We’ve come to the conclusion that if we don’t get ourselves some Australian flags, we at least need a sign that simply reads: “We’re not German”. It’s the standard assumption in Scandinavia, to the extent that we had a couple of German cycle tourists come out and start speaking to us in German a few days ago. Several Scandinavians have tried speaking to us in German as well. It happened in the Netherlands too, so I can only assume that we either look incredibly German (well we do have German panniers), or that the European epidemic of German cycle-tourists has reached such plague proportions that they out-number other nationalities by a huge percentage.
After an indoors stay last night our wet clothes have dried. Our bike shoes, unsurprisingly, have not. After a quick brake pad replacement (they wear very quickly on the steep gravelly wet roads around here) we’re off to Storekvina, where we’ll catch the train to Stavanger. Unfortunately this means skipping a whole section of awesome fjordal coast riding, but we really like the idea of cycling the Rallarvegen, and other time constraints now mean we can’t do both. The ride to catch the train takes us alongside Fedafjorden, along an old road with a steep drop off down to the water/valley, and more cliffs and waterfalls above.
The standard deal with Norwegian trains seem to be to remove your panniers, hoist bike and panniers into the guards carriage (generally at the back of the train), and then pay an enormous amount of money for you and your bike to get anywhere. But at least the train is fast and dry, and soon enough we’re in Stavanger. Where it immediately starts to pour with rain as soon as we step outside the station. As we pedal away a Scotsman remarks to Alex: “You’re a better man than me”.
It was a short-lived shower, but we’re now nice and wet and don’t feel like hanging around, so make a beeline for the ferry terminal where we cycle straight on and grab a seat. After the first stop at Kvitsøy the sea gets very rough. The ferry is tilting and crashing into troughs. Several small children fall and hurt themselves, and a chorus of caterwauling begins. I start to feel a bit queasy, and try not to think about people dangling chunks of bacon fat down their throat with a bit of string as a cure for sea-sickness.
An hour and a half later we roll off onto the island of Karmøy – rugged and wild looking with crashing surf, it reminds me of the wild parts of Donegal. We read a story that tells of two girls from the Shetland Isles who rowed out to a nearby island to milk some of the cows grazing there – but on their return a strong storm blew their boat to Karmøy, where they ended up staying and marrying locals.
I wake during the night to hear rain, and an odd creaking noise. Creak…. creak…. I wonder what on earth that is…. creak… is it a tree? It’s quite regular… creak… oh well, I’ll just ignore it and go to sleep again…. SNAP! *side of the tent vibrates* What the? Oh. That’s another tent pole snapping then. Not much we can do about it now, we don’t have any more splints anyway. Back to sleep. (Over the course of the trip five tent poles snapped – we managed, and the tent was great otherwise)
Onwards through Haugesund, and more ferry hopping across islands, and the bike route signs have started pointing to Bergen (instead of just reading Nordsjø, as they did between Stavanger and Haugesund). We cycle in to SagvÃ¥g, and head onwards, with the North Sea Route mostly sticking to roads (some really nice ones too). Then it’s another ferry from Fitjar across to the mainland, and suddenly we’re nearly at Bergen.
Getting to Bergen is hard going, there’s a lot of steep up and downs, and we lose the marked cycle route in the city, picking our way as best we can towards the city centre. That night we stay with hosts from warmshowers.com, and enjoy the luxury of a real bed for the night, as well as a warm shower.
We’re back on a train again the next day – thanks to a missing ferry connection you can’t cycle all the way along the Route 4 here, so we arrive in Stranghelle, out east of Bergen, the easy way. Cycling out of there and beyond Dale the hills begin, and we cycle past waterfalls and huge amphitheatres of towering rock, mossy roadsides and sheep with bells. It’s all wonderful terrain to be cycling through and we’re incredibly glad we met the Belgian who convinced us we should cycle this section.
After slogging uphill for quite some time, we pass through Eskingdalen and stop and camp just after cresting the pass. It’s not particularly flat but there’s a great view (and more sheep with bells).
The following morning seems suspiciously warm, but as we roll downhill, we realise it’s because of an inversion; and soon we’re shivering in the cold and misty valley bottom. Arriving in Voss we stock up on groceries for the Rallarvegen, then follow road 13 out of town.
