Like all our little trips it started out with an idea and then grew from there. Originally we were looking at alternative routes to Europe so as to avoid Dover/Calais. As we looked at Hull/Hook of Holland possibilities our eyes caught they fact we could do Newcastle -> Bergen. That was it, we would hit Scandinavia!
We would have preferred to go over for the longest day but events and situations conspired against us so we had to settle for just after. Original plans had called for going up beyond the Arctic Circle and maybe the Nord Cap as we would be away for up to 3 weeks. But due to Jean handing in her notice at work 6 weeks before going our budget had some drastic cutting..
The day before leaving I was sorting out the documents for the bikes, and couldn't find an MOT for the 750, after a bit of investigation we realised neither of us had remembered to do it. A bit of ringing around and pleading with local garages (it was 15:00) meant I was able to get it done.
After a week of final preparations Friday 27th July dawned, with rain. Togged out in waterproofs we left for Newcastle on the XJ900F (laden with full pannier kit and tailpack) and GSX750W (carrying tent, sleeping bags, stools and airbed). We decided we couldn't cope with the M62 so trundled off up the M6 and then the A57 to Harrogate (where we stopped for a cup of tea at a workmates) and then off to the A1(M). The rain had stopped as we went round the back of Leeds so we could continue in leathers. We stopped for lunch at the Scotch Corner Cafe before the last leg , as expected the Tyne Tunnel was chocker so a bout of filtering was required.
At the ferry a large group of BMWs turned up, they were doing the Nord Cap, which made me a touch jealous.
I wasn't impressed with the securing of the bikes, I am used to the strapping down we get on the Dover/Calais route, here we were given some rope and left to our own devices. I decided to look dumb and wait for a matelot to come and sort it out for me.
On the boat we had good old “Fog on the Tyne” as we pulled out. We chatted to some Geordie bikers (one had an XJ900F but would not let me pinch his fuel tank) and had the usual “how far conversation”, they had only come 4 miles and even pointed out their house to us as we headed out to the North Sea.
While watching the UK drift away we hit the bar and Jean sampled the Aquavit, a schnapps type Norwegian brew with a hint of aniseed. The trip over the North Sea was like sailing on a mill pond so my concerns over the bike stability were unfounded.
As we travelled through the night we got a taste of 2 things we would experience more of in Norway. Firstly, the price of alcohol, in the “Duty Free” 1ltr of Southern Comfort was £22 ! I can but 1.5ltr in France duty paid for £20. Secondly, the light nights, after midnight there was still a light glow in the sky.
Saturday dawned with an announcement over the ship speaker telling us it was bright and sunny outside, but by the time we got up (just before 11:00) there was a heat haze. We ate a buffet breakfast and then lounged on the rear deck. By the time the Norwegian coast appeared it was a blazing hot day.
Norway unfurled itself as a smattering of islands and then rocky headland with inlets showing brightly coloured red and yellow houses. As the ship approached Bergen they unfurled the Norwegian flag and played the national anthem, followed by the what we assume was the Bergen anthem.
Our bed for the night was at a hostel in Bergen, finding it was a nightmare, the hostel guide book maps leave a lot to be desired, we managed to leave Bergen twice before we hooked up on the right road (fortunately the road toll was free as it was a weekend). We spent the evening walking around Bergen and being shocked at meal prices (we had been warned, but sometimes you have to see it with your own eyes). The hostel was up the mountainside and gave fantastic views of Bergen and the sunset, which was still “setting” at 01:00, was amazing. Suprisingly the hostel was quiet so we decided to turn in as well.
At breakfast we dived in and stuffed ourselves, as from now on we would be on a cheese,ham and bread diet with whatever we could concoct in the evenings. So well stuffed we headed for the fjords. As we left Bergen we saw an IKEA, in red and white not the normal blue and yellow, who would have thought that would be the last one we saw until Germany.
We headed off to the Hardranger Fjord and experienced one of many weather changes to be found in Norway. We had left Bergen in bright sunshine (it was around 22C) went through a tunnel and came out into some rain! Every turn was a new view and new experience, the road wound around the fjord and over bridges before turning north towards the South Fjord. The road twisted up and past a waterfall, it took me a moment work out where the “rain” had come from. After Voss the road continued to wind up into mountains (past another waterfall) and the temperature was dropping. Eventually we were confronted with snow and ice. There were large mountain lakes with what appeared to be icebergs. Naturally we stopped and had a snowball fight. As we carried on we saw two completely mad bastards swimming.
