Results of today.
Broken spokes: 1
Malfunctioning speedo: 1
Drenched shoes: 4
Bedraggled cyclists: 2
Interesting people met: 4
Northernmost lighthouses seen: 1
World’s most northern forest seen: 1
Bleak, desolate, tundra, arctic, beautiful landscape seen: lots
Wind: yes. strong headwind/side wind
Rain: yes
Reindeer seen: lots
Waffles eaten: 2 each
Happy cyclists: 2
Nice warm, snug hut: 1
On the high plains
Slettnes
Slettnes
Today had everything. Sleep, eat, sleep, cup of tea, pack, cup of tea, contemplate belly button. It also had having a drink out of glasses made from ice in a bar made of ice. It had a lazy ride on the luxurious Hurtigruten boat from Honningsvåg to Kjøllefjord. It had an awesome ride through the most barren landscape yet. A climb to a plain of grey, rolling rock, patches of snow, and lakes supplying streams running down into fjords. It was cold, grey and wet, and blowing so strongly that the Hurtigruten wasn’t stopping at all the ports, and had cancelled some of the excursions. Luckily the wind was a tail wind that blew us on to the high plains. Near Mehamn – our final destination – it was a side wind. I had to concentrate completely to not be blown off my bike, scooting down the mountain.
Me and Chris in the Ice Bar
Chris and me in the Ice Bar in Honningsvåg.
The Ice Bar
Me in the Ice Bar in Honningsvåg.
Cycling up the high plains
Cycling up to the high plains.
On the high plains
On the high plains.
Mehamn is a lovely place a million miles from anywhere. Another little village sitting on a bay surrounded by a desolate arctic moonscape, the place has charm. Feeling cold and wind swept, we stopped at the first sign of a room for the night, to be greeted by a lovely, lively South African working at a place called Red Tree. They had rooms but also lots of interesting knick knacks. He enthusiastically told us that Mehamn was the best place in the world. Amazing scenery (which is true) and great things to do – winter and summer. In the winter you can go kite skiing. This would be fantastic on the endless rolling tundra plains with the gale force winds. March is the best month. Anyway, he had no rooms left, but arranged us a room in the local hotel and the following night in a Sami camping ground near Kjøllefjord.
We didn’t stay longer as I was slipping into hypothermia, and we made our way to the hotel and I had a super long shower to warm up.
I like Mehamn and this peninsula.
Today it rained all day and blew a gale. I exhibited the feline side of my personality. I slept and ate. Periodically I looked out of the window. This convinced me to remain in this feline mode.
Chris and I slept in, had a late breakfast and many cups of tea. We wanted to at least set foot in Honningsvåg centre (and not just be in our lodge on the outskirts). We went outside, dressed for the rain, ready to walk the 3 km to the centre. After 10 metres we returned. At that point a couple of drenched French backpackers arrived. That was it. Time for an afternoon snooze.
At a certain point, in a feline way, we decided it was time for dinner. We cooked up our North Cape meal than we took all the way to the North Cape and back. Anything else would have involved a dash in the rain to the supermarket.
But, we did need to go to the supermarket. After hours of procrastination we made the dash.
Despite the bad weather forecasts, we plan to do a short trip on the neighboring peninsula. We needed supplies. Sweet tooth Matthew was calling the shots.
Sweet tooth at heart
We then wanted to go to the famous Ice Bar to celebrate our achievement of reaching the North Cape. But we were not going out there in the rain. Time for a taxi.. 🙂
The Ice Bar closes at 20:00 – even on Friday night. (!) We ended up in the Nøden bar which was probably much nicer. A local bar.
Snooker
A wonderful rest day with lots of chats and cups of tea. Almost a highlight of the trip..
Wow! So much awesomeness packed into one day it makes my head spin! The strongest headwinds to date as I crawl up the windswept, barren coast from Repvåg to Honningsvåg to meet up with Chris for lunch. Beautiful and worthy of a final approach to the end of the earth.
Leaving Repvåg
Leaving Repvåg
Then, entrance to the final approach is only granted to those that can pass ‘the tunnel’. A 3 km dive to 212 m under the sea at 9% slope, followed by a 9% climb to materialize in the rocky, mountainous spectacular Magerøya island.
