Author: ninemilesperhour

13th JULY 2018

I’ll finally be leaving Finland today having spent one month cycling from top to bottom. Assuming I make it to the Mediterranean, this will be the longest I’ll spend in any one country. I’m quite looking forward to arriving in the smaller Baltic States and being able to reach a new country every few days.

Mr Trump and Mr Putin will be meeting in Helsinki on Monday, so I want to be long gone before the city goes into lockdown. Without realising, I’ve arranged to depart on Friday the 13th, which isn’t a great omen given my history of being sick on boat crossings. I haven’t actually booked my ticket yet, meaning it will cost more, but will also give me a bit of flexibility with ferry times. This is a lucky bit of foresight on my part as getting to the docks proves far from straightforward. It’s only a 15km journey but I have to pass through the city to get there. If I was driving I could shoot straight down the motorway, but that’s out of bounds for a cyclist. I try to follow the busy road as best as I can on cycle paths, but often end up in industrial areas or suburbs with no real clue as to where I am. Goodness knows where I’d end up if I didn’t have Google Maps to keep me right. Frustratingly, it takes me over two hours to cover the short distance and reach the docks. I really dont enjoy cycling through cities that I don’t know.

At the ferry terminal I have to ride round to the vehicle check-in with queues of cars and trucks. Once through, all the bicycles, motorbikes and other oddities are herded into a small group of their own. I get chatting to a young Finnish couple who are going over to spend a long weekend in Tallin. They are taking their bikes across so they’ll have transport to get around the city more easily, which strikes me as a very cool thing to do. Bicycles are led onto the lowest deck along with lorries and trucks, probably to make sure we don’t scratch any nice new cars. An Estonian speaking docker puts us right at the back of the ship and we shackle our rides using heavy duty straps attached to the inside of the car deck. We then have to climb six levels to reach the passenger decks, where the ship’s interior makes it look like a floating bar. The Gulf of Finland is flat calm today, so I’m unable to continue my tradition of throwing up in every major sea or ocean I’ve sailed across.

When the boat docks in Tallinn we have to wait at the rear of the boat while all the lorries with their choking fumes disembark. Having survived that, there is then an odd, long circuit of the docks to navigate before I’m finally released into the city. Finding my way through Tallinn is an absolute breeze after Helsinki and twenty minutes later I’m at my hostel. I’m not quite sure what to expect as I haven’t stayed in a dorm room in a hostel since I backpacked round Australia in my twenties. I have hazy memories of staying in some cheap, grubby establishments in those days, where your room mates were more likely to be cockroaches than fellow backpackers. Fortunately, times move on and standards have clearly improved since then – this hostel is clean and bright with a well equipped kitchen, a TV room with comfy bean-bags and a pool room with a bar. There is even the option of ordering breakfast for the following morning if you want. They let me chain my bike to a railing inside reception, while all my camping gear is locked in the beer store. They could not have been more accommodating, although they do have a rather strange ‘No Shoes’ policy once you pass reception.

I’m in a dormitory with five other blokes, so odds are there’ll be one heavy snorer amongst that total. An old Canadian guy goes to bed early, then I’m next at about midnight. A couple of the young crew are just leaving for the pubs, so I hope they don’t come crashing in drunk at 4.00am. If they do I’ll get my revenge by crashing round the room tomorrow morning on my way down to early breakfast.

I don’t hear the kids returning during the night but their bunks now contain comatose bodies to prove that they did. I creep down to breakfast silently to reciprocate their quietness of last night. What is laid out on the table is more of a feast than a breakfast – there’s cornflakes, about ten slices of ham and salami, five large slices of cheese, ten slices of mixed bread, tomato, cucumber, an apricot yoghurt bar, a banana and unlimited refills of tea. I have to ask if all of this is meant to be just for one person. I get stuck in but have to save the yoghurt bar and the banana for later. It seems like gluttony, but I know I’m going to need all that energy over the next few days.

I take a stroll into the Old Town in the afternoon to wander round the narrow cobbled streets and marvel at the medieval buildings which have somehow remained intact since the 1300’s. Part of the Old Town still has the original stone wall round it from when it was fortified against attack and a few tall defensive towers still stand guard like sentries. There’s a great viewing platform amongst the buildings on the hill where you can look down on the fairytale architecture and gothic churches below. While I’m taking photos, a woman behind me is playing classical music on an organ and is seemingly unfazed by a seagull that’s just standing on top of her instrument without a care in the world. The only drawback are the hordes of tourists that crowd the bars, streets and restaurants, although I can’t complain too much today because I’m one of them. I get to thinking that it would be a great city to visit for a mini-break when it’s slightly quieter.

Back at the hostel I watch the World Cup 3rd / 4th Place play-off game with an American girl and the old Canadian guy. For North Americans their football knowledge is surprisingly good, although she slips up once by calling the players ‘Soccerballers’ while I try not to visibly cringe. Tonight we have four guys and two girls in our dorm, and once again I’m getting into bed at midnight while a couple of the kids are heading out. Unfortunately for them I will definitely be up and moving about early tomorrow morning as I prepare to leave Tallinn and see what the rest of Estonia has to offer.

 

 

8th JULY 2018

The day I leave Pieksamaki I’m undecided about how far I’m going to get. I’m going to see how I feel as the day progresses, but my choices are Kangasniemi at 50km or Timpanmyyly Campsite at 85km. My journey will be solely on quiet side roads today, which will mean a safe trip but also means it will be hilly and slow. As it turns out I get to Kangasniemi in no time, aided by cool, cloudy conditions and a tailwind. I briefly think about staying here, but it seems silly to stop when all the cycling conditions are in my favour.

I continue on, but there are lots of little uphill / downhill peaks and troughs later in the day so I slow down considerably. I’d seen the location of the campsite on Jim’s laptop but can’t find it on my own Google Maps. I know it’s about ten kilometres before a town called Joutsa, but I can’t quite remember which road it’s on. I think it’s this one. As I edge closer to Joutsa I reason that it must be a different road after all and I get ready to look for places to wild camp. I’ve almost accepted spending a night in the forest when I see an old battered sign for Timpanmyyly Camping. It’s about 500 metres down a dirt track and situated beside a lake. When I’m filling in the nationality section on the registration form the lady owner sees where I’m from, but then to my surprise says I don’t sound Scottish. Her main point of reference is from the TV show Monarch of the Glen and she looks mildly disappointed that I don’t sound like any of the characters.

When I leave the next morning she warns me not to carry on South on the road I’ve been using. I’m told the next 20km are too dangerous as there is no safe margin for cyclists and the road becomes very narrow and busy. So I’m off on the side roads again, turning a relatively easy 70km day into a slow, hilly 90km.

