I’m sat in a tent, in a layby roughly 2 miles from an international airport. Its just gone dark and I’m pretty disorientated. Why I had to book a flight that got in at 11pm is unbeknown to me. I imagine I was scrimping on cash. Well its safe to say a midday landing would have been a more logical start to a 1200Km bike tour through Scandinavia. However, here I am. I get myself some sleep, its disrupted regularly by lorries zooming by. Since laybys probably aren’t kosher for camping I get up and out early. I see Norway in the light for the first time, and I’m blown away. It’s reminiscent of the highlands of Scotland but more verdant, a true wildscape that us British are sadly so deprived of.
First aim is breakfast. I had arrived at Trondheim airport on the west coast of Norway, it lies approximately 25 Km from Trondheim itself so I had a short ride to get into the town. I follow a coastal path, in and out of the bays, I can’t resist a quick dip. The freezing august water is a sudden reminder of my latitude. As I reach Trondheim I feel a sense of fear; not of city traffic; not a fear of steep hills; nor a fear of being lost; instead a fear of the prices. I knew Norway was expensive but a coffee and a croissant could set me back £7. This really is going to be an adventure on my budget I thought to myself. I get myself some food and revise my route for the day.
I say this as if I’d thoroughly planned a day by day route with neat stops. I hadn’t. I almost disagree with intense planning. Adventures and expeditions must have rough aims but what happens on the way must remain unknown, otherwise its just a holiday. I look along the map and guessed how far I could cycle in a day. Truth be told other than some mountain biking and a bit of running I was not at my peak fitness, so I had very little idea how long of a day I could manage. My only goal for now was to get to Lilliehammer in 4 days time – to meet Ramani, who would ride with me to Copenhagen. I know roughly the roads to follow and I set off.
The Ra valravn fly’s, I’m just getting used to it but I have immediately fallen in love. It keeps its pace so well, undeterred by small bumps in the road, it ploughs on. I need a bike that can plough to keep up the motivation. I love the freedom it gives me, I fancy riding along the beach for a while, its tyres and frame design lap it up. I return to the road, again it laps it up. I continue the theme of weaving in and out of bays along the breath-taking coastline. The landscape is rugged yet welcoming, and so far relatively flat as I stick to the coast. I am aware though that over time the hills will increase, and enjoy the ease whilst I can. As my path deviates from the coast I take one final dip and head for the slog up into the mountains.
It’s one of those hills that deceives you, barely any gradient to it but seemingly lasts forever. You wonder why your legs hurt so much. Your questions are quickly answered by your altitude. The stereotypes of Norwegian woodland are starting to ring true, verdant green spruce trees as far as the eye can see, only interrupted by awe inspiring jutting’s of granite. I’m starting to wish I bought my climbing gear but I dread to think what the weight would be. A final descent into a town seems a fitting end to the day so I call it. 109Km’s 1200 metres of elevation. A good start.
The town feels oddly American, I have never been to the deep south but I imagine it’s what this little town felt like. People gave me funny looks and there were kids roaming the streets. The population couldn’t have been more than 200 but they all seemed to be outside the local shop pulling wheelies on their bikes. At least in that, I felt at home. I struggle to pick a spot to sleep, a bus shelter seems rather appealing so I choose that. I can’t imagine the buses here will be 24 hours so I should get a quiet night, and with rain threatening a dry one at that.
I woke up to discover the forecast was bang on, the ground outside the shelter practically flooded. Waterproofs on I set straight off to find some breakfast. A km down the road I find a small shop and a bike. The bike was kitted out with bike bags. Someone else on the same journey? A friend for the day? No rider though. I accept the daylight robbery again and leave with breakfast and some lunch. The bikes moved over the road, and there’s a man having his breakfast in another shelter. Feeling friendly I go over and talk to him. He’s also headed to Copenhagen. Whilst cycling alone is fine, trips are almost always better with a companion. We agree to cycle the day together. I quickly learned more and more about him. He is a vicar recently graduating from what I can only call vicar school. The Trondheim to Copenhagen route roughly follows an old pilgrimage, this pilgrimage was his reason for being there. We chat away as we ride in the rain about all sorts, philosophy, girls, drinking and god. His views are surprisingly un-vicar-like. Or at least they countered my perceived view of vicars.
