Meanwhile, back at the Plan.

Day 13


Remember the Plan? Wonder how it gets put together? The opening gambit is a straight line between the start and end points. Then check the map, the more detailed the better, and adjust to get the best route. We were using the 1:335000 scale Bil-og turistkart from Cappelens kart (Sheets 1, 2, 3 and 4). (Did I say already that S, neither pink nor bro,nor M, got these for us while studying in Norway: thanks again S4). Then research the area some more. Internet clearly has made a difference over recent years and V, who aided and abetted this trip from the outset, was kind enough to supply endless cups of coffee and biscuits while we spread maps, books and wirelessly linked laptops across her kitchen table. That woman has the patience of a saint. Thanks V.

Well, as part of this research we read the Rough Guide: two editions no less. Got to keep up to date you know!! The Rough Guide has always been key to my trips. I think the guide book you use says a lot about the kind of trip you do. The RG always seems to deal with the aspects I am interested in: using other guides turns out to be a waste of money for me. But hey, if you think different then …comments on the usual electronic postcard to…comments please! If you have not got the hint by now I’ll give up.


OK we are working from Lee, Phil The Rough Guide to Norway, fourth edition, July 2006 Rough Guides, London. I hope they will excuse me as I quote at length from page 183: Kongsvoll (to prove my point on the Internet you can read this piece and a lot of the book at their website for Rough Guides).

Beyond Hjerkinn, the E6 slices across the barren uplands before descending into a narrow ravine, the Drivdal. Hidden here, just 12km from Hjerkinn, is KONGSVOLL, home of a tiny train station and the delightful Kongsvold Fjeldstue ( 72 40 43 40, http://www.kongsvold.no/; Kr800-1000), which provides some of the most charming accommodation in the whole of Norway. There's been an inn here since medieval times and the present complex, a huddle of tastefully restored old timber buildings with sun-bleached




reindeer antlers tacked onto the outside walls, dates back to the eighteenth century. Dinner is served in the excellent, reasonably priced restaurant, and the complex also includes a café and a small park information centre. The inn is a lovely spot to break your journey and an ideal base for hiking into the Dovrefjell National Park, which extends to east and west. If you're arriving by train, note that only some of the Oslo– Trondheim trains stop at Kongsvoll station, 500m down the valley from the inn – and then only by prior arrangement with the conductor.

Now once you had read that would you not put a pin in the map and decide that there would be one of your overnight destinations. And so it came to pass. The pin stuck resolutely to Kongsvoll. Well if not a pin then at least a pink sticky! As a result, on this cold bright day our target was the 368 kilometres from Grong (not in the Plan) to Kongsvoll. We were up at 06:30 for breakfast. Breakfasts in the different hotels were all interesting and varied. There was a smorgasbord (if that’s not too Swedish for your tastes) of different food, slightly differently prepared at each destination. Today we even had caviar.

We were on the road at 08:00 hrs. Each day I had a list of the key points and the distances between them Velcro'd to the handlebars. (In our 2066 photos I can't find a good picture of them though). Motorbiking does not make using a gps on the go a very practical proposition, or at least that has been my experience to date. Comfortingly other bikers on the route were using similar primitive but reliable notes. The first notes for today were simple.


E6 South 15 k
L 763 Snasa


That should have brought us along the E6 for 15 kilometres then left onto Route 763 signposted Snasa. The target was to go East of Snasåvatnet lake. So we whizzed by the exit to 74 after 10 k. But 15 k came and went with no sign of a left turning. I was worrying inside my helmet. Then the lake appeared to our left. Damn. That lake is the best part of 70k long and if you don’t cross to the North of it there is no turn until you get to Steinkjer (remember there?). The whole idea was to avoid using the E6 again and rely on minor roads (the desire to do so comes from our cycling days). I lost confidence and went to pull into the right as we passed 18k: maybe I should have taken route 74. And Sod’s Law, as soon as I slowed, the turn to route 763 came into view. And a fine route it was too. We thoroughly enjoyed a pleasant spin through agricultural Norway. Gently rolling hills and increasing forests. Perfect roads, all the more so as the surface was freshly laid.