Entering the tunnel
I stop at the entrance to gather myself and eat a chocolate bar or 5. The wind is howling at the entrance and a periodic electronic chime sounds from the mouth of the tunnel as if to warn those that dare to enter. A car emerges from the tunnel and a Swedish couple get out. ‘it’s long and steep,’ they warn, ‘and no room to walk your bike!’ They look concerned for me. I know what I am doing, I reassure them, and plunge in.
I pass the roll down gate 20 m inside the tunnel that opens and closes in the winter to let the individual cars pass, and then accelerate to the depths. Faster and faster, and I get colder and colder. I start to shake from the cold and my teeth start to chatter as I accelerate down and down into the dead straight tube.
In the tunnel
When cars pass its like an enormous train passing by just over my head. Then, it’s silence once more. Just the whirring round of my wheels.
I am glad when I reach the bottom and start cycling out. I can warm up. It gets steeper and steeper as I slog forward in low gear. But, there is no headwind: a blessing.
Following the coast, now on Magerøya, I crawl along further into the wind before entering another long tunnel. This time it was must less strenuous. A gentle climb for 2 km and a gentle drop, again without wind. I start whistling, making an orchestra of sound echoing off the walls from all directions. A tribute to mum. All her favourites. She whistled all the time.
I arrive at Honningsvåg and enter the Nordkapp guesthouse (quite a common name in these parts). Chris is upstairs in the communal area reading a book in the warmth. We sit and a chat, comparing stories of this trip and others, and made plans for the day. Cycle the last 30km to Nordkapp and then a walk to Knivskjelodden for dinner. This is the true most northerly point of Europe: a low lying peninsula one bay across from the Nordkapp. A 9 km walk from the carpark. We go shopping, planning to cook up a feast on the most northerly point, watching the bus loads of tourists on the Nordkapp.
We talk and talk, and laugh, and before we know it, it is 15:00. We need to hurry. We still want to do a lot.
The final assault can only be completed by those that have made it this far. The wind is brutal, as are the long steep climbs: up and down and up again. During the whole trip from the Lofoten islands to here, I have had a head wind. The gods smile on us today and dish up a hurricane that is conveniently a tail wind on all up hill stretches and a ferocious head wind going down. On the flat bits it is often a side wind.
Wind
And, man, it is beautiful scenery. A winding road through rugged, barren, rocky land. Grass and moss. Rocks and stones. Lakes and fjords. Herds of reindeer. Sweeping views before dropping down along the road curving down to the bottom.
Towards Nordkapp
Towards Nordkapp
Towards Nordkapp
The last grunt to the Nordkapp is with a side wind and we freeze to death. We stop at the start of the walk to Knivskjelodden and hide under the shelter out of the wind for a snack. Then up and up. We get a discount entrance to the North Cape complex. Cyclists are classified as British students and get the reduced rate. We pass through the village of camper vans and buses and into the warmth.
From inside we look out the glass at the globe which everyone photos when they come here. That is for later. First a hot chocolate, a waffle, and soak up the warmth.
Well, dear readers. Here is the proof picture. Chris and I at the North Cape.
It is too cold and too late to go to Knivskjelodden, and so we have dinner at the restaurant at the end of the universe and make our way back.
We remark over and over with glee how perfect the direction of this hurricane wind is. Perfect head wind to brake our steep descents and perfect tail wind on the climbs. We whiz on home in 2 hours. A snappy time for 30 km in Norway.
Content, I curl up into bed.
I was keen to leave super early today now that my bike was roadworthy. It was pouring with rain at 2:30 when I planned to start getting into action. I got up, had breakfast, and, when back in the tent, I thought, why do I need to leave now? I got back into the sleeping back, and fell asleep to the sound of the rain on the tent.
At 5:00 it stopped raining (heavily), and I started to pack. By 6 I was on my way. Clouds and grey were the theme of the weather today. It didn’t rain heavily again, though.
Leaving Alta
Leaving Alta
The road then started to climb to end up in an open, barren plateau.
Up to the barren plateau
The barren plateau
The barren plateau
After lunch at Skaidi where I met with Chris yesterday, I crossed over to the shore at Olderfjord and then followed the coastal road north. The sun started to poke through the clouds on occasions which made the road and some of the fishing villages look even nicer.
Fishing village
The coastal road
There were some tunnels. On the longest one there was a cool system for cyclists to loan reflective safety vests. You pick up one in a box on one side of the tunnel and leave it in the box on the other side.
