The Slow Way home

4 rivers in 4 days

2010-07-22T08:52:00.000+10:00

It was Friday the 9th of April when we got on the move again. We farewelled Britta in the morning before she left for work and Brendan after the 1st few km's of riding that he accompanied us on. We also had a stop at the post office to send our little computer home after it was very handy over the long winter.

It was perfect weather to start again, with a nice little tailwind helping us average 18km/h for the day. This was the first day of riding for the year that I'd gone in just my bike shorts, leaving the tights in the pack, and even when the sun was replaced by clouds it still wasn't too cold.
We followed the Fulda river all day which was flowing fairly well straight north to join the Weser, but we were heading south, still searching for the hot weather that eluded us all last year. But still we were only a week into April so a promise of good weather, but we could also expect snow if the weather turned.
It was an easy days ride through a beautiful valley that saw us into the city of Fulda where we had a couch to surf for the night at the house of Gesa and Ralf. After stopping for a few photos of the Dom we arrived at 6 and were welcomed in by Gesa who sat us down and put a beer in our hands. A super night was had chatting with Gesa and Ralf about all sorts of things until, as become my habit, I fell asleep mid chat.

It was great to meet this family, as it has been to meet all the people we have along the way. Surfing a locals couch is great for info about the towns and areas we are travelling through, as well as an easy night with no tent required. At this time of year with the cold spring weather a roof overhead is much appreciated.

Before departing the next morning I had a quick bash on the internet and discovered that our expected accomodation in Frankfurt was now no good due to an old friend being out of town for a few days.
We were offered another night by our hosts in Fulda and were terribly tempted, but we'd only ridden 1 day since our 2 week Easter holiday so decided to push on.
We made it to the town of Neuhof where we stopped to buy some phone credit and organise other accomodation with Florian and Michaela, a couple who are good friends with Britta who we had met once previously. On that first meeting they had foolishly invited us to stay anytime, and being Australian we don't just say we will; we actually do. I spoke to Florian and he said it was no worries and gave us his address.
As we were remounting our bikes a local fella on his bike started chatting to us and upon learning our plan to ride along the Rhine he took over our tour, informing us that the Rhine and Frankfurt are shit and boring to ride along, and we would be much better to head cross country to Gemunden, then follow the Main river down to the Nekar river, and that was a much better option and we should follow him to Schluchtern. As Schluchtern was on the way for both options we followed.
Once at Schluchtern he spent 15 minutes explaining, writing (illegibly) and re-explaining his chosen path for us. When we were finally left on our own a sudden lunch stop was declared to process all this info.
The maps showed that it would be a practicle path, so I called Flo again and told him of this plan. He sounded very dissapointed but wished us well and left the offer open should we change our minds. He also said that he thinks the Rhine valley is actually pretty nice.

So with this to think about we lunched and pondered the options. At the end of lunch I called Flo a third time to tell him that we would actually come, as we figured this couple are offering free accomodation, are pretty cool kids, there was meant to be rain over the next few days, and quite probably the other fella was full of shit anyway.

So finally with our next few days sorted we got back on the R3 bikepath, following the Kinzig river sou'west towards Frankfurt. Our choice was vindicated just a few kilometers later when we were riding through Steinau, which turned out to be one of the towns where the Brothers Grimm lived when they were young, which was a perfect way to leave the area where we've been to the home of a few of the famous fairytales. We went into the yard of the house, which is now a museum and we got a few photos of statues of the famous characters around the yard.
The afternoon's riding was sensational, riding leisurely in the arvo sun, passing Kinzig Lake and a handfull of towns before arriving at the town of Gelnhausen for the night. We found a nice old Bett&Bike hotel (bike friendly B&B with lock up parking for the bikes) in the centre of the old town Once checked in we wandered the cobblestoned streets of the town to get some photos and ended up at an Italian restaurant for dinner.

On the ride today we had the thrill of finally seeing the first signs of spring in the forests, with a hint of fresh green amongst the winter brown.

After a nice brekky in the morning, and pocketing enough food for lunch, we got into the garage to reload our bikes. This year my packing has evolved so that when staying inside I only need my front panniers with me, so reloading in the morning only takes a few minutes.

Once we were both ready to go we opened the door and found everything freshly wet from rain. Glancing up to the sky gave us the impression of a very wet day to come, and it was after only 20 minutes of riding that I was stopping to put the waterproof cover on my camera pack. But thankfully the drizzle passed us by with not much effect, leaving us to carry on nice and dry.

As with yesterday we followed the R3 bikepath along the Kinzig river, happily heading downstream for the first time. The path today skirted most of the towns before arriving in Hanau. This was also the end of the Kinzig river as it gave itself up to the Main river, which would also soon end its journey by joining the Rhine river.
The bikepath kept us riverside along the Main and we pedalled along passing the Sunday soccer games until reaching the tiny town of Rumpenheim, the home of the world's friendliest ferryman. He yakked away to us in his broken English, telling of how he came to be the ferryman and then to end a fun trip he charged us the grand sum of €1 for the privalage of helping us across the river.
Once out of town we stopped for lunch on a riverside bench as we could see rain further down the path. For the entire day we could see rain infront, to the sides and behind us, and it was a rarity to be riding over dry ground, yet dry we were and dry we remained.
The skyline of Frankfurt came in to view shortly after lunch and as it grew we got ready for a slow and confusing city crossing, but the river path kept going all the way through and past this big city.
From the little we saw of Frankfurt it reminded us a lot of Melbourne in look, but with the river instead of the bay, and such a nice public area the entire length of the river.

Florian's house was about 30km's further on, so we continued to roll riverside to Florsheim, then cut nor'west towards Delkenheim.

We climbed a steep hill through Wicker and arriving at the summit we were hit with a crazy crosswind coming from the east and bringing with it the scariest looking clouds of the day. So after a quick stop to ask for directions we raced to Delkenheim and found the house straight away and moved in and were treated like 2 lifelong friends with a hug and a kiss and leftovers from a BBQ, and it doesn't get much better than that!

We played cards until late and then with another 85km highlighted on the map we slept soundly, joined by Mia and Lucy, the 2 hairy cats.

Our luck with the weather this riding season continued, as the 2 days we had with Flo & Michaela were both wet and cold days perfect for being inside and watching movies.

Then on the day we started again the weather was nice. It tried to be sunny all day and pushed us along with a great tailwind.
We were heading upstream again having now joined the Rhine river, whcih originates all the way down south in Switzerland and is then the border between Switzerland/Austria, Germany/Switzerland and Germany/France before running into the North Sea near Rotterdam in the Netherlands.
We lunched for the day in a little town park in Nackenheim and it was in a servo somewhere around here that I found a great map covering all of southern Germany. Studying the map we noticed a town called Worms further south along the river and when we finished giggling a few minutes later we decided to make this our target for the day.
The arvo session this day was nothing but pleasent with the tailwind doing it's thing and the scenery keeping us entertained. We spent some time riding along the downhill side of some vinyards, then back to the river bank where the path wasn't always the smoothest. I was truely amazed at how clear the water in the Rhine was considering its long history, and I was very tempted for a swim.

For over an hour here we had just the river barges to keep us company as our path ducked and weaved along the bank of the river. Before we knew it we had already arrived in Worms. It was still early, but having done 70km for the day, there was no thoughts of pushing on. The Tourist Info helped us with a Bett&Bike, but couldn't do much for us in the way of bike maps.

We wandered and photo'd and I got a souvenir Worms t-shirt. It was nice to notice a photo on the wall that showed Simply Red had chosen this hotel when visiting Worms also.

River Days and Fairy Tales

2010-06-21T01:12:00.001+10:00

Our first day out of Bremen was the only day of the next few that we didn't have organised accommodation, and with this knowledge we happily crossed the Weser river for the first time, and joined the Weser Radweg (Bikeway) - a path we would follow for the next week all the way south to the head of the Weser river. The first few days of riding had us weaving all across the surrounding country as the 'bikepath' was following the small car roads through the farming areas of Nieder-Sachsen, and it seemed the creator of this path was keen for the traveller to visit every tiny town along the way.

I started the day with wet socks after the bike shed became a shallow pond after the last 2 days of rain, but the weather had turned for the better now, and even though not warm, at least it wasn't wet.

We planned to get a new map from a servo as we were about to ride off the bottom of ours in the next few km's. I didn't manage to find any maps so we just went without, which will probably shock most German people to the core, with sat-nav's seemingly being the required minimum for any trip further than the local supermarket, for all types of transport. And as we were to learn, rightly so, as travelling without a map in Germany is fraught with wrong turns and miss directions if you only have the road signs to go by. But we also had the bikepath signs, and with the riding along this river among the most popular in Germany, we found ourselves with an abundance of signs. Depending on our mood it was possible to follow the river trail, church trail, devil trail, monk trail or windmill trail, with a few others thrown in just to keep it interesting. We stuck loosely to the Weser river trail.
We were rolling along nicely with our first tail wind of the year and quite probably our first tail wind ever. It was taking us past paddocks submerged under snowmelt and rainwater, whilst other paddocks were populated with swans feasting on bugs. We eventually picked up a new map, but it started further south of where we were, so another 1/2 hour of surprises before we knew our exact location in the world again, a mildly good feeling whilst on the other side of the world. But without getting lost along the way, I pay homage to the pre sat-nav skill of 'opening a bloody map'.
We had guessed that the town of Verden would be a good length day from Bremen, but we gave the town a miss, instead staying on the western side of the river. We cruised into the town of Hoya for a very late lunch, so late that it was decided to look for accommodation also. We found 1 place that was advertising a special for cyclists that came with cheap room, brekky, all the mod cons and a sauna to boot, but when we rang the number that this deal wasn't actually for us. Maybe because nobody has heard of 2 people stupid enough to be cycling at this time of year, and especially this year when we are only 3 weeks out of the severe winter in 20 years. Putting this dissapointment behind us we pedalled the entire 900mtrs to the next town of Bücken where we happened upon a beautiful little B&B right on the bikepath (the bikepath goes past every B&B), so that became home for the night. Looking at all the B&B's and houses advertising free rooms, I can only imagine how nuts it must be along the river during the summer. The first question we got at the restaurant this night was 'cyclists or hikers?'. We aren't planning on pre-booking any accommodation for now, but might find ourselves in trouble come mid May.

The next day started with a beautifully presented breakfast, and with not much to pack we were away at 10.00, and straight back onto the Weser Radweg. The same as yesterday we were passing through many small towns only a few km apart from each other. There were Schweringen, Sebbenhausen, Buchhorst, Mehlbergen and Marklohe all before Nienburg which came equipped with a nice bikeshop, where we stopped, as we do with most bikeshops we see along the way. This time I came away with a new second hand adjustable stem, to raise my handlebars a few cm's, as my seat has been a long way above my handlebars, which ins't great for extended tours.

After this long stop we chose some more direct routes to get to our destination a bit quicker, and also because the sunny day had given way to clouds, and the smell of rain was on the edge of my nostrils. So with the threat of rain and a house to locate, we were getting to work and putting the km's behind us when at one stage we stopped to ask directions and Naj noticed that her back tyer was needing some extra air, which she promptly added with her rarely used pump. A few minutes and 2 towns later I was exiting Heimsen and noticed that Nadia was not. I gave it a few minutes, then guessed that for the first time in over 4,000km's we had our first flat tyer situation. I returned and found Naj with her bike upside down and rear wheel off. She found a nasty foreign object imbedded in her tyre and decided on a complete tyre and tube swap. I was ready to lend a hand, but noticed the look of determination, so I sat to watch and chat. In no time at all we were on our way again, but still, the day was shortening, and we had told our hosts to expect us between 5 and 7. After a few pieces of advice from locals and a few wrong turns we managed to lean our bikes against the correct garage on the stroke of 7.00, which was also just about right on time for dinner.
This night we were staying with the parents of Anja from Bremen. We dined with her folks Manfred and Gurden, then retired to the basement where Manfred has a fully kitted and stocked bar, with tables for 2 dozen guests. Finally got to bed at middnight merrily pissed, and with stories of European Handball swimming through my head, that being the chosen sport of the family. There were a few old newspaper clippings on the wall of the bar, of Manfred and his 4 brothers in action for the local team. They were all big and hairy and I would've happily let them win without much of a fight.

Day 3 along the Weser started dry but overcast, then got even better when the clouds burnt off and the hangover followed suit. We were again away early with no camping gear to pack, and were soon standing beside the Mittle Land Kanal AND at the exact same time we were also standing above the Weser River. This amazing feat was achievable thanks to those engineering Germans who many years ago built a massive aquaduct for the massive canal right over the top of the masive Weser River, so that was interesting.
Riding onwards took us through Minden and also past our 1st mountain of the year. We left the river and went up a bit of a climb, easily our biggest since Norway last year. At the top of this climb we stopped for lunch at a picnic table set back from the road amongst some large, brown leafed trees. We sat in the sun and the birds were singing and it was great! I really like that most of the picnic tables out along these small, backcountry roads also come with bins. I don't know who has to empty them or how often, but it's great for us, where packing space is a sought after thing.
For a few km's after our mittagsessen we followed the windmill trail, and as the name suggests there were windmills to be seen. The afternoon session had us crossing onto the northern bank of the river and passing through many small towns, including both Kleinen and Grossen Wieden, and yes, 1 was much more Grossen than the other. From here the last stretch of the days ride into Hameln was ridden in near perfect riding conditions, with a beautifully smooth path under our wheels and a gentle breeze at our backs. We weaved our way between other cyclists and rollerbladers, arriving in town just before 5. Soon we were joined by our couch surfing hosts Marc and Susanna who were also on their bikes. They gave us a quick tour of Hameln, taking us past the towns oldest house, built in the year 1560. The tour ended in town centre just on time to listen to the bells and see the Pied Piper characters come out of the wall and follow their thrice daily path, moving slowly around whilst in the background was playing the Pied Piper tune.

We rested a day in Hameln, then got away early on the 25th, arriving in Bodenwerder for lunch. Bodenwerder became the 3rd town that we have passed through along the river that is the basis of a Grimm Brothers fairytale.
Another name for the river path we are following is the Fairy Tale Trail. The Brothers Grimm actually travelled this area and put together some of their works. Of course we had the Bremen Town Musicians in Bremen, The Pied Piper of Hameln, and now the town of Bodenwerder, the home of The Lying Baron Von Munchausen, who was a man not short of a good story, like riding a canon ball and taking half a horse to water. I vaguely remember most of the stories from when I was a little tacker, and it's fun to know that it was in these old towns along this wide old river that the ides emerged and have been told to many a generation since.

We collected the obligatory postcards and got back on the path, where everything was going nicely until the path disappeared under hochwasser, this 'high water' being the result of all the rain and the masses of snow melting up in the hills. We negotiated the flood and enjoyed a care free afternoon that took us past Corvey Schloss, an ancient and fairly sizeable abbey. The photographing of this abbey completely drained my camera battery, meaning the last 16km of the day were halt free on my behalf.
Our host for the night had told us to text her when we got to the bridge, which had us confused as there were many bridges across the river, but as we arrived in the town of Blankenau it became much clearer. The town is on the uphill side of the old traintracks that run along the riverside, and the only way into the town from the riverside is through the old train bridge tunnel. So Nadia sent through a text and 10 seconds later Sabina was looking over the railing above and saying hello.
We took our bikes through, and around and up to find her property edging onto the old tracks, giving her an amazing view over the river, which we enjoyed with her for the next few hours till after sunset.

The next day was our last following the Weser River and it again started early with not much packing required. There was the lightest drizzle as we set forth for the day, and we'd been promised rain later coming across from France. But for now the weather was nice and the temperature climbed to a seemingly hot 24degrees.
The day and the scenery were both sliding by nicely until, after what must have been 1 bump too many, the screw attaching the top of my right front rack snapped and the pannier rotated around to be hitting my foot.
5 minutes later it was occy strapped back in place well enough to get me into the next town of Bad Karlshafen. Here I found a bike/auto repair shop and within a few minutes the boys had managed to remove the remaining screw body out of my fork, leaving me free to put a new screw in. To top off the good work the fella then said there was no charge, so very chuffed with Germans and Germany and life in general I happily rolled along until reaching Hannover Munden. It is in this town that the river Werra joins the river Fulda, and with their powers combined... they become... the Weser river, which we had now reached the start of.
We lunched by the rivers in nice weather, and then the storm came.
It started with some dark clouds appearing from the west, and then came the wind change, with some huge gusts roaring across from the west also. We jumped aboard the bikes and began seeking shelter in a fairly hurried style. The shelter was found at a servo on the outskirts of town, and we were soon joined by a motorbiker with the same idea.
It was now that the day turned the lights off, with some of the blackest clouds ever created, and an instant temperature drop of a good 10 degrees.
It took another 5 minutes for the storm to break, but once broken it certainly knew what to do. We were stuck in the servo for 45minutes as it absolutely smashed down all around us. Our time was spent making sure the bikes hadn't been blown away, drinking choccy milk and chatting in our broken German to the other sewrvo dwellers, whilst outside the storm kept it interesting by swapping from heavy rain to hailstones and back again.
When we left it was still raining, but time was slipping by and we had a host waiting for us in the distant city of Kassel. Leaving the servo it was as though we were riding through snow with that much hail laying on the side of the tracks.
We arrived at Corri's wet and filthy, both us and our trusty bikes, but still we were welcomed with open arms. By the time we were showered and fed I unfortunately only had about half an hour of chat in me before I had to sleep. Another fun day done, another 89km further from, or closer to somewhere.

After a rest day in Kassel and a few beers at the Irish pub, we were back on the path, the path this time being the Fulda river radweg. The morning was nice so our hostess Corri jumped on her bike and rode with us all the way to the outskirts of town, which was great, as we would've got lost a few times. She left us just as the path got beautiful for the day, with the track climbing and decending a few times before the valley widened out. The riding was easy and after a bit of rain the day was nice. Naj was apparently bored so decided to liven things up by falling off her bike, blaming a stiff clete.
This day was our last day of touring for nearly 2 weeks, as the end of the day brought us to Britta's house. Britta is the kind lady keeping Brendan Hanley off the streets, and was therefore in need of a nice relaxing Easter holiday. During their holiday we were making ourselves useful by guarding the house and feeding the cats.
Brendan is an ex Waratah lad, so we had a good time catching up. There were hugs all around and a few beers were had. The bikes were unloaded, but not forgotten, with a tender loving clean the next day.
We had a nice holiday, with some walking, some reading and lots of relaxing.

On The Road... Again

2010-06-02T17:45:00.001+10:00

And so it begins... again.

On the 17th of March, 2010, after 6 months and a handfull of days (and a smashing going away party) we rolled out of Circus Mignon and towards the first of a few ‘already on the move’ farewells. The Breckwoldt family’s fish shop was the first port of call, where we were given lots of hugs and promises of visits to Australia. As we headed outside to our bikes getting ready to leave again Achim and Kristin followed us out for a photo. One of the other staff came to take the photo and with us standing between them, they unfurled a banner saying goodbye to us from Hamburg, pure words of love. What a great send-off! We had a picnic lunch put into our pockets and then it was on the road again.
From the fish shop we rolled down the hill to the northern bank of the Elbe River, where we were able to follow some nice paths all the way into the city. It was a nice sunny Wednesday and there were lots of people along the river walking, running and lunching. The snow had fallen as recently as 2 weeks before, and the ‘permafrost’ ice covering the footpaths had only fully melted away a few days ago, so all the Hamburgers were out and enjoying the early springtime sun, as weak as it was. We stopped at one stage when Nadia was having some packing issues, and were instantly caught in conversation with a happy looking fella who had been confused by the stickers of the country flags we have plastered to our frames. After confirming we aren’t from Norway and that we are from Australia, but we haven’t ridden all the way from Australia, he then told us about his bestselling book from many a year ago about his journey by bike around Germany, showing Germans that they don’t actually have to go on an expensive holiday to have a good holiday, and that their own country is pretty bloody good. He was now married and stuck in a job and didn’t like it, so hopefully seeing us out and doing it brought some joy to his day.

We had planned our 1st day well, with the destination being the old apple farm, which meant a short day of only 47 km. To leave Hamburg behind for good we chose to exit through the Old Elbe Tunnel, which is open for cars, but also used by pedestrians and cyclists. After taking the elevator down to the tunnel level we strolled along underneath the Elbe River, took the next elevator up and came out onto the southern side of Hamburg. All we had to do now was to weave our way through the industrial part of this dock city before emerging into the fruit farm district of Altes Land (the old land).
We had been warned by some locals that it was easy to get lost on this part of the ride, and get lost we did, but only once, and it only added an extra 2km to our day. And taking the wrong road in this part of Germany isn’t as taxing as taking the wrong road in Norway, as here when you realise you have made a mistake, you don’t then have to push the bike back up a 3,000mtr mountain.
So with the docks behind us we started to see the acres upon acres of fruit tree farms, all looking half dead without their leaves, but the foliage free trees did make it easy to see several deer grazing and birds of prey checking for movements in the grass. Through this area we were travelling along the earthen wall of a dyke, and for the second time, we got ourselves into a friendly conversation. This time it was an old fella on his bike who had stopped to talk to his even older nextdoor neighbour who was also out on his bike. He happily chatted away for a while, and we learnt that he has never been to Australia, but he has been taught how to make and play a didgeridoo from bamboo, naturally. His older neighbour very proudly told us that he was 72 years old and rode his bike 40km every day.

Since leaving the circus in the morning with all our panniers loaded up to the max, people’s attitudes towards us were markedly brighter and friendlier. I noticed many drivers and walkers smiling as we rode past, we had people stopping to talk to us, we even scored a thumbs up from one old dude, and old dudes don’t just give away thumbs up willy-nilly. There were questions of where we were from and where we were going. During the winter we didn’t ride our bikes much (Nadia’s bike was actually frozen to the ground), but when we did we didn’t get much of a reaction out of anybody we passed. I put this down to the lack of panniers. Without the panniers we looked just like normal everyday cyclists, we might even have been locals for all anybody knew, and hence the lack of interest from passersby. But now that we were looking like full on, crazy tourists that were from somewhere else and were right at this very moment going somewhere else, and the fact that we believed that their city of Hamburg was a destination not to be missed, then we were interesting and must be nice people to be engaged in conversation at any opportunity, and failing this, then a friendly wave would suffice. Or maybe everyone was on a natural high because it was the end of a bloody long and cold winter.
Once through the town of Neuenfelde we were back on ‘home turf’ and cruised along familiar roads. We saw one of the hundreds of little apple tractors chugging towards us on the road, carting the usual 5 apple bins behind, and low and behold, it was Ralf, our old boss, doing his thing. He saw us and grinned and waved, then kept on his way. A few minutes later we arrived at the farm and found that Marion was also out, but she soon drove in with young 3 year old Jan riding shotgun and ready to tell us all about his day’s adventures. We moved back into our old room for the night, and then joined the family for dinner and drinks, after which we very much enjoyed looking at all Ralf’s photos from his January trip to Australia.

That was the end of the first day back on the road. It was great to be moving again after what felt like such a stagnant winter, even though we did some bike-free travelling. We had an awesome time in Hamburg and made many very good friends. The send off we received the night before we left and again on the day was memorable and touching. One incredible gesture from our good friend Anne was her gifting us with a small lizard pendant that had kept her company for many years of her life, and it was given to us with the wish that the lizard would bring us many years of luck too. How special is that! So with memories that will hopefully last a lifetime, and be built upon with future visits to Australia, we had left Hamburg, but this night was with the old boss, and the next day 1 final goodbye would be the last of our Hamburg farewells.

The next morning we wanted to get up and at'em early. We knew we had a massive day considering it was only day 2 on the bikes, and it was all starting just across the road. First it was a nice brekky with the Schlieckers, after which Jan had politely asked his Mum if we would ride our bikes with him. So we headed out onto the concrete out the front of the house and straddled our bikes while Jan starting cutting laps around the concrete. We joined in and after countless laps we rested while Jan chucked a few more blockies, before deciding it was now time for me to push him on the swing. We had a fun half hour before we finally had to pull the pin and make a move. Ralf loaded us up with apples and a photo stick of the morning’s fun and then it was goodbye to the farm.
1km down the road we were off the bikes again, this time for our final goodbye from Hamburg. This time it was Ana Breckwoldt, who works at the Jork Tourism Centre. She arrived just after we did and surprised us with a journalist. As she works in the tourism centre she does a lot with the local newspapers and a few days prior she had been contacted by a local reporter who was trying to chase down a story of the oncoming spring, Ana had mentioned our situation and the reporter decided that we were a great story to show that spring was finally arriving. So after an interview and a few photos she left happily and we were left to our goodbyes with Ana. They were short as she was actually at work, but they were sweet, and I’m positive that Ana (and the rest of her family) will visit us in Australia.

Once we left Jork we were into unexplored territories and would be for many thousand kilometres more. But this day was going to be a very long one, as we had accommodation waiting for us in Bremen, about 90km to the sou-southwest. There were suggested paths from other riders who had ridden between Hamburg and Bremen, but that they wound around on nice quiet roads, and were also about 30km longer, so we gave them a miss and just followed the most direct route. Even though following the more major roads we still had nice and wide sealed bikepaths all the way.

Now that we were moving towards central Germany we were entering a very populated area considering what we had found in Scandinavia, but still it was farmland with heaps of tiny towns’ inbetween. As soon as we saw the ‘thanks for visiting’ sign from the town we were leaving, we could also see a sign proclaiming that the next town was only 2km away (sometimes as close as 1km, sometimes a massive 3). So for the day we passed through 24 towns, and stopped at 2 of them. The day gave us beautiful weather with the lightest of headwinds, and lunch was had at Zeven, which was a bit over the halfway mark for the day. Once again we only took 1 wrong road for the day; at Lilienthal a bridge under repair had us pretty confused, and we ended up turning to the right instead of the left. This took us on a likely looking path that just didn’t do what it promised, and after 2 kilometres we decided to turn back as by this stage we should have been in the suburbs of Bremen. After this we negotiated the city like pro’s and got to the front door of our host right on 7pm. And that was the cycling done for now; after 2 days in the saddle we now had 2 rest days in Bremen.

Our nights in Bremen, and all the way for the next week of riding, were accommodated thanks to a nice little website called Couchsurfing. Jonny Cope got us onto this site, where after entering our details, we are now free to find other members in the area we are travelling through and send them a message to ask to sleep at their house, either on their couch or spare bedroom, and for free! Of course the idea is that when you are home you also offer the same free accommodation. It’s a great idea, and for anyone with a spare room or a sofabed, then I reckon it’s a pretty nice way to meet some (possibly) cool people from all over the world. We were loving the couchsurfing as we weren’t wanting to bust out the tent yet with the nights still dipping down to zero, and every German had told us we were crazy to be cycle touring at this time of year. Most Germans happily told us that we could expect some snow in April and here we were riding in March. But our first 2 days of riding for 2010 had been dry and geez it felt great to be on the move again and riding through country areas after such a long stint in big cities.

