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!

A whale of a time

Today we headed for Ǻlesund. But first things first. Down to the single computer in the lobby to access Andy in America and see what he had been up to in the previous week. That was the week of the Puerto Rico Parade. Seamus was in Ballinskelligs. Now he's somewhere in the mountains of NW Ireland!

Our day started much as yesterday had been, lovely, warm, pleasant and dry. (By July 07 I&R had cruised across our Circle and reported that it had rained in Norway for four weeks after we left ... were we lucky or what?) But it was also a feature of this trip that each corner brought a new experience. It seems that only a few kilometres down the road we were again into new territory. Now we were into steep, wooded valleys with snow-capped ridges. And it was cold, really cold, in the shade. We were early enough and the valley sides steep enough to mean we were in the shade and it was cold. The first indications that we were close to 62 north. A reminder that we were getting ever closer to the Arctic Circle. We both remarked how “Swiss” looking the scenery was, but beautiful or not we used the first opportunity to stop in a bit of sunlight and put the linings back in our jackets. Welcome to another Norway.

In the meantime, in Ireland Fianna Fáil were examining a document from the Green Party as negotiations were underway toward the possible formation of a coalition government. In France results from the first round of legislative elections the day before suggested that the new right-wing president, Nicolas Sarkozy, would obtain an overwhelming majority in the National Assembly next Sunday. We, however, were insulated. It was also our first workday in Norway and that too made a difference. There was more activity in the fields and tractors and agricultural vehicles on the road. The traffic was a little heavier than it had been too. However we were now being fussy. More traffic meant we encountered a car every few minutes rather than meeting a few cars every minute.

We arrived at the first Ferry (Anda to Lote) as it was pulling in. Great timing! No delay getting on board and across we went.

We tried for a cup of coffee in Nordfjordeid. Parked neatly in the car park. Took off our helmets and unhooked a small bag from the bike before walking around the village. We were perhaps a bit early and nothing appeared to be open. Very quickly – ok in less than 5 minutes - we abandoned the search and were on our bikes and under way again.

The spin was beautiful along the E39 - against the sea and roads to the next ferry crossing – Folkestad to Volda – where we started a second queue. And it worked. We were first onto the ferry and first off!

In Volda we carefully parked the bikes in splendid sunshine and sat outside to have our morning snack. No sticky bunds here but they were serving pancakes so we helped ourselves to a couple of those. Very nice. As we enjoyed the break we could not help but notice that rain clouds were gathering. B, with his sailing experience, is ever alert to the approach of rainclouds. The skies darkened but we hoped that an optimistic outlook and suppression of negative vibes would keep the worst at bay.

We got close to Alesund when we ran out of road. Not that we needed another ferry (we had used 3 that day already) but the town centre was a long way off the main road and we could not get our bearings. The GPS just sulked! Then we spotted the beacon that is the hope of so many foreign travellers. The McDonalds were clearly visible on a nearby hill: so we figured that would be our point of refuge - our safe haven. Much as a church might have done in medieval times, Ronnnie seesm to be capturing the high gound!! (Go on: comment...I dare you!!). The weather improved too so we could sit outside again and check the maps in more detail: and figured our way into Alesund.

Before long and only a few missed turns later we were being given a very friendly welcome into our hotel for the night. Another 160 kilometres done. Their parking was a ‘bit of a distance’ away but ‘bikers usually just pop the bikes on the path outside. It will be fine if you keep it tight to the wall.’ So we did. And then we ‘did’ the town.

Very quickly we were at the waters edge and encountered an Irish registered yacht “TARA” in the harbour. B engaged one of the crew in conversation and established that they were on their way to the Lofoten Islands. Unfortunately he also confirmed what we though we understood of the local forecasts. Not good. We were going to need lots of positive outlook! I did not like the mention of sleet and gales. It as enough to drive one to drink.

