Οldesfjord, Norway. 9 July, 2023

Turns out, the immigration officer was right: Norway is hilly.

Ι spent two and a half hour getting to my starting point. It was only 16 miles away and all along the way I was already considering ditching the venture.

As I rode uphill Ι asked myself “what can I throw out? As I coasted downhill, I asked then the “what other clothes can I put on?” 45 F (7 C) downhill feels like 32 F (0 C) with no clothes on. Finally, one last uphill and I finally joined the occupants of all the camper vans and tour buses that passed me on the way. Everyone was taking photos of themselves around the iconic Nørdkapp globe.

71 10’ 21’’ Those are the coordinates. Well into the Arctic Circle. I took a photo of my bike, a quick selfie, parked the bike where I halfway hoped someone would rob it and headed to the visitor’s center.

There I sat in the restaurant drinking coffee trying to warm up and thinking about that immigration officer’s question: “Why cycle Norway? Why not the Netherlands or Denmark where it’s flat?” Why, indeed?

It took a while – maybe two hours – but my clothes dried, I warmed up and I got enough caffeine in my system. I feeling a bit more optimistic about the next month. But since I wasn’t in a hurry – sun’s up around the clock and I’m still struggling with the time change and can’t go to sleep until after midnight anyway – I decided to look around.

At Nørdkapp, they have on display a lot of fun facts. Some British captain managed to sail around it in the 1500s. He was looking for a passage to China. Two of his three ships and their crews were lost. They froze or starved to death (seems to be a recurring theme). The captain himself made for Russia, got to Moscow by dogsled, then got back to Britain from there.

Then there was the priest from Ravenna, Italy – the first tourist to visit – who in the 1664 decided to travel to northern Norway because he wanted to know what compels these people to live under such extremely cold temperatures. That question was rattling around in my head as well. The priest satisfied his curiosity, according to the tourist display. I’m still wondering.

Thailand’s king Chulalongkorn in 1907 visited. He even carved his name in a rock.

I wandered around a bit, got the refresher video on why the sun doesn’t set in summer and doesn’t rise in winter, and what causes the northern lights. Then I stepped out on a quiet balcony. No tourists – too far to walk, I guess – just a big pile of snow that hadn’t melted yet, and the vast ocean. Even from Nørdkapp it’s still more than 2,000 km to the North Pole.

I walked back upstairs and out onto the open scrubland off to the east of the tourist globe. No more blah, blah, blah. This really was an amazing place. Extreme – I can’t imagine waging a naval battle out in that sea, like the Brits did against the Nazis in WWII. That must have been rough. I only have to ride a bike.

So…I got a Nørdkapp sticker in the gift shop (thinking about weight) and headed south (and pretty much downhill as it turns out) all the way back to my starting point and further. I rode 45 miles . I stopped several times to take pics: of the reindeer grazing in the field, of the cliffs and fjords, of lots of beautiful views.

Today I rode through more beautiful isolated miles and a few tunnels. I started with the longest one – more than 7 km, half of which is downhill and the other half uphill. There’s a reason for that – it goes under the water that separates Mageroya Island from the mainland. They ferry the reindeer over in the summer, but, alas, they don’t have a ferry for humans. So 10 percent grade down and 9 percent grade for 3 km later and I’m on the other side with rolling hills along the coastline ahead.

There are about 20 cyclist camping around me tonight. My nearest neighbors on either side are French. I talked to a British couple in the common kitchen. They started in Spain in May and are finishing in Nørdkapp in a couple of days. There are tons of Germans. One couple I met on the road, who were German, said about 80 percent of the riders they’ve met are German or French. Not many Americans. And fewer Mexicans.

But the Mexicans are here. I was pleasantly surprised to meet Karen from Leon, Guanajuato. She checked me in at reception. She’s a college student, her uncle is the manager of the business, and she gets to work here for the summer. How fun is that?

50 miles today. I finally found a gas canister for my camping stove. I ran into a Mexican in the middle of nowhere in Norway. A pretty good day.