He is far more prepared than I. He has some sort of watch that does all manner of things. I like tagging along it makes my life easier, but I can continue with being on my high horse of using maps and not planning. We take it off road onto a gravel track, through woodland that looks like it belongs in the shire. Moss so inviting you question the need for a roll matt. The branches of gnarled trees make intermittent rain shelters. After 5kms of gravel track we pass a house. How remote. My inquisitive nature make me want to ask all manner of questions to who lives there, but we press on. The rain is lashing down on us now, thick waterproofs and layers prevent the lowering of spirits. The air around is thick with that fog you only get during warm rain. We drop back onto road and reach a small roadside shelter, within which we light a fire. The Vicar, or Micha as I should call him tells me all about life in a German vicar school, I’m interested but part of my brain cannot let go of the hilarity of being sat in a shelter, in the middle of nowhere in Norway, in the rain, with a vicar from Germany. Some hot food is delicious, Micha is generous and gives me all sorts of delights, beautiful swiss chocolate and some home blend tea he brings out from a brown paper bag.
The next logical stopping point is Oppdal a city just another 20kms away, so we push on. Once we arrive we agree wild camping together would give us away so we go our separate ways. As if by grace of god (maybe Micha has got to me) the sky opens to blue and the rain stops, I’m able to dry my stuff before setting up the tent in the woods. Laid trying to go sleep I’m curious about the wildlife in Norway. The internet soon tells me they have bears and wolves, perfect information to help me drift off…
After a bear and wolf free night I set back off. I know I’m faced with a large mountain pass for today’s ride. So I take it slow in the morning. I climb up and up one crank in front of the other. Climbing for hours to reach a highpoint of 1100 metres. Then a plateau, I’m well above the tree line now and the rocks and scrubland have taken over. I see elk in the distance roaming around. This is the beauty of the bike tour, slow enough that you take it all in, fast enough that you can see it all. I take myself back off the road onto gravel and feel instantly isolated, no one is in sight, not even a sign of people. It’s strange being in these environments alone, you don’t point things out to one another, you don’t chat about how far you’ve got left that day, you’re just in it. I reach a space of deep calm. I start to worry about Ramani joining me, but I imagine with another day of solitude left I will want company again soon. I’d earnt a big decent and I got it. That perfect gradient where your cranks still engage in the high gears but pedalling is effortless and you feel unstoppable. I reach another ski town and make camp.
Three days in and roughly 300 Km in, I feel a little tired so I take it slow. I plot roughly 45 Km’s a mere hop skip and jump in comparison to the past three days. Lillehammer is in sight. On arrival I camp in the park. There’s not many cities where I would feel comfortable leaving my beloved bike below a hammock in a public park, but fair play Norway you’ve made me feel safe. Before I drift off I notice a couple doing the same thing, they look a fair bit older. A brief wave and nod of understanding and I feel even safer.
I’m eager to meet with Ramani, on reflection I had probably lost it a bit in the previous four days. So was excited to regain some normality. I meet him at the bus stop, and then the hilarity begins. His bike emerges from the cardboard box, its f***ed. An ancient Dawes super galaxy. The comparison between my bike and his, brings us to tears of laughter. A beautiful black stallion against a weary old mule. My spirits were sky high, on adventures whilst being alone is important its also challenging, minor issues become big problems. Together these issues become funny and you can laugh together in the face of challenge. If I thought I was unfit, half a packet of cigs a day and months of post uni drinking hadn’t faired Ramani particularly well. We took the first day very easy. We finished at the best camp spot so far, on the verge of lake hammer, its idyllic. I feel a rush with happiness, and the Valravn was looking pretty in the beautiful evening light.