Irish at sea in Norway

Which we did. Well we walked to the nearest Irish pub. I mean once you have gone to Norway and been to McDonald and an Irish pub you only need Starbucks or Hard Rock to complete the unique experiences offered by travel in foreign lands!! “Dirty Nelly’s” got its own back and only served Murphy’s and not Guinness, B was seriously unimpressed.

Irish reflections on potential drinkers

Although the town was small we walked the centre for a while looking for a suitable restaurant. But our efforts paid off. Hummer Kanari looked like it met our criteria. When we studied the menu it included raw whale. I wondered. We were in one of only three countried in the world where this was legal, Iceland and Japan being the other two. Lots of ethical questions. But I felt that the chance to taste whale would be limited and I have always urged the children to ‘ give new food a try’ . So we ordered one starter! B, against his better judgement to be fair, tried it but felt it was ‘tasteless even in the marinade – not to mention killing the creature (also tasteless). Our serving was of wafer thin slices, which had all the appearances, including colour (I though this was the marinade but have since learned that whale meat is red - I had expected white) and texture, of Parma ham but little flavour. If you want to read a little more try http://luna.pos.to/whale/icr_fact.html or http://www.iwcoffice.org/index.htm Don’t think I will be rushing for it again. Unlike swordfish which I tried in the US and loved. The rest of the meal was traditional and wonderful. Thoroughly enjoyable and great value.

Over dinner we had noted that there had been no sign of the Politi since Bergen and indeed that smokers were not a common sight. Coming out of the restaurant we bumped into a group of smokers blocking the doorway and in an effort to avoid them we stepped off the footpath into the path of an oncoming Politi car…………!

We spend another pleasant hour or so wandering along the harbour. Alesund is the HQ for the Norwegian Coast Guard. Impressive offices and equipment. Maybe Ireland can aspire to the same.

Smokers a la carte

Norwegian Coast Guard

As we rambled back to the hotel we noticed ‘Boy racers’ beginning to collect in a side street. They raced along it and did donoughts at the end of it. They were to become noticeable in many towns, no matter how small.

We retired as the rain started to fall.

Gales?

Sleet?

That's it for July 07! See you next week. Same time same channel! If you are Irish, or rather in Ireland, enjoy the Bank Holiday.

We were there once

An arresting start

We only got around the corner. Literally. We had only gone point 621 of a kilometer when we rounded a bend to see policemen all across the road. Every vehicle was being stopped. So were we. We pulled into the side of the road and were asked to produce our papers and prepare for a breath test. This was before 09:00 Sunday morning. Guess if you were one of the revellers last night and tried to slip out of town early you were now in difficulties. If you are over the limit you face a hefty fine, the confiscation of your licence, and 28 days in prison. No messing here. And speeding is similarly enforced. If you are caught on one of the thousands of cameras you can expect your credit card to be billed for €100, if the police stop you, expect to pay up to €400. Signs on it too. The rate of deaths from road accidents are about 75% of those in Ireland. If we could reduce our deaths by 25% , 100 more people would be alive each year. Sobering!

On the day that was in in though we were in too high spirits to treat the checkpoint very seriously. We though it hilarious that within a kilometer of arriving in Norway we were being randomly stopped, checked and breathalysed. It had not happened to either of us in 30 years driving in Ireland. The very idea of random breath tests would nearly cause a constitutional crisis at home. We joked with the police about it. They were good natured and we assured them that we appreciated the serious nature of the job they were doing. Nevertheless we took a few snaps. The officer in charge wandered over to see what was going on. We had our licences and copies of all our papers with us and these were checked, but he then decided that breath tests would be a waste of resources and wished us well on our trip. We remounted, restarted the bikes and were off ... again!

Very quickly words are not enough to describe the journey. Instantly we were into a transformed landscape. Like nothing we had seen in Ireland or theUK. Superb. Magical. Stunning. Every bend something new. We could have marked our progress kilometer by kilometer with photos. That's the difficulty with the motorbike, it covers ground quickly but is less friendly that the bicycle when it comes to a quick stop for a snap. Nevertheless , between us we have almost 2000 shots. The merest hint of an invitation and we will be round with a slide show!!! You have been warned!!