My first target is the quiet little town of Pertunmaa, then I need to get to a place called Kuortti where I can rejoin the main road again as it’s now safer for bikes. Or that was my plan. I’m just about to get back on the main road when I see a big ‘No Walkers or Cyclists’ sign. Bollocks. I spend the next few minutes consulting Google Maps to try and find a way through that avoids the motorways and busy trunk roads. There seems to be a way through by heading for a tiny village called Imajarvi, so I trundle off in that direction.

Very quickly the road deteriorates into the worst of the trip so far, with a narrow single lane and mostly loose gravel as a surface. I have to keep checking Google Maps to make sure that I’m still going the right way. Apparently I am, but it just doesn’t feel right. It’s so silent and out of the way that I keep getting Wrong Turn horror movie scenes popping into my head. I’m convinced that my tyre is going to puncture because some flesh-eating redneck has lain spikes on the road. My imagination wanders off – I’d be fixing the tyre when a group of tattily dressed country hicks with no shoes would appear and then help me out. They’d be really friendly and ask if I wanted to fill up my water bottles and have some lunch back at the farm. I’m sure the hot sister (of course she’s probably their cousin too) is flirting with me so, like a fool, I agree. When I get to the farmhouse there’s a big black pot boiling on the stove, so I ask them what’s for lunch. At this point the head of the house leers over me and laughs horribly – “What’s for lunch ? … Why YOU are boy !”

The tall trees that line both sides of the tight road make for a great sunshade to keep me cool. However, they could just as easily house a family of crossbow-wielding maniacs. Needless to say I pass through Imajarvi quickly, but thankfully without incident. The track then improves slightly, joins a larger road and before long I’m back on the main road again and heading for Heinola. I get to a large campsite that is set, once again, on a lake. The sunset over the lake is an absolute cracker, with an orangey-yellow sun taking ages to set and casting golden reflections on the lake. This tranquil scene is spoiled somewhat as the lake is spanned by an ugly great bridge that carries one of the main motorways to Helsinki. Any time a heavy double-trailer truck passes, it makes the bridge supports vibrate slightly and causes tiny waves to ripple into shore.

I spend an extra day in Heinola catching up on washing, food shopping for the road and sending off a handful of Warm Shower requests to see if anyone can host me in either Helsinki or Tallinn. I’ve got about 140km left to ride till I reach Helsinki, so I want to do about 90km today which will leave me with a nice easy 50km to finish. I’d much rather deal with getting into a city at the end of a short day. Thankfully the route doesn’t appear all that complicated as it looks like I just have to stay on a road that runs almost parallel to the motorway. This will take me to within 20km of the city, by which time I’ll be able to use cycle paths.

For most of the day I can either see or hear the motorway as my road runs so close to it. The only time the roads part is when the motorway bypasses the city of Lahti, whereas I have to cycle right through it. By late afternoon I reach Mantsala, where I’ll find a campsite just outside town according to my trusty old Google Maps. The place is supposed to be about three kilometres away, so I know something is amiss when I’ve travelled twice that distance with no sign of a camping ground. I double back and start asking locals but no-one has even heard of it. This means I’m definitely wild camping tonight, so I get my water bottles refilled by the last person I speak to and head off to find a spot for the night.

I return to the road I’ve been on all day and figure I’ll just keep cycling till I find a good spot. At least it’s going to knock a few kilometres off tomorrow’s total. I must see about five possible sites, but somehow there’s always something that doesn’t feel quite right – too close to the road, not enough camouflage, ground too hard, too much undergrowth to push the bike through. Eventually I go round a drawn gate and down a grass track that leads to some kind of small electrical generator. The track has started to sprout tiny bushes and fir trees so clearly hasn’t been used for a while. I’m well hidden from the road too. I’ve found my spot. I set up tent, chain my bike to a tree, have most of my remaining food and bed down early in preparation for my final days cycle into Helsinki. I get into my sleeping bag fully clothed, but it’s such a warm night that I’m down to only my boxer shorts by morning.

The heat has really started to kick in by mid-morning. I pass an electronic sign outside a warehouse that tells me it is currently +28C. The fact that the ‘Plus’ has to be specified shows how regularly the temperature in Finland drops into minus figures. However, a combination of the heat and drinking most of my water at camp last night leaves me feeling fatigued. I’m rolling along painfully slowly so I stop at the first shop I see for refreshments. A snickers bar, a banana and two litres of strawberry water have me revitalised in a matter of minutes.

Having perked up, I simply continue to follow the same road I’ve been on for two days. A cycle path then appears and runs alongside the road, even though I’m still fully 30km from the city. I wish all countries were as cycle friendly as the Scandinavians. I have to Google Map my way through the suburbs, but it’s pretty straightforward as my campsite is on the same side of the city that I’m approaching from. I’ll tackle getting through the city on the day I leave. The camping grounds are an oasis of green amidst a motorway, flats and a train station. They are also full of motorhomes, tents and families with kids. There’s even a couple of fellow cyclists.

I’m settling down later in the TV Room to check on-line when I see I’ve got another message from Dutch Hanna. That doesn’t surprise me too much. What shocks me is the content of the message. She says she has just checked herself in to the very same campsite I’m staying at. Bloody Hell ! I make a mental note to give my bike a thorough check for any hidden tracking devices. Despite this spooky reappearance, I’m sitting there feeling pretty satisfied. I’ve just cycled 1,600km (that’s 1,000 miles) from the Arctic to the Baltic !

Part One of the trek has been officially completed !

 

 

 

6th JULY 2018

I’ve had a big week of cycling, covering over 600km and only having one day off in eight. As a result of this I notice a few small pains as I’m going to sleep on my first night in Pieksämäki – my thighs and my knees (especially my right) have developed a dull ache. And unexpectedly, so have my hands. I put this down to hours of constantly gripping the bike’s handlebars. So now I want to let my body recover a little, and a couple of days of relative inactivity should do the trick.

Jim, my Warm Showers host, has other ideas. He wants to go for a long cycle, but that is really the last thing I want at this moment ! In the end we opt for a short circuit round town so he can show me a bit of Pieksämäki. He tells me the town’s name translates as ‘Spank Hill,’ but he could just as easily be pulling my leg. Within five minutes of his flat there is woodland where wild blueberries and forest strawberries grow. The blueberries taste just like ones you would buy in a supermarket, but the tiny forest strawberries are amazingly sweet. They taste like a cross between normal strawberries and Love Hearts sweets. We continue on towards a huge lake which has a little sandy beach where locals go swimming in the summer months. It’s hard to picture this lake freezing so thickly in winter that cars can be driven across it.

For starters tonight we have Finnish blood sausage with lingonberries cooked in beer. The blood sausage looks like a skinny black pudding. Then it’s stir fried veggies and noodles for seconds, washed down with fish bites, calamari and more spring rolls. As Jim’s a diabetic, I end up eating the majority of the food. A wonderfully lazy day is then rounded off with a couple of beers while watching two World Cup games. Meanwhile, downstairs in the drying room, my boots, sleeping bag and ground mat are all still damp from yesterday’s soaking.