We dropped down from the mountain, through a cloud, into a tunnel and out to some more stunning views this time over the South Fjord. Finally the road ended at a ferry. We had just missed one so had to hang around for nearly an hour. Once on the ferry I was torn between the joy of the crossing and worry over the bikes un-secured on the deck, while Jean ignored the bikes and concentrated on the crossing. We had a short ride from the ferry to Balenstrand where we pitched the tent, this ride had some great bits of road including a sweeping bend looping around an inlet, one of those dip in and hold throttle open bends.
The campsite, like all Norwegian ones had hytters (sleeping cabins) which looked comfortable, if you can imagine a wendy house with bunks, a fridge chairs and a porch, but most of all had views down the fjord to sit and stare at.
Balenstand seemed to be a one horse town with a number of hotels, we walked around it in 10mins. It did at least have a SPAR and a CO-OP though. From what we could see the SPAR shop was in the prime spot in town where in the UK it would be a souvenir shop. This was typical of all the villages we passed through. The food was generally twice the price of the UK except fruit. Bread was between £1.30 and £2.50 but delicious, normally nutty and brown.
We gave the local bar a miss (as we did everywhere we went) as there is no fun in drinking at the prices here.
By 23:00 it was still daylight but everyone seemed to be asleep.
We had covered about 160 miles that day at some very low speeds (they don't like you going fast in Norway) as you can't go fast with so many distractions of scenery. I even managed 70mpg on the XJ900. At midnight we were able to play cards in the tent with no lights, a strange experience.
Next day it was blazing hot again so we decided to leave the tent were it was and went for a ride. The map had a windy road marked in green (always good) and I wanted to see a glacier. Once more we rode up and over a mountain, more twisties, more waterfalls and clear roads. The road surfaces are variable - generally very good, but some had subsidence/snow damage making them uneven, most were largely clear of traffic. Finally we came to a long tunnel (some 7km) that goes under a glacier and gets extremely cold before finally returning to daylight and warmth. It is worth noting that Norwegian tunnels are very poorly lit, you leave bright sunshine and go straight in to dim orange lighting. We found it took up to ½ a kilometre for our eyes to adjust.
Standing next to the glacier (the Jostedalbreen) and tasting the water from it was a thought provoking moment. It was so large we found it hard to judge perspective. This was a remnant from the last ice age, and it was still moving.
We took the direct rout back to Balestrand which meant an expensive toll and another ferry ride, but at least we got to go past a store called “Titt up”. Supermarket shopping was full off oppertunities for cheap laughs, with items called “Bog” “Sodd” etc.
That night we dined on meatballs in gradsuss (some gravy stuff) and pasta. The constant lack of nightlife and lack of night was starting to do my head in. (After 2 nights ?? - Jean)
Next it was off to Gerainger, reputedly the most beautiful fjord. We travelled over more mountains,hot this time , past Oden (a source of drinkable glacier water) and back into mountains again. Once more we climbed up winding switchbacks and into a tunnel, this time we came out to a barren cold land and blue lake that was partially frozen. The road then dropped down to Gerainger and I was presented with a sign telling me of a 12% gradient and bends for 12km. What a road, despite some traffic,with coaches that moved over, it was a road to be done again despite the fact I could feel luggage moving on the bends , I decided to wait for Jean and set up camp before going back up. I was glad I did, because when I took the panniers off I realised a weld had gone on the wing rack which was why I had felt movement in the corners. So i fixed it with string and gaffer tape then took the GSX up the mountain instead. I recommend this road to everyone. While at the top I chatted to a biker from the Cheq Republic (or what ever it is called this week), he was crammed 2 up on a trials bike , his girlfriend looked uncomfortable.
We camped that night on the banks of the fjord, we had a massive waterfall and river roaring behind us and ocean liners in front of us. Fortunately they left and took the tourists away around 19:00 (which is when we went back up).
Dined on fish cakes, very tasty.
I decided it was time to head out of Norway as the price was getting to me and to be honest I was “viewed out”. Also there was an oppressive feeling in Gerainger of being hemmed in by the mountains, like siting at the bottom of a deep bowl.