Reflections on a first Norwegian day

By the way, as I write this it is pouring rain in Ireland. It has been pouring rain now for over 50 consecutive days. Raining since we were in Norway. And in Norway the weather was sunny dry and warm. You can see in the photo on the right that at our first stop we heated up so quickly that we were down to T Shirts in minutes. So much for all the cold weather gear we were carrying! Already we loved this country. We were now at a height of 410 metres and felt on top of the world. By the way, the building in the background is a public convenience. Complete with grass roof. And pristine inside. The road was in great repair and we had it almost to ourselves. The only reminder of its potential to be inhospitable were the very high poles marking the edge of the road so that it could be identified in snow. And there were very deep, seriously deep, drains at the edge so missing the margin was not to be recommended. Anyway we could not stay here all day, inviting as it might be, so we geared up again and continued North.

Another corner, another new experience. A very long tunnel. No hard shoulder so no opportunity to pause before going in. Not a great idea on a bike, you know. Going from bright sunshine to dark tunnel while wearing sunglasses. Hairy few moments while old eyes adjusted to the sudden change in the environment. Yes, the tunnel did have lights but it was not bright by any means. And over the space of few kilometres we dropped from 410m to just 14m. Took a little getting used to. But we adjusted. Its a puzzle though. If you wear prescription sunglasses, how do you deal with these situations. if you don't wear sunglasses your eyes tire from the glare in the sunshine. If you do, its hard to see and balance in the dark. Answers on a postcard please to ... NO, on refection, this is the 21st century, please leave a comment!

Another corner, another new experience. Our first short ferry crossing. The coast here has so many fjords cutting into it that the road frequently converts to a ferry. Handy, and efficient. We just arrived at the end of the road, waited a few minutes. Popped on to the ferry and 20 minutes later we were on our way again. Handy break too. Got 20 minutes rest and were still moving. Neat. Only cost a few euro too. Need I say it again? We are having a great time here. And we have only done 100k in Norway and its not even lunchtime yet!

Food. What? Yes! Good idea. Snag. All closed on Sunday. This is Sunday. Oops! Not to worry (who? Us? Worry? Never! what does M say? NO PANIC!) This in Norway not NI, or F so we will get somewhere open. And we do. That reminds me: around this stage we noticed that the speed signs were exact. If there was a bend coming up a reduced speed would be indicated, and you could rely on it being the correct speed to get you comfortable round the bend. Not drive you round the bend where at home it says 100k when you should be doing 50! Food? Oh yes, lets stop for a sticky bun. To be fair B seems to manage long periods without snacks but, well, I enjoyed them. It was so hot here it was like being in the South of France (next time!!) so it was back to T shirts and coffee outside in the shade. Great. Let's get petrol (on average every 150 k and certainly before 300k) and move on.

Move on we did. To our hotel in Skei. Now lets be honest. We don't slum it all the time. We have done enough camping to last a lifetime. We do do hostels and even huts and have been seen in Wigwams or tepees or whatever. But not in Skei. Yes it was a nice hotel and the views were stunning and the price was, well, actually very reasonable! Less than a B&B at home: nice job on the booking, well done interweb thingy! Is this Blog too long (Please leave a comment!).

Too slow...I'll keep going until I get feedback. Let the pictures speak for themselves for a moment, a la AJ - see Andy In America !

The room

The Balcony

The view from the window

You still with us? Very good. Have to say you've got stamina. I like it! Believe it or not, it is now only 13:00 in Norway. Bit early to check in, eh? The staff at the Best Western Skei Hotel could not have been nicer. Hurried up the arrangements and apologised for the fact that a room was not ready. Suggested a meal. We decided to go for a full lunch. Took trouble to explain the menu to us. Wonderful meal. Checked in, they apologised again but would compensate with a GOOD room. Did they ever! Then we were off again. To see a glacier in the afternoon.