Our 2 rest days in Bremen weren’t as nice; it rained on both days and the temperature dropped a fair bit. We had a nice time wandering the streets of Bremen and found it to be a beautiful little town. The market area in the middle of town was cool, with the Rathaus (town hall), the Dom (cathedral) and crazy old buildings surrounding statues of Roland and the Bremen Town Musicians. Some of you might know of the Bremen Town Musicians from story times long ago (4 animals; donkey, dog, cat and rooster who wanted to be musicians and scared some bandits out of a house). We wandered the old town walls that have been turned into nice gardens and saw the Becks (proudly brewed in Bremen) Brewery across the river. Some pleasant days indeed.

Our German Family

2010-06-01T23:47:00.000+10:00

So with all the computer cock-ups, the photo card issues and having our brains on permafreeze for 4 months, somewhere along the way a blog entry was misplaced. It was of the thanking variety, the sort of thanks that come with the biggest hugs.
It's concerning an unassuming family of the best kind, you know, a cool married couple who meet you on a beach in Denmark and invite you to come and visit them in Hamburg. And being Australian, thats exactly what we did. And then you find out they've got 2 beautiful and fun loving daughters ready to party hardy and offer their couch to 2 homeless cyclists.

So it was in their comfortable house in Blankenese, a river-side suburb of Hamburg, that we got to know the Breckwoldts. We stayed for a week in a spare bedroom and became friends with Achim and Kristin, who spend their days working hard in the 105 year long family owned and run fish deli.
We got to their place after thankfully leaving the retired english teacher, who for some reason had decided that we would be staying for an undisclosed length of time. So with his dissapointed face fresh in our memories we arrived at the Brekwoldt's and moved in and showered and felt refreshed.
The 1st evening they took us for a crusie along the Reeperbahn, a street famous for its nightlife and 'men only street' containing many a window housing ladies of both varying age and looks. After a quick stroll up and down this street with Achim while the the ladies waited outside, it was off to a cafe, then to sushi for dinner. During the week we ate great food, met some family motorbiking friends to view photos of an American biking trip, and they were even nice enough to let us stay in the house over the weekend while they went to Holland to race their cart. A few weeks later Kristen unfortunately had an accident in the cart and smashed 1 of her legs up pretty good. So she was on crutches for a month or so, but still full of smiles and laughter.
It was the second afternoon that we met Marie Brekwoldt, the youngest of the 2 daughters, who joined us for a cafe session. It was also here that we found out about our up-coming job as apple pickers, so life was good.
We didn't meet Ana until a day trip to our next hometown of Jork. She works in the Jork tourist information centre, so we saw her a few times during the apple season and 'borrowed' her internet several times at her office.
We were taken out on the town a few times during our stay in Hamburg, and each time we would spend the night on 1 of their couches, and even in Ana's bed, with her on the couch, or at her boyfriends for the night. I think by the end of our stay I now know more of the nightlife in Hamburg than I do of any other city, except maybe for Alice Springs.

And the bonuses kept coming. At the end of the apple season we were once again looking for work and it was Ana that scored us the job at the Christmas Market, thanks to an uncle who knew a man with a dog...
And after the work had finished and we were filling our days with general activities and the ocasional trip, Marie invited us to come and stay a week with her in Berlin, where she had recently moved for work.
It was truely great to have met the Brekwoldt clan and their dog Buddy. Infact without the Christmas Market job we would probably be home already, or completely broke and unable to come home.

The best thing is though, that I know I'll get to repay the hospitality soon, with everyone promising to visit Australia in the next few years, and the promises were made with earnestness, and unlike many a European resident who say yes just to be nice, I actually believe this family will.
Anyway, thanks heaps for adding so much to our big trip.

And thats enough of the tear inducing dribble, and somehow once again, we are now a month or 2 behind in our blogging, so look out.

Weihnachtsmarkt and the Never-Ending Winter

2010-05-07T17:43:00.001+10:00

Weihnachtsmarkt and the never-ending winter.
It was the middle of November when we got a lucky break thanks to Ana Breckwoldt. We had been looking for jobs and getting nowhere until Ana made a few calls for us and found a possible job working for a Circus during the central Christmas markets in Hamburg. We trekked into town to meet our prospective boss and were extremely delighted to find Mischa, a man who seemed to want to help us out as much as he could. There was space for us to stay at their property where they operate a circus school, so we nervously, but excitedly packed half our things on the bikes (sent the rest home with Ana one day after work) and made our way into Iserbrook, just one suburb away from the Breckwoldt parents.
We moved in on a Friday and Mark started work on Monday. His first assignment was to help erect the huts and tents for the markets that would run for 30 days between late November and Christmas. The weather was already quite cold and rainy by mid November and I was quite happy to not be working outside. Mark’s first week was in central Hamburg and the second week was in a town called Lubeck, about 1 hours’ drive from Hamburg. The markets officially began on 23rd November and were open every day until 23rd December. In Hamburg the market was set up directly in front of the town hall in the middle of the city and that’s where we spent 12 hours, at least, per day for the entire market. Mark was working in the kitchen of the Circus’ restaurant while I worked for a biscuit stall selling traditional German biscuits. The month consisted of sleeping, travelling to work, working and then travelling home again. We ate all our meals at the market and didn’t even enter the kitchen/living room at home between Nov 23 and Dec 23.
The market had a great atmosphere and was a fun workplace for us. We met some really great people and it came to an end more quickly than I had anticipated. After the final day of work the circus crew all went and ate a meal together before visiting a few bars later in the evening. At the end of the night we rode home in a taxi unaware that was the last time we would see many of those people during our stay in Hamburg.
The next day, 24th December, seemed to be when most of the Christmas celebrations are carried out in Germany. We got in on the action, opening our presents a day before normal and were even invited to dinner at the circus directors’ house. Martin cooked up a goose and we ate traditional German style food including red cabbage and knoedel (potatoes, eggs, and some sort of powder all mixed together and boiled in water). We contributed a packet of Tim Tams to the evening and they were devoured with many oooh’s and ahhh’s.
There was no rest on the 25th as we were invited to eat a meal with Ralf, Marion and Jan out at the apple farm in Jork. We travelled by train and had a beautiful afternoon at the Schliecker household eating more traditional German food of green cabbage, sausages and potatoes. Jan (3 years old) wanted to tell us stories, show us all of his new toys as well as watch his new movie all at the same time! We left in the evening feeling very full after a delicious meal and very tired after a whole month of work and festive celebrations.
Over the following days until New Years Eve we caught up on a lot of sleep. To bring in the new year we had been invited to attend a party at the Blankanese Sailing Club down by the river. The night was cold, with snow and ice all around. During the market there had been a few days of snow, and consistent temperatures just below zero, so it was a different new years eve to that which we’re used to, not only because of the cold temperatures, but because everyone is allowed to buy fireworks in Germany and at midnight there were explosions all along the river banks in both directions! To begin with I was pretty excited about the amount of fireworks I was going to be able to enjoy as the clock ticked over into 2010, but at times people lit them right next to me and I didn’t know how big the blast was going to be, or in what fashion it would explode; whether it would fizzle around on the ground, shoot out flare type sparks or just make a series of sparks and bangs. Overall it was great fun, even if nerve-racking at times. We partied until 5am and caught the first train home where we fell into bed and possibly didn’t really move until 3 days later.
When Monday 4th came around we headed to the city to check out a German language course. It proved expensive and time consuming, and considering our stay was dependent upon the weather we decided against it. We might not have learnt much German as a result, but it gave us the free time to travel and see a bit more of Germany, which otherwise we would not have seen.
Wally travelled to Munich to catch up with Jon Cope at the end of January. I had fallen on the ice and hurt my leg a few days prior to that trip and decided against the chance of worsening my injury while walking around Munich as a tourist. I think it was a nice chance for the guys to catch up without me, and a welcome bit of solo time for me as well. After Mark’s days in Munich he said they walked a lot and drank a lot (of beer). So I think I made the right decision, and at the end I still got to eat a pretzel as big as my head (a most awesome present from Wally), so everyone was a winner!
Only a week after Mark’s Munich getaway, we were off to a small town near Kassel, in central Germany, to visit Brendan Hanley and his girlfriend Britta. While searching the mobile I found Brendan’s number and thought I’d search for him in facebook. I found him, sent him a message and was amazed to find out he was also in Germany. So, with the use of Mitfahrgelegenheit (an online car-pooling website) we were off to Kassel for €15 each, a bargain compared to the train or bus. The last time I saw Brendan was for 5 minutes, almost 4 years ago, in Melbourne one day as he rode past me on his bike; prior to that I hadn’t seen him since high school. Mark had known Brendan when we were all part of the surf lifesaving club, but they hadn’t seen each other for maybe 6 or 7 years either. So it’s fair to say there was a lot of talking and excitement during our 3 day visit to Britta’s place in the small town of Braach, which lies in a beautiful valley with the river Fulda winding its way along the valley floor.
Not so long after our return from Braach, we were off to Berlin (again with Mitfahrgelegenheit) to visit Marie Breckwoldt, who had moved to the capital in December with her boyfriend Stefan. We spent one week in Berlin and had almost perfect weather the entire time. When we arrived there was still snow and ice, mostly ice, covering the footpaths and roadsides, but when we left it had all melted and everything looked very different! We spent our days walking around the city from Marie and Stefan’s centrally located apartment. We visited all the big sites including The Brandenburg Gate, The Reichtstag (parliament building), Checkpoint Charlie, the remains of the Berlin Wall, as well as numerous other places old, rebuilt and new. We had a look through the DDR museum to learn a little about what life was like in the former German Democratic Republic (or eastern Germany) and treated ourselves to The Blue Man Group. It was an hilarious evening with 3 very entertaining fellows creating weird and wonderful sounds and scenes, all without muttering a word. They were covered in blue paint and maintained a very unemotional expression on their face the entire performance. At times there were crowd members pulled from their seats to take part in the activities, but everyone in the crowd was involved in the show as well. And it didn’t matter what language you spoke because they never talked, and often when there was something to read (in German or English) it ended up being something that added to the experience, but wasn’t a vital part of it. The grand finale had everyone laughing and cheering, and I think everyone would have sat there all night watching these 3 crazy guys jump around the stage. Everyone that is, except the teenage girl sitting next to me, who took no part in any of the fun during the whole night. If she can’t enjoy an evening at The Blue Man Group, I don’t think she enjoys very much at all.
We said goodbye to Marie a day before we left Berlin, as we were off to stay in a crazy hotel for one night. It was called Propeller Island City Lodge. Every room in the place is designed uniquely and our room had white walls, white bed, white sheets, a white door that covered the window, but 3 different coloured lights so you could transform the entire room to be red, green, blue or a mixture of all 3! It was so much fun. Other rooms included one that was completely covered in mirrors, one where the bed was IN the floor, another where the bed was floating and some had themes such as ‘the barn’. Each room also had its own music system installed, our room was called ‘therapy’ and our music was composed accordingly with forest, beach and other soothing recordings.
The next morning we casually rolled out of bed and headed for our meeting point to catch our lift back to Hamburg. We arrived in Hamburg and delightedly walked back to the circus without stepping on one piece of ice of snow – the first time in over 2 months. Quite a different reality compared to the story of ‘here in Hamburg we only have about 2 days of snow each year, and it turns to slush about as quickly as it falls...’
With the drier conditions we were out to chip a 2-inch thick, 50 metre long strip of ice off the footpath bordering the circus property. It took 5 of us about 2.5 hours to clear the way with shovels. The next day we were feeling very tender in our muscles that worked to chip that ice, and for me, that was basically my whole upper body! The day after that... it snowed again. And not just snowed for 20 minutes, but for the whole night and we awoke to find snow piled up as high as the middle of my shin! It’s fair to say that we were not impressed. Even less impressed when the path we shovelled to our front door was flattened and recovered with snow thanks to the bob-cat attempting to clear a path for us.
That was about the 5th March. We’d started to get excited about our departure when the snow disappeared in Berlin. But after the 5th March I was pretty wary about getting my hopes too high again. The snow did, however, quickly disappear after that surprise dump and we were organising packages to send home and farewell drinks within ten days. It was a festive time to leave Hamburg, with school holidays the circus school was buzzing and there were many people to celebrate with us on our final evening. I painted a picture telling the story of our journey to the circus and then gave it to them as we said our goodbyes. I don’t know if the style was easy for them to understand, but I hope they come to appreciate it as time goes by.
The night of the 16th was our final night in the cosy home provided to us by Circus Mignon. We will always remember the generosity and hospitality of the crew we met there. The night was spent with delicious food, fun conversation and many brain teaser games to finish it off. I hope we see our German friends in Australia one day so we can show them a good time in our homeland as well. We went to bed both excited and sad; sad to be leaving the place we have been calling home for the last 7 months, but excited to get back on the bikes and continue the journey section of this adventure we are calling The Slow Way Home.

Some Apple Picking

2010-05-06T17:41:00.004+10:00

Two Aussies, 38 Polish and 1 German (the boss)
Living at the apple farm we didn’t initially realise how outnumbered we were, not only on our farm but seemingly in the entire region. We were introduced on the first day of work as ‘international guests’. We were placed in a group with what seemed to be the lazier ones of the workforce, but never working with any of the other groups we never discovered the work ethics of anyone else.
In the beginning there were a few women in our group, but after a few days, or maybe a week, all the days fused as one very quickly, the ladies were all bunched to form a separate group that worked in the packing shed, or on their own area of the orchard with Sebastian (the guy with the best English) as their driver.
We started at the south end of the farm picking ElStar – a smooth skinned pinkish coloured apple to which we became very attached, picking them for what felt like nearly our entire apple picking career.
Each day brought new instructions on what IS red and what IS NOT. Sometimes it became easier to differentiate the shades, and for a while I used the technique of watching what others were picking, but that quickly became troublesome because for some reason when we picked a vividly red apple, it in fact was NOT red, according to the Polish leader of our group who couldn’t really explain what colour red we actually needed to pick.
During the day our group of 10 was split into two smaller groups. Luckily for us, the people we found most offensive were in the other half of our group. One guy could actually make a whole sentence from 1 swear word, amazing. And even more astonishing was that the other members of our group looked up to him.
After a while we decided that there seemed to be little pattern in how / which apples were picked, so we just waited for the instructions and did what we were told. I didn’t realise it beforehand, but there is actually quite a lot of technique required to pick apples. There was a minimum size, you had to check for blemishes, make sure it was the correct shade of red and pick 2 or 3 in each hand, then place the good ones in the big crates; blemished ones in the smaller boxes. And all of that happened every few seconds for 10 working hours every day. There was an extra challenge for shorter workers, in that the crates for the apples were tall enough that, depending on the position of the tractor, we had to lean quite awkwardly in order to place our apples safely in the bottom of the crate.
We worked for around 40 days in Jork. The days started as long and sunny, but by mid October had turned quite cold and grey. Some mornings we were reaching through branches that still had ice on them. It was like picking ice blocks off the trees. Miraculously, the cold didn’t affect the Polish too much, not that we could understand what they were yelling at each other, but us Aussies were wondering whether our limbs were going to drop off! I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that they’ve grown up with snow and ice in their backyards every year.
We finished the season at the start of November and at times we wondered if we would make it to the end. We probably learnt more Polish than German, and I’m very happy that I completed my time there without developing asthma. After all, I think there were some workers I barely saw without a cigarette hanging from their mouth. Sometimes I was completely surrounded by smoke and had to evacuate to the end of the tractor in order to breathe some fresh air.
The night before our last working day, the boss provided some tasty food and drinks for the whole crew to sit and enjoy together. It was the first time I’d seen some of the people without hats or beanies and found it quite tricky to identify a few of them.
The last day of work was complete at midday and it culminated with everyone converging on the same group of trees to be picked of their last apples. With everything picked, the crew of 38 Polish and 2 Aussies rode on the tractor trailers back to the shed one last time. We bumped and bounced along the track together, as we had done every morning, lunch time and evening during the last one and a half months.
The following day many of the Polish had returned to their homeland and the busy atmosphere that had surrounded the farm the previous day all of a sudden become much more relaxed. We spent the next 2 weeks unwinding, searching for a new job and contemplating how we would move to a new place after somehow acquiring a few extra belongings since settling in a couple of months ago.

Also, you might notice that the last couple of blogs have been lacking in photos. This is due to a technical issue of a buggered camera card, and will hopefully be fixed when we get home. Sorry about that.

Deutschland

2010-05-05T17:44:00.002+10:00

Day 1 in Germany and it didn't rain! Even with predicted thunder storms for the day, it was warm and mostly sunny. Maybe now that we are out of the Viking lands the weather will improve instantly and we will be able to enjoy some late summer sun.
About 2km north of camp was the town of Aventoft, where we both made an early morning dash to the toilet. After packing camp we then headed back through Aventoft which annoyed Nadia that she had ridden 4km for nothing. So the morning session was spent riding along very quietly. Picking up the North Sea Cycle Route again (the 4^th country) we skipped Niebull, making our first stop the town of Dagebull, back on the coast again, and following the same dyke from Denmark.
Riding along the dyke we had to constantly stop to open gates, as the whole dyke in this area doubled as sheep paddocks. Going through 1 of these gates I dropped my bike, which darkened the mood. To top it off I soon after realised that the lens of my camera was buggered, with something in the movement mechanism broken after the camera took a short fall the day before. There was amusement during the ride as we came across people enclosures - small paddocks for people within the sheep paddocks. These people paddocks were so that holiday makers could relax on a patch of sheep shit free grass. And popular they were, with many people in each paddock. It was also refreshing to see that Germany is a country that is not shy of the human body, with many of the paddock users opting to swim and sunbake without the hindrance of clothing.
Onwards, and the dyke brought us onto Nordstrand; a sizable peninsular with roads all over it, but only 1 road onto it. We were looking for fuel for the stove but found no servo. So then we were looking for a supermarket; we found 1 but it was closed. With the day going from strength to strength we took the easy option and hit a restaurant for dinner. Nadia opted for an authentic schnitzel, while I chose blindly and ended up with some cold pork with 2cm of cold fat attached, the whole lot having been marinated in vinegar and tasting pretty foul. Luckily there was lots of spuds aswell.
The night was spent beside the road, under the cover of an info shelter telling tourists about Nordstrand. For desert I drank from the $10 bottle of apple schnapps that we had bought earlier in the day and mulled on some contemplation whilst watching the setting sun light the clouds over Nordstrand.
Our second full day in Germany again gave us a rain free day. After waking for the sunrise I dozed until 7.00. We were on the road by 8.25 and arrived in Husem right on 9.00. In Husem we found nothing open, with the 'Sunday rest day' attitude extending from Scandinavia into Germany. So we kept on moving, with nothing to keep us in town. Right on 11.00 we came into the outskirts of Tonning and to our excitement we found the ALDI supermarket was just opening for its limited Sunday trading hours. We happily stocked up on lollies, muesli bars, fruit and flavoured milk, and the whole lot only cost €8 – an absolute bargain compared to Scandinavia. The 500ml of chocky milk was only €0.35, which is like getting a BIG M for $0.70!
It took us a while to find our way out of Tonning and somehow we ended up on a 'Hauptverbindungsstrasse' which translates into 'important main road'. On these important main roads there is lots of traffic moving at high velocity, and bugger all room for 2 confused cyclists. We had no option but to ride hard and get off at the next exit. Once down the exit ramp and onto a normal street again we found a fella waving us down. Apparently he had seen us riding on the road, so had made a u-turn, came back, found that we had already made it to the exit, so u-turned again and found us at the bottom of the exit. He had done all of this just to tell us that bicycles weren't allowed on the Hauptverbindungsstrasse, which we had figured out also. He told us that it was very dangerous and cyclists had been killed on that stretch of road in the past. After this he introduced himself and gave us his business card. He was local, so gave us some good directions, and disappointedly told us that he would like to make dinner for us, but his girlfriend's father was visiting. He told us to call him if we needed anything and sent us on our way.
Our new path was much more relaxed, and on this path we cruised into the town of Heide for some lunch on a shaded park bench. From a servo we bought a road map and struck out for the town of Albersdorf which was surrounded by forest on our map. In Albersdorf we made a phonecall to Winfred, one of the German fellas we met in Denmark, and the giver of the 3kg mapbook. I organised for us to stay with him the following night, and then we went to find ourselves a campsite for the night.
Technically it's illegal to 'wildcamp' in Germany, as we had done the previous 2 nights and were planning to do again this night. We found some walking tracks through the forest just out of town and set up the tent off to the side of the path. Shortly after that the heat died down and we found the path to be well used by locals and their dogs. Two ladies came by and stopped to say 'hallo'. They were happy to find out we were Australian, and even happier to find out we only planned to camp there for 1 night. Satisfied we weren't bums, they happily went on their way. Shortly after this another lady stopped when she spotted us to say hallo. She informed us that it was illegal to camp in the woods and that maybe someone would get angry. We told her we already knew this, but we were only here for 1 night and we would risk being told to move on if any angry German found us. She gave us directions to her house and said that if anybody told us to move on we could go and camp in her front yard, then gave us a friendly wave and went on her way.
Just before sunset we were just finishing cleaning our dinner dishes when a young lass came towards us from the direction of town. She came to us and said that her mother had talked to us earlier, and that she had been sent to bring us a bag of goodies, which included some juice, some chocky bikkies and some sparkling (bubbly) water which the Germans love.
So on our second day in Germany we had already met several very friendly people who did, or were prepared to go out of their way to help us complete strangers, and this impressed me a lot. The general view of Australians is that we are very friendly people that are happy to help, but I can't imagine too many Australians prepared to double back in their car to help a cyclist, or even many who would be very happy to find someone camping in their woods.
On the 24^th of August we were the furthest inland we had been, probably since Scotland. Even being this far inland we were still blessed with a headwind, which was rather disappointing. We came across some hills that were the biggest since the start of Sweden, but still nothing compared to Norway. The sunny day certainly made up for any wind and hills though, with t-shirts the optimal wear for the day.
All day we were heading in a roughly southeast direction, with rolling visits to Hademarschen, Schenefeld and Itzehoe. The day was so nice that on the way out of Itzehoe we even stopped for an icecream. We skirted the town of Elmshorn and then came into the outer suburbs of Hamburg, Germany's second biggest city. We found our way to Rellingen and to the house of Winfred and Monica. We stopped to buy a bottle of wine and still arrived half an hour earlier than we had organised, so the only person home was Monica's brother. He was struggling with small talk, and with most other things linked with his mental faculty, so it was a very quiet and strange half hour before our hosts arrived home.
The evening was spent freshening up and relaxing, with a tasty bbq dinner on the back deck. We met the daughter and her boyfriend, then chatted until bedtime. Our bed was the motorhome out in the drive, which was spot on. We were invited to stay for a week and promised a tour of Hamburg the following day, so we that night we slept in comfort, knowing that we wouldn't be needing the tent again for a while.

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The Denmark Wrap

2010-04-09T17:47:00.000+10:00

I really liked Denmark. I thought the northwest of Denmark was beautiful, and very nice for outdoor activities. I liked the bakeries in Denmark, and I liked the prices in Denmark (after coming from Sweden and Norway). I liked the Danes; they were friendly and could speak real good English. I liked the amount of wind turbines in the country, and the efforts this country had made in the direction of green energy and recycling. I like the Danish royal family more than any other, even though most Danes think that the Prince will make a pretty lousy king. But if king’s aren’t allowed to risk their lives and show their valour in war anymore, then why isn’t running a marathon the next best way to show your strength and stamina? Did Charles ever smash out a London Marathon? And if Gordon Ramsay can run a marathon, and still work hard at his business, then what are the royals actually doing with all their time and tax payers money?
I would love to cycle Denmark in the other direction. North to south didn’t work too well, with the wind always coming from the south. Maybe we were just unlucky, maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, or maybe I should have done some research first (and for the first time ever).
Anyway, in spending 9 days in Denmark, we achieved our highest daily average of 78.6km per day. We covered 629km, with 1 rest day in the middle. Of the 9 days we camped 8 nights, only needing to hide in a hostel on the last night when the sky was ripped asunder, and on 5 of the days we received rain.
Out of my short time in Denmark, I can see Australia able to take on the camping hut idea, and more paths and tracks along our sadly diminishing water ways which would make our beautiful country a bit more accessible to the outdoor lovers amongst us.
Anyway, that was Denmark. Now onto Germany...

Denmark in the Wrong Direction

2010-03-15T00:07:00.002+11:00

I awoke in our little camping hut on Wednesday, the 19^th of August as the sun was spilling over the horizon, lighting up another promising day. I took some photos without getting out of my sleeping bag and noted the westerly from the previous day still pushing enough to have the flags flittering atop their poles.
I drifted back off to sleep for an hour and a half, then rose full of energy for the day to come. I stepped out of the hut and was well and truly pissed off to find that the moderate westerly had been replaced by a roaring southerly. I checked the map and confirmed that our path for the entire day was in fact taking us directly south! For a whole bloody day of head wind fun.
Thinking back to our first full day in Denmark, I recall going past the hundreds of other cyclists on their organised tour, with their big smiles and fun and frivolity. I guess if the winds that were punishing us all of a sudden swung around to aid our endeavours, then I'd be pretty damn happy too.
The morning pack was taken slowly, as our German friends were bringing us their contact details and camping suggestions. There was nothing exceptional about the ride on this day; it was long, flat and straight, taking us past Nissum Fjord and Ringkobing Fjord, the last fjord we would see on our journey.
We stopped for bakery goodies at Sondervig and again at Hvide Sande, owing to the amount of energy we were using whilst heading into this ferocious wind. Nadia did most of the hard work of leading into the wind all day, as my right hammy was for some reason giving me a fair bit of grief. Maybe it was the extra 3 kilo's I now had to carry, thanks to 1 of our new German friends generously giving us his German road atlas, even though we protested that we already had enough gear to cart with us and we were still 2 days travel from Germany. On the plus side, now with the wind coming from the south, the temperature of the day was markedly higher than the previous days.
According to our map there was supposed to be quite a few camping huts around the Blabjerg area but we failed to find any, so for the first time in nearly a week the tent was erected. That night, beside a horse track through a pine forest I fell asleep to the sounds of the wind in the trees.