Another hot start as we packed and headed off to the Troll road via the Eagle road and another ferry. The Eagle road rises sharply using multiple switchbacks which leaves you with some stunning views back over Gerainger Fjord. After another ferry ride we arrived at the famous troll road, 11 hairpins beneath the “Troll Wall”. Wefound it no challenge after the previous days roads and the XJ900 (not the worlds best handler) took it all in its stride. A nice road, but more for views than the ride.
We stopped for lunch and took another look at the map, we could head a touch more north towards Trondheim and maybe head for the Artis Circle. We decided we would leave that to another day, another year, as the cost and time it would take to do it was too much right now. Hell would also have to wait. So we headed south east and towards Sweden. As we travelled to what would be our last stop in Norway at a place called Aldval we rode across tundra which seemed to please Jean no end with the multicoloured lichen and moss.
So, off to Sweden, the landscape had now changed , it became more open and rocky , then gave way to trees, even on the Norwegian side. We stopped at the last town in Norway for lunch by a lake and then headed off to the border. We dropped down into Sweden in what I would describe as bathing in Radox pine fresh. The smell was exhilarating, especially if there had been a slight rain fall. As we passed through villages we could not always see them, they would be hidden behind the trees.
As we rounded
one bend doing about 60mph, I could see a white coloured lump in the
road. The lump suddenly moved, sprouted legs and turned to face me, I
was looking down the horns of a moose,an albino
moose at that, and he looked to be about to charge me. I braked, I
dropped gears I must have panicked a bit as I lost count and dropped it
into 1st and locked up. I think the screech must have startled
it as it then ran off. I regret that I never thought on to take a
photo, but then I am no photographer. I had to search the internet to
find the picture, and prove that albino moose do exist.
We past through a ski resort called Idre which looked really beautiful and then continued on towards Mora on the edge of lake Siljan. The roads were now as straight as the Norwegian ones had been un-straight and bends were now a welcome sight.
The campsite in Mora had a bar so we decided to treat ourselves to a beer, a bargain at 90kr (£8). We made it last.
According to The Rough Guide Mora is where all the local towns go for night life. That seems to end at 22:30. So another quiet night, we still didn't need to use torches though.
Next day was overcast so I settled into some bike maintenance which covered the morning and then we wandered into town to replenish stocks Trying to find the Swedish version of meths for our cooker was fun, it was red not purple and called Rod Spirit. After we had eaten a late lunch the weather had picked up so we went out on the GSX to see the next town, Rattvik, which claims to have the longest wooden pier in Europe. Well, it was long and it was wooden. We dawdled on swimming platforms and I managed to get my legs in the lake, but that was far enough, it was well cold!
Had meatballs for tea, well it was Sweden, then listened to a Swedish country and western band at the bar. Why do all country and western songs, no matter what the language, sound like “Lay a blanket on the ground” ?
We decided to get out of the sticks and visit a city so headed for Stockholm. On the way we passed a lot of bikes heading into something called “TT Sweden”, I was in “getting there” mode and regretfully didn't stop to see what it was about. I had also decided I couldn't stand the hassle of camping another night so when we stopped for lunch started ringing around hostels. They have some good ones in Stockholm, a converted prison and an old tall ship, but unfortunately they were all full so I was resigned to camping. We diverted to Gamla Uppsala, a pagen site and the old capital of Sweden, where in earlier times they would sacrifice 9 people to the gods every 9 years.
Jean decided it would be a good idea to detour around Stockholm to find a camp site as I was hot and bothered, unfortunately the detour took us about 100 miles out of the way but we did at least find a nice site at Nynashamn. As we rolled in I noticed they had Stugas, these are the Swedish version of Hytters and look even more like Wendy houses. Hopefully I asked, but they were all taken. What they did have was a hostel like building which looked more like a converted office, but I didn't care as it was a bed.
Nynashamn is a town at the end of the peninsula and its most important feature is the ferry to Visby on Gotland in the Baltic. The fact that it was the nearest ferry port for Gotland to Stockholm meant it had a good train connection with 1 every hour both ways until 01:00. The owner of the campsite convinced us to get Stockholm cards at 220Kr each which covered the train fare to Stockholm and many museums plus boat trips and free use of public transport in the city.
Armed with the cards we hit Stockholm and made sure we had out monies worth. Among the best museums were the Vasa Museum, built around a 300 year old warship recovered from the bay and the Skansen “open air” museum which had restored and rebuilt houses going back 500 years, a zoo with all forms of Swedish wildlife and an aquarium that included a walk in the Ringtailed Lemur enclosure.