En Route 5 to the glacier

Another corner, another new experience. With no bags on the bikes we had a lovely spin out to the Boyabreen glacier and back. More on glaciers later. However on the way we rounded a bend in anticipation of entering a tunnel (good road signs again!) and were doing the right speed to stop before we did so. The tunnel entrance was full of goats. Yes goats. Josh has the postcard. And more were spilling down the mountain, through a gap in the fencing and into the tunnel mouth. They were comfortable in the shade. Only two pesky bikers turned up to disturb them. We gingerly made our way through them.

Cool! The Boyabreen Glacier

Having survived the goats we 'did' the glacier from a discreet distance , had more coffee and returned to base. No, I meant more about glaciers later - days later - or weeks in your case. Be patient! Back in Skei the hotel was full of busloads of tourists. Taking helicopter trips to see the glacier. Cheats.

Day one ended quietly at the local ESSO station: the only thing open in Skei. Good on you Ess0: more power to your engineers! Ice cream at midnight. Goodnight. Another 250k done. Tomorrow will be different. Another corner, another new experience. A photo finish.

The sun tries to set in Skei

All at Sea

At we waited we watched the weather. Raining in the south of England according to those who had made the journey from that direction. The hope was that it would not rain here before we got on the ship. We knew it would be raining in Bergen. We had accepted that weeks ago. The joke is of the young boy when asked by a tourist in the middle of a shower if it always rained in Bergen and he replied ' how should I know, I'm only 12' Slightly more scientifically, we had been directed by Eamon to try the http://www.wunderground.com/ site which has massive databases of weather conditions by location by date going back years. No matter what we tried, this said it had rained and would rain in Bergen when we were there. The Irish Coast Guard confirmed the view. So make the most of the dry now!


We had plenty of time to do that as there was a delay of an hour before we could board. The Captain said it would not effect the Norway arrival time so that was all right then. We repeated yesterday mornings exercise of tying the bikes down. A bit more challenging as DFDS did not supply as much or as clean equipment. My travelling companion ( I need a nickname here to protect the innocent: lets say B cause he drives the blue bike!) took no chances and anchored the rear with a second tie. Where he got the piece of carpet for the saddle I just don't know: some are just more prepared than others, I guess. I only had a twenty year old square of terry cloth: figured S&A no longer needed it. Still others took a more relaxed attitude and simply sauntered off to the upper decks leaving their bikes to be sorted, or not, as the case might be, by others. Can I skip ahead here and tell you this crossing was like being on a mill pond and the bikes were as safe resting on their stands as they would have been on a level street...however...remember this anecdote for the return journey!


The ship was huge and it was a good idea to take a note of the door, deck and stair colour by which we climbed from the car deck. We found our cabin; two beds, not bunks, and a sea view. Great. Then we went to explore the ship and watch as we sailed from England. Loudspeakers played triumphant brass bands as we left the berth and it matched our mood exactly. A new part of the adventure had begun.

The journey would take over 28 hours but DFDS had copied a Disneyland idea for passing the time - everything seems to have its queue! We queued for a snack, we queued to book a time for dinner (we had already booked and paid for the meal itself months ago!). We still had some time to play with before the meal so...off to the movies.


The film was “Wild Hogs” Tim Allen, John Travolta, and Peter Fonda in a cameo role, are among the actors in this film which, according to the official site is about "a group of of middle aged men who decide to rev up their suburban lives in a freewheeling motorbike trip. Taking a long dreamed of breather from their stressful jobs they can't wait to feel the freedom of the open road. As they go looking for adventure they soon discover they have embarked on a journey they will not easily forget." Appropriate or what?

