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Bergen
In Bergen I was hosted by my friend Anna, who did an ERASMUS semester at the Marine Biology Faculty of Bergen University during a year. A keen cyclist, she went everywhere by bike and so I ended up riding like crazy around town, to- and from University to her dorm and to see the local sights. Only to visit Floyen mountain we left our bikes behind and hiked up the hill - while the Norwegians RUN up !The tourist information provided extensive information about traveling and exploring Norway and looking at a map I was reminded that the Lofoten Islands where "just" a three days boat trip away. I decided to visit the sales offices of the legendary Hurtigruten shipping line.
The next days I spend relaxing in Bergen and thinking about my further route through Scandinavia. Once I am Bergen, which is the start and end of the Hurtigruten Boats, I decided to invest some money in good old tourism and take a cruise with the Hurtigruten towards Lofoten, spend a couple of days cycling on the islands and return by the same means.
The night before I bought the ticket I was overexcited and could hardly sleep thinking of the Lofoten with its over 1.000 meter high mountain range that seemed to rise directly out of the sea. These Mountains with its "feet in the water" form a more than 100 km long, so called "Lofoten-wall", some 20 kms west of Norways coast, just north the Polar Circle.
The mild climate on the Lofoten is the worlds greatest anomaly having in mind its northern latitude. This is due to the Gulf-Stream that surrounds the Islands and makes them first class fishing grounds for seafood, especially Cod-Fish which is fished from february to april.
The fish is then left to dry "open-air" on traditional wooden racks that have been erected all over the Islands. Some month later, the final product, in former times Norways Export no. 1 is ready to be shipped and sold all over the world - Stockfish.
First days in Norway
After an uneventful two and a half hours flight we landed in Haugesund airport, in western Norway. I assembled my bike and rode out the airport building. The cold morning air and the slightly iced up road came as a shock. I was quite not yet prepared for this.
As I rolled into town I stopped at a gas station to get my tires to proper pressure, got some money from the ATM, bought a map (16 €), had a breakfast (8 € for a coffee and a pasty).
The tourist info was closed for the weekend and Haugesund did not tempt me to stop for a night and explore the city, so I carried on cycling north towards Bergen, following the national cycling route No. 1.
The route was a constant up and down and twist and bends and quite some traffic. After a while the cycle route left the main road and I followed quieter country lanes towards the islands of Bomlo. After a 15 minutes wait the ferry appeared on the horizon as I chatted to a norwegian guy who took some interest in my bike. He told me wild camping would be OK all around Norway.
Bomlo is a very pretty island, lots of huge rocks and pine trees, scrubs with redberries of sorts make up a lovely scenery. I stopped to ask a beekeeper for some honey and waved my hand carelessly at some bees - HUGE error, the beasts attacked me right away, one got me on the cheek and another one right in the neck. I even had to pull out the stings. Quiet a fright so I decided to flee and cycled away fast. The beekeeper must have had a good laugh at my innocence towards the bees. So much to norwegian wildlife.
This night I camped in a small bay right beside the sea and had my first hot meal in Norway. I tried to light a fire but the wood was too wet and did not light properly. I soon gave up.
The next day I continued riding on small back country roads that wound along the western norwegian islands. For the night I installed myself in the small waiting room of the last ferry
terminal before Bergen. I asked the maintenance guy if it was ok to sleep there and had to wait until the last ferry left to be able to lock the door. But before I could lie down on my sleeping mat the police arrived and inquiered what I would do there. Hearing that I am a tourist they wished me a Good Night and said they wouldn t disturb me any further.
In the morning I cooked breakfast by the sea and got ready for the last kilometers to Bergen where my friend Anna was waiting for me.
As I rolled into town I stopped at a gas station to get my tires to proper pressure, got some money from the ATM, bought a map (16 €), had a breakfast (8 € for a coffee and a pasty).The tourist info was closed for the weekend and Haugesund did not tempt me to stop for a night and explore the city, so I carried on cycling north towards Bergen, following the national cycling route No. 1.
The route was a constant up and down and twist and bends and quite some traffic. After a while the cycle route left the main road and I followed quieter country lanes towards the islands of Bomlo. After a 15 minutes wait the ferry appeared on the horizon as I chatted to a norwegian guy who took some interest in my bike. He told me wild camping would be OK all around Norway.
Bomlo is a very pretty island, lots of huge rocks and pine trees, scrubs with redberries of sorts make up a lovely scenery. I stopped to ask a beekeeper for some honey and waved my hand carelessly at some bees - HUGE error, the beasts attacked me right away, one got me on the cheek and another one right in the neck. I even had to pull out the stings. Quiet a fright so I decided to flee and cycled away fast. The beekeeper must have had a good laugh at my innocence towards the bees. So much to norwegian wildlife.