I was originally only going to stay two nights in Pieksämäki, but Jim has been such a brilliant host and has persuaded me to extend that to three. His wife and daughter are away visiting relatives, so I think he’s happy to have someone he can talk football with while the England game is on tonight. In the afternoon he goes to play Refugee Football with some Afghanis, Iraqis and a Nicaraguan while I take a wander into town to stock up on road food for tomorrow. It rains during the day again, which means most of Jim’s footballers don’t show up. I’m sure Pieksämäki must be the rainiest town in Finland.

Tonight I am treated to Sunday Roast on a Saturday night – Roast beef, potatoes, carrots, sausage, bacon and broccoli. All of this is washed down with a few beers as we watch England progress to the World Cup semi-finals. Jim listens to a slightly delayed UK radio commentary while watching the action on Finnish TV with the sound turned down. After the match the radio phone in has a very ‘Three Lions, Football’s Coming Home’ vibe to it. I can see how excited Jim is by the prospect of his country getting to the World Cup Final. For me, there is the more pressing matter of applying Sudocream to my rear. I’m starting to get that ‘grazed knee’ feeling on the skin above the bones that I sit on.

I leave Pieksämäki the following morning, but not before Jim has fed me with enough porridge and toast to keep me going for most of the day. He has a tradition of taking a photo of all the guests he hosts, so he carries this on and snaps me before I leave. The two days of not cycling were exactly what I needed, although I’m sure to be a bit slow today with all the food and beer consumption. Jim has been a great host and a top bloke. If everyone I met was like him then the trip would be almost too easy. Pieksämäki is a little out of the way, but it’s a nice alternative to just ploughing along the main roads. If I hadn’t noticed there was a host here on the Warm Showers map, then I doubt I’d ever have reason to visit. I’m bloody glad I did though.

 

3rd JULY 2018

The day before I leave Ristijarvi, I’m treated to a spectacular sunset show over the lake from a slow-sinking orangey sun. Unfortunately, the day I do leave is cloudy, oppressive and still. Low clouds are just hanging there in weird swirly shapes, looking like the underside of an enormous grey duvet. My target today is 98km away at Lohiranta Holiday Village and I’m trying to get a bit of a move on as I have a Warm Showers offer to host me in a place called Pieksämäki. I arranged to arrive there on Thursday, which means I’ll have to put in a decent effort to cycle 265km in three days.

I try not to think about the kilometres and just get on with it today. Time always seems to pass more quickly that way. There’s a few hills to contend with but in general I’m travelling along nicely. I even have my first dual-carriageway to speed me up through the ugly looking industrial town of Kajaani. A sign at the start depicts a walker and a cyclist with a huge red line through them, meaning I shouldn’t strictly be using this road. But I can’t resist as it’s so fast and has a wide, safe buffer zone at the edge to keep me and the traffic apart. This margin comes and goes on normal roads, which is always a worry when two-carriage trucks are commonplace.

I get to Lohiranta to find the road it lies next to has major roadworks taking place. This probably accounts for me being one of only three guests tonight. On my way to the shower I pop my head into the kitchen just to check it out. I actually say ‘Wow’ out loud when I look inside. In every respect it looks like a standard kitchen – tables, chairs, cookers, sinks, cupboards. What sets this kitchen apart is the eight foot tall stuffed moose that is mounted on the wall. It looks down on me rather disapprovingly as I gorge my way through two sets of noodles.

Handily for the owners, the only place that has Wi-Fi in the campsite is the bar. I want to check my messages but I feel I can’t just sit there without purchasing something, so a Finnish beer called Olvi keeps me company. I get talking to the owner and once she hears of my trip she tells me about a guy who tried to canoe from the very North of Finland right down to the sea in the South using the huge network of lakes and rivers. However, the summer in which he chose to attempt his feat had been very dry, leaving some of the rivers with just a trickle of water. She tells me the poor bloke ended up carrying his canoe as much as paddling it. She also tells me of a campsite in Kuopio that I wasn’t aware of. The only problem is that it’s 125km away.

What will be my longest day of the trip provides a mixed bag for me weather-wise. I have a tailwind which is good, but it’s also very warm which means I’ll be sweating buckets. For some reason – and I’m still not really sure why – I decide to try and ration my water to see if I can make my two bottles last the whole day. I know it’s not going to put me in any jeopardy as I can always ask at a house or buy extra if I do get desperate, but part of me still wants to find out.

The first 30km to Iisalmi are easy, then another flat, fast dual carriageway speeds me onwards. I begin to think I’m going to make Kuopio in record time, but a motorway soon puts a stop to that. I can ignore ‘No Cycling’ signs on dual carriageways, but there’s no way I can scam my way onto a motorway. I have to rely on Google Maps to negotiate my way through the city via cycle paths and smaller roads. I’m stopping every few minutes to make sure I’m still heading in the right direction. Sometimes a cycle path follows the road initially, but before I know it, I’ve been transported into leafy suburbia. And, my goodness, I’m savagely thirsty now !

After many stop-start Google Map consultations I eventually pass through a big junction under the motorway and see my first sign for the caravan park. It’s now 7.30pm. When I get there I find a huge site with motorhomes, caravans and swarms of screaming kids. It reminds me of the bedlam of a UK holiday park in peak season. The first thing I do after checking in is to go to the kitchen and fill my water bottles. I managed to stick to my rations, but dehydrating myself wasn’t perhaps the smartest move. I drink two litres almost immediately. I love how something as simple as water can taste so delicious and good when you’re thirsty. And, with all my thirst and navigation distractions, I’ve almost missed the fact I’ve just cycled 125km. Maybe I’m getting used to this again.

The next day rain is forecast. Lots of it. If I didn’t have my Warm Showers host to get to, I’d probably take this as a rain day. My host had even said to arrive on Friday if I wanted, but I’ve built it up in my head to arrive today. The rain starts about an hour into my cycle, but at least I’m now South of Kuopio so don’t have the hassle of trying to get through the city. I even have a tailwind today, and the rain is unusually warm so I zip along smoothly despite the wet.

The first part of the day is spent on quiet roads again to avoid the motorway, but then I have to run the gauntlet of a busy road which all traffic getting between the motorways uses. This road has no safe margin at the side, so with its narrowness and the water spray it feels a little dangerous. If I see a truck coming towards me and hear another one approaching from behind I just pull over. I only need things to go wrong once and I’m toast. One strange sub-plot today is that when I take a drink from my water bottle the mouthpiece tastes salty. I can only imagine this is still residue salt on the road from winter which is now being dispersed as spray. I was told that reindeer spend so much time on roads because they get minerals they need by licking salt from the surface.