Every biker on the boat was there. We filled the cinema. Brilliant atmosphere. Roaring to get started. A group we had met earlier raced in late in enthusiastic good form, ran along the row ahead of ours, and dropped into the seats in front of us. Big guy that dropped into the seat in front of me. Pity that. Might have been better had it been the woman. She was smaller, and lighter. You see the snag was I had my foot in the gap between the seat and the floor. He thought I was giving him a hearty push in the back as a kind of greeting. I though I had most of my foot in the gap between the seat and the floor. Painful. Don't put your foot in the gap between the seat and the floor. The film was brilliant: get to see it and I'm sure you will enjoy it. Don't put your foot between ....

Dinner was good on board and it was a pleasure to eat the buffet meal. A really great selection of various foods to suit all tastes. We had to have several helpings just to be sure we did them all justice.


Back at the cabin 'next door' was a bit rowdy. B asked them to be quiet. He has a way of doing that. They were quiet. We heard no more from them till we rose at at 07:30 and were on deck for our arrival in Stavanger at 08:00 – on time. Bikers were first off: I wondered why some had no helmets. They were left to linger in their queue as cars were cleared and then they had their immigration and customs check. When the immigration officer tapped one on the head I realised the others had anticipated the need to remove their helmets (or not put them on to be precise) for an identify check. Lesson learnt.


Then we had a good breakfast on board and got our first taste of Norway as we made our way along the coast to Haugesund and then on to Bergen where we arrived - on time at 16:00.

We 'did' Bergen including checking it's McDonald's in the few hours to darkness. Ah yes. Darkness. Seems to be a bit elusive here. This town was hopping. The harbour area was packed with boats filled with revellers: a floating Temple Bar. Making the most of the sunshine. Yes indeed: after weeks of forecasts it turned out that we got a lucky break and managed to arrive in wonderful sunshine.











Next morning were were up and ready to go early. Now, finally, we were on holiday in a country we had not been to before. Each of the bikes had been serviced recently. Each had brand new tyres. Each had a full tank of petrol. Dammit each had been cleaned and polished only two days ago. We moved away from the hotel, carefully reminding each other to 'drive right' Nothing left to chance. Lets go !!

We would not go very far. Around the very next corner ...

Across the Kingdom

It was, as our chic friend might say, a fab start to the trip. As ever we met fellow bikers as we waited to board. This is a feature of ferry travel with a bike that I like. They line us all up in the one lane so you get a chance to meet and chat with a group of like minded souls and to hear about the plans or adventures depending on whether they are coming or going. Most we going that morning. One lad was there wondering if his companions would arrive, they had a ‘sort of a, you know, loose arrrangment to meet hereabouts around now to go to, well Wales I think’. He had no maps they had no plan….how do you do that ?? He was still on his own as we boarded.


It’s a steep ramp on the Ulysses. Just so you know. Not one on which to get nervous or hesitate, or certainly not stop. You probalbly heard about the lorry driver who missed the ferry. Rang back to base and they were not too concerned. ‘No you don’t understand, he explained, I MISSED the ferry. Lorry was in the water. Swear it’s a true story. Anyway we had better luck and the officer guiding us on knew her bikes. She made sure the ramp was clear before signalling us to give it a clear run to the top. Done. In the dry. We’re on.

And Irish Ferries had clean tie downs for the bikes and even a bit of carpet to protect the saddle and a chock for the wheel. This was our type of ferry. Ulysses, the boat not the book, is the biggest car ferry in the world. In March 2001, a huge crowd turned out to watch her sail into Dublin Port for the first time. The Irish Whale and Dolphin Group http://www.iwdg.ie/ report views from the top of her 12 stories as dizzying and add that sightings on this route range from the humble porpoise to the gigantic fin whale. Maybe we would see our whale today. I had, in truth, been looking forward to a trip on this ferry ever since I&R sailed across in it a while back and they felt it was as good as a cruise: "you’ve got to try it", they enthused "even if its only a day trip - give it a go!". Well here we were.