Mine and Ramani’s first day was plagued by it being Sunday. Completely ignorant to Norwegian was of living we assumed that Sunday would have little effect on life. Oh how wrong we were. Everything shut. Literally everything other than petrol stations. We spend 10 minutes looking at the selection of food available to us in one petrol station. Its lacklustre but we make do. Given the (now familiar) torrential rain we eat our lunch in the forecourt. It gives me visions of the 1960’s Yosemite dirt bag climbers. We were covered in crumbs and looking far more dirty than the beautiful Norwegians surrounding us. We giggled away as eyes look down on us through the half tinted windows of passing Teslas. As the storms pass the green lands get greener. Freshly fed by recent rain. I’m now incredibly jealous of Ramani’s water proof shoes. We set up camp at the final edge of lake hammer. We are just a day out of Oslo now and after a week in the mountains I consider how I will fare the sudden change to a capital city.
The roads get a bit bigger but so do the cycle paths so we feel no less safe as we cycle towards Oslo. Within the first 10Km I see a bike coming to join us. No way. It’s Micha. His happy German accent greats us with surprise. We again agree to do this leg together, he plans on stopping just out of Oslo so he sets pace. If I thought my conversations with Micha were odd, watching him and Ramani talking put another spin on it. For context Ramani owns his own sound system and puts on free parties, he’s about as dirtbag as it gets. He could not have contrasted more with Micha.
I remember I have two friends travelling Norway at the same time and had seen they were in Oslo so I make contact, we arranged to meet them. Feeling excited we pedal on from Micha’s end point to Oslo. We arrive as the sunsets over Norway’s capital. Orange light reflecting off the largest buildings Id seen in a week. A few beers, and a proper stove curtesy of my friends Satya and Millie put us in good spirits.
We have two days of pedalling before we meet the border with Sweden. We make it there in the dark. Even here between Norway and Sweden I’m Spooked, there’s something about borders that always get me, especially at night. We pedal for just 10 Km’s once across the border and pitch up by the sea. As the sunrises, and I rise from my Hammock I’m amazed by the rocky beach in front of me. It looks like a Greek island with boats slowly meandering close to the shore. Ramani isn’t a morning person, and that’s putting it lightly, so I take the opportunity to take a dip. Once we get going we reach a shopping centre, and we get sucked in. I needed some moisturiser, but we got lost in the world of shopping, our brains attracted to the bright lights and food after so long eating from the camp stove. Eventually we forcibly removed ourselves, we took the day easy, stopping at every swim spot we could to cool down. We finally reach Fjallbaka, a coastal town that overlooks an array of islands. I honestly have never seen something so beautiful, it looked like photos I’d seen from explorers up in Svalbard.
Sweden is not quite as welcoming as Norway is to wild camping. So we struggled. We hid ourselves in some bushes and got what little rest we could. The next day we both felt awful. Fatigue catching up with us and maybe a stomach bug on top. We found a café on the sea shore in Fjallbaka and made camp. The sea air did us some good but we both dozed in and out of sleep, much to the annoyance of the owners and clients. We agree, no cycling today. From our café base we see a boat with a sign – “for rent – 200 Kroner per day”. Not to bad, and with islands galore around us we get involved. Bikes on the boat and minutes later we are to sea, it’s a tiny wooden boat with an outboard motor. Neither of us had any experience with boats but it was easy enough. We set sail with little ambition for anywhere in particular. Jumping from deserted island to island. We set up camp on the best looking one. Bikes off the boat we decide to see how hard we can push it. Warned that the sea got rougher when outside the protection of the small islands we naturally went straight out to sea. An island with a lighthouse stood alone became our chosen destination. We climbed its outside. It felt truly wild waves smashing the small rock that it was precariously built on. As darkness was approaching we hastily (but not without getting lost first) made our way to camp. Both still feeling worse for wear we slept early. I was having all sorts of fever dreams, very confused where I was. The next day Ramani recounted the same sorts of dreams, we must have got some sort of bug.