This night I camped in a small bay right beside the sea and had my first hot meal in Norway. I tried to light a fire but the wood was too wet and did not light properly. I soon gave up.
The next day I continued riding on small back country roads that wound along the western norwegian islands. For the night I installed myself in the small waiting room of the last ferryterminal before Bergen. I asked the maintenance guy if it was ok to sleep there and had to wait until the last ferry left to be able to lock the door. But before I could lie down on my sleeping mat the police arrived and inquiered what I would do there. Hearing that I am a tourist they wished me a Good Night and said they wouldn t disturb me any further.
In the morning I cooked breakfast by the sea and got ready for the last kilometers to Bergen where my friend Anna was waiting for me.
Leaving Scotland
My flight to Haugesund in south-western Norway is scheduled for 6.20 h in the morning so I decide to leave my Edinburgh hosts Hayley & Morgan in the late evening, cycle the last ten kilometers and have a short nap at the airport.
The day before the flight has been busy with preparations: buy a bag to fit all my panniers in, wash my stove and fuel bottle, do last-minute preps for the norwegian journey, update my blog - it is 1 o'clock in the morning when I finally feel prepared, leave the flat and ride at a leisurely pace for half an hour along a deserted highway towards Edinburgh airport.
Already there is a couple of people sleeping in the airport chairs and benches as best as they can, I roll out my mat and sleeping-bag and set my alarm-clock to 4 o'clock in the morning, sufficient time to get my bike and luggage prepared for the flight.
Ryanair charges me 30 pounds sterling (approx 35 €) for flying with a bike. The good thing: I do not have to box up my ride, just take off the pedals, turn the handlebar and deflate the tires a bit. Just pray that the bike arrives in one piece to Haugesund.
Before long I negotiate the check-in, hand in my bike to the oversized baggage counter, get my passport controlled, hand-luggage x-rayed and finally we board the plane and take off towards Norway. I plug in my MP3 player and five minutes later I am fast asleep.
The day before the flight has been busy with preparations: buy a bag to fit all my panniers in, wash my stove and fuel bottle, do last-minute preps for the norwegian journey, update my blog - it is 1 o'clock in the morning when I finally feel prepared, leave the flat and ride at a leisurely pace for half an hour along a deserted highway towards Edinburgh airport.
Already there is a couple of people sleeping in the airport chairs and benches as best as they can, I roll out my mat and sleeping-bag and set my alarm-clock to 4 o'clock in the morning, sufficient time to get my bike and luggage prepared for the flight.
Ryanair charges me 30 pounds sterling (approx 35 €) for flying with a bike. The good thing: I do not have to box up my ride, just take off the pedals, turn the handlebar and deflate the tires a bit. Just pray that the bike arrives in one piece to Haugesund.
Before long I negotiate the check-in, hand in my bike to the oversized baggage counter, get my passport controlled, hand-luggage x-rayed and finally we board the plane and take off towards Norway. I plug in my MP3 player and five minutes later I am fast asleep.
Northern Scotland
I have arrived to the northern town of Thurso to cycle along the coast and through the Western Highlands back to Edinburgh. Leaving the train I have a flat and push my bike through the driving rain to look for a campsite just out of town.
The wind is really strong and I struggle to put up my tent on the wet ground while I can hear the waves trashing. It never stops raining this night and the winds rattles my little shelter with such force I can hardly sleep. The next morning I break down my camp in driving rain, the tent gets stashed soaked as it is. In town center I find a little bike shop, buy a new chamber for my front wheel and repair my flat. Meanwhile my bikes rear axle gets some new, rain proof grease, I have a pot of tea in the nearby coffe-shop. It is still raining.
At midday, all my chores in Thurso are done and I start cycling along the coast towards Tongue. The rain is pelting down with force and a gail is blowing. I have to struggle to keep me on my bike when the wind comes sideways. I have some near misses with car coming my way. I am scared and very impressed by the conditions up here in the North.
In three hours I manage to cycle 15 kms. At the little village of Reay I call it a day and take refuge in a cosy Bed & Breakfast. The owners Jene and Derek are really lovely people, we have a long conversation and Derek offers to take me along the coast in his car and shows me the local church just opposite their house where he preaches as a lay preacher from time to time.
The next morning it is still raining but fortunately the wind has ceased and after a full scottish breakfast including a fantastic black pudding I am off towards Tongue.
The route is a constant up and down and often I can see dramatic cliffs, amazing beaches and tiny lighthouses towering on some rocks over the trashing waves, far off to the north, the Orkney Islands are visible as a distant, light blue shadow. Next stop - Shetland Islands and than the Arctic.