Each biker has his own routine for lashing his vehicle to the deck while the newcomers watch, listen and learn. Mind you you could write a thesis on all the contradictory advice you get on the web on this subject. Some tie the bike sdwon while its on its centre stand: this gives a good firm stand but the bike can rock front to back and slide along the deck if you are unlucky. Lashing it down tight against its side stand gives three points of contact with the deck buts it’s a lot of pressure on the side stand. Anyway the engineers among you will not doubt advise.

We had a wonderful crossing: a unique experience. The ferry was all that I&R had promised. Irish Ferries made up for any dissapointment about the fact that we could not use the fast ferry. We watched from the bridge as we slipped almost silently from our home port. And then suddenly we were on the dockside in Holyhead. We had had a whale of a time although we saw none. Oh and our friend from the Dublin dockside had met his friends. They were late joining the boat as they had been waiting for him ‘around the corner, as agreed’

We now faced a ‘commute’ across Wales and England to York. Along motorways for the most part, fast for the most part, alert all the time. Nothing concentrates the mind like watching for a junction while switching lanes in heavy traffic at speed. We sampled the delights of Little Chef in Wales and then crossed into our third country that day to have coffee in England and press on for York. Suddenly we were off the motorway and along a few miles of quiet country road into York. We got there a little before 17:00.

York advertises itself as one of the most intriguing cities in England: layered with history, beauty and variety. We were many hours later arriving here than we had originally intended when thinking of using the fast ferry (the Plan again!!) so we had to whistle stop around the attractions. It was certainly well preserved and its cobbled pedestrianised streets made it an ideal place to explore on foot as we did. Plus, although it was still open York Minster had closed the ticket office so we got to explore it without charge. Every cloud and all that. The downside was that we could not access the Undercroft, Treasury and Crypts nor climb the 275 steps of the tower. However York Minster is the largest medieval gothic cathedral in northern Europe, built between the 13th and 15th centuries and houses magnificent stained glass. It seemed right that on this first evening we had a link back to the 1995 trip which hopped from one gothic cathedral to another in mainland (sic) Europe. We had enough time to get a taster of York and enough to encourage a return visit. Then we treated ourselves to a fine dinner in “Michael’s Brasserie” before retiring to the Ibis hotel, which was under renovation and under whelming (see I can be charitable too!!). Day one and 325 kilometres done.

That reminds me of Dolls Houses in a previous life!

Next morning we were up and at it early. Quick breakfast, no inducements to linger over it and we were off. Into traffic jams. Eventually though we were back on main roads, then (quieter) motorways and motoring. We stopped for a snack at Scots Corner and then we whizzed on in North Shields more than an hour ahead of our planned time and into the DFDS terminal with not a car in sight. Decided to get petrol to save hassle finding it in Norway. Good idea. Not easy to do! Who keeps closing all the petrol stations??? We had to interrogate the locals to get directions to the nearest petrol pump. It all took 45 minutes. Then we were back to the DFDS terminal where we could see the ferry at the head of the long queue of cars. The scene at Dublin Ferryport the day before was repeated. We relaxed and chatted. Day 2 and another 166 kilometres done. The weather was beautiful: although we all realised that it would be very wet in Bergen when we arrived. It had been a quick and pleasant commute across the UK. We took that for granted. Mistake. The UK would bite back … but that, my friends, is a story for another day.

The Plan

OK, let’s get this show on the road. Are you clear on the target? We had decided to head for the Arctic Circle in Norway. Not the North Pole, right? The southern limit of the arctic region is commonly placed at the Arctic Circle (latitude 66 degrees, 33 minutes North). The Arctic Circle is an imaginary line that marks the latitude above which the sun does not set on the day of the summer solstice (usually 21 June) and does not rise on the day of the winter solstice (usually 21 December).

North of this latitude, periods of continuous daylight or night last up to six months at the North Pole but we were not going there, right?

