When good fortune comes your way

7th June - 4.30am, wake into daylight, near silence and solitude, silence other than the sound of the river, open window to the river, open window to the Cathedral, idyllic in every way other than replaying yesterday, the sense of knowing you're soon to leave somewhere special, Eysteinkyrkja the moment of leaving somewhere that already as a hold on you. Five more minutes of solitude and peace, that’s all you need before you kick start the day, five minutes, warm shower, move in silence, other residents, early morning, clothes change, back pack check, smaller back from the day before, around one third of the volume and weight, from here on in virtually free style, no surplus anything.

Trondheim, sun rays over breakfast

Breakfast by the river & route check

Tread quietly downstairs, into the dining room one & half hours before the normal start to the day, bread, cheese, salami, black coffee, bread, jam, more black coffee, taken outside, again in the solitude, of the early morning sun, tables arranged to face the day rising over the river, you count your good fortune. This is a place of tranquility and peace, overlooking the river, no sound from the city, the final hour before the world kicks in.   

Heavy back pack jettisoned to the cloak room until a return in a few days time, not sure exactly when, now more lightly packed, a unplanned purchase the evening before of a lighter back pack, now more lightly loaded than the days before. Leave the house through the garden, back gate to the track through the Cathedral grounds next to the river, right turn across the old bridge to the foot of an impossible 25% short ascent, aided by a slick mechanical lift for every day cyclists, but too early this morning, a heart wakening five minute climb to the ‘summit’ before crossing to the old fort and on to crest the ridge that scarfs the city, and then out into the open road once again, heading out north, always north. 

Before the world kicked in

Back out over the ridge that wraps itself around the city, legs burning heart racing, early morning sun warming the road again, head-wind again in all of its full force. Road out of the city clings to the right of the mighty Trondheimsfjorden and the more immediate Stjordalsfjorden, to the left of white, grey and orange wooden clad houses, red barns, seemingly the rule, white houses and red barns, all moulded into the landscape, without fences, without borders, without gates and without boundaries, the land seems to flow seamlessly through the way people live, without borders, land and roads without borders. 

The miles tick slowly by, passing through Hell, no way to find out why a town set so pleasantly set into the landscape commands such an incongruous title, the road sweeps around the coast to head north and inland roads heading north that will form the day, this is the last of the relative kindness of the cross-wind, from here on, the constant force of the head-wind, you withdrawn your sails and face into the wind.  

Rolling to further north to Levanger and onto the more industrial town of Steinkjer, the headwind seems stronger than ever, debilitating as much in the mind as on the body, you try to remind yourself of good fortune, you press on, no other options to consider. Stop at a service station on the fast descent into the edge of town, the road narrowing to a single fast lane, the gentleman that joins the table points to the side road through town, the old road is your only option, no cycling on the by-pass, the road through town provides a temporary respite from the wind, only to serve a steep climb back to the main road on the north side of town, back in the fast lane!

By now, feel pretty depleted, energy low, provisions low, arrive at a restaurant just before Vegset, premises that have seen better days but another welcome respite from the wind, a welcome array of food, steaming hot dishes, pointing to the two truck drivers in front the lady offers the same, possibly drawn to the added need of the cyclist, the plate is presented with a more generous offering, meat steaks, potatoes, cabbage, strong black coffee, taken at the table in the glass-framed annexe that hangs over the side of Snasvatnet lake.

Hit the road again, refuelled and refreshed, rolling through to Grong by now early-afternoon, into town for
another quick café stop. The ladies opposite are a delight, friendly, caring and truly bothered about my well-being, this is Norway, a social conscience in so many ways.

Open road north

Ronnaug Stjernen and her close friend are returning from Trondheim, two days in the city, they ask questions about my travels, about my family, they tell me about their travels, I learn a lot about Ronnaug and her family, they lived for many years in Northern Spain, in the mountains, she tells me tales of her husband sitting on the roof of the house with other villagers, singing laments to the setting sun. I am invited to call at her home the next day, the town of Bjerka just south of Mo i Rana the last main town before the ascent to the Arctic Circle. I take up the offer promising to visit, Ronnaug and her friend buy me coffee and rossinboller, before I leave Ronnaug confirms that she will call her brother Oyvind, an artisan silversmith near Dunderland, just south of the Arctic Circle, she says that I am to find his house and stay with his family on my way down, she draws directions on the map together with contact details, the beauty of carrying & using a map, something that unfolds to cover your whole journey and something that is easily shared with new found friends, something computer aided gadgets will never achieve, the social and communal benefit of the paper map. We say our goodbyes, until tomorrow, Ronnaug tells me to look for the house painted yellow, like sunflowers.