I know, you have read this far (thanks for that) but you are really worrying about how the Sox are doing in the 2007 Divisional Championship. To tell you the truth, so am I . How can they have been leading since June when, on the day we did this spin, they had a 9 game lead and then stall with the finishing post in sight and allow those damn Yankees to catch up? Well on 24 Sept the Yankees finally lost a game so the Sox are clinging on to a 2 game lead and the magic number, agonisingly, is still 5 - (for the record it was 85 on 19 June!) so a bit to go yet. Well not far actually - only 6 games left but the Sox are at home for all and the Yankees are away for all. Will that make any difference? Stay with us - we'll have a result before this Blog ends!

Meanwhile back on 19 June, we stopped briefly in Steinkjer – outside a hobby shop which sold model aircraft and quad bikes and then moved on again, back on the E6 until we were back in Hell. It was dry now and we got some photographs. We also took the opportunity to have very nice coffees and cakes in the local shopping centre. This was important. It was really cold that day and it took us a bit of time to thaw out. I can still feel the cold three months on. Its probably even colder there now. We stayed a bit longer and had another coffee and another cake just to be sure we were warm again. For insurance B bought liners for his gloves in the sports shop. He reports that they worked really well. (Maybe that’s why he does not have heated grips)

We then pushed on, along the E6 through Trondheim and, as we moved south, the weather picked up and it became much warmer. As conditions improved so did speed and we had a great spin from here stopping only for lunch in Soknedal.

There were really great views all the way to Kongsvoll where we checked into the Fjeldstue, our mountaintop hotel, for the night. Fjeldstue means literally “mountain living-room” and these timber buildings were built at a walking distance from each other, across the mountains in order to facilitate pilgrims heading for St. Olav’s Grave at Trondheim. We walked around the area, and made a point of going as far as the train station.

At dinner we met John & Joan Clark from Yorkshire. They once owned a woollen mill and gave us a present of bobbins from the old loom which John had ‘turned’ into ball-point pens. We spent a pleasant evening chatting to them, and I met my match in terms of researching a trip. Joan joked about how for John the planning was as much part of their car trips as was the driving. I saw myself reflected in his enthusiastic pouring over maps and guide books as he suggested variations from our Plan based on his route from Oslo to here. Fair play to you John you did us a great service. Your email address bounced its messages back, so if by chance you read this: thanks again.

Dinner was excellent. We had a seafood starter (which B ate!!). For main course we had veal steak fillets (ok, ok, ok I heard the lecture at the whale stage) with pasta & fresh veg. All was going well till JohnC insisted on finding out what was in the little dishes. It was nice but what was it? Turns out it was sweetbreads. Apparently these are the thymus glands of calves or lambs less than a year old. Like kidney they have to be precisely cooked: too little and they are mushy; too much and they are grainy when overdone. For dessert we had caramelized apple-tartlet & ice cream. Fabulous!!! The surprise would come in the morning!

B makes his mark!

Day 12


Before we start. Happy Birthday to the two readers of this Blog who celebrate their birthdays, albeit an ocean apart, this Thursday 20 September. Now C if you can puzzle that one out you deserve another prize!
OK, now I'm ready. Lets Go! In each journey comes a stage when you just have to get from A to B. Today was a day like that. We were back on the E6. Heading south but we had covered all this ground before, albeit travelling north and in wetter conditions. Our original intention had been to go to the Snasa Hotell but when we checked with the Tourist Office last night it was booked out. The two women at the office spent a ling time trying to get us an alternative and eventually booked us into Grong. We also discovered that Oslo was heavily booked and could not get an alternative. We decided to get an early start and went as far as Mosjoen Tourist Office to get Oslo sorted. Well actually I felt we should stop in Steinkjer but fortunately once on the road B realised I had underestimated the distance and pulled off the E6 and into Mosjoen.

