m learning to listen to the locals.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for the nice local guy in Alta who gave me specific instructions on how to get around the 30 meters of missing road that my little Velo Cycle Route book failed to mention, I would have been discouraged and would have retraced the five miles or so to brave the long tunnel on the main highway. As it turned out, I got a sweet little spot for my first night of wild camping and a quiet ride on the other side of the missing road that the avalanche took. Never mind that passing the roadblock was forbudt, the guy assured me it was the way to go…his family had a cabin up there.
Forbudt! Is the abandoned stationary bike an attempt at irony?
Just asked the owner if my room was available for another night. It is. Decision made. I’m off to explore Tromsø. It’s the biggest town I’ve been in so far…is probably even considered a city. Kind of touristy, but I feel like being a tourist in Norway today.
The days are getting away from me. I spend most of them cycling to get to the next stopping place, but since I’m getting some personal messages asking if I’m still alive, I suppose I had better check in.
Anyone who wants to track me can see my rides on the Strava app. They’re not too accurate, but it’s something for those of you who want to see a map. They’re not too accurate because my watch is either running out of power all the time or I forget to start it or I go through a tunnel and I guess it thinks I’ve disappeared from the face of the earth so it turns off the workout. Not too concerned about me, just decides to call it quits. Does this count as AI?
Today I came around a bend in the road and there before me was one big gigantic snow-capped mountain that was so impressive I had to stop and take it in. When I got over being blown away, I realized my watch was chirping. It was asking me if I was ok? I thought, well, yeah, I’m just dumbstruck. It’s beautiful. Thanks for asking. Then I realized I had stopped so fast it thought I had wrecked. I guess that’s something, Siri.
So that’s about the gist of things. I’m starting to think my watch is concerned about me and I’m just about overwhelmed by beauty.
It’s wild and wonderful here in the Arctic Circle. At some point I turned a corner and the neighborhood changed from trees and streams and lush green to the towering rocky stuff with a few obvious glaciers. Oh, and all along there’s been water. Lots of water. Fjords everywhere. Fjords… and now mountains rising up from their shore. Mountains so steep you can’t do anything with them except look at them. Maybe they’re just there to remind us that there are things we humans can’t tame.
Right about here is where I should say: “but I digress” but I’m not sure I was going any particular direction anyway. It’s not dark yet, but it’s time for some rest. The main point here is that I’m still cycling…and those personal messages asking if I was still alive were from humans, mostly.
There’s farmland too.Top of the world. Notice how far from the edge I am. I don’t like heights. Thought about staying in this thing on the top of the pass. The downhill looked scary and it was windy. Did I mention I don’t like heights?The big stuff. Right down to the water’s edge. Taking the ferry. My bike is parked at lower right of photo.
1sojourneronearth 