In fact, because of atmospheric refraction and as the sun appears as a disk and not a point, part of the midnight sun may be seen on the night of the summer solstice up to about 90 km south of the Arctic Circle.

To further complicate things, the position of the Arctic Circle is not fixed, but varies over time. This may seem pedantic but I just know there are readers of this Blog who will want precision. The Arctic Circle (and, for those of you planning alternative trips, the Antarctic Circle, the Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn) depend on the tilt of the earths axis relative to the plane of its orbit around the sun, known technically as the "obliquity of the ecliptic". As of 2000, the mean value of the tilt was about 23°26′21″. However, this angle is not constant and as the axial tilt varies, so does the position of our circle. The physics is a bit complicated for me but in essence the effect is that the Arctic Circle is drfiting towards the Pole at a rate of about 15 metres a year. I know you will be relieved to know, at the outset, that we have allowed for this and at an early stage fixed our most Northerly point on the town of Bodo so that we would not have to return in a few years to renew our Certs!!

What are you laughing at?? If you Google this subject you will read of those agonising about where EXACTLY to pitch their tents to be sure they stayed on the Circle. You gotta have a plan before you go. Oh look; while I’m at it, I’d best admit that Arctic researchers also define the Arctic as the area north of the northern limit of upright tree growth or indeed as the locations in high latitudes where the average daily summer temperature does not rise above 10 degrees Celsius. I think we met the first definition but certainly not the second. Anyway the Circle is the goal!!

You’d think getting all that sorted would be the difficult step. A niece studying in Norway got us all the Norwegian maps we needed (Thanks S). After that we spent months pouring over maps, shipping schedules and Rough Guides to get us a suitable route. Irish Ferries would get us to and from the Mainland and then from Newcastle (North Shields to be precise) DFDS would get us to Gothenberg in Sweden and back from Kristiansand in Norway. We ordered the Swedish maps from Stanfords in London (Great map shop, by the way http://www.stanfords.co.uk/ ) and worked out in detail a route through Sweden, crossing to Mo I Rana in Norway and then across the Circle to Bodo. Eventually, but really well in advance, we booked the ferry. We had a Plan. Then the Plan started to unravel!!!

DFDS decided not to travel to Sweden. Nor were they coming back from Kristiansand in 07! At least we were good for the UK part of the trip. So back to the drawing board. Forget the trips to see bears and so much else we had read about and pencilled in for for Sweden. Anyone need unused Sweden maps (wonderful detail) and Rough Guide? We reworked the route, now going to Bergen and back from Stavanger. Then work colleagues told us we could not miss the Atlantic Road so we had to factor that in as well. Also we though a glacier might be nice. Could we see whales instead of bears. And a Stave church, whatever that might be. Oh, and do try to get to see Route 17. Weeks later we were back at square 1 with the Plan in place and the ferries rebooked. Then the Plan started to unravel!!!

DFDS decided not to travel on the dates they had originally advertised. Bit of a nuisance this as the revised dates were not as suitable and added a few days to the trip. Our original selections were uanavailable and the hotel we had booked was now booked out. But we can do nothing if not plan so we revised it all again … and took out some insurance just to be sure. The Plan was in place, albeit a bit rumpled. Now it was paid for too. Then the Plan started to unravel!!!

Irish Ferries notified us… in good time… that the fast ferry would not be travelling on our return date. No sweat. Not so much as a single ‘tut’. Roll with the blows. Reorganise. Come back form Dun Laoghaire instead. The Plan was in place, albeit a bit rumpled. Now it was paid for and we had refunds where they were due. Then the plan started to unravel!!!

Irish Ferries notified us… just in time… that the fast ferry would not be travelling on our outward dates. OK, OK….’Tut’. We accepted the alternative offered. Ceded control of the Plan, for now at least.

The 7 June 2007, finally saw a black and a blue Honda motorbike converging on the Point Depot, in Dublin at 07:00 on a lovely bright sunny Irish morning. We’re ready: Lets go. And we were off.........