Right from the start the Thursday was going to be a hot one, and it became our hottest day of the
tour, reaching a whopping 31 degrees. It was also the end of our 3^rd month on the bikes. The wind had changed slightly, now blowing from the southeast, and as you would've guessed already, the coastline today changed from running due south, into more of a southeasterly direction. So once again we were slugging it out against a tireless foe.
For anyone who might be interested in cycling through Denmark, by all means give it a go, as its a beautiful country and well set up for riding. BUT - go from south to north, DO NOT go from north to south. Its just not as much fun. But I guess the bakery treats probably taste a bit better if you've sweated for them.
We travelled away from the coast to the town of Oksbol for our now necessary bakery treats. Once on the road from Oksbol we were again following the #1 bikepath all the way into Esbjerg.
Esbjerg is the biggest town we rode through whilst in Denmark, but it still wasn't big. We stopped for a while to wander the town, mainly in the search of Souvenirs, of which we didn't find many. Of course there were postcards of the royal family, but that's not my thing, sorry Mum.
With our souvenirs safely packed we made our way out of town and onto the dyke wall which runs from here all the way to Germany, owing to tidal flats and a tidal variation of about 10meters. We were already on the lookout for a hut for the night, but as with the night before, the huts marked on our map were playing funny buggers and we were unable to locate any. Because of this we were still riding in the late afternoon when I glanced over my right shoulder and saw a massive storm rolling in from the west with clouds a few hundred meters thick. So this was the result of a 30degree day in Denmark. We picked up our speed and looked to the nearest town, which happened to be Ribe, a little bit inland from where we were. For the first 5 minutes we were holding to the hope of outpacing the storm, but then like a bushfire it jumped the containment lines and bore down upon us.
The beauty of the situation for me overrode my sense of urgency and I stopped for a photo or 2, whilst for Nadia, her sense of survival kicked in and she was off down the road and around the next corner before I'd even snapped the first photo. By the time I caught up to her again the storm was nearly overhead and it would be just a few minutes more until the rain would be lashing our backs. As I came alongside Nadia a magical thing happened – we received our first tailwind in Denmark. Buoyed by this development we went flying down the road hooting and hollering, passing a local man outside his house also taking photos of this natural phenomenon. With the change of wind the little Aussie flag flying from the back of my bike also took flight, came loose and ended on the road. Nadia noticed and told me, but was scared that if I went back I would be eaten by the cloud. Feeling energetic I wheeled back to retrieve the flag. Once I was heading towards Ribe again I pushed my chain onto the high gears and had the R.P.M's going off the scale. I found Nadia asking for directions and we were shown a short cut that had us winding past farm houses and scared cows. The rain caught us with 2 kilometres still to go, but with light covering from the roadside trees, and the full brunt of the storm not yet with us, we made it into town and found the hostel before getting drenched. Over the last half hour on a flat road we had averaged 32km/h.
We were lucky to arrive only 10 minutes before reception closed for the night, and even luckier that one of the bookings hadn't arrived. That meant that in the completely booked out hostel we got a room reallocated for us and were able to drag ourselves and our gear in for a night of peace. There was a massive school group taking up the rest of the hostel, so instead of trying to squeeze into the kitchen, we treated ourselves to pizza.
The receptionist was checking the weather on the internet and told us of the predicted 30mm of rain. Glad to be inside, I showered and shaved, going to bed feeling fresh, but knowing I had to put my dirty clothes on again in the morning.

The 21^st of August was the start of our 3^rd month of adventuring, and would end our Scandinavian sojourn. The day presented us with a lighter westerly wind, and a few sunny patches along the way. We spent the morning in Ribe, with interneting at the library, and an hour at the Viking museum where Nadia found a beautiful silver necklace depicting the front of a Viking ship, and I finally found a sticker of the Denmark flag to stick to my bike, joining the flags of all the countries we have ridden through.
Ribe is a pretty town, and the oldest in Denmark we learnt. I'm not a fan of towns, but I did like Ribe, with its cobbled streets and houses askew. We also learnt that the European wasp enjoys the Danish bakeries as much as we do, with several dozen wasps scaring a few potential customers away from our chosen bakery. We weren't frightened so easily, and bit carefully around the wasps who reciprocated by not biting us.
Further down the road we passed through Skaerbaek and Bredebro, but didn't stop until Tonder which would be our last town in Denmark. Our main aim in Tonder was to use up our remaining Danish Kroner. I spent 9kroner on a stamp for a postcard to Mum, which left us with 50 to spend somehow. We came across the idea of going to a bakery, and with the help of the bakery girl we managed to spend the entire 50kroner, which left us with only 1 of each coin to add to our growing collection of souvenir moneys. Once into Germany we would be in the land of the €EURO, meaning we wouldn't have to go through the exchange process for a long time.
We crossed into Germany 3km further on from Tonder and found that one of our numerous maps showed a wooded area with picnic table not far to our west, so that's where we went and that became home for our first night in Germany, the 5^th country on our slow way home.

Camping Huts and Early Starts

2010-03-14T01:34:00.000+11:00

The Kingdom of Denmark (including Greenland and the Faroe Islands) has a reasonable land area of 2,220,093 km², with only 2.5 people per square kilometre. But Denmark proper is only a measly 43,094 km², making it about 5 times smaller than the state of Victoria. The population of the country is just over 5 and a half million people, which is about half a million more than the total population of Victoria. It is an old country with a surviving royal family. Apart from this it's a pretty nice place to travel through and apparently a very nice place to live. According to a few surveys, Denmark is 'the happiest place in the world', the second most peaceful country in the world (behind New Zealand) and it has the best business climate in the world. With my socio-demographical surveying background, I am led to believe that it all started going right for Denmark after the prince went and snagged himself a Tasmanian barmaid. I mean, who wouldn't be happy knowing your future queen delivers a quality head, atop your Carlsberg beer.

The benefits of the camping huts were on full show on the morning of August 17. With no tent to pack and no wet gear, the time of departure was 8.50am, which would have to be some sort of a record for us.
With this early start we had already ridden about 45km by midday, taking us past the 3,000 km mark of our tour. By comparison, if we had of ridden this distance up the east coast of Australia, leaving from Melbourne and sticking to the major highways, we would have just about reached Cairns.
The riding during this first session of the day took us back to the coast, then alternatingly following dirt tracks through pine plantations, open road stints and the occasional grass path through farmland. By 2.00pm we had already pumped out 75km and rolled into the town of Hanstholm where we decimated the bakeries display shelves, and made quite a dint in their reserve danishes also.
After lunch the coast changed direction. From our last camp to Hanstholm we had been travelling fairly westward, but after Hanstholm the coast drops and follows a very slow arc to the south, eventually heading straight south. Whilst heading westward for nearly 5 hours on this morning we had encountered a head wind coming from around every tree, at the end of every corn field and coming into and out of every corner and every twist in the road. After Hanstholm I was looking forward to a reprieve from this constant onslaught. You can imagine how disappointed I was to learn that the wind had also decided on a change and was now happily blowing its tits off from a south/southwesterly direction.
We followed the road out of Hanstholm, having no official bike path to follow. The road ran the border between the beach on the right and the low, grassy sand dunes on the left. Amongst the dunes were concrete bunkers and gun turrets, remnants from WW2; the German's having advanced to this northerly position in April, 1940. Today the bunkers serve as a good road side photo stop for tourists and something for the kids to climb on, to expend their excess energy.
The road followed this straight stretch of coast until arriving at the town of Klitmoller. There wasn't anything of note in Klitmoller; I just mentioned it as it sounds rather funny. From Klitmoller we followed back roads through forested areas whilst hunting for a campground marked on our maps. We eventually found the campsite, and also found it to be full of a school group consisting of 20 children who couldn't take their eyes off us. There was 1 free hut which we considered making home for the night, but before we unloaded we noticed that even the teachers were staring at us with the same blank look that the children were employing. Fearing a night time zombie attack we turned our bikes and casually walked back out the road, whence we jumped aboard and got out of there quick-smart. Our map showed another campsite not too much further down the coast, so this was where we headed. As we came back to the main road we reached the 100km mark for the day, and as a reward, the wind decided to ease up for the last half hour of riding. We had some trouble finding this camp, but eventually Nadia spotted the little sign we were looking for, and we followed a path into the woods where we were presented with an empty campsite. This was the most 'primitive' of the campsites we used in Denmark. Primitive only in the fact that it didn't come with running water, it still had huts, a toilet, fireplace and firewood. But of course, in classic Burke & Wills style, we had arrived at camp with our water bladders empty and our only water being what we had left in our bike bottles, wrongly presuming that this camp would have water like the last few. So dinner this night was cooked in a new style of 'minimal water' and it came out very nice indeed.

This area of Denmark contains the biggest hills of the country, with the biggest hills splitting the sky with staggering peaks reaching 170m above sea level. So this days riding took it out of us and we only managed 81km for the day. But then again, when the length of the country from north to south is only 368km, it is a fair trip. An amazing figure is that no place in Denmark is more than 52km from the coast! With the hills we found this day we broke our speed record for Denmark, breaking into the 40's, very exciting stuff.
With our southerly path for the day we also had our nicest day of wind for our whole stay in Denmark. Today the wind was only mostly in our faces, instead of entirely. The day before I had been told that there was a high pressure system sitting above us and for the next few days we had been promised good weather. So accordingly, it didn't start raining until 9.15 on this morning, just after we had started riding for the day. We got out of the pine forest and had clear views out to the north sea where we could see a few patches of rain about the sky. There was 1 big rain heading our way so we legged it to the south and got ourselves away from that cloud.
The town of Agger gave us the chance to refill our water bladders and bottles. The unmanned tourist booth also provided us with pamphlets of the surrounding area. Not only is this area of Denmark the hilliest, but its also full of saltwater lakes and fjords. Just south of Agger we had to hop on a ferry for a short ride across to the next peninsular at Thyboron, and from here the road followed the coast very closely. The furthest we would get from the coast over the next 2 days was about 2 kilometres, over a journey of 200km.
After our now ritual danish pig-out at lunch we had a nice relaxing bikepath all afternoon to take us through or past the towns of Harboron, Vrist, Strande, Ferring and Bovbjerg. The bikepath took us on a winding way through sanddunes and farmland, where the corn was just coming into season. Baby corn straight off the plant gave us a juicy snack whilst on the bikes, and helped fill our cooking pot for the next few nights.
It was thanks to the Fjaltring Y.H.A that we found our next camp; it was another free shelter, this time right on the beach. There were other holiday makers with us tonight – 2 German couples, each in their campervans. With another evening of not needeing the tent we strolled along the beach and looked for amber, which can be found along the coast. I found a few pieces of something that sort of resembled amber, so that was good enough for us and we headed back to camp to find 1 of the German couples filling the air around the camp with hearty aromas coming from their German style grill. We got chatting and found them to be very friendly folk from the town of Hamburg, in northern Germany. Later we were also joined by the other couple, who also turned out to be from the Hamburg region, so friends were created and promises made to visit Hamburg on our way through Germany. Just before bed one of the men returned to us with a bottle of schnapps, which we happily drank from as we said goodbye to another memorable day on our travels.

The Home of The Danish

2010-03-11T22:35:00.000+11:00

The morning Nadia and I caught the ferry to Denmark was an early start. We were up at 6.00 to breakfast and pack, having to step through fresh puddles after an overnight deluge. Whilst waiting for the ferry we were joined by 4 other bike tourers heading in the same direction. The ferry ride was super smooth, with departure and arrival correct to the minute, which is pretty good for an international trip. On the ferry we got ourselves a window table and settled in with our books. We made ourselves some sandwiches and got told off by a worker, as apparently we were sitting in his bar and were meant to buy our lunch from him. We said o.k. and kept eating and he moved along happy with his handling of a potentially fun situation.

Off the boat and I was into another new country, my 4^th of the tour, but with no stamp in the passport, it's only my photos that prove I was there. Nadia was back for her second visit of Denmark, being here a fortnight before to catch up with an old uni mate. We had arrived in the port town of Frederikshaven, a small town on the east coast of the larger part of Denmark that actually attaches to mainland Europe. The capitol of Denmark, Copenhagen is on an island to the south east of here, connected to both this land mass, and to Sweden by bridges.
Denmark still uses it own currency so once again a stop had to be made to cash ourselves up, this time filling our pockets with Denmark Kroner, which were going for about 4.9 Kroner to 1 Aussie dollar.
Once we left the tourist bureau we headed north and found our bike path that would take us to the most northern tip of Denmark, only about 50km from here. Denmark really is a flat country which should have made the riding nice and cruisy, except for a fairly strong head wind that stayed with us all afternoon long. The bike path was great, very flat and smooth. It stayed close to the main road most of the way, but every now and then meandered further in to the pine and dunes that were surrounding us. The afternoon was sunny and other bike riders were enjoying the nature, with happy groups of people occupying most of the picnic tables we passed along the path. And why wouldn't the Danes be happy, knowing that their little country is in safe hands, with a beautiful young Australian lass to keep their future king in line, although by all accounts, a fairly easy task with his marathon running using up any of his excess testosterone.
We struck camp for the night in an area of grassy sand dunes surrounded by stunted, bent and wind beaten trees, a fairly ominous sign for the days to come. We made camp early, as we were close to the northern point, and with the afternoon sun we were able to dry our belongings off quite effectively. A barefoot stroll over the dunes brought us to the shore of the Kattegat where I skinny dipped with the jelly fish. On the way back through the dunes Nadia managed to nearly step on the only type of poisonous snake in Denmark, which would be a fairly ironic way to go for someone who leads tours in central Australia where there are just a few deadly snakes about.

My first full day in Denmark greeted us with clear sunny skies. The morning was spent at a casual pace, with our bike chains getting some T.L.C. Even still, we were away just after our usual starting time, which shows how much difference a warm sunny morning makes. Once on the road we ran north with the wind for the last few kilometres to Skagen, the most northerly town in Denmark. Now being as far north as we could go, that meant we then had our previously tail wind blowing hard into our faces. About 5 kilometres further on from Skagen is the visitors centre for the popular tourist attraction that is the north point of Denmark. We parked our bikes and got barefoot again for the walk to the end of the country, with the Skagerrak to the North West meeting with the Kattegat coming up from the South East. It is a very popular tourist spot, even offering a tractor ride along the beach from the visitor centre to the land's end for those tourists who have come so far, but can't be fucked walking the final 2 kilometres. After surviving the taxing walk and getting some photos of this memorable occasion we had a date with a Danish bakery. We charged back to a bakery in Skagen and I happily spent a long time choosing 2 danishes and a rum ball for dessert. It was all very nice, and pretty cheap. Nadia also had 2 danishes, and with this energy food in our bellies, we were away into the wicked wind.
We spent this day once again following beautifully made bike paths along the coast and across the country, with the trip from Skagen taking us along bike path #1. As we travelled on this day we had to not only fight the wind, but also weave our way through an onslaught of crazy, drunken, boisterous and extremely happy cyclists coming from the south. It was an organised ride, with lots of participants dressed in team uniforms, clown costumes and other fun things. One fella was so happy he was even showing his tackle to lucky passers-by and Nadia was lucky. I'm not sure if their happiness was due to Princess Mary, or that they hardly had to pedal, with a 60 knot tail wind doing all the hard work for them.
We made it to Hirtshals, where Nadia landed on her first arrival into Denmark a month ago. Here we stopped for supplies for the night, then continued on our merry way, finally pulling up stumps to the west of Hjorring, at a place marked on our map as Skallerup. Here we found what Nadia had discovered on her earlier trip; little wooden huts just for cyclists and hikers. They are spread out throughout the north of Denmark and are just small camping areas to the side of the roads, sometimes hard to find. There are 2 or 3 of these huts at each campsite and it seems to be a 'first in, best hut' situation. All the camps we used had long drop toilets and fire places, most had water and some even had a pile of firewood ready to be used. Whenever we were able to use these huts it made both our nights and mornings much easier, without needing to set up and pull down the tent and with space to keep all our gear dry. We found that we didn't need to unpack a lot of our gear.
The North West area of Denmark was awesome, with pine and oak forests covering large areas, with hiking and biking tracks running through the forests in all directions.
Late on this day the sky filled with low, grey sheet clouds that dropped the temperature by several degrees.

On the 15^th of August we didn't get to see the sun. It was overcast and cold all day, with rain on and off. And added to this we were pulverised by a relentless wind that changed directions to be against us all the way. By the end of the day we had managed to grind out 60km, which took us over 4 hours. During the morning we came across a beautiful old lighthouse that was being enveloped by a massive sand dune that was slowly marching inland, taking over not only the lighthouse, but also the scrub forest to the east. At the town of Lokken we once again raided the bakery and feasted on very big pastries and a few danishes just because we were in Denmark.
Once again we were able to follow bike path #1 for the day, but chose to ride on the roads for a while instead of a 20km stretch on the beach where we would have been blown backwards in the wind, and cried. At this beach I chatted to the lifeguards for a while, who were sitting warm and comfortable in their vehicle, and with no swimmers due to the weather, I felt right at home. The lifeguards told me that the summer before they had a guard from Australia at this beach. They also told me of the great pay rates for lifeguards in Denmark, which could possibly see me returning in the future to sit in a comfortable vehicle and do not much; I'm pretty good at it.
We rejoined the #1 path just south of Blokhus, and were very happy when the track started weaving through the pine forests, keeping us out of the main barrage of the wind. We found our camp empty and awesome with shelters like the night before, but better ones. There was even a little hut with a table and pot-belly stove. We grilled up some steaks above the fire and washed them down with some soup. With the smell of meat around the fire, I was motivated to go and lay a snare to catch a rabbit. After this I flaked in our shelter and put in a good book reading session.

After covering 200km over the last 3 days we decided to give our legs a rest, so a rest day was declared for the 16^th. On this day the rain continued to fall on and off and the wind to howl. I pottered about for the day, realigning my front racks and bull horns. Finding no rabbit in my trap, I wandered through the forest and stalked some deer for a while. When passing under a branch I was caught in the eye by a flinging twig and couldn't see much, so I made it back to camp where I slept for an hour. Nadia spent the day with her book and finished reading The Da Vinci Code just in time to get dinner on the go. After dinner I started reading my new book – The Pillars Of The Earth, and that brought another hard day in the life of Wally and Nadia to a close.

The Sweden Recap

2010-03-11T22:05:00.001+11:00

It seemed that we raced through Sweden. After 52 days and 1,573 kilometres around Norway, we only had a total of 13 days and 497 kilometres of cycling through Sweden, and a bit of travelling on trains.
Sweden was much more relaxing with rest stops in Slabraten, Stockholm and Goteborg. The riding we did was much easier than Norway, with our daily average rising to 62km. The weather was up and down, when it was good it was great, but when it rained it certainly rained, but thankfully most of our rest days were rain free, giving us good opportunity to explore, swim, relax and enjoy the sun.
Sweden was obviously very similar to Norway, and we were able, with a slight adjustment, to use our basic greetings and thankyous as we went. We found the same law with camping, and the same good recycling system in use. One thing that impressed me was the extent of cycling paths in and around Stockholm, and the amount of people using these paths was impressive. I imagine Melbourne could do the same thing, but that would cut into the budget of all the new highways and bypasses and million dollar tunnel proposals that the Victorian Government sees as a tax payers right and the way of the future.

What I saw of the country of Sweden was impressive, with so much water everywhere. We passed 2 fellas at one stage walking their canoe along the road, heading from 1 lake to the next, which would be another nice way to cross parts of the country. In our travels this time we didn't venture into northern Sweden at all, but from what I hear, its more wild than the area we saw. Maybe next time we might get up into the Arctic Circle and have a look at the 24hrs of daylight.

And a huge thanks to our new friends, the Wingren and the Turunen Familys for putting us up and putting meat back on our bones.

To Stockholm and Hooroo Jon

2010-03-11T21:38:00.000+11:00

On the Wednesday it was time to move on again. We fluffed about pretty effectively until midday, when Suzie woke her Dad up for the farewells and photos. We rode to Storfors to say goodbye to Eva at her work, then swung our bikes to the south east and followed a fairly main road to Karlskoga. We stopped for lunch along the way on the side of a lake under some trees.
Throughout the few days that we spent with our Swedish family the weather was very nice for riding – no rain, no wind and not too hot. Now we were riding again and the rain came to welcome us back, with the rain starting to fall as we arrived in Karlskoga. From Karlskoga we were heading east to the next big city of Orebro, but the only road between the 2 cities was the highway. So with the rain coming down and the prospect of balancing on the shoulder of the highway, we took the alternative option of catching a bus. This turned out to be a great move, as it saved us many kilometres of highway riding, which is never fun, and most of the way on the bus we could hardly see out the windows with the rain increasing to downpour proportions.
The Orebro library was a great place to get out of the rain when we arrived, and a very helpful worker helped me to find a road atlas of Sweden, and then let me copy off a few pages of our next day's destinations. After confusion on how to get out of town, we finally returned to some peaceful country roads, where we happily travelled along until we found a servo. Sweden doesn't stock the type of fuel needed to get our stove going, so we devised a system of hanging around the fuel pumps until someone used a pump. After they had paid and driven away we could get the last of the fuel out of the hose with the aid of gravity. After just a few hoses, this method gave us enough fuel to last a day or 2.
We finished the day by setting up camp on some high ground above a quiet road and cooked up a feast whilst the mozzies feasted on us.

After bringing up 2,500km on the 5^th we added another 90km on the Thursday with a long days ride to get to Vadsbro, where we were looking for a lake to camp beside. The day was perfect for riding, with fluffy, white clouds in a blue sunny sky. With the photocopies of the road atlas we were able to take the backroads, and had ourselves a delightful morning cruising along nicely compacted dirt roads. We rolled through the towns of Vingaker and Katrineholm, stopping for Jon to buy himself a new weatherproof jacket. This stop actually chewed up most of our day, as Jon was having more difficulty choosing his jacket than certain members of a certain sex.
As we were coming in to Vadsbro we could see a lake to the south of the village, but buggered if we could find it. We found we had gone right through the village and were on the road to the next town, before stopping at an intersection. A minute later the first car came and went through the intersection before stopping. The driver jumped out to offer some assistance and was able to tell me how to get to the lake, by going back into town, turning over the train line, up the long driveway, past the big red shed, around the locked gate and through the wheat field. Thankfully his instructions were correct, and thankfully I had listened well, as this lakeside camp, that we would never have found on our own, was brilliant. It was fighting for best campsite alongside the bothy on Hoy Island, but I think Hoy wins simply due to it being an ocean side camp. We were the only campers at this point of the lake, but during the long afternoon several locals came and went after a refreshing swim. We also had a good session of swimming and jumping off the platform. By the time we had properly set up it was dark, so we headed onto a rock outcrop above the lake and got a nice fire going to cook on. I got to bed on this day just before midnight very tired and very happy, knowing that to be a part of this journey was an experience that not many choose to do, but most regret later in life that they didn't do it, and here I am living it and loving it.

I was up and at'em early the following morning to try my luck with the local fish. After failing to entice any onto my hook I headed back up onto the rock where we dined the night before. Here I put myself through an hour of stretching in the warm morning sun before Jon dragged himself out of bed, with Nadia not far behind. The fire was re-kindled to scrub the dinner pots, then a stimulating brekky of muesli and yoghurt with a big handful of freshly picked blueberries.
The day was shaping up to mirror yesterday's sunshine, and we were all undecided as to whether we should pack up and move on. We had decided to catch a train to Stockholm the next day, so didn't have far to go to catch the train. Whist trying to decide we all somehow ended up in our bathers and down at the jumping platform, so any thoughts of packing camp were put on hold as we jumped and swam for a long time. When we were finishing up and drying in the sun a local fella arrived and told us he knew of another nice beach at another lake only 20km away. We figured that this would get us a bit closer to our planned train trip to the capital, and so in the shade of the trees we packed up camp and got on our way at 2pm.
This little ride of only 24km should have been easy and relaxing, riding along shady dirt roads, surrounded by lush patches of blueberries bursting with juice, but for some strange reason, tension was running very high during the trip. It didn't help that when we arrived at the beach we had been told about, we found it was more representative of an overgrown paddock leading down to a small sandy strip crowded with families and crying kids, complete with a no camping sign.
There wasn't any talk of looking for another option and we got stuck in with setting up camp. As with other high tension days, it melted away as soon as the bikes were dropped at the end of the day, and a relaxing evening was had around the fire talking of the end of our 3 person adventure. Our team of 3 was coming to an end when we reached Stockholm, as from there Jon was heading off into his own sunset, just 1 man and his problematic bike, like a cowboy on a lame, mangy, sun-blighted donkey with a penchant for tequila.

Our last day on the bikes together gave us another great day of weather, with the light wind dying off by midday. Nadia was packed and on the road while Jon and I were still finishing up. We hit the road and cruised along, not catching up to Nadia until we reached the town of Sparreholm, from where we were going to catch the train to Stockholm. Before Jon and I arrived Nadia had made the interesting discovery that Sparreholm doesn't actually have a train station. This led us to the bus station where we found a glaring emission in the midday bus department, bringing us to our 3 way option of whether to: 1) wait for a few hours for a slow bus that might not be able to fit all 3 bikes, or 2) ride east towards Stockholm and to the train station at Gnesta, the next big town in that direction, but taking a long time to ride, or 3) to ride west to the town of Flen, the closest big town in any direction, but actually taking us away from Stockholm. I think it was mostly due to my charismatic smile that we ended up on the third option, going to Flen and away from our destination. The other 2 didn't seem to agree that going away from Stockholm was going to get us there quicker, and if it didn't work, I think this would have been not only the end of the 3 person team, but I might have found myself all on my lonesome.
Nadia didn't want to be late to get to Stockholm for our meeting with Suzie and her boyfriend, so she rode like a demon and pulled us into Flen where we quickly found the joint train station/tourist info. Here we got told that the next train wasn't coming for another 2 hours, until we realised that the 12.00 train hadn't arrived and it was now 12.01 so we bolted out the door and raced to the track to see the train pulling in, but the boom gates were down and we needed to be on the other side of the platform. But they do say that providence moves for those with charismatic smiles, and for some magically unknown reason the train pulled up well short of the boom gates and slowly the gate raised, leaving us sprinting down the platform to the train master standing at the far end of the train and he turned out to be a good bloke and after telling us the price and telling us to hurry the hell up he opened a door and we jammed all bikes and bodies onboard, with some drops of sweat telling of our relief.
The trip was saved, and just 55 minutes later we were unloading in Stockholm Central Station, the second national capitol of our tour (3^rd for Nadia who visited Copenhagen). Jon took over the lead and had us weaving through the streets to the hostel he stayed in a month ago. He was looking for his towel that he left behind and they also had some very good city cycle path maps that got us from city centre all the way out to Suzie's apartment along very nice and very busy bike paths.
Stockholm is built on many small islands, so we were riding over bridges, along waterways and beside lakes where half the population were sprawled out on the grass and sand, soaking up the summer sum.
It took us less than an hour to arrive at Suzie's flat, where we were introduced to her boyfriend Johan. After all 3 of us were showered we wandered the area and ended up at a Thai restaurant for dinner and a cold beer. That night we nibbled on cheese, sipped on red and chatted away whilst looking through many amazing photos from Africa and our travels.

