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 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.

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 19, 2023 by Alisa D. - 1 Comment

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!

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.

Musli og melk: a nice “snark” while waiting for the rain to stop. These are the bus stop shelters.

July 17, 2023 by Alisa D. - 1 Comment

Full

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.

July 10, 2023 by Alisa D. - 0 comments

Early days

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.