On the Circle:Cool!

The timing is out a bit on this post as it's being published from the USA: and as a result Andy in America has had to postpone his masterpiece!. A word of advice to start...never try shaving with an old blade! Our Circle day got off to an inauspicious start when in a moment's lack of attention I managed to jerk the razor and cut two nice slices on my upper lip. It seemed to take ages to get the bleeding to slow down and stop. It looked a mess: made worse by the fact that pulling the visor down caught it repeatedly during the day.

We were a day ahead of schedule at this stage and had considered a number of options. One was to take a day trip into Sweden across the mountains. Another was to take a boat trip to a glacier. Or we could go for the Circle. When the receptionist checked with our Thon hotel in Bodø that they would bring our two day reservation forward by a day we opted to do the circle. And so off we set, in wonderful warm weather.

The roads were, as ever, wonderful: not a pothole in sight. We had more company on this stretch of the journey as well. Mostly campervans it seemed and a regular stream of vehicle all headed in the same direction. As R was to point out in an email we were not the first to set the Circle as our target. Not even the first bikers! It was, however, our first time to do it and we were prepared to share our day with like minded souls.

We had only about 80k to do to 66°33’ and we savoured the journey, stopping en route to take photos.

I was required to study History, Geography and indeed Maths through Irish when in secondary school and much of the effort was expended in understanding the text so I missed some of the finer details. I though the Arctic desert would start at, if not before, the circle. At an absolute minimum I expected that the landscape would be like the Sally Gap. I felt cheated by the abundant trees. Forests of trees as we progressed towards our goal. Every birch I saw I took as a hopeful sign that the pines were about to give way to stunted species. As we moved closer to 6633 I became more concerned that this might be a place like any other. I threatened to get a chainsaw out myself if these coniferous forests continued.

I have since learned that in the Low Arctic, most land surfaces are fully vegetated, with the exception of rock outcrops, dry ridge tops, river gravel bars, and scree slopes. Moreover a transition zone exists at the northern limit of trees where coniferous forest mixes with treeless tundra vegetation. B, for his part was intrigued by how much growth there was in the grasses and other lush vegetation we came across. He was quicker to realise that the longer daylight hours meant the plants had more sunlight than they had had at home by now! The larch (Larix) is the primary tree line species but the major vegetation types of the Low Arctic include low-shrub tundra, dominated by species of willow (Salix) and dwarf birch (Betula); tall-shrub tundra, dominated by species of willow, shrub birch, and alder (Alnus); and combinations of sedges and dwarf shrubs, such as species of Labrador tea (Ledum), blueberry and cranberry (Vaccinium), crowberry (Empetrum), and Arctic heather (Cassiope), in wetter sites. Cushion plants (Dryas and Saxifraga species) are common on windswept uplands. Lichens and mosses are important components of the ground cover in some areas as we were to discover a few days later (AJ: keep track and make sure I follow up on this too please!).

The true polar desert generally occurs on coastal areas fringing the Arctic Ocean and on areas of a few hundred meters elevation in the extreme High Arctic where soils have not developed and the frost-free period and soil moisture are insufficient for most plant growth. The occasional plants growing there often become established in frost cracks that capture blowing snow and finer windblown soil material. Plants adapted to these conditions include species of the Arctic poppy (Papaver), some rushes (Juncus), small saxifrages (Saxifraga), and a few other rosette-forming herbaceous species

And then suddenly the scenery changed. Good on you Norway: never disappointing! Around a corner and the trees petered out and the snowline appeared. All changed. Later, I realised the impact of the fact that we had been climbing steadily since our departure. We left Mo at 24m above sea level and were now at 660 m. Travel broadens the mind…on a daily basis!

We arrived at the centre at 11:04 at a height of 691 metres, stopped and shook hands. Target

achieved. The guy in the camper van behind us got out to chat to us. For his own part, he had come from Austrian and gave us traditional chocolate bars. He had had seen us yesterday in all the rain and wondered how we would get on. We strolled to the back of his van where there was a map of Europe and traced our route and his on it. He announced that he would come to Ireland in 2008. B gave him one of a few ornamental shamrocks that he had brought with him and then, amazingly, gave him a lecture on St. Patrick and the Trinity.