We sail back to the mainland, still questioning our ability to cycle. As we reach shore we see a figure. It cant be. Micha again. Sat eating pasta in the harbour. A game of cat and mouse between us and the vicar across Scandinavia seemed to be in place. In his presence we feel in higher spirits and we decide to ride as a three once again. He even camped with us that night, on a inland beach overlooking a beautiful lake. He tells us of a woodland well known for its moose. We felt as though our trip in Sweden could not be mooseless so we decided to visit the next day.
Sufficiently moosed we continued to Gothenburg. Micha Knew of a inner city woodland camping spot so we decided to follow. Something seemed odd about going into a dark woods, within a city, following a vicar, to a cabin. But we were met with shelter. In the woods with the lights of Gothenburg glistening over us I questioned what was next for our trip. I did some maths. Wait a minute I thought, we are behind schedule. Somehow we had lost a day. In the morning I talk to Ramani and he agrees, we were a day behind our rough goal. I suppose we had arsed around with a boat for a day, but we had included a few rest days into our rough sums. We worked out that to recover it we would have to ride 250 Km’s that day. Given we worked this out at midday, after some Swedish beer, it seemed unlikely. Gutted, we resigned ourselves to the fact we would have to take the train some of the way. The train from Gothenburg to Helsingborg was at 7pm so we waited around for the day. The mood was low. I knew we were both feeling the same thing, it did not sit well with us to take the train. I turned to Ramani at 5pm and said “we can’t can we”, he shook his head, “well what do we do then” he shrugged, “we are going to have to cycle the 250 km’s overnight aren’t we”, he nodded. We felt giddy. What a stupid situation.
We ate and ate and stocked up. We left Gothenburg at 7pm, we agreed to rest every 50 Km’s. But otherwise keep the pace up as much as possible. I don’t think either of us quite knew the undertaking or how long we had ahead of us. 50Kms in and our first proper rest. It was already pitch black and my bike light had died. I remembered something I’d read about cyclists using Viagra to promote blood flow through the legs. I told Ramani and he looked bemused. Realising we were just a fifth of the way through this ride, I thought some chemical help might be wise. So low and behold I found myself in a Swedish bathroom inputting my krone into the Viagra machine. We agreed to take it at the 100Km mark. We reached 100 Km by 1 am and took it with a swig of water. We both spent the next 30 minutes questioning what we had done and whether the more usually desired effects would occur. Thankfully they didn’t. It may or may not have been placebo, my legs did feel stronger though. We hit 150 Km’s at a roundabout at 3am. We decided this was as good a spot as any to have dinner. Sat on a blue concrete roundabout at 3 in the morning we ate tomato pasta as the cars drove past us. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation were hitting us and we felt deluded. We were horribly aware that we had another 100Kms to go. The cycling got horribly slow, we were sitting at about 10 mph but any faster was a struggle. Our minds really did not enjoy the sun rising. By 200Kms it was fully light and we didn’t know whether we were coming or going. Ramani was barely able to speak, and would grumble if you dared get in his path. Welcome signs for Helisnboug started to appear. By 10 am we made it. Utterly ruined. We sat in a kebab shop by the harbour in. We attracted some looks, that’s for sure.
I had a friend in Helsinborg whom I hadn’t seen since I met him when I lived in New Zealand. He let us stay at his. He and I recounted stories from New Zealand as we left Ramani to snore. Somehow one good nights sleep is all I needed, the next day we both felt refreshed and excited for the final pedal, into Copenhagen. We took the ferry across to Denmark and smashed the final 80Km’s. By this point our legs felt solid, cycling was a breeze and effortless. We welcomed the big city by this point and were grateful for the Danish flatness.
Its on odd thing reaching the destination on a big bike tour like this. Your excited because you’ve met the “objective”. But really, for me at least, its not about the destination. Its more about the random nature of getting there. I almost felt sad to reach Copenhagen. The trip was over, I felt fitter than ever but knew that it would not last once I returned. I knew I would, within weeks, be dreaming up my next trip. I wonder if the next trip will be full of vicars and Viagra? Or perhaps a whole other adventure awaits…
Owen Brewster 
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