This was an unusual town I thought. A bit like what American frontier towns might have been like. There seemed to be lots of space available and the buildings were all low and similar. Finding the Tourist Office proved to be a bit of a challenge. I walked the main street a couple of times without success. Although it was a little after nine the place was just coming to life. Traders were setting up for a market day and I was unlucky that those I spoke to could not speak English. This was unusual. Local teenagers waiting to get into class were like teenagers everywhere and gave me funny responses in Norwegian which were beyond my comprehension but had their mates in peals of laughter. Eventually one said ‘we don’t know’. Fair enough, the town is small enough so I walked on and just as I got to the edge of town there it was … but not open yet. The notices sugggested it would be open at 10. I walked back to the bikes and we brought them to the Office. The scene here was reminiscent of an older Ireland. The regional bus arrived and waited until a woman cycled up to it, chatted with the driver and collected her parcel: would Bus Eireann do that now? 10:00 came and went with no sign of the Office opening. We were just about to give up when a girl arrived and opened up. It was worth the wait as she put a lot of effort into getting us accommodation just outside Oslo in Lillestrom. This booking-ahead practice really does take the pressure off accommodation seeking upon arrival.

Back on the bikes and we retraced out route to the point where we had entered Nordland some days earlier. We met some guys from York who were heading north and had a pleasant conversation with them over a coffee. The weather in England was bad; had been raining continuously for over a week. They also suggested an alternative routes in an attempt to avoid the dreaded M62.

Our next stop was at the Laksforsen Falls where we had more coffee and sticky buns. Laksforsen is a very wide and scenic river waterfall on the Vefsna River, tumbling some 16 metres in height. The falls, mentioned in the Rough Guide, are very popular but we were glad of the large car park, excellent restaurant, and souvenir shop. The word "laks," by the way, is Norwegian for "salmon," and this place was once a popular salmon fishing spot. Fossen, I think is the usual word for waterfall and the use of "forsen" reflects a mixture of Swedish and Sami influences.








Today was 18 June 2007. That day the Boston Redsox were playing the Atlanta Braves at Turner Field in Georgia. Coco Crisp tripled his season home run total by hitting two solo shots, but the Red Sox couldn't overcome a poor start by Curt Schilling in the series opener. The multi-homer game was the first of Crisp's career. The Sox lost by 9-4. Despite the loss the Sox had won 44 and lost 25 games to that point in the season and were ahead of the Yankees who had won only 35 and lost 32. The exhortation of the Sox fan is to BELIEVE! They (we) needed to do that in the years to 2004 as they never managed to win the World Series in 86 years. Tough on loyal fans! But faith was rewarded in a memorable series in 2004 which ended in Boston winning the World Series championship at Busch Stadium against the St. Louis Cardinals. In the process, the Sox set a record with their eighth straight postseason victory. Critically four of those had been against their arch rivals the NYY (Yankees). I&R kept us posted with the results as we progressed along our route. At this point we continued to believe! Today (if you get my drift) is also exactly three months on and now, with 11 games to go the Magic Number is 9: I hope ye are all Sox fans now!

We made Grong at about 15:30 hrs and checked into the hotel - Vertshuset. We has a really good room compete with balcony. A popular hotel with the fishing community, the whole village seemed to be dedicated to fishing; every other car carrying a couple of rods.









B made good use of the spare time we had available and cleaned his bike. Mind you, as the picture on the left shows, it had lost the shine with which it set out from Dublin. That's a handprint in the collected dust of Norway that had gathered on the pannier. And the bike made an impression on Grong too. It sank slowly into the tarmac outside the hotel, leaving an imprint as a reminder of its presence!



We had difficulty getting web access at the hotel so we tried the local library. There ‘Beata’ looked after us really well and helped us in our search for our final hotel bookings. During the course of this she told us she came from Tromso, which is a long way north of here. Like others we met, she was looking forward to the day she could get out of Norway! Many of the young people we met had the same attitude.


The next photo is a reminder to respect the fact that tankers need to get access to the valves at a petrol station. The car, in a large and mostly unoccupied car park, had decided to park next to where the tanker driver needed to attach his hoses. After much bouncing and shoving the car was moved!!