Shattered we returned to Nynashamn late and noticed for the 1st time in days that we had some form of dusk,maybe it would go dark tonight?
After a bit of a lazy start (well no tent to pack up), we headed to Oland, an island in the Baltic which Jean had read about. It is connected to the mainland by a bridge at Kalmar (Kalmar Union anyone ? ). The campsite Jean wanted (by the best beach) was on the northern tip so of the 340 (hot sunny) miles we covered that day 120 were doubling back on our selves. I also got well narked with the Swedish road signs, we knew we wanted to head for Nykopping on the E4 to head for the E22. But could we see a sign for Nykopping? Apparently we should have known that we needed to head for Helsingor even though that was 300 miles away (and the fold in my map stopped me from seeing it). It was like sticking a sign at Scotch Corner pointing to London and ignoring Leeds/Birmingham/Oxford.
The long ride was worth it, the site was next to a long sandy beach with crystal clear water. Unfortunately for me it was infested by the dreaded Swedish mosquito and from the moment we stopped they decided I was tea, supper, breakfast and dinner.
That night we had to use torches and candles for the 1st time.
We awoke to another bright, hot , sunny day. Did a bit of clothes washing and then retired to the beach, no mosquitos there. The sand was warm, the sea was blue. The sea was also cold. It took a while to get in but once in it was wonderful.
An interesting fact about the Baltic is that due to it being fed by so many fresh water rivers and the narrow gap to the North Sea it has a very low salt content, so much so that you could hardly taste it. This had helped to preserve the 300 year old war ship mentioned previously.
We did most of the usually Brit beach stuff, like making sandcastles and then went for a ride to the top of the island where there was a lighthouse and a pebbly beach. Later that night we we wandered over to the bar (but didn't buy any drinks) and listened to a Swedish rock band called “Pink Hink” they did lots of cover stuff and weren't half bad, the Swedes certainly like their heavy rock.
Money was running out so it was time to head for Denmark, as nice as Oland was I glad to leave the mozzies behind. It took us an hour to get off the island and back onto the main drag. The journey to Debmark was pretty nondescript, the trees were not as numerous and the land was flattening out. Progress was slow as the road was often single carriage way. We had to keep up a decent pace as we had booked into a hostel (I had had enough of camping) and needed to be there for 16:00 and 300 miles to do.
Entry into Denmark was via the Malmo->Copenhagen bridge. Its a long bridge, and then a long tunnel. Apparently the bridge is the tallest construction in Sweden.
The hostel was on the edge of town and was modern, we only had a short walk to the railway which was the same as the London DLR. After a bit of hassle with the auto ticket machines we managed to get some change off a commuter on his way home.
Copenhagen was a revelation, alcohol freely available and being drunk on the street. We treated ourselves to relatively cheap beer (£2 for a half) and wandered the streets. There was a Jazz festival on so it was pretty lively. We meandered up to the Little Mermaid and were highly disappointed. It is very small and right next to the walkway not in the harbour as most postcards suggest.
Our wandering took us to the Tivoli but as it was late we decided not to go in and went for something to eat, a kebab. We sat amongst the traders and just listened and soaked up the atmosphere.
We had contemplated going up to the Skagen and seeing where the Baltic meets the North Sea, but again money was low. As July 9th dawned it was a reminder that this was Jean's official last work day. Leaving of the job = hurrah! Lack of money = bugger! We headed to Ribe, the oldest town in Denmark, mainly on motorway as that seemed the only way off the island but at least we got 2 good bridges and passed by a town called Middlefart. We rolled into a campsite and my luck was in, they had a Stuga/Hytter available so we could become true Sheddies at last.
After settling down in our shed we went for a ride to the island of Romo and did all the roads (only 3 ). While there on a sandy beach we saw a FS1E being ridden around the dunes, what a waste.
Ribe was an extremely well preserved town, not a McDonalds in sight, Bill Bryson would love it. The evening was topped off with a town tour by the “Night Watchman”, very entertaining.
It was decision time on going home, we could either try for a ferry from Ejsberg which would be a 20 hour over night or head to Holland and try for the 3 ½ hour crossing from Hook of Holland. We opted for Holland as it would at least prolong the holiday and give us a chance to see and Holland. Managed to get a crossing from Hook of Holland for Sunday and booked into a hostel in Soest, near Amsterdam.