My borrowed yellow vest
The coast road continued to Repvåg.
The road to Repvåg
The road to Repvåg
Crossing into Nordkapp county
Repvåg is a small fishing village perched on a rocky barren peninsula sticking out from the mainland. It feels like the end of the earth. I like that!
I stayed in a hut. This way my tent won’t be blown away, and I can dry out the tent and some clothes.
My hut at Repvåg
There is also a hotel and restaurant here, which made me some nice fish.
Chris is staying in Honningsvåg. I plan to go under the big tunnel tomorrow morning and catch up with him there. Might see the Nordkapp tomorrow!
My mind was turning over in my sleep. How could I fix the broken spoke? I knew all the options, but still I went through them all again. I was up early as usual (6:00) and had to wait till 10 when the bike shop opened. I started playing with the spokes but just made it all worse. I was given moral support from several different cyclists. One gave me some spokes. Also thanks to Marco Janssen who gave me tips via this blog. My wheel was beyond any sort of repair now, though.
Chris, from the group of 4 passed by on his way onward. Seeing him go was hard. I wanted to be on my way too..
The mechanic at the last remaining bike shop in Alta was on holidays. I then started ringing around, and found a bike shop in Hammerfest (140 km to the north) where the mechanic was not on holidays. A ray of hope opened out, and for the first time since my arrival in Alta I saw this spoke ordeal as an adventure to be lived ‘in the now’. I won’t have to see the north cape in a tourist bus or a car, and today will just be an obstacle to cross.
I went to the Alta airport and rented a very expensive car.
Renting a car
I then drove the route I will be cycling tomorrow. The road climbed and climbed to a big open plain. It reminded me of some of the landscape of the Flinders Ranges back home in Australia. Wide open spaces and little vegetation. It was beautiful.
The kilometers in a car went slower than on the bike. I hate driving, and seeing the scenery is like watching a movie. You don’t feel it, like on a bike. Tomorrow that will be different.
Hammerfest is a little town perched on the side of a bare mountain with a bike mechanic – my kind of place!! 😉
I bought a new wheel and had it fitted. Many thanks to the great help from the people at InterSport Hammerfest!!
Bike repairs in Hammerfest
Then it was time to return back home. Chris had just arrived in Skaidi – where the roads to the north cape and Hammerfest part when I was eating my mid afternoon lunch 20 km away. We arranged for a coffee in Skaidi via Facebook.
Me and Chris in Skaidi
We will be meeting up again in the north cape. The group of 4 meet up (partly) once again.
I’m now back in Alta, have eaten, and am going to bed. I need sleep for my first kms after 2 days of nothing.
Today was a day of frustration. Cycling from one bike shop to the next in the glorious, sunny weather, finding someone to fix my spoke. I was in my civilian clothing, passing cyclists kitted out with their cycling clothes and luggage clearly heading for the north cape. I couldn’t help but tell them I was just getting a spoke fixed. I was one of them..
The first bike shop only sold bikes, but pointed me to a second, some 8 km away at the other end of the town (with a minor hill in between). They couldn’t help, but perhaps a third. Back over the hill. The third does repairs, but the mechanic is on holidays. I took to their workshop, and changed the spoke.
I only had spokes that were the wrong size, collected on the way. After some time I had the spoke replaced (after getting frustrated several times at my failure at being able to carry out particular actions and seeing my cycling time ticking away).
I went to an all you can eat pizza place to fill up with the fuel that would take me over the tundra wasteland to the next camping ground some 80 km away.
3 km further another spoke broke. I fixed it and continued. At last on my way. The north cape is in sight!
The North Cape in sight.
I passed a sign: the climb to the tundra plains.
Up to the tundra plains
And up I went. At the very top, just before the descent down, another spoke broke.
Yet again: *sigh*
Unlike the others, it was a spoke on the side of the gear wheel. I couldn’t change this one even if I had tried. It was cold and windy and the clouds were looking threatening. I was 20 km out of Alta and 60 km from my planned camping ground: a tiny village with no facilities. In fact, the next bike shop is at Honningsvåg near the north cape or at Hammerfest, some 130 km away. What was I doing here at the start of the arctic tundra? Alone, with my (non-existant) technical prowess and with a wheel clearly past it’s prime. If another spoke broke and the wheel was unusable, what then? I tried to straighten the wheel with one broken spoke by tightening and loosening other spokes. The wheel got worse.