We made our way into the centre itself (Polarsirkelsenteret)and bought our postcards. When cancelling the stamps

posted from the centre a special 66°33’ postmark is used. We cheated a bit here in that we brought pre addressed labels with us. That meant we only had to add the greeting to the cards. Nevertheless we spent over two and a half hours at the centre and had our obligatory sticky bun and coffee. We may even have treated ourselves to two sticky buns! Then we explored the rest of the grounds around the centre. The monuments include memorials to the Yugoslav and Soviet POWs who worked to build the Arctic railroad in terrible conditions to Narvik in WW2. That railway had been running beside us for much of our route and while we were at the Circle a train passed by and tooted at it crossed the line. For my part, I had crossed the Rubicon at 40, now the Arctic Circle at 50 (ok, ok, fiftyish) – I wondered where 60 would see me?

B realised that the Arctic Globe had been placed at intervals along the Circle for as far as the eye could see. We took some more pictures and were asked by others to take theirs. Again people engaged us in conversation and commented that they had seen us yesterday and were thankful to be in their campervans and not with the two lunatic Irishmen pressing along on two wheels in the dreadful weather.

And then it was back on the bikes and down the hill on the far side – where about 5km further on the trees were back. We stopped in Rokland for fuel and burgers (67 North) and on to

Bodø where after a quick visit to the visitors info centre we found the hotel. After check-in we walked the general area and found Café KAFKA, as recommended by R – dinner was good too! Well done R!

Meanwhile a quick visit to the Internet confirmed that back in Ireland, the first Fianna Fáil-led three-party coalition took office today, following the decision of the Green Party and the Progressive Democrats to approve a programme for government worked out in talks since we had left. The Greens had had an intense and sometimes tearful debate, but 86 per cent voted in favour of the programme. The new coalition will also be supported by at least three Independents who made their own deals with Fianna Fáil. So Bertie Ahern was comfortably elected as taoiseach, the Greens got two Ministerial posts and the PD one. The Green posts included Environment and Communications Energy and Natural Resources but not transport. Transport got functions form Environment and had Marine Affairs added to its title.

We also checked on the missing child Madeleine McCann who went missing from Praia da Luz, an Algarve resort in Portugal almost six weeks ago. On that day they were hoping for a breakthrough as Portuguese police confirmed they are investigating an anonymous letter and map claiming to show where the three-year-old's body is buried. The letter, sent to Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf, strongly resembles another letter sent to the same newspaper last year, accurately pinpointing the spot where two missing Belgian girls were buried. The McCanns had travelled across Europe to highlight their daughter's disappearance but even now there is no word of the unfortunate child.

We were now at our most Northerly point with another 351 kilometres done. We would spend a rest day in Bodø tomorrow, which gave me a chance to oil the chain on the bike and check the tyre pressures. B was ok as his machine is shaft driven. Neither of us was feeling particularly good. The 24hr daylight had its effect on sleep and general pains and aches meant a welcome relief from significant riding distance. And there was an anti climactic feeling having reached the Polar Circle the day before. After breakfast we walked to Bodø tourist info office and had a long wait behind an American sailor who was seeking a doctor for his wife who had apparently fallen. When we (eventually) got to the counter the young woman could not have been more helpful but she could not get us to see a whale in the time we had available. The guest house, previously recommended was booked out, fortunately as it turned out, because we booked a log cabin (Hytter) for the next night – adjacent to the Svartisen Glacier, in the Holand area.



Meanwhile, back in Dublin a little pink car was making its way with increasing confidence around the roads of Raheny. Its driver had taken the precuation of staying overnight in Raheny to make sure she was fresh and relaxed for this test. And why not. For over 50 years AnD has been a source of comfort and refuge in times of challenge or trouble. And another generation welcomed the unique comfort and reassurance that Mother Superior provides. This was the third time to attempt THE TEST . No1 was a write off, No2 so close it only missed by a whisker but that one fault was enough. No 3 was a clean sheet. Well done S. Drive on! Safely!

Back to the hotel and into bike gear and out to see the “Maelstrom” at Saltstrumen on route 17. The exhibition centre was designed in the shape of an ‘upside-down’ Viking boat and built in timber. Very impressive construction. The external fish tanks – aquaria – had seen better days and had been decommissioned.. There was art and some small sculptured pieces from Norwegian artists on view in the exhibition area. One family of painters seemed to dominate the show but for now I can’t recall the name. We walked then onto the bridge over the narrow entrance between the sea and the Saltfjord. It is this very piece of natural landscape that is the attraction. Twice a day the Saltfjord fills and empties on the tide. The tide has to pass through this narrow entrance on its journey to and from the sea. At only 150m wide the tidal current reaches a staggering 20 knots the fastest piece of natural flowing water in the World! We were fortunate in our timing in that, the current was at its height, for about midday, and we were in position to witness this natural phenomenon.