Hit the road again, slow grinding miles, slow rolling road, early evening before rolling into Tomasvatyn, a cabin on the side of the lake, a repeat of the first day, a small and rather deserted town, food at the café, shower, clothes change, bike check, clothes hung out, scribbled notes about the day, about meeting Ronnaug and her friend, notes about the head-wind, written in bold copy as if to emphasise the suffering! Then head straight to sleep, early evening, blue sky, but straight to sleep, the best & only form of full recovery. You count your good fortune and chance meeting with strangers, the kindest of all people.

Day 4 - 133 miles

Catching the wind

6am, E6 north from Eysteinkyrkja

6th June – 4.45am, wake to a clear early morning sky, clear because it never seems to go dark, clear because there is no clear distinction between night fall and sun rise. The simple act of stepping outside, every sense seems instantly ignited by the wide angle beauty of the landscape to the south, and strangely awakened by the stillness of the morning air.

Shower, clothes change, bike check, light breakfast, bottle fill and then the difficult task of one last look round, to take it all in one last time, you convince yourself that you will be back but you know how these things tend to work out, one last glance back is probably the last, but you remain convinced that there will be a reason or opportunity to return in the future, such a wonderful place. Door closed, but not locked, the door to the Pilgrim’s cabin remains unlocked, always open, to the next traveller.

Roll down the gravel road to the 1km track that leads back up to the E6, eerily deserted of any movement or sound, solo again, one last final look round, the last.

The road ahead is eased by a tailwind and long gentle descent, twenty-five miles of what feels like freefall, you unfurl your imaginary sails to catch the wind, spin the pedals without the grinding, debilitating effort of yesterday’s headwind punished ascents. The road continues to unfold into wide open valleys, far off mountain horizons cloaked again by the richest blue sky, this is heaven in the form of cycling, the weight of the back-pack seems to be lifted by the ease of forward movement, you count your good fortune as it arrives and as it lasts.

Oppdal came sooner than expected, leaving the E6 into town, a recently modified section of by-pass, not open to cyclists or pedestrians, the old road into town, a modern service station for three strong black coffee’s and rosinboller & chocolate, surprising how service station food seems so much better when your need is greater, map check, bike check, back to the E6.

Fifty, sixty, seventy miles clicked by, the Garmin seeming to also move more effortlessly along gently rolling wide open roads, the odd long climb becoming a welcome interruption to the gentle road, a contrast to yesterday, with the idea of now riding directly north to Trondheim, instead of the original plan to loop out west, direct to Trondheim for the opportunity to reduce the weight of the back-pack for something smaller, and to complete what was now more familiarly understood to be the St Olav Pilgrim Route, Oslo to Trondheim, either walking across country for three weeks, or crossing by road in three days, you make your own roads without comparison, you make your own Pilgrimage. Facing into the challenge ahead, taking whatever support is offered along, the main thing is to just keep moving forward [movemeant !] in whatever way you can, just keep moving forward.     

Another service station, outskirts of Soknedal, bread, salami, apples, nuts, two strong black coffee’s, sitting outside at the bench-table, two young boys on the opposite side of the road lying in the grass verge taking photos of every oncoming passing truck, reciprocated by a blast on the horn from the truck driver, maybe a ritual of what has gone before, the two boys dance high-fives and return their appreciation, there seems a genuine and positive connection. 

You study the details of the road ahead, the peculiarities of the route, you understand the risk of the tunnels, the permissible and non-permissible tunnels, forty miles out of Trondheim the first two tunnels are passed, short in length at 300m, but enough to unsettle and unnerve you, knowing worse may lie ahead, doubt becomes the curse of the road. Five more miles before a secondary road appears, parallel to the E6, there is no decision to make, across the verge to follow whatever route arrives. I ask an elderly lady in front of her house if the road leads to Trondheim, she smiles and gestures kindly, I sense not knowing the question. Good fortune comes in so many ways, the road proves to be a cycle route, what was once, in parts, the old road to Trondheim, over thirty miles of protected road all the way Trondheim, if only other countries and other cities could recognise such simplicity in a fast moving world.