Near Tongue I stop to greet an old man next to a small camper van. John Corbett is photographer in his late sixties and he spends his time roaming Scotland to take fotos of the wildlife and scenery. In his youth he did a lot of bicycle touring and meanwhile I am getting colder and colder standing around in my light cycling clothes, he tells me all about his travels around Norway and his solo bicycle tour around Iceland in 1962 (!!).
He knows the area around Tongue very well and the youth hostel being closed for winter, along with one of his postcards he gives me some recomendations where to put up my wee tent.
After a quite night in an abandoned campsite near the Kyle of Tongue I have spectacular views on the surrounding mountains and the seaside. I find Johns camper van parked alongside the route and we have a little chat. The guy really does like to talk.
I tackle the road climbing up to 212 meters above sea level and looking to my left I find Ben Hope, the northernmost Munro.
Munros are the scottish mountains higher than 3.000 feet (approx 900 meters), there are about 250 of them all around Scotland and lately it became a popular past-time for hillwalkers to go "Munro-bagging". Those who climb all the summits are called 'compleaters'.
Dropping down towards the steel blue waters of Loch Hope I scare a troop of pheasants and grouses that had walk along the route moments before. The route starts to climb again and before long I can see the dramatic Loch Eriboll before me. It is 21 miles around the Loch and to the sleepy little town of Durness. Once more I find the Youth Hostel closed and decide to stay in a private hostel (14 pounds/night) and get my dinner in the local SPAR shop.
Just opposite Durness lies the secluded Cap Wrath, once you cross the straight by boat, it's a 15kms walk up to the lighthouse. Unfortunately the ferry stopped operating for this season and there area is shut down because the british Ministry of Defence is so kind to use it as bombing site and military training field during autumn and spring.
As a testimony I see a crashed military truck beside the road, it crashed into a small bridge leading towards the Cape and has not been removed yet, the bridge was closed for heavy traffic during days and delivery vans had to take a 100 miles detour
to reach Durness.
Did I mention that it was raining again ? AND there was a hefty headwind on top of it. Just in case I felt to good this morning. In fact it rains so much that a guy in a delivery van stops to offer me a lift. I decline and he shakes his head as to say "these crazy tourists enjoy cycling in this weather".
Once I reach Laxford Bridge I head inland and for the first time in three days enjoy wind that pushes me along Loch Stack and Loch More (both spetacular) towards Lairg. As it is getting dark I camp a couple of miles outside town and find the campsites used books section very helpfull indeed. I leave one of my books behind and choose to "borrow" Reinhold Messners "Solo Nanga Parbat", a gripping account of his solo ascent that hooks me instantly.
From Lairg its all the way down hill to Rogart Station where a specially nice Hostel set up in old train sleeper car awaits me. Ploughing through a pile of good books I stay two nights, in company of a couple from Northern Ireland and a funny guy from Yorkshire whos accent I can hardly understand.
Entering the county of Ross-shire I meet a girl riding to opposite direction towards John O Groats on a fundraising "End-to-End" bicycle ride. We exchange some pleasantries and stare at each others bikes and split up before getting miserable from standing in the cold.
After a good days cycle I reach Dingwall and decide to take to train into Inverness, stay a night and fetch another train that takes me to Aviemore a busy little town at the foot of the Cairngorms Mountains National Parc.
I enjoy a day of off-road riding and border the Cairngorms on the western edge, through the Glenlivet estate, some nice up- and downhill riding along lonesome single-track roads brings me to Braermar, just 10 miles from Balmoral Castle, scottish residence of the royal family.
After two nights in the Youth Hostel in Braemar I cycle towards beautiful Glenshee valley that takes me towards Perth and to the train headed for Edinburgh, Haymarket station.
Today I packed my bags and made last minute preparations for the scandinavian leg of my journey, saturday morning Ryanair Flight nr. FR6671 will take me to Haugesund in Norway.
The wind is really strong and I struggle to put up my tent on the wet ground while I can hear the waves trashing. It never stops raining this night and the winds rattles my little shelter with such force I can hardly sleep. The next morning I break down my camp in driving rain, the tent gets stashed soaked as it is. In town center I find a little bike shop, buy a new chamber for my front wheel and repair my flat. Meanwhile my bikes rear axle gets some new, rain proof grease, I have a pot of tea in the nearby coffe-shop. It is still raining.
At midday, all my chores in Thurso are done and I start cycling along the coast towards Tongue. The rain is pelting down with force and a gail is blowing. I have to struggle to keep me on my bike when the wind comes sideways. I have some near misses with car coming my way. I am scared and very impressed by the conditions up here in the North.