The sights and sounds of Stockholm were sampled and savoured the following day with Suzie and Johan performing admirably as our tour guides. They showed us through the old town, the free bits of the royal palace and a massive old church, Johan took us to a bookshop where we all bought some new reading material, icecreams were enjoyed and shopping was done for other bits and pieces, namely a big memory stick for all our photos.
That night a beautiful dinner and desert brought our tour with Jon to an end. I'd had some amazing times travelling with Jon over the last 40 days, but I was also very excited to be back on the road with just Nadia and me, as the tempo changes and it's much easier to make group decisions with only 2 people. From here Jon was planning a week on Gotland, a small island with good nature. After that he would catch up with a friend in the Swedish town of Jonkoping, and then he was roughly planning to head into Eastern Europe and make his way to Turkey. He was still chasing hills, cheaper prices and friendlier people.
We had done the hills for now, and now for us our journey was to Denmark, a nice, flat country with bakery treats on every corner. To get from Stockholm to Denmark we rode back to the central station and caught a train to Goteborg, Sweden's second largest city where we arrived in the middle of the culture festival, which was pretty cool with lots to see. Here we had 2 days to wander about before we caught a ferry to Frederikshaven in Denmark.

August and Wally Hits A Ton

2010-03-03T20:08:00.000+11:00

The first day of August gave us splendid weather with thick clouds all around the horizon, but clear sunny skies above. We knew we had a big day of riding today, as we had been texted by Nadia's friend Suzy and she had requested that we arrive tonight or early tomorrow. It was still about 150km to her parents, so a big day indeed. But even knowing this we still didn't get out of camp until after 11.00, as Jon decided to pick a few more blueberries. The wind was up and down all day, mostly in to our faces, as today we were heading south east towards the town of Grums, before turning east. Once turned to the east we were on the E18 road, which is the main road connecting Oslo to Stockholm. Along this stretch of road we tucked into single file and hammered along as the traffic whizzed past. Bike paths eventually appeared on the side of the road, so we were able to slow down a bit, but we still arrived in the main city of Karlstad early in the afternoon. Karlstad was a decent sized city located on the northern shores of a lake I think is called Vanern. For us the main point of interest was the library where we picked up a few new maps and souvenirs. For Jon, his main interest was once again based around his bung back wheel. To try and find a good bike shop here, he and I backtracked 10km to a big shopping complex, where we found all the bike shops already closed for the day.
Jon was fairly certain that his bike was going to break if he went much further so he made the decision to stay in Karlstad for the night, whilst Nadia and I pushed on to cut the distance we had to cover tomorrow morning.
We seemed to cover the kilometres very quickly this late afternoon, and arriving in Skattkarr we treated ourselves to a pizza dinner at a little Italian restaurant. We were able to watch TV, and saw the Aussie ladies swim team take out second place in the 4X100 medley relay at the World Champs, which was very nice. Another reason for eating out was that we wanted to keep riding a bit further and didn't want to worry about cooking and dishes, and so we were back on the road in no time flat. Leaving the suburbs of Karlstad far behind, we had bikepaths for a while, and when they disappeared we took back roads to the side of the highway, only reammerging at the small towns of Vase and Olme, before we headed bush on a short cut attempt towards Storfors. The sun was going down as we decided to take a dirt road pointing in the right direction. It turned out to be the road we were actually looking for, which meant we knew we only had about 30km to do the next day. By this stage we were very keen for a nice, flat, soft place to put the tent on, and checking the bike computer showed 117km of travel for the day. The forest was hugging the road very tightly and it took a few kilometres to find a seldom used dirt track heading away from the road, so that became bed for the night, and this day became the first day I had ridden over 100km, finally dropping the bike at 120 kilometres. The campsite turned out to be 'the' place to be for Swedish ants, and they came out in their thousands to tickle our feet.

In the morning we packed camp and got moving without brekkie, as the ants were still running riot, and we knew we didn't have far to travel until we arrived at a house offering food, hot showers and a few days off our bikes. Our ride on this morning was straight forward – after joining the main road heading north to Storfors, we rode for a bit over an hour before seeing the signs we were looking for. We passed a bus stop named Slabraten, and in accordance with the directions given to us by Nadia's friend Suzie, we took the first dirt road to the left. After 10 minutes of being lost we got directions that had us back on the main road just as the family we were looking for drove past, apparently looking for us too. They quickly pulled to the side and the Suzie's brother ran back to make sure we were the right set of lost Australian tourists. We were only about 200mtrs away from their house, so a few minutes later we pushed our bikes into their garage and met our hosts of the next few days. Our Swedish parents were Eva and Pentti. Unfortunately we didn't get to see too much of Pentti, as he slept through the days after night working.
As I mentioned in the last blog, Nadia and Suzie met whilst they were both working in South Africa. They only met each other a few times, and hadn't seen each other since then, but thankfully had kept in touch. So here we were meeting Suzie's family in the middle of Sweden, and Suzie herself wasn't arriving from Stockholm until the next day. They did the right thing and put food in front of us and showed us the washing machine.
Once refreshed we found out Jon was on his way from Karlstad, after having no luck with his bike repairs. He arrived just as lunch was served (bbq turkey and corn cobs), and then shortly after lunch we jumped into a car with Eva to head back to Karlstad, where we were appearing as surprise guests at a 60^th birthday party, being the birthday of Eva's Mum.
After eating my fill at the bbq lunch I was now presented with a seat at a long trestle table that must have been struggling to remain on its legs with the mountain of food on top of it. I was staring at a smorgasbord of little lobster things and bread and cheese and softdrink and then dessert was huge stacks of pancakes topped with walnuts, and chocolate mousse. I stuffed myself silly and had a very good time meeting lots of Suzie's relatives, before Eva took us for a walk along the northern bank of Lake Vanern to aid our digestion.

The next 2 days were spent relaxing in a very nice style, with Eva looking after us way too much. The food kept coming too, and I'm sure we must have emptied the fridge a few times over. Pentti does a spot of moose hunting during the hunting season, so we got excited and set the alarm to wake us at 6.00am. All 3 of us headed out in the morning and found lots of blueberries, but no moose. Disappointing as this was, we were cheered up with a sauna later that evening.
Suzie finally arrived and spent a beautiful day showing us around the country that she grew up in. We saw her old school (also attended by the prince of Sweden), a nice church, a lake and lock and finished up at her Mum's work. We had gone a full hour or so without eating so Pentti took a salmon he had caught out of the freezer and delighted us with a demonstration of his home made smoker. The fish became our early dinner and tasted absolutely delicious. One of Suzie's old friends was also home for the weekend, so we went to visit her after dinner. We met her on the deck of her lakeside shack where she had freshly made blueberry pie and wine waiting for us. A very nice evening indeed that ended in a very enthusiastic moose hunt. I think that the moose were pretty safe.

Into Sverige

2010-02-21T22:58:00.000+11:00

Sweden is a long, skinny country that borders Norway for a long bloody way, along the Scandinavian mountain range. It's 3 times longer from north to south as it is from east to west. It was the first European country to introduce national parks, and has some very nice forest area and really nice lakes. Their most famous band would have to be The Hives and definitely not ABBA. Most Swedes will tell you that the population of Sweden is about 5 million, but I have seen it written as 9 million. I guess a lot left when ABBA started making that horrible noise, and maybe they have been slowly returning since Roxette took over.

The border between Sweden and Norway where we crossed sits on top of a small hill, showing those coming from Norway that the land ahead of them is a lot flatter than their own, and telling those coming from Sweden that they are now entering the land of the ridiculously steep mountains. Apparently this invisible line separating Sweden from Norway does nothing to change the weather.
Sverige, as the locals call it, promised many things for us. Firstly, it was the end of the mountains and the entry to the lakes. I will miss the mountains, but also I look forward to cruisier riding amongst forests and lakes. We also had dates with locals. Once again Nadia's previous travels have given her a contact in this part of the world. This time we would be visiting a friend that she made in South Africa a few years ago, a young lass by the name of Suzy. Suzy lives in Stockholm, right over in the east of Sweden which we would eventually get to, but her family lives about half way across, in the area of Storfors.

Firstly though, we had to get some maps of this all new country, with its all new language and money. The first town we came across was Tocksfors, which had a well stocked pamphlet section in the library where we were able to pick up some very nice free maps. Tocksfors was 6 km over the border, and as we rolled into town the sky opened good and proper. It absolutely bucketed down for the next 4 hours. The librarian told us of a shopping centre in town so we headed there for shelter and to waste some time waiting for the weather to ease up.
Although Tocksfors is a tiny little town, it is home to a massive shopping centre. The reason for this is the town's closeness to the Norwegian border. Sweden has a much happier purchase price on almost anything, and possibly everything. So Tocksfors is a big stopping and spending place for those heading to Norway. It took about 10 minutes to walk around the centre, and due to the weather it was busy. The shops in the centre were nothing to get excited about, containing the usual non-necessities. There was 1 shop that had on display a home penis moulding kit, which was pretty funny, but we couldn't fit it on our bikes. The only other shop of note was the biggest bloody lolly shop you will ever see. It was probably the biggest shop in the centre and had masses of big open bins full of loose lollies, and then shelves of boxes of chocolates and jubes and everything else stretching way up to the ceiling. The idea was that you pick up a bucket on the way in and just shovel all the lollies that you wanted into your own little bucket. And if you filled your bucket, no worries, as there were empty buckets everywhere. For us, we got a little bag of lollies, just for the novelty of it all.
We received many a stare after making our lunch on a bench seat in the middle of a walk way. Apparently we became the first visitors to not eat junk food in a shopping centre in all of Scandinavia judging by the looks we received. The prices were cheaper, but still not cheap enough for us to splurge.
After lunch was done and browsing was finished, it was still a long wait until the rain started to back off. We were running out of riding time so we went for it and managed to put another 20km behind us and leave the main road far behind. Our travelling theory was the same: take the backroads and camp in the wilds, and maybe if we were lucky we might get invited in by kind hearted locals. And one of the keys to the getting invited in thing was the getting lost thing. As it was our first night in a new country we figured we should see if it would work in Sweden, and it did. Hooraa! After finding that a few roads didn't appear on our map we were stopped at an intersection with not much about. There had been no rain now for about half an hour, and after a few minutes of map checking we looked up to see an old fellow walking up the sideroad towards us. He greeted us with an energetic sentence of gobbledigook before we were able to explain our situation. As we had found in Norway, his English was decent, and he was able to explain that he was visiting friends just down the road, so he didn't know the area, but his wife and local friend would be along in a minute. When Ulla, the local lady arrived there was confusion over the map, but then a deal was struck that we would accompany them back to the house where her husband Per would be able to help us. On the way to the house it started pissing down again, so we were told 'hop on your bikes and ride to the yellow house up ahead on the left. When you arrive just go in and tell my husband what is happening.' So that is what we did. We had parked our bikes in various out of the weather spots around the end of the house when a confused looking man came out. He took it all in his stride and had us strip our wet gear off and come in for a cuppa.
Once settled we were introduced to the daughter Elin, then they made us sit down for a coffee and completely relax whilst they put on the fire and filled the table with pie and chocolate and homemade pie and beer and homemade blueberry pie and coffee and sweetbread. It was more than we could have asked for and they kept giving willingly, happy to see us warm and happy and to hear of our travels. As it was still belting down outside we were invited to stay for the night, which we gratefully accepted. A little while later the rain stopped, so Per took us for a walk up the back track into the woods and told us of the area and his family's history in the area. It started to rain again whilst we were walking, so it was a quick turn around and back home for a bottle of wine and more chocolate. We were shown our rooms later and were very happy to see an actual bed, which was soft and amazing. During the night I woke and had to visit the toilet after all the amazing food, but I would do it all again.
The visit was topped off with a huge breakfast the next morning before they waved us off. Talking together later and pooling all the info, we had learned that Ulla's mother had died a month before, and Per was out of work. We were also told that this was officially the wettest summer in Sweden for 50 years. So, it was a shit summer all around, but still they took us in and treated us like life long friends. I am so pleased to have met these people, but nearly feel guilty for accepting so much hospitality during their tough times. I hope that our visit somehow lifted their spirits and gave them something to laugh about. And I hope I get to repay their hospitality somewhere down the line.
The only problem now was, at this had been our first night in Sweden, we had big expectations for the rest of the country.

An eye opening comment from our new friends as we were leaving was that one of the towns that we would come across later in the day (about the distance we would have made it if we hadn't been invited to stay the night) had been hit with a small cyclone overnight!
After our big traditional Swedish breakfast we finally got going at 11.30. For the first while we had a tailwind pushing us along on our north easterly path, passing through countryside made up of small farms with horses and sheep. It didn't take long for an hour to slip past with us gently riding along, chatting and watching the country roll by. After this hour we came to a stop to check the maps, with a bit of contention as to how far we had moved on the map. This was resolved with Jon turning right onto a dirt road that he believed would be a short cut to the next town, and with Nadia and I continuing on the sealed road that we knew would take us to the next town. We agreed to meet at Arvika for lunch and headed along our chosen roads. It would have only been 5 minutes later that Nadia and I arrived at a major intersection and knew exactly where we were, and exactly where Jon wasn't. I toyed with the idea of racing back to grab Jon, but he would've been having fun on his dirt road, so I left him to it. We made it to town and found some benches to sit and prepare our lunch. Jon arrived half an hour later, very happy with his adventure.
The supermarket in this town also became our shelter for an hour as the rain came down again, but thankfully this was to be the last of the rain for the next few days. We made the most of this dry afternoon by putting 74km on the clock for the day. Our campsite was planned for a little beach on the banks of a small lake. It was easy to find the lake but proved more difficult to find the beach, and the local holiday house owners were not very welcoming or helpful. But perseverance proved enough and we had a very relaxing night on our own little beach on the banks of the lake. That evening while Jon worked on cleaning his bike and Nadia picked some blueberries, I let the colourful sunset help ease my tired muscles.

The Norway Recap

2010-02-16T23:30:00.000+11:00

All in all at the end of our Norwegian odyssey, we had been in the country for 52 days, riding on 31 of them. We had covered a distance of 1,573km around the coast between Bergen in the west, to Oslo, down to Ski, and then across the western border into Sweden. We had averaged a daily distance of 51km on the days that we rode. Of our 52 days, we camped on 46 nights, and an impressive and beautiful statistic – it rained on 26 days, half our time in the country!

I had a great time in Norway, starting in the amazing Fjordland area around and to the south of Bergen. We then learned a bit of the Viking history in the Avaldsness region. The 2 weeks of waiting in Stavanger gave us our best weather and a good chance to recuperate, as well as checking out the area. The crazy hills around the Flekkefjord region quickly put us back into riding mode, and put Nadia into the doctors to receive her first stitches ever.
At Kristiansand I said goodbye to Nadia for a week of her own travels, leaving Jon and I to slog out the remainder of the ride along the North Sea, meeting a Winter Olympic skating champion along the way, picking untold kilos of veggies and berries, having everything drenched in the rain, spending a night in Helle, and having a great time.
We had a few days of riding up the western side of Oslo Fjord, managing to camp for free all the way even though we were approaching the capital city. When we reached Oslo we unloaded our bikes and gave everything a slightly overdue clean, before relaxing for a few days, with Nadia rejoining the party after her week in Denmark. The way from Oslo to the border was straight forward and we had the good fortune to meet Rune and receive his friendship and hospitality.

We learnt a lot, including enough basic greetings and politeness to get through most language difficulties. The level of English that the Norwegians have is very high, which makes it so easy to travel.
The worst thing about Norway is the cost of everything. It was depressing to see how much we were spending just for basic camping food. We picked a lot of berries, found a few vegetables and even caught a few fish, which helped us to save a bit of money. Chocolate was left off the shopping list due to the extortionate cost, which was very unfortunate, as we love chocolate, and it's good for energy.

I think Norway had some very nice ideas that Australia could implement. The free camping was great, and fairly simple – not within 150 meters of a house. Norway has houses all over the place, but we still managed to 'wild camp' every night. The second part of the law – that you are not allowed to stay more than 2 nights – is also fine. I'm sure in Australia, with its wide open spaces, and all its outdoors loving residents, could allow this.
Another cool thing was the bottle and can recycling system. It was country wide, it was in just about every supermarket, it was a machine, it only took a few minutes, it was a damn good reason to keep your cans and bottles, and it was so bloody easy! Why the hell do we need to drive all the way to South Australia just to claim a refund for recycling? An easy to fix problem – whack a 25cent tax on all bottles and cans that are sold, and make it a 25cent refund for whoever takes the empty bottle/can to the recycling machine in the supermarket. I'm pretty sure most Australians would be doing that just so they can 'stick it up the government'. And the only people who wouldn't recycle are the rich variety who don't want to lower themselves to recycling. And they don't need the money anyway, and then the poorer person who picks the bottle up and takes it back gets 25cents. Brilliant!
After my limited travelling around the world, and working with tourists for many years at home, I have already seen that Australia is a long way behind in recycling practices than a lot of other countries. Over here they even have a box in the supermarket to recycle your household batteries. What do we do with them in Australia?

The scenery along the way was simply stunning. The Fjords area would hold me spellbound for many a year, both on the mountains and in the fjords, preferably seen from a sea kayak. I guess I haven't gone into too much detail in the blog in terms of describing the nature we were amongst and the views we were treated to, but I'm sure I've crapped on enough already anyway. And of course the next part of this adventure is getting home, making some photo albums, and then answering all the questions that my friends have of all our adventures. So when you come around for a beer and a bbq, you'll hear a bit more about it all I'm sure.

Anyway, that's it for Norway. It was great, and I really would like to go back with a sea kayak or yacht in the future. I'll get the first Sweden blog entry up soon, but for now we still have a long way to go on this slow way home.

Oslo Fun And Norway’s Done

2010-02-10T21:59:00.000+11:00

The weekend was spent in Oslo, where we got everything clean, wandered the town, found a few bars, and generally relaxed. The Saturday night we hit the town and unfortunately just missed the last bus home, by about 3 hours. But as per usual, these situations often lead to random encounters with some funny folk of the night time.
We met a weird African home-boy at the bus stop where we were pretty sure a bus was coming in the next 10 minutes. Our new best friend though was convinced that there was a better bus stop just around the corner. After the 10 minute walk to the bus stop 'just around the corner' we found that the last bus here had been 3hrs ago. So we discovered our new best friend was full of shit, and were now resigned to the prospect of a 10km hike home at 3a.m, but even this wasn't truly horrible, as the rain had stopped and even at this hour there was enough light to see everything. So we left the bus stop with our home boy in tow. Along the way he explained to us how he is a pretty big deal in Oslo town, and tried to prove this by talking to all the passers-by that passed by. Thankfully when we hit the outskirts of town he decided we weren't fun and headed back to the party area.
We then got started with our big hike home. We were able to walk along the bike path following the main road all the way, which also gave us the chance to try our luck with hitch hiking. There wasn't a great deal of traffic when we started, but as the hours got closer to normal life, the cars started to increase. We had 2 cars stop for us. The first car was 2 fellas looking to start their own taxi empire, but scored no love from our empty wallets. The second fella that stopped was a very friendly and talkative man who was happy to give us a ride so he had someone to talk at. He was an ex something-or-other who had been kicked out of the country due to his political views. He was stoned and happy and told us his theory on the female body, but didn't want any of our chocolate muffins. Anyway, that got us home at about 6.30 in the morning.

When we woke later that day I had a message from Nadia, saying that she was catching a train from southern Sweden up to Oslo later that afternoon. So we cooked up some pancakes and headed back into town to meet Nadia at the station. It was a grand reunion that called for beers. But we only had 1, as I then had to ride with Nadia back out to the flat.

The Monday was spent in similar fashion – a sleep in, pancakes, and a trip into town. This trip was so I could get myself a necklace of Thor's hammer. I've become a fan of the Nordic legends whilst on this ride, and found a nice memento to hang around my neck. The next stop was at Dolly Dimples, a pizza restaurant that was offering all-you-can-eat lunches on Monday's only. A few hours later we crawled out of there with our bellies hanging on the ground.
Anders (the fella whose flat we're staying in) was due back in Oslo this day, so Jon went off to catch up with him, whilst Nadia and I finally found one of the bars we had been told about 3 days ago, and that was that.

The Tuesday was the return to riding, but not before we re-packed everything, cleaned the apartment, went for a swim at the local beach, and helped Anders to help the new tenant of his apartment move in. Jon had some things to do in town, so we left him there and got on the road.
We had only made it 18km and were studying our map at the side of a road when a car pulled over and the driver jumped out to find out if we were ok. His name was Rune, he's a local police officer, he had travelled in Australia in 2000 with his wife and they had loved it. Rune was a very positive fella who had been wanting to help lost tourists, and we were them! So he gave us directions to his house and then raced off to see his wife before she headed out to a Madonna concert in Oslo. Unfortunately she left just before we arrived, so we didn't get to meet her. We were first invited in for some energy drinks, but this soon turned into dinner and drinks, and then into bed and breakfast, you ripper! So while Rune cooked up a delicious pasta meal we relaxed on the couch with a beer and looked at photos and played with his 2 young sons. After the kids were put to bed Rune joined us with a bottle of red and told us of his adventures in Australia, and told us some colourful stories of policing in Oslo. He probably knew our home-boy friend.

So after 1 and a half months of cycling through Norway, we were finally invited in for dinner and a shower, and bed and brekky to boot. But just as the people of Norway started to open their doors to us, Norway came to a close. We began the next day with a traditional Norwegian breakfast of bread, bread rolls, 2 types of salami, 2 types of cheese (1 goat's cheese), tomato, paprika, cucumber, caviar, liver pate, some other spreads, and juice and tea for drinks. This feast was had while looking at more photos and discussing which roads we should ride along. By the time we started riding we had good directions for the day, and Rune had told us of a good campsite not too far away, and that's where we spent the night. We only had a 60km ride to get to the camp, so we took our time, collected some more bottles and cans off the side of the road and took full advantage of the taste testing on offer at the bakery and delicatessen sections of a supermarket we stopped at.
We arrived early and got stuck into some bike maintenance, while Jon arrived a few hours later after coming the extra 20km from Oslo. It was a nice day, but ended with another huge downpour.

Thursday the 30^th of July was our last day in Norway. It started with Norway giving us a cracker of a send off, by pissing down all morning. Our start was delayed until 11.30, waiting for the rain to at least ease up, if not stop. But no, so we got riding in the rain. The hope of hopes was that once we made it to Sweden the weather would improve, because surely it wouldn't be horrible weather in Sweden also. Surely the border ahead of us would be big and well manned and not allow this weather to be in 2 countries at once. When we made it to Sweden we were welcomed with a beautifully refreshing downpour, washing away all the rain of Norway. So much for that!
In total for the day, we managed 48km of riding, half in Norway, half in Sweden, the 3^rd country of our tour.

The Curse of Stavanger

2010-02-04T23:47:00.001+11:00

The Curse of Stavanger

I know we have long since departed the Norwegian city of Stavanger, but I also compiled a blog entry for the significant stopover town and never posted it, due mainly to laziness.

If you have forgotten, or not read the entire blog, Stavanger was a beautiful, small harbour city on the west coast of Norway where Wally and I met Jon Cope, a long time friend of Wally's, who joined us for a while in Scandinavia. Up until Stavanger we had felt rain on our skin every day (even though it was summer) since we left our origin town of Braemar in Scotland over 1 month earlier. It seemed like our luck was changing for the better when we rolled into Stavanger, at least with the weather.

We arrived a day before Jon in order to get jobs done and minimise the time we needed to stay in the city. We serviced our bikes and stocked up on a few different things that are unavailable in small towns, and when we met Jon at the airport he was under the impression that the bike should have also arrived, or would do, within a day or so. That belief was quickly crushed during a phone conversation to the shipping company who couldn't tell us where the bike was, or when it would be arriving in Norway.

This seemed to be a turning point for us. The bike did not arrive for 2 weeks, and within that time there seemed to be a lot of extra things going wrong than previously. Don't get me wrong, we enjoyed glorious weather with long daylight hours, but as far as possessions go (and we only have a limited amount that can travel with us on the bikes), it was quite a disastrous period in our journey.

The first event occurred on a beautiful day while the boys were off climbing a huge slab of rock above one of the fjords. I decided I would go and sit on a nice patch of grass next to the beautiful lake by the camping ground. I took my diary, my book, my music, the computer... yes, the computer, and that's where it all went wrong. I was just settling down on the grass, arranging my bag as a nice back rest when I heard a slight click, barely a crack. I thought it was just one of the buckles on my bag, or a couple of pens bashing each other, so I lay merrily in the non-burning sun and watched the ducks float past and people jogging, thinking I was the luckiest person in the world.

After not using the computer at all while I lay on the grass I was totally deflated when I opened the screen of our little netbook back at camp to see a crack stretching across a large part of the screen. I closed it and re-opened it hoping that it had been my imagination. Then I was convinced that I must be dreaming because I couldn't possibly have broken the screen, I've never broken anything like this before in my whole life, I had too many sisters watching me to be able to properly destroy anything. As I booted up the computer I felt horrible as the images flashed up with a nice black streak through them. The up-side was that you could still use the computer, and even though you couldn't see everything, you could scroll up or down to see what the crack obscured. As I talked to my sister on the internet I felt like screaming and crying at the same time. I was so mad at myself and even after observing the broken screen while I typed away, I still thought that maybe it was a dream and I would wake up soon. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

When the boys returned Wally was very nice, as I knew he would be, and that made me feel a little better. It did not make me feel better, though, in the following days when they would say 'I can't see the command, there seems to be a crack in the screen'.

I won't bother you with stories about all the mishaps, but there were many other minor things that occurred also. I will list a few of them. To begin with, when Jon went to find his book so he could read before bed, he realised he had left it on the plane. Then when he went to have a shower he realised he had also left his towel somewhere along the way. That was no problem because we had a spare towel that he could use. And use it he did, until he realised he was without it once we'd left Stavanger. He blamed the gypsies for bundling it up with their washing (for more information, read Wally's 'Stranded but sunshine' entry). I'm pretty sure we broke some of our cutlery, and we lost a friends saucepan. My tent managed to get a hole torn in it, the same night that it poured with rain and the tarp managed to trap the water under the tent rather than diverting it away. The last major incident that occurred, the day after the tent breakage, but the day before leaving Stavanger, was when my new watch broke! If you saw it you would say 'that's ok, it's just the strap', but no, my strap is special and isn't stocked in the stores. It needs ordering. Before we stopped riding I tried numerous types of superglue from numerous types of shops, without success (mainly because I couldn't find that stuff we have in Australia that has such strong fumes you can hardly watch whatever it is you're gluing, resulting in your fingers being INSTANTLY stuck together while you're panic stricken trying to figure out the safest way to separate them without ripping your skin off).

So out of all of our possessions that are worth anything, the only things (and most important things) that survived the curse of Stavanger, were the bikes. We rode away from Stavanger, happy to have been able to spend an extended time in such a beautiful city, and also happy that we left before our bikes crumpled into a heap.

We travelled for just under 2 more months after leaving Stavanger, and once we decided to live in northern Germany for the winter, we also decided to send our computer to the German repair facility for our particular brand. We thought this was a wise idea, Germans are so efficient and ... well, that was good enough for us. It soon became apparent that Germans are not so efficient, at least not the German branch of this global company. With an initial quote of just 1 to 2 weeks including postage both ways, we received our computer (with new crack-free screen) almost 2 months after sending it away.