Time to quit while the wheel was still rideable. Dejected, I turned and cycled back to Alta.
Having dinner at the camping ground, I was speaking to two Serbians who have just returned from the north cape. They were early and are now killing four days of time. They had a lot of stories to tell. Some were hilarious: particularly about mosquitos.
But, dear readers, I have a question. Can you help? What should I do?
1. Call around and find a nearby cycle shop with a mechanic. The nearest one may be 100s of kms away. Then rent a car and take the bike to it.
2. Try to rent a bike. I doubt this would be possible.
3. Try to readjust the spokes and cycle the last 250 kms.
4. Buy a new bike. (this is not a really serious option)
5. Something else..
As you can see, I don’t have any options I like. The Serbians told me of another bike shop in Alta that sounds promising. I will try that. Other than that, please help me with your ideas. I could think of nothing worse than cycling all this way and joining a tourist bus trip to go to the north cape from here.
By the way, I asked the last bike shop if they had a replacement wheel. They didn’t but could have one in by Thursday. I guess that would be Friday now. Maybe another one of the shops has a wheel. The gears will need to be mounted which may not be possible without a mechanic..
Take on more than you can handle and it comes back to bite you – it bites you just like thirsty mosquitos during a long slow climb up the mountain. Yesterday I felt the growing strength surging through my muscles. Today I feel exhausted and those gods (is it Thor or some female god?) have added insult to injury by delivering me a broken spoke 5 km before the finish line.
But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
I feel proud of myself. I recognized the symptoms of lack of blood sugar: being angry at everything and the hard headedness to push on to not be late. I deliberately stopped and slowly ate my extra lunch reserve of cheese and salami sandwiches. It was to a beautiful backdrop of a wide fjord and beautiful mountains, by the way, although I only noticed that after the first sandwich.
I feel proud of my myself that I am not a complete klutz technically with the bike. When my spoke broke 5 km before Alta, I assessed the situation, readjusted the remaining spokes, and loosened the brakes to allow of a slightly wobbly wheel. And all this while being eaten alive by a swarm of ravenous mosquitos.
But, all this was at the end of the day. Here is a quick summary of the whole day. Early departure. Hug the coast. Big climb traversing a peninsula. Spectacular view over fjord, islands and imposing mountains.
At the top of the pass
View from the top of the pass
At the top of the pass
Hug the coast through small fishing villages.
On the way to Alta
Big climb. Descent into Burfjord. Big lunch with vast quantities of steak and chips. Disappointed at lack of climb crossing a peninsula into the state of Finnmark.
Entering Finnmark
Long, straight busy road along a narrow fjord that looked somewhat like the Rhein River. Non flat up and down and up and down. Big trucks. Fast cars. Counting down the kilometers to Alta. Alta in sight. 40 km to go but Alta 10 km as the crow flies.
Rain over Alta
Up and down. Skirt around side fjord. Up and down. Cross small side peninsula of side fjord. Pass Alta about 500 m on other side of fjord. Still 20 km to go. Big side fjord. Pass new road construction and see future road crossing half finished bridge to half finished tunnel. Wonder how the road will pass that big slab of rock in the way. Pass sign 9% steep climb. Question answered. Ping! Broken spoke.
*Sigh*
Wobbly wheel. Wheel doesn’t turn. Hungry mosquitos. Temporary fix. Crawl into Alta.
Beautiful light near Alta
Check into hotel.
Arrival in Alta
Sleep.
I liked today. It wasn’t too hot. It only rained lightly and was quite refreshing for fast cycling. The cloud formations were spectacular making the surrounding raw landscape even more imposing. And I feel I am getting stronger.
I followed the E8 from Tromsø. This is quite a main road and the traffic made for less than optimal cycling. Once I turned off to the road to Breivikeidet, I had the road to myself. I saw when the ferry was leaving and planned my speed for the subsequent 23 km.
The road to Breivikeidet
The ferry at Breivikeidet looked very different to in the winter. Then, the sky was clear and a very deep blue. The mountains, covered in snow, were also blue in the light. Snow covered the entrance area and the yellow street lights made for a contrast to the blue. Today it was light, but a rainy light. Big, black clouds hung pregnantly on the horizon. Rain could start again at any moment.