Thankfully I have to leave the busy, dangerous road for the last section to Pieksämäki. The road is smooth, flat and quiet. I keep thinking that this would be a lovely cycle without the rain. As I get closer to town I can only check Google Maps inside bus shelters due to the steady downpour. It’s not a huge town so I find Jim’s flat pretty quickly and he welcomes me in. I’m absolutely soaking and water is dripping off me and into his hallway. My top, shorts, socks, shoes, gloves, seat covers, panniers are all sodden wet. I’m under the shower within five minutes and all my wet gear can go in the drying room. It wouldn’t be a proper cycle trip if there weren’t some days where it rains non-stop and you end up drenched. On this trip I’ve taken days off when the forecast has been rotten, but I’ve also been insanely lucky with the weather I’ve had so far. Only one soaking in a month is absolutely amazing.

It turns out Jim is a top bloke. From Wolverhampton originally he has lived in Finland for about a decade with his Finnish wife and young daughter. A veteran cycle-tourer himself, he keeps me entertained with travel stories from the seventy or so countries he has visited. He feeds me pizza, spring rolls and a beer, which is just what I needed. He’s trying to twist my arm to stay till Saturday to watch the England World Cup game with him, and I may not take that much persuasion.

I go to bed tired, but satisfied with my efforts in the last few days. I’ve cycled seven out of the last eight days and covered over 600km, so I feel I’ve earned it if I do stay an extra day. This warm, comfortable mattress might sway my decision too.

 

 

27th JUNE 2018

I make a couple of decisions while in Rovaniemi. The first one is declining an invitation to spend a few days at Dutch Hanna’s sister’s cabin in the woods. I have a feeling it’s an excursion that could lead to all sorts of awkwardness. The second is that I’m going to shoot straight down the middle of the country rather than using the coastal route. The coast means busier roads and getting through Oulo with its population of 300,000. Usually cycling through cities isn’t much fun, so if I can take quieter roads to achieve the same goal then I’d be daft not to.

The positive thing about leaving Rovaniemi is that the wind has moved round to a Northerly and will be blowing me onwards for the next few days. I think it’s sometimes difficult for a non-cyclist to understand the difference that wind direction makes – after all “it’s only wind.” To a certain extent that’s true, but on a long trip you could be out there for six or eight hours per day. You could also be cycling for five or six days straight. That’s when it starts to wear you down and begins to make a huge difference.

A big slow hill greets me as I leave Rovaniemi, then it feels like the whole day is spent gaining height ever so slightly. There are no big climbs to speak of, but it just seems like I can’t get going at all today. I only do 70km to Rauna, where I have a choice of campsites. One is at the zoo, which I figure could be expensive because of the novelty factor. The second option is on a lake at the other side of town, so I continue on, cycling an extra five kilometres in the process. A sign tells me it’s two kilometres, then shortly after another sign says ‘A 1.7.’ I take this to mean ‘Another 1.7km’ or even ‘About 1.7km,’ so I plod on. I reach the park and go to reception where I’m greeted by an electrician who’s busy wiring the building. It’s not even open yet.

I retrace my tracks to the zoo, which cheers me up no end as it has now started to rain as well. I’m afraid to report that I swear out loud on a number of occasions on my wet, grumpy cycle back. When I’m checking into the zoo campsite a guy on reception with little dreadlocks in his beard is telling me about the Wi-Fi. He tells me it’s an open line and it’s under the word ‘Avoin,’ which is the Finnish word for Open. It’s about this point I realise that the ‘A 1.7’ meant ‘Open on the first of the seventh.’

It rains most of the night in Ranua, which leads me to re-naming it ‘Rainua’ in my head. In addition to hearing water droplets hitting my tent there was a strange cacophany of animal and bird noises emanating from the zoo overnight. Most of these calls took place at the volume of a howler monkey, but it made a lovely change from the whine of mosquitos.

Today’s cycle is only a short 60km which is easy and straightforward with the wind at my back. At one point I pass two ladies cycling in the opposite direction who are struggling horribly into the wind. They both look to be about seventy, but are trudging on gamely. I reach my campsite much earlier than planned, having misjudged how far it was from the next town. When I get there the gate is closed and a sign in Finnish seems to say that the owners won’t be back till 5.00pm. However, I’m not going to wait two hours till they return and I’m not about to do a 30km round trip into town just to kill time. I just wheel my bike round the barrier and set up my tent beside the river away from any campervan electrical boxes. I feel a bit naughty, but it’s great to have the campsite beautifully quiet and all to myself. I shower, shave, cook pasta and drink tea. Part of me is worried that the owners will be annoyed when they get back and ask me to leave. I’ve washed and eaten though, so it wouldn’t be disastrous if they did.

At about quarter to five I see movement in the reception building, so I go to introduce myself and hope they don’t mind me setting up early. The owner looks a bit like the former Manchester United goalkeeper Peter Schmeichel and couldn’t be more affable. He tells me his regulars know to just move the barrier and let themselves in, so it’s no big deal. I have a chat and a cuppa with him in the kitchen, with its cute little Three Bears table, chairs and vases of flowers. I stay in the kitchen for a while after he goes back to reception, squishing about fifty mosquitos over the course of the evening. It’s a lot warmer in the kitchen too, as the North wind that has been helping me all day is also starting to make it feel cold. The result of this is another night where I’m wearing two pairs of socks inside my sleeping bag.

After a cold night I have breakfast and say goodbye to the owner bloke. Today is going to be my first 100km day of the trip, and although this mileage is standard for some cycle tourers, it’s a big day for me. The distance isn’t so much the problem as my legs can keep spinning all day. It’s my butt. After about 70km I start to get achy in the rump and just can’t get comfortable. So today I don two pairs of padded shorts in addition to my two gel seat covers in an attempt to protect my arse.

The first 15km pass quickly to Pudasjarvi, where I stop to stock up on travel food. Then, annoyingly, the road veers east for about 20km into the wind before once again resuming it’s southerly course. I’m in a weird zone where I’m not really thinking about the distance today, which is probably a good thing. A bit like the way a four hour shift at work can seem to drag, whereas a normal eight hour day can sometimes fly past. Towards the end of the day one long, steady hill has me crawling along. I’m going so slowly that mosquitos emerge from the forest, are able to keep pace with me and try to have a bite. Luckily downhills and flat sections are speedy and mosquito-free with my tailwind. I get to Puolanka about 6.00pm, a combination of bananas, rolls and Snickers Bites seeing me through to my first 100km day of the trip. And, as a bonus, my bottom seems to have survived the journey.

At the Puolanka campsite I ask if I can put up a tent. The young guy at the bar reception suddenly looks very nervous and says he’ll have to speak to the boss. When she arrives she tells me the annual Hard Rock Festival is taking place on the other side of the lake and it could get quite loud. In addition, most of the festival-goers are staying at this campsite so there might be some drinking and singing when they return. I say that it’s fine as my accommodation choices are limited and I really don’t fancy carrying on after already cycling 100km. She tries to show me the most out of the way, quiet part of the campground so it will be a bit less noisy. About 9.00pm the Hard Rockers start to walk round to the other side of the lake for their gig and the campsite becomes strangely silent. From the music they were playing before they set off, it sounds more like 80’s big hair rock rather than hard rock. I decide to keep that opinion to myself though.