So it seems the curse of Stavanger lingers with the items that suffer there. Still to this day (January 28, 2010) I am not wearing my beautiful 'new' watch. I think it has now been broken for more than half the time I have owned it. After deciding to stop riding during the winter, you would think I had time to order a new strap, months ago. But by the time we had a stable address, we basically worked every day of the week for the few months before Christmas. Now that I am unemployed AND stationary, more than 6 months later, I am very happy to say that a new band has been ordered, and, if the curse is willing to permit it, I should be wearing my 'new' watch again this week.

The Road to Oslo

2010-02-04T19:50:00.002+11:00

On Tuesday, the 21^st of July, we got out of Helle as quickly as we could. Well, 10.15 anyway. The morning was uneventful apart from the collection of a heap more cans and plastic bottles on the sides of the roads. Now we are pretty good people, and do our fair share of community service, and it does disappoint me to see the beautiful countryside de-beautified by passengers in cars throwing rubbish out their window, but there was also the reason of cash for cans.
After our good collecting this day we decided it was time to cash all our dockets in that you get for taking the empties back to the supermarkets. With all of the cans and bottles that we had been collecting over the last few days we got NOK$ 34 (about AUD$ 6), which isn't too bad for a few quick stops on the way.
We arrived at the town of Langesund to be told by a young tourist info worker on her school holidays that there wasn't a ferry leaving town anymore. This was disastrous news, as we had come a long way from the inland road to catch this ferry, and the last 10 minutes had all been downhill. But a hunch told me not to believe everything you get told by a young kid forced to work on their summer holidays, so we did some research of our own and found that the ferry was still running, had always been running, and would be arriving in an hour. So lunch was taken while waiting for the ferry across to Helgeroa.
The ferry, when it arrived, turned out to be a boat, and a very popular one at that. Luckily we had chosen a picnic table right in front of the boats final landing place, because we were instantly surrounded by 40 other people wanting to board. Luckily once again there were many other bikes, so the crew decided it would be best to get all the bikes and their owners on first. At this announcement, that we couldn't understand, there was movement all around us as 12 other bike owners tried to squeeze past us and around us and over us to make sure that they got a seat onboard. And third time lucky for us, a friendly old lady who had also been waiting there for a long time voiced her disapproval of all these people pushing and shoving and declared that Jono and I should be the first on, and so we were.
This ferry ride took us on a meandering path amongst quaint looking houses atop their very own little rocky islands, through narrow passageways between steeply overhanging rock faces where the local kids entertained by launching themselves into the water, and past rickety old boat sheds and piers with no other access than by water.
In the afternoon session we made our way across land to Larvik, then back to the coast at Ostby, stopping only to replenish our potato and onion supply. This night was spent at a beautiful grassy picnic area sandwiched between 2 long rocks laying parallel to each other. At the entry end of these rocks was a little boom gate designed to keep traffic out, and at the other end was a little beach and a diving board, with yummy muscles living on the rocks. This beach turned out to be a closely guarded secret amongst the locals, with all the beach goers that afternoon enquiring as to how we found their 'private beach'. They were all happy when told we were just lucky, and that their secret would remain safe. After this they wanted to talk about our trip and told us of an old Viking village in the next bay around.

The lovely sound of a man and his mower welcomed us into the new day, as did some cracking weather. We were fully packed by 10.00, and were being joined by the first few locals who were starting to appear ready for their day in the sun. We joined in the early morning swim, had a friendly chat to everyone there, and headed on our way, stopping at the Viking village that we had told us about. We left the village with clouds visibly approaching in the southern sky. Half an hour later and the clouds had caught up to us, and then half an hour later again the rain started. It drizzled for a while, then was heavy for a while, then drizzled for a few hours more, and then put in 1 last effort around 7pm. So after a bright start this day gave us wet everything, again. We slugged it out though, spending 5 hours in the saddle, and getting us 84km closer to Oslo, which was now only very close to the north of us. This day's ride also took us past 2 massive fields of snowpeas, which tasted very nice fresh, and good with our potatoes and onions that night.

On our last full day of riding before reaching the capital of Norway we had a fairly easy day by Norwegian standards, with only 2 killer hills late in the afternoon. The weather had improved to just heavily overcast with only an hour of drizzle. The day was cold and there was thunder in the distance.
During breakfast we noticed our remaining blueberries were looking tired, so Jon mashed them up, added some water and sugar and put them on the boil for 20 minutes to make a very tasty, very energetic drink for the day. Once on the way we stopped in downtown Naersnes to let some young boys at the sports shop have a go at straightening Jon's ever increasing buckle in his rear wheel. The boys hadn't actually tackled a wheel this bad before, so they pointed us in the direction of a good bakery and we left them to it. An hour later we had seen the town and found the boys had done a decent job on the wheel. They didn't charge, as they put it down to a good training session.
After getting out of town we had a great tailwind for the first hour, but then swung 175 degrees to follow down the other side of the fjord. This meant we had the same wind in our faces for the next hour until we finally rounded back again and soon after rolled into Svelvik. In Svelvik there is a ferry that takes passengers to Klokkarstua. Klokkarstua is approximately 120 meters away, but with no bridge, there was no option but to wait the twenty minutes for the just departed ferry to return. The first of the massive hills was straight off the ferry and it took a good 45 minutes before breathing deep at the top and taking in a view that nearly made the climb worthwhile. It was our first view of Oslo Fjord, with the city of Oslo lying at the head of the fjord. In the afternoon we saw several enormous cruise ships moving up and down the fjord. On one of these ships was my cousin, who works with the stage show. I would hopefully be catching up with him the next day in Oslo.
Our camp for the night was found at another little grassy beach with a few 'no camping' signs dotted about the place. Already camping there were a few tents full of young Polish university students who had come up for some summer work. Once again we were entrusted with a secret. This time not the location, but the vocation; they were going door to door and hiring themselves out as professional painters and handymen, and good luck to them, as they were a friendly lot and gave us hot tea.

Our morning swim on Friday the 24^th was very short, with a swim out to the jumping platform to do a few flips, then back to the rocks to dry before a quick getaway from camp. This was the first time in a long time that we had any sort of agenda, and on this day we had 2. Firstly was to get to the port of Oslo before 2pm so I could catch up with my cousin, working on the Emerald Princess. After this we had to meet a friend of Jon's sisterat the main train station, as he had agreed to let us stay at his place for a few nights.
The ride into Oslo was to be as expected when heading into a big city. We had a bike path to follow most of the way which was nice, but even that got confusing as we got closer to the city, with more and more bike paths beginning and crossing each other, and then disappearing altogether. We arrived at the harbour a bit before 2pm, and raced around to the first big ship, which happened to be the right one, but unfortunately the gang way was already raised and even after telling them none of these millionaires would mind a half hour delay, there was still no way of getting on board, or even getting in touch with my cousin. So that was that, the first time I would have seen my cousin in about 3 years and the best I could do was get a photo standing in front of his boat. The photo's probably better looking without him in it anyway.
The next of our appointments thankfully went smoother. We caught up with our Oslo contact at the train station where we shook hands, introduced ourselves, and then he gave us the keys to his apartment, told us how to get there, told us he was off to Bergen for the weekend and jumped on a train. And that was our second meeting over and done with. With that freeing up the rest of our day we decided to head straight out to our new digs for the weekend. It was another 14km away and 1 damn big hill. After half an hour we finally had all our gear into the apartment and we were starting on the first of 3 loads of washing. Some shopping, another 2 loads of washing and some raiding of the fridge and the afternoon had left us behind. Our first night in a big city in a few weeks and we decided to give it a miss, as we were tired, we had a comfy mattress, and we were already reduced to our underwear anyway, as everything else had gone through the wash. Jon was still keen as he had a decent set of undies, but eventually we just fell asleep.

Death of a Wheel, and a Night in Hell

2010-02-03T02:16:00.002+11:00

The day after the Ho-down! It brought with it the 50 year storm that they were looking for in 'Point Break'. When sleeping in a tent the noise of gentle rain on your dome sounds vicious, so when we awoke to torrential rain, it was a fairly scary sound, and didn't inspire much movement from the 2 of us. After half an hour the volume of rain seemed to back off a bit, so we dashed out to have another crack at getting my rear wheel apart. Failing again pretty much planned our day for us. Now I had to go and find a bike shop, which would take a while, and would leave us with only a few hours of riding time, so a rest day was declared.
Whilst I kitted up for my day of bike repairing, Jon affixed my rear wheel to his back rack (in the rain, what a good friend). He then crawled back into the shelter of the tent as I started the ride up the now muddy dirt track back to the main road. The rain had penetrated through to my skin everywhere by the time I made it to the little town of Fevik where I found bugger all. I was then resigned to pedalling all the way back to Grimstad, which we passed 10km back the day before. I rode as hard as I could, knowing that it was Saturday, meaning the bike shop might not be open, and even if open, might be too busy to help me. But after an hour (with a bit of being lost) I arrived to find an open bike shop with no other customers. The other customers apparently deciding that today was too wet and you would have to be silly to be outside on a day like this.
An hour later I emerged from the shop with a whole new wheel. My original wheel had 2 broken spokes, which was easily repairable, but on closer inspection there were another 8 spokes ready to break on the next bumpy road. This was due to my chain jumping over my cogs at some stage and crunching against the spokes. So a new wheel it was, and then back to camp through the endlessly pouring rain.
Upon my return to our beach camp I found that Jon had had a very productive day, managing to finish off his supply of chocolate and the communal liquorice! It was about now also that we noticed a puddle at one side of the tent... that seemed to go under the tent... and out the other side of the tent too. We dragged the tent out of this now apparent low point (which seemed like such a nice spot for the tent yesterday) and found that Jon had been lying in a 4cm deep pool, which had been slowly seeping through to the inside of the tent.
The afternoon dragged on with me catching up to Jon on the chocolate consumption, playing some harmonica and talking shit. About 7 in the evening the rain stopped for the first time all day. We were straight out and into the open air, happy to stretch our legs and survey our surrounds. The amount of rain had been incredible and a lot of the grassy area above the beach had been washed away. The beach was covered in litter and the water was brown with silt and mud.
Back at camp we were thinking about dinner when 2 friendly ladies strolled over and started asking us about what we were doing and having a good look at our bikes, our gear and even inside our tent. At the completion of this snap inspection they invited us to use the kitchen in their rented hut which was just a 5 minute walk away. We met the 3^rd of their party when we got to the hut. They turned out to be 3 friendly christians from Oslo. So we cooked and chatted and went on our way, happy to be dry and have a warm meal in our stomachs.

The next day the storm had mostly passed. It rained hard just as we were finishing our packing and starting our ride, but that is something we have come to expect. As we were leaving the beach area we passed a massive cherry tree which was being weighed down with too many cherries, so we decided to help by removing a shopping bag full of deliciously ripe cherries to munch along the way.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, and for Norway, fairly flat. Arendal was the only exception for the day, being both busy and hilly. The water front town of Arendal was in party mode, with the national jet boat race series being in town for the weekend. Most of the streets were closed to traffic, so we had to detour up some bloody steep hills, and even this we didn't do well, as when we came back to the water front we were still in the middle of it all. We weren't going to cart our bikes back up these ridiculously steep roads, so we pushed through a partly closed barrier and followed the water front right through the media and corporate areas. We got a few strange looks but no one stopped us.
Later in the day we moved inland and came into very flat country dotted with little lakes. We looked to camp at most of these, but found all of them too wet from the rain the day before. Eventually we found a lakeside area that was steep enough to be dry. Camp was made and Jon collected some blue berries whilst I tried my luck fishing, pulling in what I think was a small redfin, which proved to be damn tasty. When we set up camp for the night we found most things were either wet or damp, including my journal and map. Even though the clouds were much thinner this night we still dug some trenches around the tent.

The Monday started with the collection of blue berries. We collected berries for an hour, ending up with about 1kg in the bag, and half a kg in the tum. We actually checked the prices at a supermarket and found that blue berries were selling for $60 per kg. Some quick maths suggested that we had picked over AUD$100 of blue berries in 1 hour.
Once riding, the day was spent crossing 2 peninsulas. There would be a beautiful downhill taking us to the tiny ferry piers, where we would load our bikes on next to numerous others and enjoy the scenery of the short rides. The ferry would then leave us at the bottom of a very steep climb to the top of the next peninsular. At the top of the climb we would be looking at nice gentle rides in the cool sun, slowly taking us to the next downhill ride to the next ferry.
During the day we passed through the small ferry towns of Risor, Oysang, Stabbestad and Kragero. At Stabbestad we arrived just as the ferry was pulling away, which meant we had to wait for an hour and a half before the ferry came back. Once we had climbed the hill above Kragero we found ourselves in a fairly residential area, with lots of small communities crowded onto the steep land above yet another fjord. We had to ride for a while before finding a grassy bank beneath the main road. The area was surrounded by houses on both sides, the fjord and private jetties below, and the road above, but there was good tree cover and we were hoping some friendly fellow would come to share his beer. No beer arrived, but we did chat to a few people, had a good dinner, got the bikes cleaned, tried to catch a fish and had a good stretch.
The community that we camped in this night was called Helle. We made many jokes when entering 'Hell', camping in 'Hell', and again the next day when leaving 'Helle'. This also happened to be the end of the second month since leaving Braemar, so 2 months after starting this adventure, I had arrived in Hell. We of the bike touring world are easily amused.

A Change Of Bed Partners and the Ho Down!

2010-01-18T05:31:00.002+11:00

Kristiansand is another of the larger towns in Norway, with both an airport, and the international ferry depot. Its 'old port' area isn't big, but it's dense. Tightly packed into an area of half a Melbourne city block are many shops selling food and drink, a fish'o, a few store rooms that seem to be holding onto the past, and a busy river running up the side of it all.

It would be a very nice place to kick back and watch the traffic with a Sunday beer. There were lots of expensive motor boats and jet-skis cruising in and out of the small quay. There were families wanting ice-creams. There were lots of young rich kids wanting each other. There were tourists in their best clothes wanting souvenirs and a seafood lunch. And then there was us, in our dirty bike riding clothes and with our sexy bike rider tans.

After finding out yesterday that Nadia's ferry wouldn't be leaving until 4.30 in the arvo, we knew we had a bit of time this morning. It eventually got underway with Nadia and I riding to the ferry terminal to purchase her ticket to Hirtshals in Denmark, and then back to the camp ground, accompanied on both legs of the journey by a light drizzle of rain. Back at camp Jon had some pancakes on the go in the camp kitchen, and a load of washing happening next door in the laundry.
When breakfast was eaten, we packed camp and twiddled our thumbs for an hour before the 3 of us headed to the ferry. Nadia had to be onboard a good hour and a half before departure, so there was an essential stop for snacks on the way to the ferry.

And then with a brief farewell, she was gone. This made me sadder than I thought it would, even though I knew it was only going to be for a week or 2. We have been on the road for nearly 2 months now, sharing everything, and not only has that stopped instantly, but now I have also swapped bed partners - Nadia for Jon. Hmm.

I was also jealous for 2 reasons - that Nadia would in a few hours be in a new country, as Norway had taken a lot of the summer to travel through, and also that she would be travelling solo and having all sort of experiences that I would miss out on.
To mask my sorrow Jon and I headed back to the ice-cream bar we had found the day before and ordered ourselves 2 massive soft serves covered in that crispy chocolate stuff. These were eaten in the sunshine as the weather had been improving during the day, and would stay sunny until the sun went down.
We didn't have much of a plan now except to keep cruising along the coast, but after 15km that had already fallen by the wayside as we saw some signs pointing us to Hamre beach, up in the top end of the harbour. Upon arrival at the beach we discovered it was an official camp ground which was not good news as they cost a lot. Even though we had only done 22km for the day it was already getting well into the arvo, and neither of us could be stuffed continuing, so the search began to find the reception. This turned out to be a hard task so we parked our bikes at the restaurant within the park to ask the staff. As we were about to head inside an old fella came out a side door and started talking to us. He told us he was the owner of the restaurant (and I think of the whole park, but that was unclear). What was left to no doubt was the fact that he was an Olympic gold medalist and world champion in speed skating back in the 60's. We asked of what length and he looked dirty and replied 'all, of course'. In the 5 minutes we were talking to him he managed to tell us this story twice, which is fair enough, I'd probably do the same. After a bit of research on the web I found out his name is Arie Cornelis "Kees" Verkerk, who competed for Netherlands, winning 1 gold and 3 silver over 3 Olympic campaigns, and he was the overall world champion in 1966 and '67, AND took 12 seconds off the 10,000m world record. So bragging rights, yes, and good bloke it turned out also. At the end of the conversation he enquired of our plans for the night, and upon hearing we were thinking about staying the night he made us wait for a minute as he ducked back inside. He re-emerged with a camping ticket that all tents have to display, and said that he was very busy now, but we should go and put our tent up and relax and then later come to the restaurant and pay him only 100 kroner for the night.
This was a huge saving, and sounded very nice to us. So the tent was erected, and the showers were found, and then more joy as we discovered one of the showers actually gave out hot water without needing a token. This became my first hot shower for over 2 weeks, and it was good. After all this, and then having a lazy beer at camp the time had disappeared to now be 9.15. The restaurant was due to close at 10.00, so we jogged over to pay Kees and to see what was on the menu.
It was very busy with people paying their bills and heading off. It was 10 minutes before a manager told us that tonight they only had pizza or seafood buffet. The cheapest pizza was NOK$ 185 (AUD$ 36), or she said because there was only half an hour left we could have the buffet half price, at NOK$ 150. We only took a minute to do the maths, then raced to get a plate each and started loading up with prawns, mussels and these yabbie looking things and an awesome seafood soup and then at the other end of the serving area we found a platter of smoked salmon. Oh happy days, and after finding the closest table to the buffet we tucked in to our first course. We were angry at the prawns and yabbies as all the de-shelling was taking up precious time from our feasting. This led to second course consisting mainly of soup, smoked salmon and salad. After further refinement (soup was too hot to drink quickly), the 3rd course was smoked salmon. And being the cheeky buggers we are, with only a minute to go we caught the eye of a passing waitress and asked if she could bring out another platter of salmon. She did, and we would've eaten the whole thing ourselves except some greedy mongrel who had been sitting outside came in at just the right moment and took some for himself. At the end of the half hour we had consumed about 3kg of smoked salmon, 2 dozen prawns, a dozen yabbies, several litres of soup and a few lettuces worth of salad, each.
The entire time we were in the restaurant we only saw Kees twice, and both times we made eye contact with him and he showed no recognition of us at all. With this, we figured what he had actually meant earlier in the day was that he would let us camp for free if we came and spent money in the restaurant tonight. So with full bellies we happily wandered off into the dying light of the day, clean and content and ready for bed.

The next day we declared a day of rest. Jon wanted to go back into town to have his bike looked at and I wanted to catch up on the email and get the blog a bit more up to date. And that was the whole day done pretty much. Found out Nadia was good and enjoying Denmark. Found out Freemantle had only scored 1 goal 7 on the weekend, so everything thing at home was normal.
We were keen for another buffet that night but were disappointed to find only pizza on offer, so we cooked ourselves up a meal and worked on the bikes for a while - cleaning, oiling the chain, tightening the brakes, and all under the first clear night sky we had seen for some time. It was now I noticed how much daylight we had lost in the last half a month, with sunset going from 12 past 11, to now becoming dark at about half past 10. In another month or so we might need our head torches for cooking.

After a morning swim at Hamre our ride continued inland, following a wide river through farming areas. We stopped to pick wild raspberries and onions along the way and to return the friendly wave we received from 2 young, bikini clad ladies riding their horses through the river. We came to Birkeland just as the hunger was setting in, so lunch and another swim brought us into the early afternoon, with the clouds starting to roll across from the south west, not looking too ominous at this stage.

The ride on this morning was what I picture as classic bike touring. The weather was great, the flowers were blooming, the fruit was ripe, we had gentle rolling hills, we were following a nice, wide, slow moving river, the locals were out and enjoying the day, and we were in no rush, stopping where we cared to stop, swimming if we got too hot. Classic.

From Birkeland our path took us back to the coast along a quiet back road. The noise of the surrounding nature was at one stage interrupted by a loud ping coming from under me. This noise, after a few minutes of head scratching and searching, turned out to be a rear spoke giving up the fight, and interestingly enough, my second spoke to blow, so who knows when the first one went. Anyway, wasn't anything that could be done now without unloading everything, so it was decided to push on and take it all apart when camp was reached.
This part of the coast is very popular for campers, with a campground owning nearly every beach along the way, so it was once again with the help of another friendly local that we avoided the official campground and found our way to a 'private' beach with no other campers.
I have found the friendliness and helpfulness of the people we have met along the way to be very good, most people trying hard to help us out in a language that isn't their own. And of course we wouldn't have had the opportunity to speak to hardly any of these people if we were not on bicycles.
At the beach we took a while to choose what we thought was a very nice spot for the tent, on the flattest patch of grass we could find. When the tent was done it was time to take the bike apart and see what we could do for my poor back wheel. Unfortunately both the broken spokes were on the same side as the rear cogs, meaning that I would have to take the cogs off to get the new spokes in. This problem wasn't supposed to be an issue; we had half the tools, we had the now how, but we were lacking the achievement.

Jon had the tool required to loosen the bolt to get the cogs off, and I was happy to sacrifice a sock in the attempt to hold the cogs still while Jon tried with all his might to loosen the bolt holding it all together, but to no success. So we decided to leave it until tomorrow morning, and if we weren't able to get it then, it was a trip to the nearest bike shop for me. This whole time the clouds had been getting thicker, but still not giving much indication of what was to follow.
It came around to 9ish that night and we started catching morsels of music coming in on the breeze. I headed to the beach and could more clearly hear what sounded like a band practicing in a distant house. Listening for a minute more and I was able to name the song I was hearing and it was, scarily enough, Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus, the god father of the mullet.

As we had already had dinner, we figured we could go exploring and see where the music was coming from. After grabbing our head torches we made our way around the rocky foreshore until we could see the home of the noise - it was coming from the campground that we had luckily avoided when we found our beach. It turned out that the campground had a large restaurant, cafe and function area where tonight was party night. We still didn't realise the entire awfulness of the evening's entertainment until we got all the way to the party - it was a Country Music Karaoke Night, Norway style. Now we understood why it had sounded so awful from afar, the sounds weren't being warped in the wind, they were warped right from the start.
After scrambling across the rocks for 10 minutes to get there we decided to hang about for a while, so Jon shouted a round and we found a spot against the fence where we could see all the action. Some songs I knew, some I didn't, some songs were sung in Norwegian but mostly in was American country and western puke. There was only 1 or 2 of the brave souls up the front who stumbled through the verses, while the majority knew all the words perfectly. They were all certainly putting their whole heart into the choruses.

By the look of determination one the face of one girl I guessed she needed operative assistance. It took us a few songs to finish our drinks, and then we stayed for a few songs more. It was about to become a classic night when Jon was asked to dance by some old sack of leather, but he turned her down, mostly out of embarrassment with his lack of dancing skills.

In another minute or 2 Jon had plucked up the courage to go and hit the floor, but then he saw that 'his lady' had already recovered from his rejection, and moved on to another fella. This killed the mood, so it was time to head home.
We arrived back at camp around 11.00 and the music kept pumping well beyond midnight. I would have been pretty pissed off if I had paid massive amounts to stay there and then had to put up with that all night.
The campsites that we have seen all across Norway, and all across Europe I have been told, are primarily set up for motor homes, with some parks also having small sections of permanent vans. These motor homes come from all over Europe every summer, as its so easy to drive through Europe with all the open borders. Of all the motor homers we have seen so far, most have come from Germany. The motor home is so dominant that along the way we have even come across camp grounds that don't allow tents.

In the Scandinavian countries that isn't too much of an issue for us, as free camping is allowed whenever you are not within 150 meters of a house. Once we cross to Denmark and Germany, 'wild' camping will be 'illegal' and we will 'technically' have to stay in official camp grounds.

A bit before midnight I was standing on the empty beach and brushing my teeth to the strains of yet another awful country song, as the rain started to gently fall...

Denmark - Nadia's Solo Journey

2010-01-08T20:28:00.004+11:00

Kristiansand (Norway) to Oslo (Norway), via Denmark

After six days of riding with 2 boys up and down large, steep hills I thought it was time for a break (and I'm pretty sure they did too.) We were finally in Kristiansand after a gruelling week of riding from Stavanger, during which I continually found myself enjoying the scenery alone, not only on the uphill sections where I was outdone by the boys' extra strength and determination, but also on the downhill sections where their fearlessness of speed took them in front of me to a point where they were often out of sight.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when I sailed from Kristiansand (Norway) to Hirtshals (Denmark). I was welcomed by a grey sky and intermittent rainfall as I cycled off the boat. With no passport control or customs desk I was soon pulling into a campground, seemingly along with the rest of the ferry passengers. I felt a strange feeling of loneliness that first night, but as I rode away the next morning I felt relaxed and excited to be riding at my own pace, in a new country, towards Teresa's home in Copenhagen, a Danish friend I met at university who I have not seen since we completed study in 2006.

The countryside was flat and the wind was kind so I managed to average 22 km/h during the morning. I travelled from Hirtshals to the east and met the coast by Frederikshavn, where I prepared my salad sandwiches in a nice little park. I resisted the ice-cream stand and started to head south along the number 5 national cycle route. I passed many paddocks of wheat crops with big barns in the corners. There were also many wind turbines, which isn't so encouraging when riding a bicycle. As the wind was coming from the east, though, it was not so much of a hindrance, at least not in the beginning.

I passed the towns of Uggerby, Bindsley, Mosbjerg, Fredrikshavn, Saeby and Asaa before reaching the small village of Hals where I pulled in to the campground for the evening. It was a sunny afternoon, and luckily so, because my tent required some drying out after the morning rain that so conveniently propped overhead while I was packing up earlier in the day. I slowly set up camp after 115 km for the day. Looking on my map of the entirety of Denmark I had made good progress towards Arhus, and started to feel more confident about my riding capabilities now that I was no longer comparing myself to two men.

Friday brought with it some more menacing winds, but it was a fine start to the day which makes it so much easier to get up and going in the morning. I noticed as I dressed that the bruises from my fall near Flekkefjord were still lingering, but on the improve, only being a greenish colour rather than black and painful. My stitches also looked better; the wound had now sealed and no longer needed to be covered. I just hoped that Teresa was comfortable with cutting them out for me. I managed to pack and be on the road before 9am. I visited the bakery to pass time until the tourist information office opened. I was grinning before I even entered the shop, as I could already see the selection of treats in the window from outside. I was eager to try a true Danish pastry, but I could not see any and opted for a piece of truffle slice and a rum ball. Both were very nice, but I don't think truffle is for me, it was very strong. Once I had finished my bakery treats, I visited the tourist information to discover that the exchange rate was still not so favourable for us Australians here in Denmark. I also discovered that not many people know about the 'primitive campsites' listed on my map. It appears there are simple campsites throughout Denmark that have water and a basic toilet and might only cost about 20 kroner (or $4) a night.