From the Maelstrom we went back to the hotel, changed into civvies and walked to the Bodø Aviation Museum. This interesting building straddling the road had three elements: control Tower; civil exhibition; and military exhibition. We left the control tower to the end but by then it was fairly obvious we were knackered! We had little energy to climb the stairs. Nevertheless we walked back into town from the Aviation Museum Back to the (Franz) Kafka Café. Here we were not disappointed with the evening meal. Once again, well done R!

Tomorrrow we go South!

It's the mustard!

Dijon?, you ask.

Well you didn't, actually, but I am going to tell you anyway.

Only not here.

Link here and now to Dijon: the story

See you next Tuesday!

Elk! It's a Moose

Where were we? Oh yes, Selbu. Now we had to get back to Hell and rejoin our route. Maybe I should be attaching maps to this Blog (Comments on a postcard to…).

Before we left, B practiced charming the receptionist (you never know when that might come in handy). I watched listened and learned. He faced a tough challenge. No hint of a smile. To use B’s own quote “On check-out the receptionist was quite gruff” and he was right there. We were hoping she would do us a favour and ring ahead to Mo to book us in for tonight. I did not fancy our chances. B persevered. Then we got the bill. Steam came from B’s ears. B does not do ‘tuts’, He bypasses those preliminaries. No warnings. No long exhalation of breath (note to self: gotta stop doing that). I checked that I could get out the door quickly if there was an explosion. Instead I was impressed. Controlled rage. ‘Eh, I am terribly sorry, but there does appear to be something not quite right with this invoice’ (or words to that effect). Now at this point the poor woman should have just said ‘Yes, B’ and accepted that whatever it was, she was wrong. But no. She assumed an air of righteous indignation that comes from the certainty that some upstart had mistakenly had the effrontery to even suggest the possibility that everything was not perfection itself and that, as a matter of fact, B was wrong. Now this was a new one for the books (or the Blog). I edged closer to the door, hand on the handle. But no: what followed was a masterclass in assertiveness (this guy should give lessons) that resulted in her accepting that she had indeed made a substantial mistake. Wow! Great, now lets get out of here. But no: amazingly B kept at it and charmingly asked whether she would do us one small favour and ring ahead to Mo to book us in for tonight. And she did! Then B, in his usual expression of appreciation told her “now you can have the rest of the day off” And she smiled. A bright cheery smile and wished us all the best for the day. Keep this guy away from the North Pole - he’d melt it!

Now lets get to Hell out of here.

A bit down the road we stopped to take a photograph of a warning sign we had spotted the night before in the rain. The triangular warning signs are sought after souvenirs for many German tourists and there are warnings that it is dangerous and a criminal offence to nick the signs. They do however provide the backbone for the design of all sorts of souvenirs, including the ubiquitous T Shirt, mugs, and stickers. The subject of the warning, the Moose (often called the Elk in Europe) or, to give him his Latin nomenclature - Alces alces - is the largest member of the deer family. He is a heavy (up to 820 kilos), long-legged and tall (up to 2 meters at the shoulder) ruminant. As in other members of the deer family, his antlers are shed and regrown annually. He eats a variety of grasses, herbs, and bark and has a penchant for fruit. Mind you this got him into difficulty in Norway a couple of years back when a warm summer produced a lot of fruit that was then covered by early snowfalls. The fruit started fermenting but was a readily available and tempting source of food for the moose. He got drunk in the process of eating them all. Local paper Faedrelandsvennen carried warnings to "Be careful when you approach moose that have been munching apples for days. Their behaviour can alter and they can become frighteningly aggressive. Clap and see how it reacts. If it doesn't retreat but instead comes even closer, by all means stay vigilant. It can be intoxicated and attack"

The moose prefers being near water and often wades into forest-edged lakes and streams to feed on aquatic plants. Usually solitary, their normal gait is a stiff-legged, shuffling walk that enables them to cover ground with surprising speed. They sometimes trot but seldom run. Moose are usually shy, but they tend to be unpredictable and belligerent. During the breeding season, in autumn, the males will fight fiercely for mates. One to three ungainly young are born after gestation of about eight months.

Big Moose Country

The fact that the moose is a big lump on stilts of legs makes him particularly dangerous in an encounter with a car. The poor moose gets chopped off at the legs and then takes retribution when his heavy body falls through the windscreen. The result is usually serious for both motorist and moose. Scandanavian car makers Volvo took advantage of this and developed a test - the Älgtes- to design cars that were safer in these circumstances and then ran an advertising campaign pointing out that there were no moose in Japan and implying that, as a result, Japanese cars were not as safe on Northern European roads. Norway's moose population has exploded in recent years and there are frequent reports of serious accidents with cars. Attempts were made to reduce the number by setting the hunt quota at over 44,486 moose.