We started out down the A road into Germany, it wasn't a bad road , but as soon as we crossed the border the amount of traffic quadrupled. A note on the Danish/German border:- The Danish side had big Danish flags and a full set of Scandinavian flags fluttering in the breeze. The German side had apologetic little sign, no flags. The Norway/Sweden/Denmark borders had no fuss, hardly noticable. Very telling.
The original idea was to get up to Hamburg on the A roads but I changed my mind and hit the Autobahn. At first it seemed OK, we could do 100mph with ease, but as we got near Hamburg it filled up and slowed to a crawl. Why do all countries fall into the same trap ? Have multiple motorways all leading to one city that meet at the same place ? With lots of junctions and no ring road. So we started filtering, I don't think our German friends liked it, they often closed the gap and the German bikers didn't do it much either. But hey, I don't care about the XJ900 and it is their problem if my panniers scratch their cars.
After Hamburg speed picked up again, but I am still not impressed with the great German Autobahns, 2 lanes, 1 fast and 1 usually slow. Drivers try and trap you as you rush up behind their equivalent of Doris, meanwhile cars from the side would try and barge in from slip roads (the slip road run up is short and does not allow cars to get up to speed). A petrol/pitstop redeemed things slightly when we were given free visor wipes, but we were glad to see the back of a hot and sticky Germany.
Holland, now we were well into flat country, pity they don't give a toss about road signs. As we neared Gronigan our route was blocked by roadworks, with no detour pointers. Fortunately we could identify the ring road by the word Ring Gronigan and opted to follow that until we picked up signs for Amsterdam again. It turned out be a 20 mile detour, not wanted when we still had a long way to go.
Our target ,Soest, was south of Amsterdam, but Jean wanted to cross the big dyke to the north, so off we went. It was impressive, on one side the North Sea, the other an inland sea which was now fresh water. At Jeans insistence we had a Bike on Dyke.
We arrived at the hostel in Soest around 21:00 after just over 500 miles in 10 hours. How hostels changed as we went around, from the quiet one in Bergen to this one which had a bar, bar games, people socialising, beer at 1.5 euros (£1 a half) and decent rock music playing. This was a bargain at 51 euros (£36) including breakfast.
We knew we would be staying at some friends in Amersfoort the next day which is one reason why we stopped in Soest as it was only about 5 miles away but wanted to go to Amsterdam for the day. We opted to leave the bikes at the station in Amersfoort (once we had found it the Dutch signs have to be the worst) and leave out leathers etc. in the station lockers at Amsterdam.
We did the obligatory boat trip, went round a boat museum , bypassed the Anne Frank house due to the queue and wandered through the red light district (it would have been rude not to) . I still find it amusing the way the prostitutes display themselves in the windows as families walk past. It was 22 years since I went to Amsterdam and back then I was offered drugs every 5 minutes, I was most upset that I wasn't offered any this time. I reckon it is ageism.
Jean was amused by the multi story push bike park and we were both taken aback by the way the whole world seemed to be here. Name a nationality and there was probably a backpacker from there in Amsterdam.
Finding Phil and Yvonne's in Amersfoortwas a laugh, I had to memorise the map at the station and couldn't believe how close they were to the next station in Amersfoort which could have saved us a lot of hassle trying to find somewhere OK to leave the bikes and luggage, especially when we found out that Amersfoort is a major push bike stealing place (same MO as the UK bike thefts, Amsterdam scally van pulls up, load up with bikes and drive off).
Anyway, despite that we had a great evening with people we had not seen for around 15 years. We did a lot of catching up , eating and drinking.
So finally our tour had to end. We got the high speed ferry, which looks like something from Star Trek (the original) and arrived in Harwich at 19:00 UK time. Here for the 1st time that I could remember they checked every passport, even bikers. I pointed out to them that it doesn't get done in Dover, Poole, Portsmouth, Plymouth,Newhaven or Southampton and they just said they like to do it properly. Jobsworths!
We contemplated ringing around friends and relatives and staying away one more night but after a bit of looking at the map decided to hit the A12/A14 and head home. Only another 290 miles. We arrived home just gone 23:00 after 17 days (from a planned 21) , 3208 miles and very much poorer.
But at least Jean would be home for her birthday.