In three hours I manage to cycle 15 kms. At the little village of Reay I call it a day and take refuge in a cosy Bed & Breakfast. The owners Jene and Derek are really lovely people, we have a long conversation and Derek offers to take me along the coast in his car and shows me the local church just opposite their house where he preaches as a lay preacher from time to time.
The next morning it is still raining but fortunately the wind has ceased and after a full scottish breakfast including a fantastic black pudding I am off towards Tongue.
The route is a constant up and down and often I can see dramatic cliffs, amazing beaches and tiny lighthouses towering on some rocks over the trashing waves, far off to the north, the Orkney Islands are visible as a distant, light blue shadow. Next stop - Shetland Islands and than the Arctic.
Near Tongue I stop to greet an old man next to a small camper van. John Corbett is photographer in his late sixties and he spends his time roaming Scotland to take fotos of the wildlife and scenery. In his youth he did a lot of bicycle touring and meanwhile I am getting colder and colder standing around in my light cycling clothes, he tells me all about his travels around Norway and his solo bicycle tour around Iceland in 1962 (!!).
He knows the area around Tongue very well and the youth hostel being closed for winter, along with one of his postcards he gives me some recomendations where to put up my wee tent.
After a quite night in an abandoned campsite near the Kyle of Tongue I have spectacular views on the surrounding mountains and the seaside. I find Johns camper van parked alongside the route and we have a little chat. The guy really does like to talk.
I tackle the road climbing up to 212 meters above sea level and looking to my left I find Ben Hope, the northernmost Munro.
Munros are the scottish mountains higher than 3.000 feet (approx 900 meters), there are about 250 of them all around Scotland and lately it became a popular past-time for hillwalkers to go "Munro-bagging". Those who climb all the summits are called 'compleaters'.
Dropping down towards the steel blue waters of Loch Hope I scare a troop of pheasants and grouses that had walk along the route moments before. The route starts to climb again and before long I can see the dramatic Loch Eriboll before me. It is 21 miles around the Loch and to the sleepy little town of Durness. Once more I find the Youth Hostel closed and decide to stay in a private hostel (14 pounds/night) and get my dinner in the local SPAR shop.
Just opposite Durness lies the secluded Cap Wrath, once you cross the straight by boat, it's a 15kms walk up to the lighthouse. Unfortunately the ferry stopped operating for this season and there area is shut down because the british Ministry of Defence is so kind to use it as bombing site and military training field during autumn and spring.
As a testimony I see a crashed military truck beside the road, it crashed into a small bridge leading towards the Cape and has not been removed yet, the bridge was closed for heavy traffic during days and delivery vans had to take a 100 miles detour
to reach Durness.Did I mention that it was raining again ? AND there was a hefty headwind on top of it. Just in case I felt to good this morning. In fact it rains so much that a guy in a delivery van stops to offer me a lift. I decline and he shakes his head as to say "these crazy tourists enjoy cycling in this weather".
Once I reach Laxford Bridge I head inland and for the first time in three days enjoy wind that pushes me along Loch Stack and Loch More (both spetacular) towards Lairg. As it is getting dark I camp a couple of miles outside town and find the campsites used books section very helpfull indeed. I leave one of my books behind and choose to "borrow" Reinhold Messners "Solo Nanga Parbat", a gripping account of his solo ascent that hooks me instantly.
From Lairg its all the way down hill to Rogart Station where a specially nice Hostel set up in old train sleeper car awaits me. Ploughing through a pile of good books I stay two nights, in company of a couple from Northern Ireland and a funny guy from Yorkshire whos accent I can hardly understand.
Entering the county of Ross-shire I meet a girl riding to opposite direction towards John O Groats on a fundraising "End-to-End" bicycle ride. We exchange some pleasantries and stare at each others bikes and split up before getting miserable from standing in the cold.
After a good days cycle I reach Dingwall and decide to take to train into Inverness, stay a night and fetch another train that takes me to Aviemore a busy little town at the foot of the Cairngorms Mountains National Parc.
I enjoy a day of off-road riding and border the Cairngorms on the western edge, through the Glenlivet estate, some nice up- and downhill riding along lonesome single-track roads brings me to Braermar, just 10 miles from Balmoral Castle, scottish residence of the royal family.
After two nights in the Youth Hostel in Braemar I cycle towards beautiful Glenshee valley that takes me towards Perth and to the train headed for Edinburgh, Haymarket station.
Today I packed my bags and made last minute preparations for the scandinavian leg of my journey, saturday morning Ryanair Flight nr. FR6671 will take me to Haugesund in Norway.
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