From Lofoten

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 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!

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.