It’s 2.00am when the music finally stops and it actually was pretty loud to be fair. I can’t get to sleep for ages after that and hear people gradually drifting back from the festival, but thankfully they are remarkably civilised for Hard Rockers. They must have been cold at the festival because I’m bloody freezing in my sleeping bag with my standard two pairs of socks on again.

With the morning sun my tent goes from feeling like an ice-box to an oven in no time. I go to the bathroom and notice a couple of blokes just sitting and staring straight ahead with bleary, morning after eyes. Otherwise the campsite is peaceful so they must all still be sleeping it off.

With my lack of sleep, the long gradual hill out of Puolanka isn’t really what I wanted to see. I crawl up it unbelievably slowly. Today I’m aiming for a town called Ristijarvi, based purely on the fact that it’s a nice cycling distance away from Puolanka. It also means getting off the main road and taking a smaller side road for a change. This road is a bit rougher, but the quality improves as I change districts. There also seems to be a lot more downhills than uphills, and again a tailwind which makes a short 60km day even easier.

I get to the Ristijarvi campsite by mid-afternoon and am met by a chain-smoking guy in his forties who manages to check me in between cigarettes. I ask him what it’s like here in winter, to which he replies “The snow was …” Then he hesitates as if he’s thinking of the English word to properly describe the quality or the beauty of the snow. In the end he just shakes his head, takes a draw on his cigarette and finishes his sentence with “fucking everywhere.”

I work out that I reached the milestone of cycling my first 1,000km of the trip today. I feel like I’m starting to make some progress and am now only 600km from Helsinki and the end of Finland. To celebrate my achievement I decide to give myself a day off and remain in Ristijarvi tomorrow. It’s a lovely spot on a huge lake, and with a forecast for twenty-two degrees and wall-to-wall sunshine I can think of worse places to spend the day.

 

 

24th JUNE 2018

There’s a lot of showers overnight, which always sound amplified when splattering onto the roof of my tent. I need to leave Vuotso today though, and my task is to get to Rovaniemi in three days time as I have a Warm Showers host who is putting me up for the night. Warm Showers is a bit like Couchsurfing, but specifically for cycle tourers. It also means they understand the hardships that their fellow cyclist is going through !

I’m up early but get delayed slightly by having breakfast with Dutch Hanna. I leave well before her, but she catches up with me and toots her horn as she passes. When I round the next corner she’s waiting in a lay-by for me. I feel a bit like Inspector Clouseau must do every time his little oriental friend Cato jumps out and surprises him. I never know when she’s going to show up. However, she does give me some chocolate to keep me going, so I can’t really complain.

The wind is against me all day and I have to plod up a couple of slow hills, but I’m travelling pretty well. The day after a Rest Day never seems too difficult. The scenery is starting to change too – there’s still fir trees lining the road on both sides, but now there are more houses and even farms. This constant avenue of trees means the scenery never changes much, but they do a great job as a wind-break. Any time I have to cross a bridge or open ground I get a real blast.

About ten kilometres from Sodankylä I’m able to join a cycle path, follow what looks like Jaegermeister Street and book into Nilimilla Camping. It’s across from the river, has big shady trees, lovely cut grass and ground that tent pegs just glide into. I go shopping for grub and pass Sodankylä Old Church on the way. I was given some tourist information by the campsite, so I can say with certainty that it dates from 1689. Looking at the small, dark church I can hardly imagine how a wooden building could survive for over 300 years in Lapland.

In stark contrast to my windy cycle, it’s a beautifully calm and sunny evening. I go for a stroll down to the river about half past ten and find the sun is still gleaming above the waters. Even though it’s low in the sky I can still feel the warmth from it. This leads me to realise that I haven’t yet seen the midnight sun, so I make plans to come back down to this spot just before twelve o’clock. I go back to my tent where I close my eyes just for a minute. When I open them it’s after 2.00am and cloudy.

The following morning I try my trick of having a huge pasta meal for breakfast to give me energy. I also have a tub of potato salad just to make sure. All this gluttony has no real affect as I struggle a lot more doing 70km today than I did doing 90km yesterday. The main culprit in my battle is the wind – it blows straight into my face, strong and constant all day. Instead of being able to freewheel, I have to pedal every metre of the way. In turn, this constant contact with the saddle means my butt is getting sore. I’m shifting position all the time, even though I have two gel seat covers and padded shorts on !

I see a sign for Karvala Camping and pull in. I’ve only cycled 70km, but I don’t care. I’m just getting knackered riding into this wind. The woman who checks me in tells me her mother was English and father Finnish, which has left her with a surprisingly plummy English accent. I’m glad I did pull in as the campsite is a little gem, situated on its own lake and surrounded by forest. The owner’s kids are even swimming in the lake, but I can only imagine what the water temperature must be like.

When I go for a shower I notice my face is quite red, which it shouldn’t be as I covered up with sunscreen. Then it hits me that it’s Wind Burn. I was beginning to think I was a bit soft pulling into the campsite, but my crimson face somehow justifies my decision. For dinner I have a chilled pizza that I have just transported all the way from Sodankylä.

I’m awake at midnight tonight, but when I step outside the tent I find the forest that circles the campsite is too tall for me to catch a glimpse of the midnight sun. I can see sunlight shining on the highest branches, but not the sun itself.

The next day I’ve only got 60km of cycling to get to Rovaniemi, but am not taking anything for granted after yesterday’s wind-fest. In the end it’s nowhere near as windy. My main worry is that the road is getting busier as I near town, with plenty of two carriage logging trucks speeding past me on the narrow road.

The main point of interest for me today is that I pass below the Arctic Circle again. When I started at North Cape I was 71 degrees North, and now I’ve cycled a few degrees down the globe to be 66.33 degrees North. This line round the earth marks progress for me, but also marks the point where I’ll no longer be living with twenty-four hours of constant daylight. I’ve not seen proper darkness since I got to Norway three weeks ago. It also means I can probably give up on seeing the midnight sun.

There is a gloriously tacky Santa Claus Theme Park that straddles the Arctic Circle, and it takes me a while to find the exact location of the line in question. I get a French cycling couple to take a gloriously tacky photo of me being a tourist under a huge colourful Arctic Circle sign. They are starting their journey from this point and heading towards North Cape. With quieter roads and this wind behind them they should be fine.

