Dates: 3 June 2019 – 13 June 2019
Distance: 311 miles
Elevation Gain: 16122 feet
Average Min Temp While Riding: 45.7F
0 Mile Days: 1
Nights Spent Indoors/Outdoors: 3/7
I’ve heard from several travel writers and friends who travel a lot that Lofoten is stunning and one of the greatest places they’ve been. They undersold it.
I hopped on the ferry at Bodø headed for Moskenes, a three hour crossing. After being on my own for over a week with just a handful of cars passing each hour, the crowd of the ferry and the stream of camper vans I encountered for the first two days in Lofoten were a bit of a shock. Even here, one of the most popular destinations in Norway, once I was past the main hub of traffic in the south, I was on my own. It’s hard to imagine that you can have a pristine gorgeous white sand beach that is extremely easy to get to along a main road all to yourself, but here that happened every day. The preponderance of camper vans means that most people stay in their vans on the road or in a parking area leaving the beach free for those of us willing to trek across the fine loose sand.
A ferry worker I spoke with before arriving in Bodø told me that cycling is the best way to experience Lofoten. He said that the towns are too close together and the environment changes too quickly to truly appreciate it in a car. I didn’t understand what he meant until I experienced a quaint old fishing village full of cod drying on racks slowly becoming tørrfisk enveloped in low hanging clouds, a mountain meadow, a beautiful sunny white sand beach, and a snow covered mountain all in the space of ten miles.
I moved slowly through the islands. There was so much to see. I feel like I could come back here and have a completely different experience every single time. There was no real risk of getting lost and the roads were flat and the weather fantastic compared to the ride from Trondheim. The farther north I went the more beautiful the beaches became and the fewer people were around. I suffered in the wind on Andøya and despite the near gale force winds I still thought this was the most beautiful place on Earth. I hope to find someplace to prove me wrong.
I saw lots of farms on my ride and lots of fishing villages. I saw construction sites and shipping terminals. Only once did I find a space center. Of course that space center had a perfect beach. I didn’t even bother to take a photo of that perfect beach because I had already seen five other perfect beaches that hour.
Although it was near the end of the harvest, the smell of drying cod still hung in the air. Maybe I missed the smell of the ocean from my week in the fjord but the smell was oddly pleasant. Maybe it would be worse if it was the height of the harvest. Only I could complain that a week spent along the saltwater fjords doesn’t count as time near the sea.
I wanted to stop and savor each place but even at my slow bike tourist’s speed they passed so quickly. The sun never set so, keeping true to my very non-9-to-5 ways, I often wandered the beach at night, experiencing a world different from that of the day. I’ve learned that nature has a rhythm and although sunlight plays an important role in determining active and non-active hours, it is far from the only factor.
I turned away from the beaches and back into the mountains. With the warm air from the Gulf Stream and 24 hours of daylight, it’s easy to forget just how far north I am. It is mid-June yet the mountains are still covered in snow and the lakes are frozen. Despite elevation changes that are only one or two thousand feet, the difference in temperature and weather is obvious. One day I rode from a postcard perfect beach to a frozen lake in the mountains, descended in the cold rain, only to pitch camp as the sun came out and cast a rainbow over the fjord. Sometimes solo bike touring can be hellish and sometimes it’s the most magical thing on earth.
The weather finally turned for the better as I neared Tromsø. The sun dried out the soaked fields and the air warmed up. I was in the land of beautiful beaches, it would be tragic not to enjoy it. The first day the sun shone at full strength I finally broke out my swimsuit and went for a dip. I could have stayed there forever.
I laid on that beach wondering what to do next. I had heard that the ride up to Nordkapp was bleak and subject to very bad winds. Other cyclists suggested skipping it if the weather wasn’t perfect. I didn’t know where to go next. I was only half a day’s ride away from Tromsø. I had tentative plans to possibly meet up with friends a week or so later and Tromsø would be the most logical place for me to be in order to meet them. Should I go all the way to the Cape? I didn’t have a strong desire to do so but I didn’t feel finished.
Laying in my hammock I opened an email at 5:30pm.
Is there any chance you will be Tromsø (way north Norway) on the Monday the 24th of June? We need an extra to go on a sauna boat with us.
It was 13 June. I was roughly 350 miles from Nordkapp. It would take 2 travel days to get back to Tromsø. The weather forecast was as perfect as it could be for the route to the Cape.
I sent back a note, I can do that. At 6:30pm I was on my bike headed to the end of the world.