We haven’t seen any signs for the cycle route, but it feels as if we’re going the right way. The altitude profile is right, the direction is approximately right, and both of us assume the other one is paying close attention. Fifteen kilometres later the road suddenly starts going steeply downhill. We’re going the wrong way! And we have to arrive at Upsete train station in time to catch the train through the tunnel to Myrdal, otherwise we’d be stuck for the night! Panic, panic!
After some muttering and wailing, we backtrack – which is thankfully all downhill anyway. Back to Voss again, and we leave town headed in the right direction (although the turn-off just out of Voss isn’t sign-posted, it isn’t too hard to spot as long as you’re paying attention – and given that you have the railway to follow, that shouldn’t be too hard). Despite all the warnings we’d heard about the fact we’re doing the route the wrong way, the hills aren’t that bad at all. Perhaps Norwegians have a thing about going up hills, Route 8 in Wales is much worse than any of this. It’s warm and windy, and the weather looks unsettled.
Arriving at the train station in Upsete we are overjoyed. We made it! Overcame adversity, triumphed in the face of something. The station is even warm, and provides shelter from the rain which is beginning to fall. We comment that it wouldn’t be a bad place to have to camp for the night, ha ha. I have a look at the timetable, confirming that we have the right time written down. The timetable here is more up to date than the one we’d looked at earlier, and much easier to read. Oh. The 7.23pm train only comes on Fridays you say? The last train we could have got to Myrdal was at 3.18pm you say? Oh.
We settle down to cook dinner, and eat in the warm of the Upsete train station. No-one comes to kick us out or lock up for the night, so we set up in our sleeping bags, listening to the storm roaring outside.
Come morning we awake in our warm little house and get things packed and ready in preparation for The Train. It comes as planned at 9.14am, and takes us through the tunnel in 7 minutes or so for NOK100 (CAD$19). If only there weren’t freight trains going at all hours we could have walked through the tunnel ourselves.
It’s raining slightly as we potter down onto the start of the Rallarvegen, which is disturbingly steep and rocky. Alex’s front tyre is a bit soft, and gets a pinch flat within the first few hundred metres – we fix it up, make sure there’s a more reasonable amount of air in our tyres, and continue. After the initial rocky start, the track quality improves, and is mostly quite ok – unfortunately the sections that tend to be eroded and rocky are also the steep sections where you’d really prefer not to be cycling over rocks. I’m surprised how populated it is too – there are houses all the way along; it’s not out in the wilderness at all (I suppose the trainline with all the train stations should have given that away).
Gradually working our way higher, we weave past lakes and waterfalls and streams, playing overtaking tag with a fisherman (who rather pragmatically hops off his bike and walks whenever the going gets steep – with our fully loaded bikes it’s easier to be cycling though). The weather alternates between sun and rain, and the scenery is spectacular. Patches of snow start appearing, and the water flowing past us is clear and blue.
It’s just before midday that we start meeting people coming the other way. I start counting them – they come in dribs and drabs at first, then huge enormous groups, and hire bikes. We’re working our way uphill, and they’re all going the commonly recommended way, which involves a lot of hurtling downhill. By the time we reach Finse we’ve passed 188 people going the opposite way (and only ever saw the one person going the same way as us).
From Finse onwards the hills are on our side though, and we cycle along the mostly downhill section of the Rallarvegen to Haugestol, past still more groups of cyclists (I’ve stopped counting them now though). Off the Rallarvegen we’re back on the road and cycle to Geilo for a quick supermarket dinner and then to jump on the terrible train, which whisks us away to Oslo.
Distance: 532km
Flaginess levels: Low
Public toilets: Available
Wifi availability: Good
Groceries: Expensive
Days of rain: 5/6
Mooses: Still none
2 replies on “Cycling: Norway Part II (16 – 21 August 2009)”
Are you always cycling ahead of Alex? Love that downhill shot! And so many sheep – sure feels like Ireland, hehehe…
Heh, it was pretty much a mix when it came to who rode first. And yep, sheep everywhere! I was amazed by how many there were in Ireland though – especially as I’ve been to New Zealand now, and that place has a huge reputation for being all sheep. But compared to Ireland, it had barely enough for a few kebabs.