A huge, fast downhill rushes me quickly to the outskirts of Rovaniemi. With a population of 60,000 this is by far the biggest town I’ve visited on this trip. Google maps do a sterling job of getting me to the home of my Warm Showers hosts. Taina welcomes me in to her household comprising of husband, two boys (eleven and seven) and two cats. They have just been away at their cabin for the Midsummer long weekend and are cleaning round the house as I chat to them. In the evening she takes the kids out for a cycle and I get talking to her husband. He’s quite small, about 35, bushy beard, very entertaining and could talk for Finland. I learn an awful lot about Finland’s war history – “We’ve been really lucky” – from an enthusiastic Eddie Izzard fan. I also find out that Finns treat Easter in much the same way as we treat Halloween with kids dressing up and going round trick-or-treating.

Taina returns and we all sit and chat till about midnight, while drinking some Chilean wine that has a bicycle on the box. I’m sharing the lounge with the cats, but after two weeks in a tent this is the softest, comfiest, most beautiful sofa I have ever slept on.

22nd JUNE 2018

As it was Midsummer Day yesterday everything is closed today and the roads should be nice and quiet. Hopefully everyone is in bed hungover and not out driving. I take a while to get going this morning with not much sleep and campsite arrivals about 1.30am.

Even though I don’t start until almost noon, I’m flying along again. The sun is shining and I have a fresh tailwind helping me. I meet a couple of cyclists going the other way into the wind and try not to look too smug. I’ve given myself two days to cover the 160km to Sodankylä (Sodan-Coola) so while I have the wind with me I’d like to do more than half of that distance today. However, as easy as the cycle has been, I’m pedalling towards some ugly big black clouds again and the temperature is dropping. I get to the village of Vuotso, which is just under half distance and decide to stop. I’d rather give up twenty kilometres and stay dry. It will be next to impossible to dry wet clothes inside a tent in the woods.

The campsite operates mostly as a B&B which is housed in a large two storey wooden structure. This building was a former government administration centre for the area and hosted the Post Office, telephone exchange and police. The old Finnish owner tells me it was built in around 1947 as Vuotso was another town that was burned to the ground by retreating Nazis.

There is a lot of rain during the night which vindicates my decision to stop yesterday. It also vindicates my decision to remain in Vuotso and have a ‘Rain Day’ today. I go into the big building to pay for another night when the owner asks “Have you ever tasted Finnish Sow-Nah ?” At first I think he means Salmon, but my confused look prompts him to carry on – ” You know, the Hot Steam Room ?” Ah, he means Sauna ! I’ve certainly never tasted one. He tells me he goes for a Sow-Nah every evening and invites me along to see how it’s done in Finland.

In the meantime Dutch Hanna messages me to find out how far I’ve got and is checking in half an hour later. This is starting to get a bit stalky. I’m chatting to her in the Laavu – a big teepee style hut with a fireplace and seating round the wall – when the old bloke appears in his dressing gown and announces “Sow-Nah in fifteen minutes.”

I’m not sure of the protocol for this so I just arrive as if I’m about to go for a shower. The old guy is already in there – “Is that you Rob ? Come in and take all your clothes off.” He says to have a shower first then to go into the Sow-Nah and join him. One of the more surreal experiences of this trip will be sitting next to a seventy year old naked Finnish bloke while sweating my bollocks off in a Sow-Nah. As they don’t have a plunge pool to achieve the hot / cold shock, we just sit outside with only towels round our waists while the rain tips it down. Back in, one more round of eighty degree heat, then a final shower and I’m done. For a Finn this is a normal day, but for a Scottish guy this is anything but an everyday occurrence. For all the weirdness though, I do feel extremely relaxed afterwards and am told I will sleep like a baby tonight.

At night we get the fire going in the Laavu and are joined by about ten Germans who are taking part in the Baltic Sea Rally. This is basically driving through about eight countries round the coast of the Baltic Sea in a car that has to be at least twenty years old. It’s not really a race, but more a charity drive as they’ve all had to raise 750 Euros to take part. There’s seven guys and three girls who make up four teams and they seem like a good bunch. They bring out a catering sized tin of chilli con carne, spend ten minutes trying to open it with a minute tin-opener and then just chuck it in the middle of the fire to heat. They also have some Austrian Chardonnay and some Icelandic Craft Beer that they insist I must try.

So, what had the makings of a boring day waiting for the rain to pass has turned out quite fun and interesting. I can still hear a few showers on the tent overnight, but I’m hoping it will clear up enough to make it to Sodankylä tomorrow.

And I might just be imagining it, but I think the mosquitos are actually getting smaller as I travel further South.

19th JUNE 2018

For my last breakfast in Norway I have a huge pasta with tomato sauce and ham, followed by half a tub of strawberry yoghurt. With the remaining ham I make some rolls for the journey. There’s so much on my plate I almost can’t finish it, but I slowly continue munching to give me enough energy for today’s cycle.

I’m quite looking forward to my first border crossing of the trip and pack my passport so it will be easy to access. I also try unsuccessfully to get my hands on some Euros at the last ATM before Finland. Being typically under-prepared and under-researched, I’d completely overlooked the fact that Finland, like pretty much everywhere on the continent, uses the Euro.

For the first twenty or so kilometres out of town I follow the Karasjokha River, which leads me nicely up to the border crossing. As I’m crossing from non-Eu Norway into European Union Finland, I’m expecting some standard questions and scanning of my passport. As it turns out I just ride through the border without a glance in my direction. I take a picture of the ‘Welcome to Finland’ sign and have a leisurely food break. Not a single vehicle is stopped as I stand there eating.

Two hitch-hikers are trying to thumb a lift just past the border and High Five me as I ride past, before I’m welcomed into Finland with a long, steep, tree-lined climb. Once I get to the top I start to speed along with next to no effort at all. I’m in a high gear, the sun us shining and I even have a slight tailwind helping to push me forwards. If I had to create my own conditions for today, then this would be pretty damn close !

Towards day’s end my pasta energy is wearing off and the road begins to undulate. There’s a series of downhills followed by similar sized uphills, so I just coast down the slopes and crawl up the hills. I’m looking for a place to wild-camp tonight, but it looks like every second dwelling has a statue or sculpture of a bear at its driveway. I’m not even sure they have bears here, but this puts enough doubt in my mind so that I want to find a proper campsite. I reach a petrol station in the tiny settlement of Kaamanen which looks like it could also have camping spots available out the back. The old duck at the counter says I can pitch a tent and that it will cost twenty Euros. Bloody Hell ! That’s more expensive than Norway. It’s my first dealings with money and camping in Finland so I really have no idea what the price should be. I pay her anyway, but can’t help feeling that I’ve just been ripped off.

That said, the camping grounds are very pleasant – lush, cut grass running down to a calm, tranquil lake. The early evening light giving it an almost dream-like quality. However, this visual spectacle is quickly interrupted by the arrival of hordes of hungry mosquitos. At over a centimetre in length, I have never seen mosquitos as large as these beasts before. In the time it takes me to locate my jungle-strength repellent, I fall victim to almost a dozen bites. The next time I venture outside the tent I make sure my arms and legs are covered. This is ineffective against these creatures though, as I soon discover they can bite through socks and cargo pants.