Before leaving Hals I bought some sunscreen, as I noticed that my face was becoming quite freckly. The freckles had not dispersed themselves evenly though, it looked as though I had been playing in the mud and still had patches of dirt on my forehead and cheeks. After that purchase I was finally on my way to catch the short ferry across the bay to begin my day of riding.

Again I passed farmland all day, but the terrain was more undulating than in the north. At one point I had to turn directly east to catch a ferry to the south. Turning east, also took me straight into the wind and I was nervous that a storm might present itself at any moment. After completing the 5 minute ferry crossing I stopped and ate some lunch, conveniently sheltered between a hedge and a building. Eating quickly I packed everything away and then donned my wet weather gear, including the pack covers because the wind was so severe I thought there must surely be rain on the way.

Only about 10 km from my luncheon place I came into Allingsbro and was ready to set up camp for the night. It was not to be. There, a man at the local information centre told me about some huts that had just been completed next to an old castle. I could stay in them for free and they were only 4 km away, in Auning, so I chose to keep on riding and find the little shelters. After asking the lady at the castle entrance I was directed to the butik (shop) and was greeted by a young lady who was full of information. It turned out that the huts were down in the corner of a paddock, and that I had access to toilets and drinking water. Perfect. I made my way past the gardens and animals of the agricultural museum (now situated in the outer grounds of the old castle) and found the discreet little huts in the corner of a nearby paddock. They were made of whole logs and had 3 walls creating an open front to admire the views. They were raised off the ground and the rooftops were covered in grass. I chose my shelter, unloaded the bicycle and then returned to the agricultural museum for a better look around. There was old farm machinery and photographs of days gone by, but what interested me most was the assortment of gardens out the back. There were 6 separate gardens all grown in wedge shapes creating a large circle. Each garden had a different theme and they included plants such as herbs, remedies, berries, vegetables and ornamental flora. After sampling some of the berries I returned to my shelter and settled in for the night. The rain had largely held off, there was only a light sprinkle in the evening. It was so nice to lay down under a solid roof, even if the mosquitoes could still attack me, and I appreciated the space to lie my things on the floor to air, without having to worry about collecting them if the rain did arrive.

Next morning it was Saturday and I woke early to get a good day of riding in. That was until it started raining and didn't stop until 4pm. I waited and waited, and eventually decided I would just stay a second night in the shelter. There was a lot of snoozing throughout the day and I watched sheets of rain pass me by, obscuring the view of distant hills for long periods at a time. When it subsided a little I wandered up to the agricultural museum to see if the staff could help me with transport options across the water towards Copenhagen. I decided that instead of heading east to the small town of Ebeltoft, I would go south to Arhus, a major city where there would be more options for crossing the water.

I awoke early on Sunday morning so I could make it to Arhus by mid morning. I was riding by 7:15am and passed along country roads, dirt tracks and farm roads to get to the city. I think I lost the 'official' track a few times, and at one point found myself on a narrow sandy walking path in the suburbs. Upon exiting the sandy path I rounded a corner and my wheels sank in the sand, sending me into the thorny bush at the side. Luckily for me, nobody saw the event, well, nobody that I could see anyway.

Approaching Arhus train station along the main street was a nice entry to the city. The main street was closed to public traffic, as many central streets are in the cities we've visited so far, which makes more space for pedestrians to enjoy the city centre. As it was Sunday, many shops were closed, but that suited me perfectly as there were fewer people and I didn't have to push through the crowds with my fully loaded bicycle.

After enquiry at the train station and discovering the price to Copenhagen would be around 400 DKK, I headed to the bus station. It was marginally cheaper, but there was no space for my bicycle. So back to the train I went, and booked myself on the 12:30 train to Copenhagen. I then called Teresa to tell her my arrival time, but it would change before too long because when the 12:30 train arrived it had no rear carriage, where I was to be seated. After a few minutes of waiting to see if the carriage would arrive there was a huge commotion. All of a sudden everybody that was standing beside me was now charging down the platform to speak to the train staff. Not understanding Danish, and therefore not knowing what anyone was saying, I quickly followed them to try and decipher the situation. I witnessed some emotive outbursts directed towards a bewildered looking man with a walkie talkie strapped to his belt. Once the crowd had eased I asked him what was happening, to which he responded 'I'm very sorry, the carriage was cancelled. We don't know what happened.' I was not so upset because there were 2 trains every hour and I would just try to book onto the next one. He seemed so relieved at my lack of frustration and pointed me towards the ticket office to get my ticket renewed.

At the ticket counter the man said 'oh, it looks like there's a bit of a problem.' I was worried I would have to wait until the next day to travel, but he concluded with 'There is no space until 3:30pm.' With that piece of news I returned to the phone box to phone Teresa with the new estimated arrival time of 6:30pm.

The train journey took me to the south of the country before passing over a bridge to an island between the west and the east mainland. To get to the eastern mainland the train first passed over a bridge and then through a tunnel. Apart from the announcements for each town, the only other announcement was for 'The Great Belt Tunnel'. There was no explanation as to the significance of the tunnel, but a few minutes after the announcement we indeed did pass through a long tunnel.

Pulling up to the platform in Copenhagen I had only just manoeuvred my bicycle from the train when I saw Teresa walking towards me and it took a couple of seconds for it to sink in that I was there in her home country and we were about to ride through the streets to her home in the city somewhere! Her accent was still so amazingly Australian when she spoke English. We stopped in at the pizza shop by her house and then climbed the stairs to her flat. On the front door was her name and again I had to pinch myself that I was actually visiting her in her own place. Upon entering the flat we cleared all her paints and renovation materials to the side of the room and never stopped talking, even through mouthfuls of pizza and cider.

That night we slept on our therma-rest's, just like uni days. Teresa had been renovating the flat for months, but now all the painting and major work was finished, so we peeled back the ground sheets to reveal her floor and set up our comfy little patch in the very centre of what would become her lounge room. It was exciting enough for me, so I can't imagine how ecstatic she must have been to see her home almost complete. We chatted until all hours of the night, but eventually our weariness got the better of us.

Teresa had to work on Monday so she gave me directions on how to get into the city. I waited for her parents to arrive and they gave me a key so I could get back in on my own if I needed to. I set out for the city and enjoyed wandering around on the narrow pedestrian streets, looking at the fountains and the grand old buildings towering up around me. I passed Tivoli Square and Hans Christian Anderson (in statue form). In the afternoon I made my way back and when I arrived the whole family was at the flat, except Teresa. So I stood and chatted to Teresa's sister and mother while her father finished off the skirting boards. Teresa's niece and nephew were also running around the place and soon Teresa arrived home with some extra materials. Once the last board was in place we all had a celebratory drink and then the family made a quick exit and we were left to arrange furniture and erect Teresa's bed for the first time in about 1 year! Around the hour of 11pm we realised we had not eaten any dinner, so headed to a kebab shop down the road and found ourselves a tasty, but not so hot, chicken kebab.

Tuesday was a day for jobs. I had to find a place to get my bike serviced and then I wanted to contact Wally and Jon if I could get myself a phone card. I wandered to the local bike store and was told that if I wanted to leave my bike there I could pick it up the next afternoon. I then found some new candles for Teresa's place and bought myself a cheap watch to use until my other one is fixed. I didn't manage to find any phone cards but I filled the whole afternoon wandering around, passing numerous amounts of kebab bars and feeling almost obliged to try one, at least. I resisted, however, and returned to the flat to listen to local radio and update my journal.

When Teresa arrived home we meandered down to the local sausage van for what she described was a typically Danish snack. It was like a hot dog, and we had one with the lot which included toppings of fried onion, mustard, tomato sauce and pickles. We retired to the park bench on the corner, where there normally lay an intoxicated member of the public. For now though, we sat hunched over trying not to spill our food all over ourselves. I managed to douse my hands with the juices, but it was so good that I had finished in a flash. Afterwards, feeling very satisfied, we did some people watching until it got cold and we wandered back to the flat. Lying in bed Teresa talked about how rewarding it felt to have renovated her place from start to finish. Everywhere she looked she could remember how it had once been and what she had done to beautify the different features of her home. It was inspiring for me to see what she had achieved without the help of professional labour.

On my last full day in Copenhagen I headed into the city again. I took a canal tour and spent one hour

floating around the waters of the city listening to its history. I took my last photographs and then headed back to pick up my bike from its service. The brakes were adjusted, but I don't know if they bothered doing much else. Teresa and I ate sushi that evening, and enjoyed a cider or two on my last night in Denmark.

In the morning, Teresa was off to the west of Denmark for work, so I packed my things and headed off through a thunderstorm towards the north. I followed the coast to Helsingor, a beautiful little place on the north east corner of Denmark. Amazingly, on the way, I met Teresa's sister about 40km north of the city. I had stopped to have an ice cream and she was there waiting to pick up her children. I could hardly believe my eyes as she walked toward me!

Arriving in Helsingor, I ate some lunch, had a look at Kronborg (made famous by Shakespeares, Hamlet) and then boarded the ferry to Sweden! Again I was amazed at the ease of crossing international borders. I didn't have to show my passport at all. From Helsingor (Denmark) I could clearly see Helsingborg (Sweden). It was so clear across the water that I thought it must have been an island of Denmark on the way to Sweden. Only 30 minutes later I was in a new country with new money and a new language. Stepping off the boat (where you will see from the photo below, that I could still see Denmark across the water) I wandered through the market square to the tourist information. They gave me a map and told me the currency conversion which was now quite favourable. I got some food and then headed north out of town. That night I hid away in quite an urban forest, but luckily in a corner where I wasn't spotted. Packing up the next morning I found the fattest slugs I had ever seen, suctioned onto just about everything I had left out in the open. My tent was glistening with their goo as I rolled it up. All I had heard about Sweden was that they have HUGE mosquitoes, but nobody mentioned anything about the slugs, and as Wally and I discovered later, the ants!

I passed through many small towns, stopping for the internet and to buy a sim card at one of them. At Angelholm I stopped at the tourist info for a new map and shortly after leaving, there was a thunderstorm. In an attempt to avoid getting saturated I sheltered at the supermarket and snacked on some nuts. After I while the sky cleared and I was on my way, but not for very long. Looking at the maps I was unsure how often I would find suitable camping places, so I pulled off as soon as I found something, even though it was between an old main road and the new one. A creek separated them and there was enough space for my tent at the picnic area. I spoke to Wally for the first time since leaving them in Kristiansand and it was nice to hear his voice. They had made it to Oslo.

Strong winds on day 66, as I headed north along the west coast of Sweden. I passed some ancient burial mounds (pictured above) and many wheat fields. Even though the sun was out, the wind was against me, and I was exhausted after about 60km. I started looking for somewhere to camp but nothing presented itself and I wheeled into Falkensberg to ask their advice. In the end I covered over 100km and resided at a beautiful lake for the evening. Before I had time to set up camp I was stopped by an eccentric man collecting berries, then by a joking Dutchman, and in the end I scurried away from their conversation after finding a tick imbedded in my forearm. One of the other things I had heard about Sweden was that the ticks can cause brain tumours. So, needless to say I was quite nervous about the situation, and I spent the rest of the evening carving a slight hole in my arm to make sure there were no remains of the little insect burrowing into my skin.

In the morning I had hoped for sunny weather so I could make the most of the nice lake with its pontoons leading out from the bank, but it was not to be. I packed up and headed back to Falkensberg to try and find some public transport to take me up to the boys. Being a Sunday, everything was closed and there was hardly anyone to be seen. That left me with the option of staying another night at the lake, or pressing on to the larger town of Varberg to see if they had anything on offer. I chose to ride. Choosing the coastal route proved to be quite a poor decision, as I was hounded by a headwind coming off the water the whole way. It was only a short distance, but following the bike signs led me a few extra kilometres than I really needed to cover. Having said that though, I wasn't on main roads which meant I didn't have to contend with fast vehicles whizzing past me quite so often. In Varberg, again the station was deserted of staff, but the tourist info provided me with the information I needed and I was on the next train to the north. First stop Gothenburg, where I paced the length of the station a few times asking the different companies whether I could take my bike onboard, and in the end there was only 1 option available. I had to first catch a bus, and then take another train, in order to get to Oslo. This time we crossed the international border on the train and I paid my fare in Swedish money on Norwegian ground. By 22:00 I had arrived in the capital city of Norway with a new friend, Jose, from San Sebastian, also on a cycling tour.

After exiting the train and heading to the station entrance I was a bit nervous whether Wally and Jon would find me. But after only a few minutes they came into view and we headed to the pub for a reunion drink. After we finished one beer and they had eaten all my lollies, it was already getting late and the riding was not complete; we had to ride 10km back to the flat where the boys had been staying. After such a long and eventful day I slept like a log. For now, my solo trip was complete.

Communication break down

2009-11-03T04:17:00.000+11:00

Dear readers,
The posters of this blog would like to offer their apologies for the lengthy break in transmissions.
This set-back is due to an ongoing issue with ACER Germany, who have seemingly stolen our computer and at present are unable to find a competent worker to resolve the issue.
But rest assured, normal programming will ressume shortly, so stay tuned for the next mad-capped adventure of Wally and Nadia

Old North Road and coastal hills

2009-08-30T23:06:00.002+10:00

On Wednesday, July 8, our trip was finally under way again, with the plan now to follow the North Sea Cycle Route to the south which would in a week or so have us into Kristiansand, the big southern city. From Stavanger to Kristiansand is 234 km driving along the E39. For us it would be a scenic journey of over 350 km.

This section of the North Sea Cycle Route was much different to what we had seen further north, with the route over the next few days continuously changing from sealed roads to footpaths to dirt tracks to cow tracks. We even had to cross 1 old footbridge that had us all walking our bikes across and it nearly swallowed Nadia's bike, with her back wheel disappearing between the parallel running planks. The part of her bike to stop the fall was her rear derailleur, which is probably not great for the derailleur, but it did the job this time.

The route had us travelling over people's farms and right alongside their houses. On this part of the trip we also had a lot of 'Cyclist's Welcome' accommodation options. These are old sheds or garages that have been converted into self contained rooms with kitchen facilities. Although labelled 'Cyclist's Welcome', everybody was allowed to stay there. And even if you are a cyclist, you are only welcomed after a hefty payment. Without this payment you are about as welcome as a 'Tour De France' cyclist at a 'Drug-free anti-doping campaign'. We didn't even receive an offer of a cup of tea, nor a smile.

But no bother to us. After the weather of the last 2 weeks, the country had dried out, and on the first night we were able to get a fire going in a pine forest for cooking and warmth, whilst out in the open the cold north wind howled through the night.

The second day out of Stavanger brought up the 50th day of the tour. 50 days since we wobbled out of Braemar, we had over 1,300km under our wheels and had seen more rain than sun, and after the last 2 weeks of sun, this 50th day would bring the rain again.

It started off nicely enough, with dry conditions all morning. We didn't see any rain until arriving at the Old West Norway Road, which happened to be the worst road we had travelled on. Worst in terms of road surface and degrees of the climbs, but beautiful with scenery and action packed with thrills and spills.

For 6 kilometres the Old West Norway Road takes the iron willed punter up and down some truly fierce country, where the ups are not cycle tourist possible, and the downs aren't much better. An information board placed at the end of the track explains the history of the road and points out that some sections of the road have gradients of 23%, which is bloody steep in anybody's language. The surface ranges from loose sand to loose gravel to big lumpy bits of sharp edged rocks, and a patch or 2 of 'rough as guts' bitumen thrown in just for a laugh. By the end of this road 2 of our party were bleeding, and 1 was in need of stitches. Bleeding was Jon, who punctured the outside of his calf whilst going to the aid of Nadia, the other bleeder and the one requiring stitches. All this action took place on a loose down hill section where Nadia's front wheel plummeted into loose gravel at the end of a patch of bitumen, sending her into an emergency evacuation from the vehicle. The resultant crash left Nadia with a neat hole in her arm, right in that place just past your elbow that you can never see, and a free flowing trickle of blood streaming down her sleeve.

Standing in the rain on the Old West Norway Road with Nadia and Jon bleeding, and knowing we were a long way from anywhere, we had no option but to suck it up and soldier on. We rode until the next shelter and did a nice patch job with our mostly out of date first aid kits, donned the rain coats and made our way along the path to a road side stop further south and back on the coast. We still managed 51km for the day, so not to bad considering.

The 50th day of the tour also had us coming into crop harvesting season, and in Jon we had just the man to take full advantage of this. Where I would be looking at fields of pretty flowers and daydreaming, Jon would be off his bike and tearing out plants and coming back to us with his backpack full of baby potatoes, baby carrots and baby onions, a stash that would be replenished often and which would keep us full and healthy all the way to Oslo. Watching Jon in action conjured up images of Taz, the cartoon Tasmanian Devil. in full spin.

The next few days came and went in slow motion, due mainly to the terrain. And the tension level in camp went from slack to fairly tight, also mainly due to the terrain. I can probably even draw the ups and downs for you;

mostly it was like this /\/\/\/\/ and maybe once a day like this /\_/\ which was pretty exciting. At one stage I'm sure it even did a bit of this /\)\/***~ (that would be where Nadia left some of her arm on a rock).

The Friday took us from Svanes to Ana-Sira, a grand total of only 36.3 km, with our worst ever average of only 11.6 km/h. This day also involved a trip to the doctors, where the cycling enthusiast doctor from Denmark chose to put 2 stitches in Nadia's arm (her first ever and very proud she was). The doc had a look at Jon while we were there, gave his leg a good clean and told him that was all that was needed. In an effort to not be out done by a girl, Jon then explained that he did actually need stitches, and a few minutes later had 1 big, not so useful stitch in his leg.

I was nearly joining the others in needing a doctor too, as earlier today whilst riding up a hill we passed a row of bee hives sitting not far off the road. Jon and I exchanged a look that said 'fresh honey, you beauty', then parking our bikes we wandered up to find no bees out and about. Opening the first hive revealed an empty box. The second hive opened to the hum of hundreds of lazy bees going about their daily grind. For about 30 seconds there wasn't much activity other than a few bees joining us on the outside of the box. And then their first attacking wave was organised and they unleashed hell. Jon has always been quicker than me, and I'm certainly not suggesting it had anything to do with leaving me behind like a sacrificial lamb, but somehow he was instantly a few meters closer to the bikes than I was. The bees didn't seem to mind that they were only attacking half of the enemy and let me have it with 2 stings to the right leg and 1 to the left temple.

The second wave of attackers, if they even bothered, was not seen as I was Usain Bolting down the path, flinging myself back onto the trusty steed, and not looking back.

The result of this fun and laughter was 3 big red lumps, a swollen eye for the next 3 days and a bit of difficulty in breathing for a few hours. Jon as per usual came out smelling like a cactus with no stings at all.

The next day brought us more rain. It also had us travelling through the stupendously beautiful area of Flekkefjord, where armed with a kayak and a fishing rod, one could happily live forever more. The next small town brought us face to face with our second newspaper reporter of the tour and this time Jon and I were interviewed on a scenic little bridge as it started raining lightly. By the end of the interview it was raining heavily. Nadia had seen the rain coming and was hiding in a dry bus shelter not far away putting on her dry rain coat.

After this second attempt at fame, we were all dolled up in our best wet weather gear and riding past Norway's biggest heavy metal concert that was happening in a paddock beside the road. The stage was set a few hundred meters off the road, but we could clearly hear cover version after cover version of ACDC pulsing the damp atmosphere all about.

A massive climb up the side of a fjord was our next obstacle. At the top we were wet and cold and tired, so ventured down a driveway to ask the occupants about the possibility of putting our tent up in the lee of their shed. After a long, 10 minute hike from the shed to the house (which had amazing views right over the fjord) we were greeted by an old fella who didn't speak a lick of english. Although we couldn't understand what he was saying word for word, we figure that he told us we were soft, that it was only 7.30pm, that we could keep riding for another 3 hours before it was too dark, and then reiterated that we were soft and sent us on our way.

We were lucky enough later that evening to come across the only roadside stop in all of Norway that had roofs over the picnic tables. One of these became the kitchen and the other the clothes line.

From our roadside camp at Rorvik to our beach camp in the town of Hollen was our most inclined day of riding. The start was pleasant when we rode on a brand new road not even open to the public yet. We learned about this from a passing local who said we would enjoy the traffic free road and the scenic dirt track dropping back down off the hill. Enjoy we did, as the track that led us down to fjord level was brilliant. Hugging the edge of a hill, we had bare rock rising several meters above us on our left, and a huge drop to the fjord on our right, with our path in-between about 2 meters wide.

Lunch was had outside the town of Farsund, hiding in a bus shelter from the rain. It was about 40 meters after lunch that we hit the real hills. The first few were still on the sealed road, but mostly we spent the arvo session on old gravel tracks, as the new roads had tunnels which we weren't allowed through on the bikes. So over 5 hours was spent riding this day to get our 61km. We found a nice sandy beach in the middle of Hollen, and had camp set up quickly to utilise a brief burst of sun. We were quite happy to ignore the no camping sign, but in our defence we didn't see the sign until much later when collecting blue berries. Yes, wild blueberries growing rampant. We first noticed them a few days ago, but without anyone to confirm our suspicions, we took the hesitant approach. But along the way today we noticed some ladies picking and eating the berries on the side of the track, so now it's game on for the next few weeks with blueberries, and tasty little things they are too. Our porridge was sweetened with handfulls of these blueberries the next morning.

Unfortunately the weathter pattern of rain from late in the evening until about 10 in the morning would continue along with us all the way to Kristiansand. This left the days reasonably dry for the riding, but everything wet and festering in our packs during the days.

On the 13th of July our travels took us through the small towns of Vigeland and Mandal, with all the excitment for the day coming from Jon.

Firstly it was a near fall down a steep embankment whilst trying to make room for an oncoming 4WD.

Jon is on a mountain bike with front suspension. This means that he has no front racks and all his gear is piled onto his back rack and a small day pack that he wears every day. This is fine except that all the weight at the rear puts his back wheel under a lot of pressure, and when going up steep hills, his front wheel has a tendency to lift off, sending him to one side or the other.

Anyway, that keeps us entertained, as does the seemingly daily dramas with his bike. Today it was firstly the replacement of his 'new' tyre from 3 days ago that was splitting already. Once that was taken off and a new one fitted we then got a good 10 minutes of riding done before Jon had his bike upside down again. This time it was a tight front hub issue. Don't ask how Jon does it, just know that he does it. So another half hour later and Jon's stats were looking like this:

days riding - 5, hours of non riding due to bike issues - 5, broken tyres - 2, broken spokes - 2, swear words - many.

Our last day into Kristiansand started with me being the first packed for the first time of the trip. So whilst the others were finishing up I took a plastic bag down to the water and collected 2 dozen muscles for dinner that night.

We took advantage of a sunny lake side stop by getting wet. A dirt track then took us up the last remaining hills before an enjoyable downhill run landed us in Kristiansand. After finding the info centre we headed to the fishmarket area looking for some buffett pizza, but settled for a massive soft serve icecream which we sat down and enjoyed in a ritzy looking wharf area.

As we were staying the night in a bigger city, we checked ourselves in at the camping ground. I reluctantly handed over AUD$26 each for 1 night in a tent, and then we still had to pay for showers on top of that, and they were AUD$4 per 5 minutes!, and this is in a country without water issues.

So that was our week as a threesome. It was tough riding that wasn't helped by the damp starts and long days. The mood during the days wasn't the best, but once we were all relaxing at the end of the day it was all happy families.

Now tomorrow Nadia will hop a ferry ride to the north of Denmark and start her way across to Copenhagen to catch up with an old uni mate, whilst Jon and I will stay in Norway, and continue with the punishing hills on our way to Oslo, another week away.

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Stranded, but sunshine

2009-07-28T22:03:00.002+10:00

Our first day in Stavanger was the start of 2 weeks of beautiful summer weather with hot days and long nights. It was even muggy and humid on occasions, and only rained once.

Unfortunately the next 2 weeks only included 1 day of the continuation of our tour.

On the first full day in Stavanger Nadia and I headed out to a bikeshop in an area called Madlakrossen. There we were entertained for an hour by the 2 staff who were surfers and were happy to have someone to talk surfing with. Eventually we got around to the bikes and with some good advice and a new brake cable and safe in the knowledge that Norway has the best surf in Europe, we headed into town to have a look around.

This week is set to be a big party week in Stavanger, with the town hosting a leg of the World Cup Beach Volleyball Tour.

We found the fish market and sampled some prawns - nice, and some fish cakes - very nice. A bit of shopping next to buy some new lures, a new fork after mine became prongless at last night's dinner, and thongs. After this it was home to rest.

The Friday started with bike maintenance and then a trip to the airport to meet Jon Cope. His plane was on time, he came off all smiles and life was looking good.

But then... a phonecall to the transport company in charge of delivering Jon's bike and tent would change all that. Jon's bike was at this present time... misplaced. Where is it? 'Not sure, but it might be in Holland.' When will it get here? 'Not sure, but it might arrive tomorrow, but because tomorrow is Saturday you can't collect the bike until Monday.'

So that was that for now, Monday at the best, but it might be up to a week before the bike arrives.

Back at camp we had to relocate to the trees as Jon's tent is with his bike. So after getting some ropes strung out between the trees, we threw one of the tarps over, and Jon had himself a 'shack' until his package arrives.

A night out on the town was in order to celebrate Jon's arrival, and a very nice arvo was had sitting in the sun at the docks, watching some volleyball and listening to some live music coming from 1 of the plethora of bars along the waterfront. We met the Australian Institute of Sport girls from Adelaide who were competing in the tournament and had ourselves some pizza for dinner. After the consumption of lots of beer, we wandered home and got back to camp at 2 a.m. with still enough sunlight to walk without a torch. It has been only a few days since the longest day of the year, and now that the weather has cleared up the light is going throughout the night and into the next morning, which happens at about 4.30 a.m.

Saturday morning was spent like we were uni students, with a sleep in and hangovers all round. Saturday afternoon had us all heading into town again to eat more fish cakes and watch the Aussie girls be convincingly beaten by Belgium. Kerri Pottharst is in town and was keen to say g'day after we called out to her, until she realised we were nobodies in the volleyball world, and was suddenly very busy. But no to worry, as we were off to another bar. At this bar we were served by a young lady from Bayswater, and who informed us the manager was from Bairnsdale, but still no discounts for a fellow Gippslander.

Pulpit Rock was the day trip destination on the Sunday for Jon and me, with Nadia opting out due to issues with cliff edges.