We had done 288 kilometres that day in sunny dry and cold conditions. How better to end the day than by maintaining standards with a liberal application of polish to the boots while having a pint on the balcony.

Back in Dublin the papers reported that the outgoing Green Party leader, Trevor Sargent, was declared himself absolutely happy with the Taoiseach's word on his personal finances when it seemed Mr Ahern was to give evidence to the Mahon tribunal in two weeks' time.

P.S. Next week's Post may be late. Let there be NO PANIC!!

Two dads', one grand, day

Highway 17 is different. On the E39 we had become used to being able to arrive and get a ferry with only a short delay. We never bothered to check timetables. That is not possible on Highway 17. Highway 17 is a smaller road that bounces and skips from one stretch of land to another, usually preferring ferries to bridges to get across the water. But the ferries are less frequent so a bit of care is needed. Notice the road sign though. These appear after every junction to make sure you are on the right road. Brilliant!

We decided (well actually we were up and ready early so headed out) to get the early ferry from Foroy to Ågskaret even though this mean we had a few hours to cross the short stretch from there to the next ferry from Jektvic to Kilbognhamn. We had a little wait at the ferry on this Sunday morning but the secenery was , again, wonderful .

It was surreal this because we were first off the ferry and there was a queue of cars behind us so after a while we pulled in and let them past: then we had all the rest of the route entirely to ourselves. We took time out to stop and take a few pictures. When we arrived at the ferry (early!) all the cars were there in a neat queue and we went and had coffee, sticky buns (Whatever cakes came to hand A!) and local home made ice cream.

That was something we commented on in our journey. There seems to be fewer regulations. No wonder the Norwegians don’t want to join the EU. They would not be able to operate lifts without double doors, as they do now in some of the best hotels. And they could not sell local ice cream without detailed labels. (By the way you do know you can click on the smaller pictures to enlarge them, right?)


The Jektvic to Kilbognhamn ferry was one of the bigger versions we had been on. Dining facilities and all on board. Long enough of a journey too: an hour at least. But it took us south of the Arctic Circle. No blast on the foghorn but a PA announcement to look out for the markers. B tells me the Latitude was marked (classic globe shape) on land off to the port side of the ferry: anyway it was on the left if you were facing the front of the boat! It made you realise why the Arctic Circle Centre is where it is. There was much less sense of being in somewhere unique when we crossed now at sealevel: no excitement. It needed the barren landscape and snow of a days earlier. I await with interest I&R's account of swimming across the circle, even if one took time out to watch television instead. I hope by the time you read this there are no more than 13 critical results left as the Sox go for the Divisional Championship! Magic Number was 14 as I write this but Sox could win and NYY lose tonight: if you're puzzled you don't know your baseball!!

Meanwhile, back on 17, the snowploughs at the side of the road, while photogenic from our perspective, were also a reminder that the climate can get nasty here too. Even as it was, with the sun shining, it was cold in the breeze in the shade or while on deck of the ferry.

At Grønsvik we were attracted by two field guns at the side of the road and only when we stopped did we realise it was actually the remains of a German army coastal artillery battery built between 1942 and 1945 as part of the Atlantic Wall which stretched all the way from the Spanish border. This was built in Norway as part of the German defences against an Allied invasion from Britain. Initially 280 batteries were constructed, of which only 70 were naval batteries, while most, including this one, were army installations equipped with army guns. This was a base for up to 200 troops and was equipped with four 155mm guns which could fire a 43k shot over a distance of 17,000 meters. There was also a 75mm gun used for firing shots across the bows of ships that tried to slip past without giving notice. Prisoners of war were used to build most of the atlantic wall and at this one a couple of hundred prisoners, both Russian and Polish, were used. After the war the weapons were decommissioned and the rubble from the destroyed emplacements used to build the road. Once again the sun was beating down and we took advantage of the small Tourist information shop to get a couple of ice creams and relax in the sunshine. Once again the hapless girl who served us was exhorted to take the rest of the day off! I wonder is that a fall back to when dignatories visited his school: was not that their treat? - that we could take the rest of the day off!