Lying in my tent at night it is only my head that is sticking out the top of the sleeping bag. The mosquitos must sense this as they have all taken up position on the outer canvas next to where my head is safely protected inside. I can hear their insidious whining every time I wake during the night.

The next morning I leave amidst a flurry of mosquitos and cannot wait to get back on the road as they can’t land on me while I’m moving. I’m cycling alongside the massive Lake Inari for most of the day, stopping only for lunch and to try get some Euros from the only ATM in Inari. I’m always a little apprehensive about whether teller machines will play along when I’m abroad, but it dutifully churns out my first Euros of the trip. If all goes well I won’t have to change currencies again until Poland.

The cycling is quite easy today, but I can’t help notice some very dark clouds up ahead. The road twists and turns so sometimes I think I’m moving away from them, but as I near Ivalo it becomes apparent I’m heading straight for them. About ten kilometres from town the first spits of rain start, which gradually become heavier and more frequent. I get to within three kilometres before I decide to sit in a bus stop shelter and wait for the shower to pass. As I’m so close I’d rather wait thirty minutes if it means arriving dry.

With a population of about 4,000, Ivalo is the largest settlement I’ve cycled through so far, and a roadsign tells me it’s just over 300km to Murmansk in Russia. I check into the Ivalo River Campsite which is part of a pub / petrol station and on the noisy main road. It seems like it’s more of a truckers and fishermen type of place, rather than for tourists. However, I’m only charged fourteen Euros for the night here, which means I definitely did get ripped off yesterday.

At breakfast the next morning I get talking to a German truck driver who’s job sounds really quite interesting. He’s just driven two Seat cars and assorted parts all the way from Barcelona so they can be Cold Weather Tested in Northern Finland. I had no idea that this happened, but apparently all manufacturers test their cars this way. Even in summer cars are brought up here as they have a huge hangar-like building that mimics winter conditions. He’s transported Bentleys, Bugattis and cutting-edge prototype cars, although has to sign secrecy disclaimers and can’t take any photos.

Dutch Hanna messages me to say she is just up the road in Inari, so drives down and checks in. We have a Shepherds Pie type meal for dinner, but with reindeer mince instead of beef or lamb. It tastes like normal Shepherds Pie. It’s also Midsummer Night, which seems to be celebrated here with bonfires and alcohol – a bit like Guy Fawkes and New Year rolled into one. Because of this tomorrow is an unofficial public holiday. It means the roads will either be lovely and quiet or plagued by drivers still drunk from the night before.

16th JUNE 2018

As usual it’s broad daylight when I first wake so I have absolutely no idea what the time is. I look at my phone and it’s 4.00am. Still, I need the toilet so I get up and am greeted by the most serene picture of Olderfjord I have seen since I arrived. The air is still and the water is flat calm. Both the fjord and the sky are a light pastelly blue, while a pale sun casts bright light on the water. When I wake up for real in the morning it all seems like a dream as my tent is being blown sideways again by the wind.

I’m treated to breakfast by Dutch Hanna, who is once again being incredibly hospitable. I think it’s because I’m the same age as her son who she doesn’t really have any contact with. Maybe she sees some of her son in me, although that’s probably unlikely as he’s a six foot four mixed-race guy with dreadlocks who’s in a motorbike gang. She cooks bacon and eggs which will give me plenty of energy for today’s cycle. To make sure I have enough fuel, I follow that up with four rolls and jam.

There’s a long narrow flag on a pole overlooking the fjord which gives an instant indication of the wind direction and speed. For the last couple of days it has been flying horizontally with the wind screaming in from the South, which of course is the direction I’m travelling in. A bit like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, I’ve been watching the flag and waiting for the wind to change direction so I can escape. I’d already postponed leaving yesterday as there was rain in addition to the wind, but as it’s dry today I really need to get a move on.

For the first five kilometres out of town I head North with the wind behind me. This is only a cruel tease though, as I soon round a headland and face the next sixty kilometres into the wind. I’m also going to start referring to everything in kilometres from now on as that’s the measure of distance in all of Europe and what appears on road signs here. Everyone I meet refers to kilometres and my brain is starting to think in that way too. It’s also much nicer from a cycling point of view as it takes less time to cycle a kilometre than a mile. If you want to convert my kilometre figures back into miles, just use about two-thirds as a rough guide.

Nonetheless, whether it’s miles or kilometres today it’s a long slow plod. The wind blows straight at me, relentlessly, all day. On flat sections I’m often in the lowest gear and even downhills need to be pedalled. Towards the end of the day I meet a German cyclist heading the other way. He is freewheeling along a flat section without a care in the world while I grimly inch forward, fighting the headwind. Cycling from his home town in Germany to North Cape it looks like he’s taken one of those ‘I won’t shave again till I get there’ pledges, making him look like a Viking on a bicycle. He also has the whitest eyebrows I have ever seen on a human. With the huge tailwind propelling him today he’s utterly ecstatic. He keeps laughing and saying he can’t believe his good luck, forgetting that I’m pedalling right into the elements.

I reach today’s modest target of Lakselv, to find one campsite suggested by google maps closed and the other non-existent. I pop into the Lakselv Hotel to see if they know of any campsites, but to no avail. I just get them to refill my water bottles and carry on. As there’s little value in fighting this wind much longer, I only cycle ten minutes past town before pulling up a dirt track. I carry on till I’m out of sight of the road before finding a flat, soft clearing mostly surrounded by trees where I pitch the tent. I can still hear the road from where I am but not a single person knows that I’m here.

I get a decent sleep despite all the weird night-time noises you hear when you’re camping in the woods. My tent is fairly sheltered from the wind, but a rogue sapling scrapes menacingly against the outer cover throughout the night. There’s a strange duck-type quack coming from down near the river and also the odd mournful bellow from what could be a cow or a moose or a troll. I have absolutely no idea what that one is !

My breakfast consists of all my remaining bread, which leaves me only biscuits, nuts and chocolate for today’s cycle. Water is also going to be an issue as I’ve almost drained the bottles that the hotel refilled for me last night. Luckily the morning proves nice and easy with flat roads and no breeze to speak of. But of course this doesn’t last, and pretty soon I’m starting a gradual climb up and away from the fjord. It will be my last sighting of the sea for a while.

I keep climbing ever so slightly for most of the day. Nothing strenuous, but more of a long and slow incline. With the sun and the extra effort I’ve soon exhausted my water supply, so I stop at a rest area where I ask a middle-aged Finnish couple if they can help. They duly oblige. Continuing with the climb and drinking water like a demented fool, it’s not long before I’m in danger of running out again. This time I see a mother and daughter playing outside a house on barren ground in the middle of nowhere. I ask if they have any water which brings the old grandmother outside to see what’s happening too. They look like they are Sami people – natives of Northern Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia. While mother is inside filling my water bottle, the four year old daughter gives me a stone as a present.

