The story of our trip: early to bed, early to rise. Pedal pedal pedal; rest, repeat. We are fully attuned to the rhythms of Norway summer and our tour by now, wherein we ride hard each day, rest well each night, and pay little attention to “normal” daily cycles. The tyranny of the ever-present Arctic sun has little hold on us. Rather, the tyranny of our muscles dictate when to sleep and when to wake so we can do it all again.
We note that the sun has now supposedly given up on its 24-hours in the sky scheme, although we are not willing to wait around until midnight to confirm it for ourselves. We trust the astronomers, meteorologists, and uranologists not to lead us far astray. The gulls, though. Poor guys. They seem more confused than ever. Just when they came around to the idea that the sun shines in their eyes all the time it decides to slide below the horizon at 23:30 and reappear a scant two and a half hours later, at 2 in the morning. Or, as sane folks would say, in the middle of the night. Hardly enough dark night to get some good shut-eye, and the gulls mid-night/way-too-early-in-the-morning squawking protests confirm their frustration. We have finally learned to tune out the 3am sun as well as the 3am gulls, though, so we snooze until the (relatively) sane hour of 6am.
If we had rear-view mirrors Sorkjösen would appear in them at 8 in the morning. We have a short ride ahead on our penultimate day; a whole 45km, which is the shortest of the trip. Olderdalen, our destination for the day, offers a choice. We can continue south on E6 from Olderdalen, adding an extra day and 200km to our trip, or we can take a ‘shortcut’ of only 95km by taking a series of ferries west from Olderdalen. The down and around route on E6 is a busier road, though, so we have chosen the two ferry hop, a two day ride. We could do it in one very long day, but ugh. 150km? Why? Two days is the plan. We may be crazy, but we are not insane.
First, though, we have the little business of the big climb of the day to deal with. A brand new 4.6km tunnel drills straight through big steep Brentefjellet, but the silly Norwegians did not construct it to accommodate bicycles. Boo. The alternate older route is a long winding climb which we accomplish without too much difficulty, cranking steadily if not fast in the second-lowest granny’s-little-sister gear (morning fresh still holds, even after nine mornings. Or perhaps because of the previous nine mornings; our bodies have definitely not become looser and flabbier.) A lot of sweat is shed on the way up but the views are spectacular, both on the ascent and especially on the descent. On the descent we speed around a curve and the stunning snow and glacier-capped Lyngen Alps suddenly appear, soaring to the sky across Lyngenfjorden. We stop, mouths agape. Absolutely awesome.
The awesome scenery continues for the rest of the descent, requiring serious concentration for the task at hand, which is to get to the fjord at the bottom in one healthy piece. The task is difficult with the continual and ever-evolving view of the glaciers and the rocky heights grabbing our attention. Superlatives are inadequate when speeding down a long winding forested road with the Lyngen Alps unfolding across a sparkling fjord with the sun warming your face and wind rushing through your hair. Bury me right there; I am home.
On second thought, do not bury me yet. We have more beautiful riding to do.
The ride to Olderdalen is a straightforward coastal cruise across undulating Norway terrain, with the unwelcome intervention of yet another 100m climb to keep us humble and in line.
We have no experience with such a short ride, and surprise ourselves by rolling up to Hakön Gjestehus at noon. Wow. Our work is done for the day. We have a whole afternoon to see the sights.
Umm. Let’s see. We have E6 running north-south through the village. Over there, across the road behind the Coop Markt, is the ferry dock. A rush of traffic scurries up the road when the ferry arrives, then all is quiet for a couple of hours until the next ferry arrival.
Okay, so much for the landmarks. Way over on a hill, a whole half kilometre or so away, we spot a church. Good. A destination for our afternoon walk.
Make that our half-hour stroll, including poking around the Kafjord Kirke, peering in the windows at a model ship hanging above the altar. Sea-farers get divine protection, it seems. The Kirke is modest, but very well kept.
A long lazy afternoon sprawls ahead of us. Let’s be decadent. After consuming a half-litre of frozen yoghurt we put our feet up. So this is what so-called normal people do for vacation? Interesting.
The feet-up mode becomes old fast. We wander to the dock to check the ferry schedule. First ferry out in the morning is 06:30; perhaps we can beat some of the predicted afternoon winds by getting an early start. We tell our host we will not need breakfast; she volunteers to prepare something and leave it in the cooler. Nice.
And once again we are early to bed so we can be early to rise for another long ride. One more day. We have mixed feelings; another week or two of Norway’s beauty would be wonderful. Our bums, on the other hand, say, “Speak for yourself. We are ready for a break.” We pacify them with beer and cider, then a good rest.
mry writes 