The threatening clouds at Breivikeidet
The ferry ride was too short. A quick snack of a sandwich and lafse (a local delicacy) had to be gulped down.
There was only a small kiosk on the other side, and I wanted lunch. I got a brochure on ferry times, and continued. 1 km on there was a lovely little cafe where I consumed a steak in mushroom sauce and chips. I spoke with a French couple there, in their 60s, who had cycled here from southern France. They have explored a lot in northern Finmark, and convinced me that that is the place to go. Lonely roads (no trucks, cars and camper vans like on the E8), and amazing arctic landscape. I will probably have spare time if I keep up this pace, and I spent all day on the bike contemplating which of these delicacies I want to taste. They are all only a ride away on the Hurtigruten boat.
When I left lunch, I realized there was a slim chance I could still catch the ferry I had planned to take not accounting for lunch. I hardly considered it possible, but, I was clocking up a really good speed despite a light headwind/ no wind. As I continued, I did some mental calculations and found I needed to average 24 km/h over 45 minutes. Just a few days ago that would have been well beyond the rhelms of possibility, but now it was happening. I puffed and panted and gave gas. I made it and I felt great!
On the way to Lyngseidet
Making kilometers was on my mind and I continued. The cloud formations became even more threatening. Near Storslett there was a looming dark black mountain with a fang shaped summit touching some deep black cloud.
Clouds near Storslett
Dinner was bought and eaten at a supermarket at Storslett, and then I
pushed on to my destination camping ground at Fosslv.
At the camping ground at Fosselv
With a mega day tomorrow, Alta is in reach. Then the last slog through the tundra of the Finnmarkse Vidde. Awesome!
Was it due to my sticky unwashed body in the hot tent? Was it the light from the midnight sun? Was it the cuckoo that kept calling all through the night? I suspect it was the excitement of going to Tromsø that kept me awake, resulting in my early departure. I was there in Tromsø in the middle of winter when the sun doesn’t rise, people slide in the street on the slippery ice, and I froze on the bridge with the mighty winds. It was a place of deep clear blue skies, caught in a 3 hour twilight before all falls again into darkness.
This time I set off from Senja in shorts, worked up a sweat on some hills, and was glad that the tunnels were cooler.
I set off at 4:45. The day started cloudy and a bit overcast. This may have detracted from the views, which seemed more spectacular yesterday.
Early morning on Senja
Early morning on Senja
It was a trip of tunnels which were quite fun. At that hour there was not a soul on the road, and I passed without problems through the tunnels.
Tunnel on Senja
I was at Botnhamn in time for the first ferry at 8. I realised I was tired. I had slept 2 hours, and it was a hot day (relatively speaking). I wanted to get my bike checked and buy a little cooker and pot for my forays across the Finmarkse Widde, and I really couldn’t imagine passing Tromsø without staying. I booked my hotel while on the ferry, and then all was set.
I had expected more civilisation near to Tromsø. The ferry set me off into empty nature like what I had left on Senja. Fjords, windy roads, a few houses, but no shops. No filling with water in a shop today. Yesterday my first wild camping. Today my first wild water. It was quite tasty.
The scenery, although still rough, was not as rough as Senja. Everything seemed a tone lower, even though I had some nice mountains and steep climbs.
Kvaløya
I got a lump in my throat arriving in Tromsø. It was such a lovely winter trip. I recognised it all, but saw it in a different ‘light’.
I wasn’t able to use the tunnel, as a cyclist. The cycle up and down the local hill in Tromsø was a killer on the heat, when all I was ready for was a shower and a lay down.
I am now the proud owner of a gas cooker and pot. North Cape, here we come!!
At our old hotel in Tromsø
Post script: after a four hour early evening sleep I was ready to go out. The weather was OK, so I went to the top of the hill opposite Tromsø with the cable car like I did in the winter. Alexis and Volker were staying in the camping ground and I went to collect them. Alexis came with me to the cable car.
The light at the top is magic, just like in the winter. A sunset light with an orange in the sky. The only difference is that this is midnight and not midday. Also, the sun is in a different part of the sky. The mountains to the north are more highlighted, and the mountains in the south are delegated to the dimness.
Tromsø just before midnight
And the sun came out at midnight
Crossing the bridge back to the centre, the mountains to the south had a morning hue, even though it was 1:30 am. I will be needing the curtains to sleep. Seeing morning images is confusing my body.
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