TAlp Shopped

While we were stopped at the sign, the weather changed and the rain returned. We got back into our wet gear returned to Hell, rejoined the E6 and headed North to Steinkjer. By the way, there were almost 800 moose shot a couple of years ago in the Steinkjer area: the second highest number in a Norway. We saw…well none actually. But hail, yes we saw, felt and heard that as we motored along. It was cold too so we stopped on the outskirts of Steinjker for coffee sandwiches and buns in the petrol station. Great. Warmed us up too. And there were others bikers there at the same game - a guy and girl from Canada: we were to meet them again at the salmon fish farm (Laksavir Fiskmuseum) and at the polar circle. When we left we only got a kilometre or so up the road before we ran into a traffic jam. We sat, or rather stood, there for about twenty minutes while workers blasted rock from a cliff face ahead of us, then cleaned the road and let us through. Hail sounds even louder on your helmet while you are stopped!

The rain turned to showers by the time we were passing the powerstation and salmon farm so we stopped there for a while. The scenery along here all the way to our destination that night in Mo I Rana was wonderful. Again words do not do it justice but a few photographs might help. We took plenty and if you want to see them then make sure you get the DVD slidehow prepared by B.

It was a relatively long day – we would have 490 kilometres done by the time we stopped in Mo – so we stopped again in Tofors for more sandwiches and coffee at a petrol station; here they even had tables and seats! I nipped out to get something off the bike and realised why we had been wearing jackets and raingear even while it was not raining…it was cold!!.

Our own private roads

But we eventually reached Mo, checked in, hung up the wet gear and put on “evening wear” and strolled into town. We had a lovely Chinese meal in the Kro as recommended in the guide. The Guide says ‘the fare is surprisingly good even if the surroundings are a little drab’. They were not wrong. The façade would not entice you in but the food was excellent. There can be such variety in Chinese food. What I got in Bergen was so stodgy, gluey, cold, and congealed it was inedible and should have put me off Chinese food for life. However, I gave it a go again here and was rewarded. Good hot food well served. If in Mo give Kro a go!

Mo Ships

Mo at midnight

Afterward we walked some more and retired in bright nightlight. A new day had arrived quietly and today was the day we hoped to get inside the circle. If only I had not cut myself. Here we go again, I thought. Dijon repeated. A bloody mess....

To Hell and a bit

Questions. So many questions. Parent, sibling, pal, child, workmate: no matter what the role there seems to be so many questions that you just want a holiday from the queries. But you can’t. Especially if you spend many hours a day for 5 days in a row inside a helmet! So here’s an easy one. Does your God help you? Or maybe he just deals with the big issues and leaves you to your own devices on a day to day basis! Or maybe you have not found one yet, or mislaid Him.
Ponder that while you Blog. In the meantime it turns out mine has a sense of humour.

Unfortunately the weather was following the forecast and it was raining as we had breakfast. No amount of positive vibes was making any difference. It was important that today was dry. Of all days. Today was the day we were travelling the Atlantic Road. We had diverted a considerable way from our originally planned route in order to take in this stretch of tarmac. In a last ditch effort of a desperate man B even suggested that I have a word with ‘your Man’ for assistance. And so I did. On the basis that we just wanted to experience the Atlantic Road in dry conditions.

Made no immediate difference. For the first time since the journey began we put on wet gear. Gingerly we made our way through the wet cobbled streets of Ǻlesund, through the early morning traffic and then onto the open road, peering through visors obscured with dorps that would not clear at slow speed. Motor biking in the wet is not much fun. Is not any fun. And this was a pity too because once again the scenery was changing and we were passing through some wooded countryside. And then the rain turned to drizzle. And the drizzle gave way to dark clouds. And steam began to rise from the road. And we took off the wet gear. And before we got to the first ferry of the day it was dry. YES! Believe! Or put it down to chance or whatever you do, but we were back in business. Even the Redsox were doing well, but more of them later.