We continued on our way in spendid sunshine in wonderful scenery. I caught glimpses of what I though were fish drying in sheds. We had seen them in postcards. As soon as I stopped to check an elderly fisherman came out to see what I was at. I asked if I could take pictures. He was only too happy to oblige. I should have taken his photo too. He was keen to tell me about the product. How the postcards show cod but that they are luxury fish now that go to Italian restaurants whereas he was drying (ah NO: senior moment: can’t remember: were they klipper fish? Please check the photo and send you answers on the usual postcard…[these Blogs are powered by comments!]) Anyway his product goes to Africa and fetches a lot less. It fascinated me that here I was in a quiet part of Norway, talking in perfect english to a 70 year old fisherman – how many 70 olds in Ireland could recriprocate? I could barely manage Tussen Takk, but I did.


We continued on to Mo then. We had 217 kilometres done when we arrived at about 17:00 hrs. Those of you that have been paying very close attention will have realised that it was a long time since I got petrol. No St. Christopher in disguise helped me out! Opportunities had been non existent today. By the time we got into Mo I had been travelling for some time in the red and was well over the 250 k that the bike would normally do between fills. A lot of bikes don’t have fuel gauges but rely on a small reserve tank to warn you that you are running low. A combination of knowing how far you have gone since your last refill and the main tank spluttering to a halt lets you know you need a refill. The reserve will get you to the next station. At least with the gauge I was a little more confident of being ok.



Talking of the bike, I must say thanks to R. He supplied the paint and brushes from his Warhammer kit to enable me paint white lines on the locks to indicate when the panniers (NOT Pizza boxes as SM unkindly christened them!) are correctly locked. Made a real difference to be sure at a glance that they were secure and not in danger of popping off. ‘The books’ suggested that with these sort of panniers it’s a good idea to tie a strap around them as well. Apparently it’s only a matter of time before you hit a bump and they go flying. Yea right. Maybe on dirt trails. Me? I knew, for a certain fact, that this would have been a belt and braces job: over the top: not necessary (yep…you guessed...watch this space).

Anyway, back in Mo. We went to the Tourist office and the two assistants booked ahead for us (one of them had a boyfriend in Donegal and she learned her English in a school in St. Stephen’s Green). This system of getting the ‘locals’ to book ahead works really well. The language is just too difficult for us to negotiate (maybe we will be better in 20 years).

Back at the KRO Chinese restaurant we had another excellent meal. A young waitress took endless trouble to translate each item for us. She was practicing her English so that she could get out of Mo. We met a lot of that. Locals we spoke to wanting to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. It seemed a shame to us on these bright sunny days. But they pointed out it was not always light and dry never mind warm and sunny. Guess even this wonderful scenery is not edible! During the meal S kept us posted on the scores from Croke Park. According to Tom Humphries of the Irish Times a precipice beckoned that day but nobody walked over it. His report suggested that ‘the game was something less than the classic spectacle which the sides delivered while cancelling each other out a fortnight ago, but then these sides are something less than their predecessors who created the fabled rivalry.’ While we enjoyed uninterrupted sunshine the teams battled it out in drizzle until they were separated by four points (0-16 to 0-12) and a Dublin win. Toms view? I quote ‘For Dublin, their hopes of an All-Ireland title are still alive, although their detractors consider it more likely that gold will be spun from straw before that happens.’ That story, of course, ended in two dejected Dublin jerseys dragging themselves along 5th Avenue in the baking heat of a New York August day (for details see Andy in America of Wednesday, August 29, 2007). Next September, Sam will be ours: we 2 believe! This September our hopes rest with the Sox, for whom the magic number is 14: but I told you that already. A Lir chocolate (or two) awaits the first one to post a comment with the correct number on Wednesday.

Back to the hotel S&C had not overlooked that today was Father's day. He appreciated it. Well done girls. That made your Dad’s Bloomsday.

Don't ask ...I'm not sure what he's at!


From here we knew the E6 route south. That could take us to Oslo.