With about ten kilometres to go my day begins to get a whole lot easier. The climbing stops, the road flattens out for a while and then it shoots downhill all the way into town. I check into Karasjok Camping on the outskirts of town which is a nice, big clean park with views over the river. For dinner I use up all the leftover food I have left. This involves pasta and a weird green pea vegetable mix that I bought by mistake as I couldn’t translate the wording on the packet. Bland, but filling.

I have a day off in Karasjok, catching up on-line, food shopping and trying to relax in a caravan park that has just been invaded by a convoy of eighteen motor-homes full of elderly Italians. It’s also my final day in Norway. I’m off to Finland tomorrow.

 

 

10th JUNE 2018

It’s taken the best part of seven hours to reach North Cape in the company of the charity walkers. We get our soup and medal for completing the march, have a look around and take pictures at the North Cape Globe. Then they all jump in a car and get a lift back to Honningsvag. I’ve now got to retrace my footsteps in the form of cycling, although I seem to have forgotten how many uphills there would be on the return trip. In my mind I’ve convinced myself that it will be mostly flat with two big long downhills. What I think will take three hours takes closer to four. Journeys always seem to take longer on the way back. I have a glass of red wine and a celebratory chilli con carne when I eventually return around ten thirty at night.

Isabelle asks if I want to join them for a hike to an abandoned coastal village called Kjelvik on the Sunday. I tag along as I’ll probably never get the chance to do this again. We drive round to the next inlet at Nordvågen, take a three hour hike up and over a hill, before a final steep descent into the small, sheltered bay of Kjelvik. Unless you follow the trail we have, the only other way into the village is by boat. This was once the capital of the region, but now there’s only half a dozen deserted buildings and a holiday cabin.

On the way back Isabelle shows me another small inlet, far away on the other side of the fjord. This was the spot where her great grandparents had fled during the Second World War rather than face forced evacuation. For a whole year they lived in what was practically a cave, surviving only by hunting, fishing and eating berries. Keeping a constant watch for Nazi patrols, they could only light fires on dark, cloudy nights. If they had been discovered they would have been shot. Salvation came when Russia liberated Northern Norway, but on their withdrawal the Nazis burned every building in the area so they’d be of no use to the Russians. The only structure they didnt torch was the church in Honningsvag, thus making it the oldest building in town. Everything else was built after 1945.

Isabelle’s mother has a huge cooked dinner of pork, potatoes and salad waiting for us on our return. The rest are driving back to Alta tonight as they all have work tomorrow, but they really don’t look like they can be bothered. I’ve been sharing a room with the other two blokes, but get the space to myself tonight which means I miss out on Bendik’s snoring and comedy sleep-talking.

As it happens, I don’t leave Honningsvag till the Tuesday due to a weather forecast that looked disturbingly Arctic. The generosity of Isabelle and her family has been humbling. I was a complete stranger a few days ago and now I’ve been a guest at their house for the last four days. Everyone is working early on the day I leave, so I’m told to just help myself to breakfast and let myself out.

Almost the first thing I do when leaving Honningsvag is to cycle through the four kilometre long Honningsvag Tunnel. I’ve got my bright green luminous water-proof on so traffic will have no problem seeing me. It’s next to useless as a water-proof. Fortunately most of the traffic seems to be tour buses and motor-homes heading in the other direction towards North Cape, so only a couple of cars overtake me on my way through.

About an hour later I’m about to go through the Daddy of tunnels – The North Cape Tunnel. Opened in 1999, this is a seven kilometre long undersea tunnel that links the island of Magerøya to the mainland. The first half of the tunnel is a fun downhill which I freewheel down speedily. At the bottom it levels out, I slow down and start to pay more attention to my strange surroundings. The feeling is slightly eerie with the dark, the damp and the bare rock walls. What little light there is comes from a row of dull orange lights overhead. And all the while I’m thinking of the tons and tons of seawater suspended above me. What begins as a slight uphill towards the other side soon gets progressively steeper, and there’s three kilometres of this to look forward to. With the tunnel’s echo I can hear traffic approaching long before I see any lights, but it’s really difficult to tell which direction it’s coming from. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder to see what, if anything, is behind me. At times I can hear a huge roar in the distance which sounds like all Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse on motorbikes bearing down on me. As it gets closer I daren’t turn around in case I wobble and end up in the middle of the road. The noise is deafening on the way past, but then I’m perplexed to see a small car trundling off into the distance ahead of me.

It takes an age to crawl up the slope. Towards the end I’m pulling over onto the muddy pavement to let traffic pass when I hear it approaching. I figure it’s a lot safer this way and it also gives me a chance to catch my breath. Because I’m really sucking in oxygen by this point, I can taste car fumes even though there’s extractor fans in the tunnel to clean the air. There are distance markers at the side of the tunnel, so I know roughly how long there is to go and I’m counting it down in 100 metre sections by the end. I make it up and out the other side to be greeted by the sight of small bushy trees that were absent on the island. I’m also greeted by a nasty headwind.

I only make it as far as Repvåg tonight where the campsite is the most basic and yet the most expensive so far. It’s situated on an exposed peninsula where I try to cleverly arrange my tent so it’s sheltered on three sides by the reception building, a shed and a motor-home. Almost inevitably the wind howls in from the fourth, open side. This is the coldest I have felt in my tent yet, with sleet battering into the canvas above me. Inside my sleeping bag I’m fully clothed with two pairs of socks on.

The next morning doesn’t bring any change in the weather. It’s bloody freezing with wind, rain and sleet gteeting me when i open the tent. If I look down the fjord I can see the showers that will be upon me within five minutes. I get back on the road and into the headwind as I want to make it to Olderfjord today.  Although it’s cold and there’s a couple of sleety showers, I somehow manage to dodge most of it and stay dry.

Just after lunch I stop at a rest area for a drink and some munchies. An old German couple in a motor-home beckon me over and offer me a cup of hot tea and a frankfurter sandwich. They don’t speak English and I don’t speak German, but their gesture is truly appreciated. Sometimes it’s simple little things that make your day.

I get to Olderfjord, still dry, and pitch my tent in the campsite which sits at the head of the fjord. With the constant headwind I’ve travelled less than 50km, but I still think it feels a touch warmer here.

Get chatting to a German cyclist in his twenties called Nicklas who is in the final stretch of cycling from Athens to North Cape. A couple more days and he’ll have managed something similar to what I’d like to do, but in reverse. There’s also a grumpy, but quite funny 75 year old Dutch lady who chats and gives me a Finnish beer. She is touring in her own car, which she sleeps in every night. She’s converted the car to the point where it’s basically now just a passenger seat with a bed in the back.

In sharp contrast to last night, I only require the regulation one pair of socks in the sleeping bag tonight, so it is officially warmer.