Pulpit Rock is a massive rock slab stretching up 604 vertical meters from the fjord below, and sitting just separated from all the other rock around it, with a small gap that can be stepped across. The top of the slab is a flat 25 by 25 meter square of bare rock. The Norwegian name for the rock is Prekestolen.

The journey to Prekestolen started with a bike ride down to the harbour in town. From there a short ferry ride to the town of Tau, and then a bus up to Prekestolen village before arriving at the starting point for the hike up to the rock itself. Instead of charging straight onto the walking track with all the other tourists from the bus we took a downhill path to the lake beneath us and found ourselves on a nice little beach for some good photos and a stretching session.

Once heading up the hill we quickly reeled in all the more elderly tourists and made our way to the cliff faces where stunning views abounded. Prekestolen is a very popular place and at the top, even though early in the day, we were just 2 of the hundreds of faces buzzing about. There were even hikers up there who found it necessary to have their dogs along. What the dogs thought of this is unknown. So after moving from 1 photo pozzie to another for an hour or so we headed a bit off track to a lower cliff and found ourselves alone for a very peaceful lunch with a good view back up to Prekestolen itself. We probably also are now featuring in thousands of photos taken by the people on the cliff above. At least we will give their photos some depth perspective.

On the way down we stopped for a swim in a mountain lake, and then caught all the transport legs in reverse to arrive back at camp for dinner and a rest.

The next few days were more swimming days. 1 local beach has 3 giant iron swords coming out of the rocks at the end of the beach. We didn't know the local name of the beach, so we named it Sword Beach. At another beach further away we were planning to camp, but the beach was lacking trees, and as Jon was still sleeping under a tarp, this was no good, but the beach was nice.

This then takes us to Wednesday. On Wednesday we were still calling and chasing Jon's bike. We now were fairly uncertain that Jon's bike may or may not at one stage never have been in Bangkok, or Holland, but we are welcome to call again tomorrow. The general gist of it is that we wouldn't be getting access to the bike until Saturday at the earliest, and as it would be a Saturday, we couldn't pick it up until Monday.

So with this knowledge safely confusing us we decided to send Jon out on my bike for a few days on his own, to take his mind off things.

That left Nadia and myself in Stavanger for a few days of trying to chase up Jon's bike, watching the volleyball, seeing the Aussie girls lose again, organising photos, reading books and making friends with other campers in the park.

Sunday brought us a beautiful day to celebrate Nadia's 25th birthday. The day started early as we wanted to listen to the Cats V's Saints 'clash of the Titans' footy game, which turned out to be a cracker of a game. When this had finished we were joined by 2 Slovakians who we had become friends with over the last few days. As they knew it was Nadia's birthday, they came to join us with a bottle of brandy. It was only 10.30 in the morning but we were away.

After a few drinks at camp it was off to a park near town to listen to a free piano concert, and then into the harbour area to wander about and play at the park. Katarina and Thomas left us there, while we went and found some cheap icecreams and waited for Jon to get back from his adventure. Once reunited we were back to camp for dinner and birthday cake. A very pleasant day indeed.

The Monday brought good news with the missing bike situation, in that it might be right to be picked up the next day. It also brought rain. This lead to the amusing situation of Jon, who was still tent-less, joining us for the night, making it 3 in Nadia's little tent.

The situation was all rectified the next day though as we were able to get Jon's bike, and after collecting the package and putting the bike together we rode back to camp and prepared for departure the next day.

Throughout our stay at the campground in Stavanger we were kept entertained by the goings on of the gypsies. When we first arrived, 2 caravans of people with Spanish semblances were all ready in residence. They kept to themselves in a very noisy way and conducted conversation from one end of the campground to the other. We didn't think too much of the fact that both the caravans were identical, as they looked like nicely designed vans, or that they had a lot of washing to do each day, usually consisting of half a dozen doonas and armfuls of bed sheets taken about by 4 of the 17 gypsy kids. What first grabbed our attention was the amount of kids emerging from these 2 caravans, with our best count being a good dozen per caravan. Also, the angle grinding that took place for about an hour each night. What they were grinding is a mystery. Why they were grinding had us baffled, but hey, each to their own.

Over the next 2 weeks the number of gypsies increased, as did the number of identical caravans. By the end there were 11 caravans - all identical, all parked in a defensive position on the hill, and not parked next to each other, but with a good grassy patch in-between each, giving them control over a large area of the park.

Our last day at the campground in Stavanger saw a confrontation that had been brewing for a week or so, and thankfully, the good guys won.

This confrontation was between the gypsies who believed they had ownership through weight of numbers of the laundry room, and myself, representing all the other campers. The first round was against one of the young mothers who put in a half hearted performance with an argument based around the story that she had been up since 6.30 to get her washing done and she only had 2 more loads to do. This I countered with 'we waited all day yesterday while you did all your washing then. She must have been thinking that there would be no fightback, as she looked shocked and gave up meekly, saying that I was not a nice person, but we could use the washing machine next, then disappeared back to the gypsy fort to spread the word and send in the big artillery.

The big gun arrived and the knockout round was an epic battle of wits between me and a 14 year old girl speaking in her second language. She had several arguments lined up ready to spit at me like a dragon breathing fire. She was quick, wily, well rehearsed and was obviously more at home in an argument than I. After I was able to squeeze past a few jousts she was running out of options and came up with a classic, that even though her family had been washing nonstop for the last 2 weeks, this was only her first load for the day. After this failed to move me she was starting to look a bit desperate and thought an all out offensive would work but it ultimately led to her downfall. The line she gave me (remembering she was only a 14 year old girl and speaking her second (possibly 3rd) language) was 'shut up when I'm speaking!' After a quizzical second whilst trying to figure out if I was mishearing I burst into laughter and that broke her. She gave up then, but even in defeat she still had enough anger to strike at me with 'but you can't have the dryer'.

Waterfalls and Vikings

2009-07-28T22:00:00.001+10:00

Waterfalls and Vikings.

A perfect weather day greeted us on Wednesday, the 28^th day of our trip. After exchanging email address with the German lady and having 1 last chocolate-chino for the road, we were off and away from Ebne and heading towards Kryping. We had to stop at Kryping for the night, as this was where our tour boat was picking us up the next morning.

We stopped in a little town called Skanevik and I spent an hour and a half of this glorious day standing inside a servo trying to get a Norwegian SIM card organised for my phone.

After leaving Skanevik we hit the 2 hills of the day. In Nadia's words they were 'dramatic' hills. I referred to them as 'big fuck off hills'. The first climb was about 3km, followed by a flat section of a good 400 meters before the second climb began. At the top we had ourselves a well deserved lunch shared with many flies, and Norway does the same annoying little buggers as we have at home, the little bush fly.

After all that climbing we had the joy of an 8% decline back to the highway we left a few days ago, before arriving nice and early at the Kryping campsite. A very friendly lady booked us in and seeing we were in a tent (the only people in the whole campground without a caravan) gave us the grim news that it was predicted to rain, but that she had some old cabins that she doesn't like and that we could stay in one of those if it started to rain. We thanked her and put up the tent, before I went off fishing. It was a few minutes later when the promised rain came and came in fu.., I mean bucket full's.

So we ran to the cabin carrying as much as we could, then Nadia started hanging our wet gear while I completed a dozen trips bringing back armfuls of gear. But eventually we were all in the cabin and with gear drying we were able to cook up on the little stove and save our own fuel.

It pelted it down all night and the wind howled but by morning it had settled down a lot, which was good for us, as today was the day of our fjord cruise. Even still it was our worst day of weather in Norway up to this point, with rain on and off all morning and into the early arvo.

When packed up we rolled our bikes down to the pier and were helped onto our cruise boat which had just pulled in. We were the only passengers all the way to Akrafjordtonet, which was where the tour would begin. The people running the tour were very chilled fellas and were happy for us to leave our bikes on the boat all day as they ran other tours. Our actual tour was the second tour of the day.

Whilst waiting for our tour to begin we were approached by a young lass who wanted to interview us for the local newspaper, as this was the grand opening day of the tourism season. And apparently only the second tour season ever in this fjord, so they were pretty excited to have some foreigners to make it sound a bit more worldly.

The tour we had chosen was a boat trip up the Akra fjord, with the spectacle of Langfoss Waterfall the highlight of the trip. For the tour there were 6 people (all of which were foreigners I think), so an easy first day for the crew, who were happy to give us commentary and made it very enjoyable despite the poor weather.

Just the views of the fjord from the water were special enough, and then we got to the main waterfall and it was spectacular. The Langfoss Waterfall is 612 meters of water cascading down the rockface from somewhere up above us and ending in plumes of spray that covered our boat which pretty much put its bow under the bottom of the falls. I was fairly wet from the rain already, but that was just on top of me. But after the boat finally backed away from the falls, I was wet through from every angle.

Back to Akrafjordtonet and that was meant to be the end of our waterfall viewing for the day, but as I said, these fellas were pretty chilled, so they let us stay on the boat while they went and picked up a bunch of school kids and took them up to the falls too, so even more photos and another soaking and big smiles all round. And wouldn't you know it, one of the teachers was heading to Australia a week later for a holiday and planning to go to Uluru, so we were able to give her a bit of insider info and recommendations.

After all the other passengers were off the boat then brought us all the way back to Valevag, a little dock way back down into the central fjords area, as they said it was an easy pier to get our bikes off (it was) and they were heading that way anyway. Brilliant!

I would recommend this trip to anybody who is coming over this way. It was a brilliant day even though the weather was lousy. By camp the rain had settled in again, but smiles were on our dials.

Overnight the weather lingered and passed the hours by finding different angles of falling on our tent. The morning was actually nice, until the weather realised it had been caught off guard, and then over compensated by lashing us with a half hour burst of hailstones and a thunder and lightning storm about 10 meters above our heads. Once this was all said and done we packed up and headed off. The rain was on and off all the way with us and we even took shelter in bus stops and under a bridge before just cracking on with it. We were back on the E93 soon and heading south, back in the area of Lie Beach from a week earlier. As it was wet and threatening to get wetter, and we knew that Lie was nice, we knuckled down and got there late in the arvo. One of the plusses of Lie Beach was that it had a big wooden shelter we could use if the heavens opened again.

Much to our surprise there was a marquee assembled on the decking in front of the shelter. You pricks!, was what I was thinking, but then the heavens cleared, the sun came out and everything was rosy again.

The marquee was for some of the local teenagers having a party. They were friendly folk and a few of them came and chatted to us when their Dutch courage was up.

The next 2 days were spent at Lie Beach in improving weather. By the Sunday it was sunny nearly all day, but still with a chilly wind blowing.

We gave ourselves 2 full days off to rest and dry everything, and because we now knew more about the arrival of Jonny Cope. He was getting in on Friday in Stavanger, not too far to the south of where we were, so no need to rush. The days off were filled with bike maintenance, stretching, reading, collecting mussels, fishing, watching the parents of the kids from the night before come and have their own party and I managed to fit in a nice jog, followed by a wash from our fold-up sink.

On the Monday we got moving again in the best weather we had seen for a week or so. After the initial stint on the highway we found a very nice, deserted cross road with lakes and forest, but soon enough it came to an end and we turned south onto the number 47 road, and back onto the official north sea cycle route for the first time in a while. This road quickly brought us into the town of Haugesund, and the memorial of Harald Fairhair. Harald is said to be the man who unified Norway in the 13^th (ish) century. Surrounding the central column are 29 pieces of stone that represent the counties that came together to form the new Norge.

In Haugesund we utilised the internet at the library to check emails and footy results. We also saw a copy of the local paper from the Akra fjord area and found that a picture of us had made it in.

After town we ended up in Avaldsnes, the home of the Vikings and former capitol of the then newly formed Norway. Once again with the help of friendly locals, we found our way to a more than ample campsite. This night was spent on a little island with a Viking village – a re-creation of what a village may have looked like way back when. The buildings were based on different ruins found around the country.

Tuesday the 23^rd of June – the longest day of the year – with sunrise this morning at 4.08am and sunset booked in for 11.12pm, making it just a lazy 19hrs of sun-up, and of course it doesn't get real dark in-between. I've been reading my book until 11.30 at night with no torch.

We took a tour of the Viking village, with a very knowledgeable young fellow all dressed up in traditional costume leading us around. He was very enthused and knew his stuff (probably what I should be like when tour guiding in central Oz), and the tour was only 8 Aussie dollars, making it the cheapest thing in Norway by a long shot.

After lunch in Kopervik we booted it! Our only stops were when choosing which path to take. The last 16km were done in 50 minutes, with the help of a stiff breeze coming in over our right shoulders, like a right arm quick coming in round the wicket. The wind blew us right into Skudeneshavn where we had to catch the ferry the next day. We found the info office/tour booking desk just before 5, where the nicest tourist office fella ever answered all our questions and even let us bash away on the internet for a while, even though it was probably past his closing time. This internet session was so we could find some contact info for people we know in this part of the world.

Another nice beach was found and camped on. Still no more luck with the fishing though. Since the first 2 fish, I have caught nothing but seaweed and lost 2 lures in the process.

A cruisey day was had getting into Stavanger, and a day that we got to share with other cyclists heading the same way. While waiting for the ferry, a young American brother/sister team rolled into port and waited with us. There tour was a bit more jumpy than ours, in that they would cycle where they wanted, and then catch trains to the next point of interest. The brother thought our cause was valiant, and donated an ice-cream to the Waratah Beach S.L.S.C, which I can report would have been enjoyed by all. After the ferry we all rode along the North Sea cycle route together, with the girls chatting about how it was unfair that the boys could ride up all the hills, and the boys chatting about how good they looked in lycra. It was very nice.

Eventually we came into the outskirts of Stavanger and all 4 of us were instantly lost. We met some Swedish girls (also tourists) who were heading to town and they said we could follow them. Then about 5 minutes later all 7 of us were lost. It was fun.

Eventually we made it to town and found the info centre where we came across our most unfriendly tourist office lady yet. Next we found our way to the campsite and got ourselves settled in for what was meant to be a day or 2. Jon was due to arrive on Friday.

Fjord lands

2009-07-28T21:52:00.002+10:00

The Fjord Lands.

After seeing the beauty of the fjords on the ferry yesterday, we were keen to get up and moving, so we broke all speed records to be on the road by 9.08am. We had another overcast morning to contend with, but quickly made our way down the west coast, across the south and into the islands main city of Leirvik.

*This name might appear similar to those following the blog, as to the name of the capital city on Shetland Island, Lerwick. That's because it is. A lot of the names of towns on both the Shetlands and the Orkneys were given by the Vikings on all their crazy, long, open ocean voyages, and the ensuing pillaging and plundering that took place. A magnificent old church we visited in Orkney was actually built by the Vikings originally, and is known as St. Magnus's Cathedral. The name Leirvik and all its other spellings translate to 'Muddy Bay'. *

Our aim in Leirvik was to find info on cruises that head into the fjords so we could see all there is to see. After a frazzled info lady had thrown 15 pamphlets at us we found that the tour we were most interested in hadn't actually started for the season yet, and didn't start until next Thursday. With today being Friday that left us with the options of filling our week with day trips, or riding further up the fjord itself and catching the tour boat at one of its stopping points further down the line.

This option was chosen and would have us exploring a few more islands, catching another ferry and seeing a lot of the more open areas of the fjords. Before going much further we had to stock up on supplies. Never hard to do in these southern areas of Norway, as there's usually 1 or 2 supermarkets in most little towns – RIMI 1000, REMA, SPAR, KIWI, CO-OP...

To get off the island there were 2 big bridges (1km each). The first bridge was pretty much north to south which was good, as there was a hefty northerly wind blowing us along. This bridge ended on a little rock, and turning to the right we then had the second bridge heading east to west. This bridge we walked, for safety against the cross breeze. This was the first wind we had noticed in Norway, and with our path for the next day taking us south, this northerly was more than welcome.

This night (Friday, 12^th June) we found a little picnic sort of area on the side of a lake. It had a knee high wooden fence bordering it from the road,, giving the impression of private, but the gate was open and there was a rescue ring there giving the impression of public. The big house across the road was the only one near us, but a knock at the revealed that no one was home at the moment.

So we set up camp and were soaking our feet in the lake when a car drove past very slowly with a few sets of eyes watching us closely and pulled in at the house. After drying the feet and heading to the door again we were met by a young tradesman who said that yes the land was private, but if we were only there for 1 night then it was ok to stay. Nice.

The next day the northerly was still blowing with a huff and a puff and for most of the day was blowing with us. This wind helped us to coast the 25km into Bomlo. There were a few big climbs along the way, one of which was a bit too long for Nadia, who had to resort to pushing.

The views we were receiving made it all worthwhile though. It reminded me a bit of the Greek Islands, with the barren looking rock dominating the landscape, and the sparse vegetation doing its best – perfect goat terrain. We even scored our first uninterrupted views of the North Sea.

A kiwi fruit at the top and the promise of a long downhill, mixed with the sun on our backs had us up and going again, and after getting a few basic supplies from town we were on the ferry at Langevag and relaxing on our way back to the mainland at Buavag. This half hour ferry ride cost us about 6 Aussie dollars each, with bikes, which makes the ferries in Norway about the cheapest things in the country. Thankfully, all the ferries so far have been roll on – roll off, which means we don't need to unload, which is handy.

Once back on land the choice was made for a scenic route up and around the headland to the north, instead of heading straight to the main roads we knew we had to take later that day. This extra loop took us through some quaint little gatherings of houses, all done in the very traditional style of Norway – small square 'doll house' like buildings, painted in red or blue. A lot of houses here have their own national flags flying. Interestingly there are 2 types of national flag – the big, square standard flag with the full Norwegian blue and white cross on the red background. The other flag is an elongated triangle, once again with a red background. This flag doesn't have a full cross, but just straight lines of white and blue. We were to discover the difference when talking to a lady in an info/gift shop the next day. The big square flag is for important events and dates, such as weddings, funerals, birthdays, graduations, etc. And when it is flown, it can only be flown between sunrise and sunset. The smaller triangle flag is just for national pride I guess you could say; just to show that you are Norwegian. A very proud people to judge by the number of houses with flags. Back in Oz, I look at houses that fly the Australian flag and think 'you goose', but here it's the done thing.

Reaching the main road after this loop was a shock at the amount of traffic heading north to Bergen, or south to Stavanger. There mightn't be many people, but they seem to all be going places.

This was the first time we had to ride on one of the 'E' roads. This was E39, coming down from up north somewhere off our map, all the way to Kristiansand on the south coast.

We were intermittently on the road and the bike path which popped up every now and then. We found a big servo along the way and stopped to fill the drink bottles, get an ice-cream and purchase a better map.

So far in Norway we haven't bought any chocolate. This is due to the price of chocolate, with a chocky bar costing about 3 dollars, and a block about 8 dollars. What is that all about? I think this is the longest I have ever gone without chocolate, and if it goes for much longer I might perish.

After changing from the E39 to the E134 we were heading east. The E134 goes inland all the way to Oslo and seems to be the most direct route from Bergen. This also makes it one of the busiest roads in Norway, and severely lacking in bikepaths unfortunately. So with heads down and bums firmly planted in the saddle we waddled along with big old trucks and monstrous campervans barrelling past, with occupants most likely cursing us in many differing European languages.

After eventually finding a bikepath we relaxed and started hunting for the night's campsite. Our newly purchased map was working beautifully and it was telling us that up ahead was a place called Dagsland. That sounded funny enough to us to warrant camping there for the night, but some timely advice from a local fella enjoying the sun on his deck had us heading to Lie Beach, which was much closer than Dagsland, and turned out to be a very nice little beach a long way up the waters of Grindefjorden, with soft green grass, a wooden shelter, toilets and running water. We shared this campsite for the night with 3 German campervans. There are lots of Germans in Norway.

Heading down to the pier I found a heap of mussels clinging to the rocks, so I spent the next hour happily collecting our dinner for the night.

Sunday started slowly. We didn't have far to go before reaching the starting point of our tour, and still had a few days to play with. So after studying the map for a good length of time we were away at 11.30. Here again as with most campsites and ferry ports, the first few hundred meters were straight up, to get away from the shore and up to the roads which track around the coast.

It was a very relaxed ride this day and just on 30km we passed a sign for a beach, so we pulled in, headed down the very steep hill and found ourselves with a beach to ourselves, once again with toilets and this time we even had a volleyball court.

There were no mussels this night, so it was back into our bags of goodies. Most nights we are munching on rice or pasta with veggies and packet sauces – basic, healthy and nourishing.

This being our first Sunday in Norway, we weren't to know that not only did we have a day of rest, but most Norwegians do the same thing too. Admittedly we aren't in a built up area, but all the shops we passed today were closed, including 1 supermarket on the highway. We didn't actually see anybody else until late in the afternoon when our beach was invaded by a big group of kids and parents who ran amok for a few hours and then disappeared back up the hill.

Our distance was back up again the next day (51km) and we hit the 1,000km mark of the trip! Hooraa to us and high 5's all round. To celebrate (prematurely) we bought some souvenirs and even lashed out and bought a readymade lunch for the first time. I also bought a fishing rod, to hopefully get us some more free dinners along the way.

Shortly after the 1,000km mark we found a beach on private land that the owner allowed to be a free campsite. He's even made a toilet and shower room for visitors, with steaming hot water, and all for free.

There were already a few German campervans in residence, and as the day was very cold and windy, we pitched our tent pretty close to the back of one campervan, trying to utilise its windbreaking ability. It was probably less than a minute after we had the tent up when 2 old ladies came across from 1 of the campervans and gave us big mugs of hot chocolate-chino. I don't like coffee at all, but this stuff certainly hit the spot.

After a good chat to these ladies, of which 1 could speak very good English, we got dinner organised, and then headed over to the campervans to chat some more to our new friends.

It was also decided to enjoy a rest day here the following day.

This turned out to be a very pleasing day indeed, with the sun out all day (but still a cold northerly). The new fishing rod worked very nicely and I'd landed 2 decent size mackerel after 15 minutes of fishing off the rocks. The ladies bustled over and showed me how to fillet the fish and explained different ways of cooking it, and yes, even provided samples from their fridge. I was happy with 2 fish for Nadia and me, but 1 lady thought it wasn't enough and brought us a big Tupperware container of some other type of fish her husband had caught the day before.

The rest of the day was laundry, showers, mucking about with cameras, sewing and reading books.

Then fish for entree and dinner. A very nice day indeed, and topped off with a phonecall from Simon and Jon at home to say that Jon had booked his tickets and was officially coming to join the trip.

Nordland

2009-07-17T18:05:00.006+10:00

If the views we had from the flight into Bergen are any indication of the adventures to come, then we are in for a few good weeks. Yes, we are in Norway, the land of the Viking, the home of the mysterious troll, and a country in love with moose, judging by the amount of car stickers available.

The flight from Shetland to Bergen was a quick entry in Norway, but afforded us our first amazing views of the Fjordland area, that Bergen is the gateway of. Coming down out of the clouds we could see mountainous land rising straight out of the North Sea, then there were highways running north to south, and then there was water again..? And then there was more mountains coming out of the sea with even more human habitation on show this time. The first land we saw was the islands of the coast of Norway. The second bit of land is the mainland. And then cutting into the mainland south of Bergen in a slap hazard sort of fashion are the fjords, and a lot of them.

First things first. Upon entering a new country I like to know a bit about the peoples of the land, so I devised a cunning plan to test the honesty of the local inhabitants. It was a simple plan - firstly I withdrew a large amount of cash in the new currency, this being Norwegian Kroner's (of which 5 kroner equals 1 Aussie dollar). Then I casually walked to the toilets, and the key to the success of this plan was to look so innocent as to appear not to actually have a plan at all. This completed, all that was required was to use the toilet and then 'accidently' leave my wallet in the cubicle, vacate the cubicle, wash my hands and then 'apparently' realise my mistake and feign some panic stricken minutes. In the extremely localised furor that ensued, I was able to slip away back into the grey area of 'just another stupid tourist' and watch what happened next.

A few minutes later when hearing my name being called over the airport intercom, with instructions to proceed to the information desk, I then had a much clearer picture of the typical Norwegian - very honest and happy and thank fuck for that.

Or maybe I should be choosing 1 of the Norse gods to be thanking. There are a few to pick from - there is Oden, the wisest of the gods, and the father of a few of them, who gave 1 of his eyes for a drink from the cup of wisdom. My favorite though, and the best known of Norse gods would have to be Thor, the son of Oden. Thor is the big fella with the big hammer - the Mighty Thor!

Outside the airport it was time to put the bikes back together and cycle our first Norwegian kilometers. Bike tracks seem to be common in Norway. Too common in fact, as we were stopping what seemed to be every 500 meters to check our basic map and figure out we had missed a turn 400 meters back, so back we would go, start in the new direction for another 500 meters before repeating step 2.

In this fashion we floundered our way around the eastern edges of Bergen to a basic little campsite. This campsite charged us through the nose to pitch our tent. I figure they were charging for the location, which was fair enough, as we did have uninterrupted lakeside views.

As there was a bit of moisture in the air, and it was getting late we decided to buy a big can of gruel from the campsite shop, which they charged us through the nose for. I figured they were charging for the can, which was fair enough, as the slop that came out of the can couldn't be worth all that much.

The next day we went into Bergen, a sizeable city in a country of nearly 5 million. It's the second most populated city, behind the capitol Oslo, with about 250,000 residents. Norway is riding the oil boom at the moment, with the North Sea producing a lot. Due to this, the unemployment levels in Norway are very low.

Most Norwegian cities are having lots of civil works done at the moment, and Bergen is no exception with road works and bridge building projects under way all through the town. This is an effort to stimulate the economy we have been told, a bit different to the way Kevin looked at the problem at home - give everyone $900 and hope they buy shit, or create jobs for many people, creating incomes which can then be spent. Hmmm -, anyway, my point is that due to all these road works, we got lost a few extra times.

Going into Bergen also had us entering into Bruce Springsteen mania - The Boss had played the night before, and was playing again tonight. Unfortunately all hostels were full, so we had to camp out of earshot of the great man. He was such big news he even made it into the conversation we had with the customs official when entering Norway. So town was hectic, and seemingly for us, very crowded, which had us doing what was needed, and then getting back on the road to the south.

As we were in Scotland, we would again be following parts of the North Sea Cycle Route. This is officially the longest cycle path in the world, covering 6,000km through Scotland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, Holland, Belgium and England, sometimes on car roads, other times on bike paths. We have passed many cyclists completing sections of the path they haven't done before, and some attempting to complete the whole loop in 1 go. It isn't an aim of ours to complete all or any of this cycle route, so we are free to come and go from the official track as we please.

The next morning we started with a picturesque 10km loop that brought us back to where we were the day before and then back past where we had camped the night before, all without much knowledge on our behalf. It is going to take a few days to get accustomed to the roads and bike paths of this country. Once we were heading in the right direction we came across our first 'bugger me!' hill with a little road going up and over that we had to cycle. It can't really be said that these roads wind up the hills, because there isn't much winding going on. It's more of a full on attack up the mountain face.