Ice Cold

Date: Saturday 16th June, 2007

Not much on this route had been left to chance. Most options had been explored and considered over the years when we were thinking about the adventure. Repeatedly there were exhortations to ‘do the Kystriksveien’ and so today we would make a start on Highway 17. We had decided to do the loop from Bodø back to Mo I Rana. Today we would do 100 kilometres to get to our hut. We had decided to keep the day short to allow us time to get to the Svartisen glacier. We were up at 06:45 and headed off … in the rain again! Highway 17 is very twisty so making any speed in wet conditions was not on. However it turned out to be showers so we escaped the worst. After a while though Bs back started to give him trouble. This could be a showstopper if it got worse so he pulled in to the first available shop to get water and take tablets. These seemed to do the trick but it was a reminder of the potential difficulties. From here the directions to the hut were clear. Go through the tunnel: then you will come across the tourist office. From there go down the little road to the blue house where you will get the key.




We arrived at our hut at mid day and it was really good. The bunks gave us an opportunity to use our miniature travelling towels and silk sheet bags: big changes since we had cotton liners and terry towels for An Oige hostels. The hut was in an ideal location about 100 yards from the ferry across the lake. We got the 13:10 hrs ferry to the Svartisen Glacier and walked about 2 km from there to the tourist facility where we got an excellent meal. We aimed to walk the rest of the distance - about a kilometre or so - to the glacier after lunch. Unfortunately it started to rain then and that put the cap on it as far as B was concerned: he decided to get the ferry back to the hut. It was a sensible decision especially given the risk to his back from any slip. For a change I took the less wise option and decided to press on into the rain regardless.

I had a bit of luck when it stopped raining as I walked along the track. I passed a group of visitors who were also making their way towards the glacier, albeit slowly. Then the track ran out and I was at the foot of a rocky mountain with a view of the glacier that was not appreciably better than we had had over lunch. I was really disappointed and wondered if I moved quickly could I make the boat B had gone for? Then I spotted linked bars in the rock face that seemed to indicate a route. I decided to give it a go. The bars ran out quickly but then I could see white marks in the rock that seemed to continue the route. I climbed on. Gingerly. Then one of the white marks turned out to be the rock itself and when I looked around I was in a precarious spot from where I retraced my steps with difficulty: its seemed easier going uphill! I paused to reflect that this was against all the rules. Out on a mountain, in poor weather conditions, with no food or drink, and nobody knowing when I was due back. Then I though of Bro S (as opposed to PS) and decided to climb on. Maybe the stake ahead is the route. That led me along a crevice to a cliff face where if I leaned out I could see the leading edge of the glacier and the water falling to the lake below. A good view. Not a great view, as Eamonn would say. Probably not worth all the hassle.

I picked my way back. Turning a corner I came across the group I had passed earlier. The picture on the left shows them making their way up. They were being lead by the man who had served us lunch. They expressed surprise at seeing me out on the mountain alone. I asked about getting close to the glacier. Could you touch the ice I was asked in return. ‘No’, I admitted. ‘Follow me: I’ll get you on the ice’ said the guide. I did. And he did. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. The colour, the shapes, the sounds and the light were magnificent. The thing was alive: creaking and dripping as it moved imperceptibly along, allowing light into crevices and caverns beneath its surface. Just don’t go beneath the overhangs in case it calves. Fair enough. The photos, I hope, speak for themselves. If not you’ll just have to go yourself! I gave the guide a tip to reflect the value of the experience and he gave me a lift back to the boat.

The Shape

Calving

Overhangs

Blue Caverns

Back at the cabin B ventured forth in search of groceries for tea and breakfast. Not easy. After a 80 kilometre round trip during which he would have run out of petrol but for the kindness of a stranger (B: As you may recall from Jerpoint, Christopher can be hard to recognise) he returned with the provisions. We ate well, the old hostelling skills making a nostalgic return.

We checked our route for tomorrow. Sunday. Ferry times were few and far between so it has to be planned carefully. So far Highway 17 had lived up to its billing.