We reached Molde and turned off the E39 onto Route 64, and the eight kilometre stretch of the Atlantic road which, because of its sharp turns and wild nature ranks first on The Guardian's list of the world's best road trips. According the Guardian "The Atlantic Road zigzags across 12 low bridges that jut out over the sea, linking the islands between Molde (famous for its annual Jazz festival in July) and Kristiansund in the western fjords. The Hustadvika is an infamous stretch of ocean and when in storm it's fantastically dramatic. In calmer weather you might spot whales and seals." There are eight


bridges on the Atlantic Road, and there is no doubt that the our stretch in Averøy is well worth a detour. We wanted to see it in good conditions but many tourists, presumably in cars, choose to visit it during the autumn to experience the raging storms that pound the road. The construction workers had to contend with 12 hurricanes during construction before the road opened in 1989. We enjoyed it!




Our stop was to be Kristiansund but we got there in the early afternoon and decided to press on.

Another ferry (third that day? Novelty has worn off.) brought us to Halsa and then agricultural country. Not too much traffic ... only a tractor in front of me as I lead B and another car along the road. Tractor indicated right. And slowed. Fair enough he was turning, road was clear, I accelerated, and overtook him. He turned to look at me as I came alongside. I wondered why the strangled look. Definitely no cars coming.

Just that duck.

Oh no.

Duck .......... and a series of tiny ducklings strung out along the road.

Crossing the road.

Quick recalculation.

Dawning realisation.

Tractor was not turning in.

He was slowing to allow the ducks to cross.

Boy, is this bike manoeuvrable or what? Managed to get past the tractor and in behind the last of the ducklings. No casualties. B followed. He's sure there were no casualties.

The car?

Not so manoeuvrable.

Less ducklings.

Now of course we were well clear of the Atlantic Road. Even got to our intended destination for the day in the dry. We pressed on. HaHa. Only asked for it to be dry for the Atlantic Road. Turn the rain back on! We pulled into a very convenient roadside shelter to envelop ourselves in wet gear once more. And on it would stay. The rain lashed down.

For the next 130 kilometres it lashed down. We had our sights set on Trondheim. It is Norway’s third largest city and promised lots of interesting sights. We stuck at it and were very glad when finally it hove into sight. Perfect. The Thon hotel was easily accessible from the main road. Spot on. In I went to the first hotel we had not prebooked at least a day beforehand. Even took off the fluorescent wet gear so as to look semi respectable. Made no difference. No room. Ah, go on - just one, for one night. No sense of humour. You don’t understand, sir (now I knew there was trouble - too much respect there). No room in this hotel, or in our sister hotel or, for that matter, in any hotel in the greater Trondheim area. Big conference. Back out. Back into wet gear. The rain lashed down. We moved on.

The next bit of excitement was when we entered the next tunnel. No hassle anticipated. One advantage of wet weather was that I was not wearing sunglasses! But the system beat me. This time the tunnel was warm. Don’t know where the warm air was coming from but I knew where it was going. Or at least what it was doing. Visor and glasses misted up IMMEDIATELY. Totally! Zero visibility. Grabbed at the visor and yanked it up. Usually allows in air and clears the glasses. Not today. Forgot M’s exhortation that there be ‘No Panic’. Slowed right down but was nervous of the traffic behind. There was traffic behind, right? Just a guess. No idea how far away the wall is either. Slowly the mist lifted and I was in the clear. Don’t want that again!

Reached Stav and its Motell. No luck there either but we got directions to an airport 25 kilometres further on where there were two big hotels. Back out. Still in wet gear. The rain lashed down. We moved on.

HaHa. The airport was in Hell. I waited outside the Rica hotel while B tried his luck. B has a way of doing that. I waited in confident expectation. After a wee while I figured: he has not been sent back so there is hope. The rain lashed down. After a wee while more I figured: he should have been back so there is less hope. Oh ye of little faith. Even in Hell B can get results! The receptionist told him that all hotels for 100 kilometres around Trondheim were booked solid but because he was (the most charming man she had ever met/ devilishly handsome/ Irish/ a drowned rat/too old to be out late on a bike - take your pick) she would ring around local establishments to see if she could help. A good angel in Hell. True to her word she booked us into the Selbusjøen Hotell & Gestegård – similar to the ‘Hidden Ireland’ type, family run, old estate hotels. It was only 30 kilometres in a SE direction. Back out. Still in wet gear. The rain lashed down. We moved on.

The road from Hell was not at all bad. In fact it was an enjoyable run in wooded countryside to the hotel. And the reception was as friendly as we could have hoped for. They even put together a meal for us. Cauliflower soup, fish or chicken for main course then a traditional dessert of rice pudding with a raspberry sauce – Lovely.


Another 410 kilometres done and we were in heaven!


And as we finished our meal the rain stopped.

There endeth the lesson.

HaHa!