Getting to the top of this hill though opened up some really beautiful country in front of us, and apart from a few wrong turns there wasn't anything in our way of heading into the famous fjord lands on Norway.

Our first real look at the area was catching the ferry from Halhjem, past a few islands and headlands, and down to Sandvikvag, on the northern end of the island of Stord. This 40 minute ferry ride took us through 1 postcard shot after another. The amazing waters of the fjords butting up to the sheer rocks jutting out of the water, and then off in the far distance, what seems to be miles above this battle between ocean and earth, stand snow capped mountains looking regal in the crystal clear air and late afternoon summer sun.

Off the ferry we rode for a short distance along the western side of the island and made camp in a little clearing on the edge of the road. For the second night in a row, and no doubt there'll be many more, we were wild camping. This is legal in Norway, as long as you are no closer than 150 meters from the nearest house. In a country with not even 5 million people, this should be easy, but these Norwegians like spreading themselves out, and when seemingly you find yourself in the deepest wilderness, a look around the next corner will usually reveal 2 or 3 houses that look to have been there for a long, long time.

Our first few days in Norway have given us the warmer weather we were needing. It has drizzled a bit, but mostly at night which leaves us with overcast but warm days. And long days at that.

Shetland ponies and otter spotting

2009-06-30T06:32:00.006+10:00

Hi, welcome to Shetland, here's an umbrella. Somebody cue the rain and the wind.
Unfortunately the ferry that brought us to Lerwick, the capitol city of Shetland Island, sped all night, meaning it arrived on time, to drop us onto the freezing docks. The unfortunateness was owing to the time of day - 7.30 in the morning - that we had to embrace a day of Shetland weather that even the locals commented on as being very cold and unseasonal. So we crept along like Shetland ponies, trying to keep our bums pointing into the rain.
We checked into the Lerwick Hostel a.s.a.p, showered and had ourselves a hearty bowl of porridge.
The rest of the day was spent following the trail of finding a boat to Norway. It was a tough trail to follow, leading us into just about every building on the dock. The general gist of things was that our best bet would be with one of the private yachts that might be heading that way. But speaking to the yachties the story was bleak. Nobody was sailing anywhere until Wednesday at the earliest due to the wind. Even the tour boats were being cancelled.

On Saturday the 6th, we had a lazy morning but were motivated when we saw a few people having a roll on the bowling green across the road. We went to see if we could join them for a few ends and were indeed welcome. We had a good chat to all the local boys (figuring the more people we talked to about catching a boat, the better the odds of someone knowing something), and we were happy to learn that we had just been rolling on the most northerly bowling green in the world.
After this warm up the active day continued with a plan to ride north east to some big bays, to see if we could spot any otters. We bought lunch on the way out of town, planning to stop and eat when we found a nice view point. We ended up eating in a bus shelter because there was no place that looked at all enticing, and we could see a hefty shower rolling towards us.
Following this shower were several more showers, coming in intervals of about 10 minutes. Not knowing how evenly spaced out the bus stops were, we decided to turn tail, returning to Lerwick via Scalloway on the west coast.
This new path seemed to move us away from the worst of the weather, and brought us to a paddock on top a hill with half a dozen Shetland Ponies grazing. Friendly ponies they were to, and most came running across for a head scratching session which ended in all of us sharing an apple, a really special moment.

The Sunday was spent in last ditch efforts to get ourselves passage to Norway, but to no avail. So at the end of the day the decision was made to fly from Shetland to Bergen as quickly as possible. This option was chosen as it would have us moving again quickly, and hopefully finding some better weather.
The weather here today was again awful, with the wind not abating.

Monday was an action day again. First we booked our tickets to fly the next day. We called both the airlines we were flying with (yes, 2 airlines for a 90 minute direct flight) and the airport in Shetland to find out the exact details of our baggage allowance and if they could supply bike boxes. The most worrying aspect was that nobody could guarantee our bikes would go on the small plane, and that they would be on standby.
We also discovered that they didn't have anything to put our bikes in, so then it was running around town, this time looking for bike boxes, and when that failed, to all the stores that might have some old cardboard laying around. By the end of this we had visited every business in Lerwick.
In the late afternoon we had come down to our last chance to try and spot an otter, so regardless of the weather we headed out on the bikes with cameras at the ready. We cut across the golf course to the head of a bay that an otter spotter expert had told us might be a chance. The wind was blowing into our faces so the little creatures wouldn't be able to smell us coming, and although we saw lots of evidence of otter activities, we didn't get to see any that night.
Back at the hostel we relaxed with a few beers chatting to a friendly Sri Lankan fella, then went and packed for the next day. To make sure we came in under the weight restrictions we decided to leave most of our food and books behind.

The next morning we were up and onto the airport bus by 6, as it was going to take a fair while to get the bikes ready to fly. We had been at the airport for about half an hour and made a huge mess all over the floor with cardboard, discarded cardboard, foam packing and packing tape expanding away from us in all directions. Then one of the staff who had been watching us for that half hour wandered over and asked if we just didn't want to use one of their bags!!! Grrr, and then Nadia went to confirm if our bikes would fit on the plane with us, and was asked if she had pre booked them on the flight!!!!! These were the same people we were talking to the day before who had said no to everything.
But in the end all was good - the bikes were loaded on, we were a bit over the weight allowance but the friendly lady let us get away with it, we caught the plane, we headed to Norway, Scandinavia.
And that was the end of Shetland, the end of Scotland. The end of the first leg of our trip, and hope abounding, the end of the terrible weather.

Orkney Islands

2009-06-30T03:25:00.004+10:00

Four and a half days was enough time for us to see some sights and have delights on 3 of the Orkney Islands, of which there are '70 or so' according to the Visit Orkney website. These islands are located just off the northern mainland of Scotland.

After the 90 minute ferry ride from Thurso to Stromness on Orkney Island (known as the mainland by the locals) we had a nice lunch on the side of the harbour and strolled through the 'dead on a Sunday' town. Our next ferry took us away from the world's drunkest locals (bank holiday weekend) and a bit back to the south to the island of Hoy. Once unloaded onto Hoy at the vacant pier, a gentle cycle between the mountains brought us onto the south side of the island where we had a nice view of Thurso back on the real mainland of Scotland.
This night was spent in the most beautiful campsite that we came across in Scotland - we pitched our tent in the yard of a stone bothy, surrounded by a roughly built, waist high stone wall. The bothy was on the grassy area just above the rock strewn beach. There was a nice living area inside the bothy, with room for a few to sleep on the rock bench seats that ran along most of the walls. It also had a separate toilet and dishes area.
We shared this crystal clear night with 4 others - a French couple, and 2 Welsh fella's who were here to climb The Old Man Of Hoy, a world famous rock stack off the western end of Hoy Island.

The morning of Monday, the first of June had us salivating at the dawning of another perfect day for us to enjoy and use to its fullest. On days like this, for folk lucky enough to be starting them from within the 'ripstop' confines of a tent, or a swag, you really do wonder why not everybody is waking up the same way, and why some choose to never do this, and why on earth would anybody want to live in a city, and who really needs anymore than what we've managed to fit on our bikes (which does include a computer, so are we really missing out?), and why can't people camp wherever they want if it's just for a night or 2, and why do people with no attachment to 'their' land more than mowing the lawn every Sunday, claim it as their own and make it private???

Anyway, we hiked to The Old Man Of Hoy and were treated to some inspiring views of the rock bathed in light, and the 2 welshies preparing to climb. They had told us the night before that it's a 5 pitch climb, and the difficulty level translated into the Australian ranking system, would be somewhere between 17 and 20.
We sat and watched whilst playing with the bumble bees until the end of their first pitch, then moseyed back over the cliffs, through the crofter's town on Rackwick, and back to the bothy for lunch.
After returning to the Orkney mainland we pedaled our way up the western side of the island to Skaill Bay to camp.

We had been told that Marwick Head was a likely place to see some puffins, so that was our main objective for the next day. But it quickly became our second stop, as whilst en route we called in to one of the many workshops of talented local craft merchants. This one happened to be the residence/workshop/shop front of a husband and wife silversmith team. In this shop Nadia found thee ring that she had been searching for (no mum, settle down), with beautiful inlaid Celtic designs. And as her birthday was fast approaching, and as it isn't too easy to hide a present from a tent mate and cycle partner, that was purchased, happy birthday was said and everyone was happy.
Arriving at the Marwick Head car park we locked the bikes and powered up the cliffs, surprised to be making up half of the number of people on the cliffs on this slightly overcast morning.
Initial sightings of seabirds were of razorbills, kittiwakes, and a goodly number of fulmars. The shy little puffin kept himself hidden for a few minutes extra, before poking his beautifully, multi-coloured beak out of a small gap between some rocks. This was later followed by the head, and his sad looking expression. Ohh, so cute, with a mix of shy and helplessness thrown in.
This puffin, and the others we were to see, was a little bit smaller than a fairy penguin, was made up mainly of beak and feet, and could fly as well and as far as the conditions required.
Further along on top of the cliffs proper there was a sizable memorial for Lord Kitchener - a decent chap from the war days who seems to have found time to do a lot of good deeds along the way.
Heading towards the NW corner of the mainland we visited another silversmith before enjoying an ice-cream in Birsay. We then headed for a ferry at Tingwall, winding our way across the north coast. At one stage we were stopped while the local farmers moved their cattle along the road to a different paddock. Their method was as simple as tying a rope across the road and as the cattle neared it they turned without even challenging the flimsy barrier. This day being the perfect day that it was, when we arrived at the ferry we rolled straight on and the ferry rolled out to Rousay island, a half hour ferry ride to the north.
Once on Rousay we started a loop of the island straight away looking for campsites as we went. We called into the local pub and discovered that the monthly trivia night happened to fall on this exact night. Perfect. Whilst there we were given a car by one of the locals and told to go and check out possible campsites for the coming night. The man (an ex-camp host in the Northern Territory) didn't even feel the need to tell us his name so he remains nameless to us. Once returning the vehicle and setting up camp we asked the neighbours if we could camp in their paddock. This was answered with 'It's not my paddock' and 'Would you like to come in for a home-brew?' To which we said 'YES PLEASE!' As a result we were late to trivia, but as it turned out we were no threat at all with running away with a victory. This perfect day was finished off with an Orkney Fudge Sundae, delicious.

Wednesday started with stronger winds and overcast skies. Our first cold day in Orkney. After packing up it was only a short 10 minute ride to 'the most important archaeological mile in the UK', as they told it. We wandered along old ruined homes and farms including a 24 chambered burial mound. Within the mound they found 9 whole skeletons and the remains of up to 25 people. Today the mound is enclosed in a modern building to protect it. After spending some time here we decided we had seen our fair share in old ruined buildings. Back on the road we enjoyed a short downhill into a fierce headwind before turning to unfortunately see the ridiculously and unnecessary steep climb up the north side of the island. Needless to say, we pushed. Halfway up, one of the men from the quiz who we'd met the night before, stopped in an ambulance to have a chat before motoring in a very low gear the rest of the way up the hill. At the top we had a magnificent view toward some of Orkney's other islands before launching into a fast downhill where we both set new maximum speeds, and would have been even faster if we didn't stop at the milk bar on the way down to have some lunch. We once again timed the ferry perfectly and rolled on just in time for a return trip to the mainland. Now on the north eastern side of the island we headed south and ended up near the famous Standing Stones of Stenness for the evening. There are a few chunks of this island that are World Heritage listed, because many many years ago somebody decided it was a nice place to build a house. Then a few years (give or take a century) later they got bored and stood some sizeable slabs of rock up on their ends. Well, the palaver that has caused in the last century is quite impressive. Maybe these ancient folk would be proud to know that their kitchens and standing stones are keeping a healthy amount of people employed today. And if you listen to these storytellers you'll be told that it wasn't just one ancient peoples, but the Picts, the Celts, the Vikings (not necessarily in that order, and this might not be a fully comprehensive list)...

We woke up to a damp tent, but nothing too serious as it dried before we left off for the day. This was the first rain we had seen in Orkney and we thought it perfect that it arrived during the night, and not while trying to pack in the morning. First thing we went and saw the Standing Stones close up. It was a little strange because they were sitting in a paddock with sheep, surrounded by farmland. Now this is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, something boasted about by locals and advertised everywhere in Orkney, but upon arrival seems like Wobbies World compared to Disneyland. Don't get me wrong, it is impressive that centuries ago they managed to somehow stand the 6 metre slabs of rock up on their ends, but after all the hype we expected some sort of development surrounding the sites. I guess it is a good thing though, that the Stenness Stones and Ring of Brodgar remain where they are without ice-cream and souvenir vans.
The weather got better as the day went by and we continued towards Kirkwall via Scapa Flow, famous for the scuttled German fleet of WWI. In town we had some time to kill so we wandered around town checking out the craft stores and also St Magnus Cathedral, built in 1137. Dodging the rain we then gutsed ourselves on pizza before boarding the night ferry to sail to Lerwick, Shetland.

The last of the mainland

2009-06-13T06:12:00.000+10:00

The North, as everyone knows it over here, is a beautiful place, although mostly under appreciated by one and all Scotsman. On a not-so-bad day here, we only passed one car parked at a starting point for a walk.

Our journey from Lairg to Tongue on the north coast was made by following the one road for the entire day. There aren't many roads in The North.

With a nice tail wind and hills undulating through differing degrees of gentleness, we cruised along at a cracking 17.5k.p.h, our best yet. We also reached our finishing point of Tongue at 3p.m, so it was off to the pub for a hot chocolate and caramel slice.

The town of Tongue doesn't contain much - a pub & hotel, a general store and a service station/convenience store - but for what ever reason the ladies of Braemar had mentioned how much they love Tongue (especially Miriam), and strongly recommended a visit. So visit we did, and enjoy Tongue we did. Not for the service at the pub, but for the great weather that Tongue bestowed upon our trip. Just before arriving in Tongue, the clouds lifted on what had been a very dreary day and gave us a beautiful sunlit afternoon to relax and throw the frisbee. And this weather was to continue.

The next morning the sun was out and so were the cyclists, with several passing us before we had finished packing. Although none seemed to be carrying any tents or sleeping bags.. cheats. Once we were away it was a beautiful down hill run to the very bottom of our first massive up hill of the day. This hill claimed Nadia as a walker, as the next few would claim me also. There didn't seem to be any need for that sort of steepness. All that was at the bottom of each coastal valley was a sleepy little village with a beautiful river leading to a deserted beach, and a shop if lucky. A simple bridge would have been ample to protect the locals from all the tourist vehicles rolling through, and would have saved us a lot of time and effort.

Apart from the huffing and puffing, the day brought us some nice views over the Atlantic ocean, a wind farm, a decommissioned nuclear power site and the 'flow country' which we figured meant flat, featureless plateaus.

By the end of all this we had ridden 70km for the day, and had made it to Thurso - the surf capital of Scotland, and it was flatter than Sandy Point on a flat day. We were informed though that a month before O'neill had held a competition there in 20ft. surf.

In Thurso we gave ourselves a rest day and gave the bikes a well earned 'happy 500km!' service at the local bike shop. We were camping at the Thurso Caravan Park and it would be leading most, if not all, in the 'caravan park with the best view award'. From our tent we could see down onto the main town beach, the town itself, Dunnet Head (the most northerly point of mainland Scotland) and off in the distance we could see some of the Orkney Islands, and just make out The Old Man Of Hoy (a massive pillar of rock).

Our day off was spent figuring out ferries, catching up on emails and still trying to find a way of getting from Shetland to Norway on the cheap. And the good weather continued to shine down upon us. We even got burnt on the bike ride to Thurso.

Nessie hunting, then north

2009-06-07T19:38:00.002+10:00

Day 4 started by tricking us. Just like the Richmond Tigers it promised much, but gave little. We woke to sunshine filtering through the tree tops, which were waving gently to and fro in the breeze. Our trees must have been much shorter than all the other trees because as soon as we got back onto the road we were faced with a fair gale blowing straight up from the south.

Such a ferocious beast of a wind must surely have been called up by some other worldly creature, and looking to the loch, through the shadow of the pines.. there be monsters in this loch they call Ness?, or just the play of the white water and the mind of a man too eager to believe in such childish folly. Oh, but woe to those who can't believe, says I.

So up hill we walked, and down hill we actually had to pedal the wind was so strong. This continued until at lunch we pulled into the biggest town on the loch, Fort Augustus. Hot soup and lunch saw the spirits of the party buoyed, and by rounding the southern end of Loch Ness we had turned this terrible wind in our favour. Everything on the western side of Loch Ness looks a bit more the way I had expected it. On the east side the road was tiny and the cars were few, with tourism seeming to be a few years away. The West side gave us a 2 lane road and the traffic that you would expect at what has to be Scotland's most iconic landmark. Also on the west side the hills were more gentle. In the session after lunch we were averaging over 15km/p/h. We also started to see some other bike tourists for the first time, and they all seemed to be carrying a lot less than us.

Along the way we saw the ruins of Urquhart Castle, and even a tiny rainbow appeared over the loch.

That night was spent in the woods of Drumnadrochit, on the bank of a little burn. We were 'wild camping' just off a walking path that proved popular with the locals, but everyone that walked past that evening were very cheery with their hello's.

After a delicious curry and pasta dinner we went for a walk ourselves, and then I sat down by the stream to do the day's journal. It's light enough at night to read until 10.30 with no torch.

A brilliant morning session brought us into Inverness where we did a bit of shopping. Nadia was needing a new sleep mat after hers decided to un-attach itself from the inside out the night before. At each town we come to with an information centre, we try to get info on ferries from Shetland to Scandinavia, but nobody knows what's happening for sure.

The afternoon ride had us heading to Contin. It rained for a while, but not too much.

As we were passing through a small town, we passed a fella walking the other way, all kitted out in what looked like WW2 gear, and carrying a flag over his shoulder. Asking him of his journey, he told us he was hiking the entire John 'O Groats to Lands End track, to raise money for the 'Help For The Heroes' charity, which raises money for soldiers injured in action.

At Contin we had a beautiful campsite, and even felt energetic enough to throw the frisbee for a while. Gave the bikes a good looking over and discovered slight kinks in both our back wheels, which is fair enough with the weight we're putting on them.

On day 6 was weather was summer'ish for the first time, I was even riding in just my bike shorts! The tailwind continued and had us averaging 16km/p/h for the day. Thankfully we passed a town with a bike shop so I could get a spoke tightening tool. With this we decided to make today a shorter day, and stopping to ask a local lady (who has a daughter living in Caufield) about decent camping options, we pulled into the Glen Aldie forest at 4p.m, got camp set up, hooked the iPod up to the speakers, and got to work on the bikes.

This night and the night before was our soft introduction to midgees, the famous Scottish insect. There weren't that many of them, but they were very apt at being really annoying. Now the bite doesn't hurt much, and the resulting welt is insignificant and not overly itchy, but they're just so bloody annoying, with a tendency to fly straight into your open eye. Even in they're early season low numbers, it was enough to drive me to becoming the ultimate tourist, and donning a midgee net/hat combo - the ones that make us laugh at central Australia tourists.

Waking up in the tent the next morning was the start of our wettest morning yet. It rained solid for 2 hours whilst we moped about trying to hide everything under the pine trees. The weather plays such a big part in the mood of the camper, and the timing of the rain is a factor also - rain during the day, eh, not too bad. But rain when trying to pack up camp, ugh, horrible, everything's wet when you pack, and wet and cold that night when you set up camp again.

So we slowly packed up and I'd guess it was about 24 seconds after strapping the last bag to the bike, it stopped raining for the first time that day. It then didn't rain again until we arrived at camp and started to unpack and get camp ready. Nay bother this night though, because after 7 days of 'wild' camping we were treating ourselves to an official campground, with showers and laundry facilities. This campsite was on the southern end of Loch Shin in a town called Lairg. On the way to Lairg during the day we went through Tain and along the southern shore of the Firth of Dornoch, then followed the river Shin, including at a stop at the Falls of Shin.

Camping in a town for the first time also presented us with a chance to head to a pub. We didn't. We cooked and fell asleep.

Now at Loch Shin we are truly into northern Scotland, one of the remotest areas in Europe.

trip blog 1

2009-06-06T02:54:00.003+10:00

Dragging all the gear out to the front of the house in sunny Braemar weather was the easiest part of day 1. Following was the full packing of the gear (including throwing out even more of our excess belongings (that didn't really seem all that excess only a few weeks ago, but a bike can only take so much) ), the final goodbyes, and the first wobbly pedals taking us away from our highland life of the last 6 months.

And even after all the months of planning and talking, it still came down to waiting until the last minute for the postie to bring a memory stick for the new camera.
The postie was late for the first time. So we left.
Thanks Guy for thinking of us on your holiday aswell, much appreciated.
Luckily leaving Braemar there is a nice gentle down hill, so off we rolled, clipping into our cleats and enjoying the ease of it all - sun over our shoulders, wind in our hair, the country side gently rolling by. The next 2 years of our lives were going to be a breeze, if the first 9 miles were any indication.
But then something changed. Namely the gradient. The road from Crathie goes up, up into the Cairngorms, up to The Lecht Ski Centre, and then probably up some more. We knew this road was going to be hard, but the hills are what we came to Scotland for. Out of all the hills that day, we had to get off and push only a half dozen times or so.

We had been going for about half an hour that first day when a car came roaring up from behind with a dog hanging out one window and the driver hanging out the other, with tongues hanging out of both of them. It was Aileen with our memory stick. Gotta love Braemar. It's sort of like Sandy Point in size, and even similar weather, but the locals here are actually spotted out and about and enjoying their little part of the world. I know more people in Braemar after 6 months than all my summers at Sandy Point.

The first day we clocked up 43km, making it up to the ski centre, and just down the other side, to camp beside a stream, near an old mine. Dinner on the new stove, then into bed, and that was day 1 of 500, or so.

The next day we were up and away by 10.00, which seems to be our unofficial starting time.
It will quicken when my packing improves, and the weather improves also.
We started day 2 riding in a light drizzle. Our aim was to cut across country towards Loch Ness and although we were showered upon it was a very pleasant day with beautiful undulating countryside that seemed easy in comparison to day 1.
We managed to avoid big towns such as Aviemore by cutting through smaller places like Boat of Garten. We thought we'd try the 'off road' option on the bike path thinking that it meant 'away from the highway' but it also meant 'away from even sealed surfaces', taking us across a property including deep rutted 4WD tracks. AND it wasn't even a shortcut, we actually went 1.5 miles FURTHER!
After that little adventure we passed Slochd (we thought it quite amusing) followed by Slochd Summit. Shortly after that we reached 100km, woohoo! Once cruising down Slochd Summit we started looking for campsites and ended up just near Moy in the woods with the sun setting on the far hills.
Day 3 brought us to the shores of Loch Ness. It was a tough day with short sharp climbs on the single lane along the eastern side of the loch. The views were beautiful but for some reason all the little shops and cafes (that could've sold us ice creams) were closed in the middle of the day, a Saturday which you would think is prime tourist time.
The day ended with some lovely photos having been taken, but also with rain pelting down and us having to hide beneath the pine trees to erect our tent. Needless to say we hid and ate biccies for dinner in our sleeping bags!

After a few days on the road the moods were varied. Happy and then irritated. Hills and headwinds are something to get used to. But so much to look forward to also. We haven't gone far at all yet, but already seeing new corners of the world.

Map of the trip so far, thanks to bikely.com

Braemar to Loch Ness

Share your bike routes @ Bikely.com

the build up

2009-05-20T18:46:00.004+10:00

Like the long and slow build up of the wet season, so to our journey is on the precipice of beginning, of breaking open and letting out some cool refrain.

We have been able to set ourselves up for the next 2 years of our lives with the help of Braemar Mountain Shop. Apparently me fluffing about in the basement of the shop qualified us for massive discounts in the shop. So spend we did. New wardrobes we have, new camping gear we have, and most importantly – new bikes we have.

All the electronics are fully charged, all the cameras are ready to shoot. We'll fit most of our gear in our front and back panniers, with 1 or 2 waterproof bags on top. So apart from a few more good-byes, that is that.

Hopefully tonight we will be camping down the other side of The Lecht, a ski field between here and Loch Ness. There are 2 dirty big hills that we will have to climb to get there, so we might as well get them out of the way on day 1. I can't promise too much action for day 2 though. :)

So, thats it for now. There wont be too much action on the computer front until we stop in a city, as we only have about 1hr of battery life on the laptop. But I will do my best to update and get a few nice photos on here for everyone to see.

Oh, and a big thankyou to our other sponsors of this trip. I've already mentioned Braemar Mountain Sports - good blokes who give you good price!
Also we have to put out a huge thanks to Carol and Miriam at the Hungry Highlander, who kept us well nourished through the long and cold winter.
Fartech Electronics were a big help also by setting up wireless internet access all through our house.

And any moneys that are raise during this trip will be going to the Waratah Beach Surf Life Saving Club. Now we're not going out of our way to raise money, but in our dishevelled state we might have a few coins thrown at us.

Hooroo,
Wally.

the plan

2009-05-20T02:10:00.006+10:00

Hi, and welcome to the blog of Wally and Nadia, with maybe a few other friends dropping in along the way. We're going on a bike ride.

We have been out of Oz now for half a year, living and working in the small town of Braemar, in the highlands of Scotland. Nadia was working in the Fife Arms hotel for a while, before running the shop at Glenshee Ski Centre. I was working at the Braemar Mountain Shop, working as a ‘ski tech’, which involved winging my way through the winter pretending to know something about snow, and drilling many a hole into very expensive skis.

The basic idea now is to hop on our bicycles and ride. The first destination is east, to the shore of Loch Ness. After rounding the southern end of the loch the bikes will be turned north towards the Orkney and Shetland islands. From there we are looking at Bergen in Norway, but that depends on hitching a ride, if there is a ride to be hitched. Otherwise it will be onto the Aberdeen ferry for us, then cycling to Newcastle before ferrying again over to Denmark. Either way, we will be cycling through Denmark, into Germany and from there… who knows. I guess it depends on the weather, the wind, the landscape, the promise of good food. The options are simple – left, or right. Left will have us exploring the less touristy Eastern Europe, where right would put us into a French summer and Spanish Autumn.

And that’s about as concrete our short term plans are so far. Looking further ahead means preparing for a second European winter. When and where the weather turns nasty will determine when and where we hole up for a few months and hopefully give a bit back to the bank accounts that we’ll be ravaging along the way. When the sun warms the road ahead, we will be on the bikes again and cruising through unseen parts of Southern Europe before journeying into the deep, dark unknown of Africa - top to bottom, with a bit of a wiggle through the middle.

Then after all this exhausting travelling that would have most people upgrading to business class, no no, not for us official ‘Widget the World Watcher’ world watchers. We, being the eco warriors we are, will then be hoping to catch a ride on a yacht, cunningly disguised as competent crew members. As to the where that the yacht will be dropping us, that will probably be discussed at length over a bottle of rum.