Rolling into the blue, towards Oppdal

Miles tick by with small uplifting moments coming from the 'road junctions' of progress marked out by the short underpasses as the cycle route weaves its way along the E6, the early-afternoon sun warming the remaining miles ever closer to the city, by now, shrouded by the sharp ridge of low lying mountains, one last effort it seems before reaching sea level for the first time.

Fifteen miles from the city the road rears up to a sharp gradient, the sting in the tail to what has been an otherwise long, gently rolling day, starting in remote landscapes, finishing in populated streets. Into the suburbs with many quick stops with passers-by to check, and double check, the route ever closer to the city the general response seems to always be ‘find your best way’ through the cycle paths. It works, past the station, through the hospital complex, the green spire of the Cathedral provides a compass-destination point, one final short stretch of city road before crossing over to ride into the Cathedral Square. Bathed in sunlight, packed with tourists, or residents, or Pilgrims, the entrance is magical, to arrive is also to begin, but the next day can wait, now is to fully appreciate a special moment, to follow the instruction from the kind elderly lady in Eysteinkyrkja, to check in with the people at the café outside the Cathedral, freedom 'ticket' of the Cathedral granted, a strong black coffee, two pastries and a seat in the sun, you take that moment for everything it brings, something magical in just soaking up the atmosphere, a thousand different personal circumstances from everyone in the square, I get asked by several people where I’ve ridden from, with the expectation being another part of the city, I explain the route, which seems lost or mis-understood in translation, I quite like this, Eysteinkyrkja remains the distant place that it is.

The door is opened to the House behind the Cathedral, the warmest of all welcome’s, the lady from Eysteinkyrkja calling ahead as promised to let them know of my arrival, a welcome warmed further by more coffee and more cake, and being asked to pin on a map where I’d come from in the UK, just East of London, and where I’d started in Norway, just north of Oslo, there was a genuine affection and caring in this house, the other guests as welcoming and seemingly as appreciative to be in such an idyllic place.

Shown to the room, soft bed, white sheets, open window to rear looking out to the Cathedral, open window to front looking out to the river, unpack, warm shower, change of clothes, map check, route check, head out into the evening sun, thinking about the experiences of the day, one single beautiful day, the things that provoke the things you value most, and that make you feel truly alive. 

9pm, if there’s a sun rise then there should be a sun fall, but the light remains through the night, this is far north, the day light continues, room lights out to an immediate sleep, losing yourself in an instant to the long day.

    

Day 3 - 110 miles.

Pilgrim roads...

Towards the roof of Norway

5th June - 5am, wake to a big blue sky, a full & complete blue sky, those days when it feels good to be alive, proper deep down good, the familiar hangover aches and twinges from the day before dissolve in an instant at the sight of that deep blue canopy, can't wait to hit the road, can't wait to get rolling.

Shower, tea, dried crackers (thanks to the previous guests) bike check, clothes check, final pack hit the road, last look round at the mirror-still lake before slowly rolling down to the edge of town, no more than 250 metres, to the start of highway 51, heading directly north with the early morning sun strong enough to share its warmth, edging along a route edged in a green shadow on the map, to denote a route of naturally beautiful distinction, rolling out under that ceiling of a deep blue splendour, this was surely a grande departe of a grand tour, yet of its own, different kind of splendour.

Five miles of winding flat-to-rolling road, clearing the mind and loosening the legs, following the course of the river flowing down from Oyangen, at times widening into still lakes before disappearing to the west as the road continued north. Twenty miles of continuous climbing, the weight of the back pack seeming to pull down heavier with every mile that passed, further on into the blue, edging closer to breakfast in Beitostolen, a small winter resort that hugged either side of the road, beyond this just a beautifully abstract landscape.

You can check everything, you think you can check everything, all the main things, all the things you consider to be the big risks, you can ask advice, you can go prepared, but there are always things to catch you out, things you can't plan for, things you just don't consider, but should. As the road ascended into town the first supermarket appeared on the left, Co Op Prix opening at 9am, now ten minutes past, the second supermarket the same, the penny starts to drop, rolling 1km back down the road to a bakery-cafe, the only place in town seemingly open, to confirm that today is a Public Holiday, Monday 5th June, you can plan everything, but you can forget to check the calendar. Two large strong black coffees and 'rosinboller' Norwegian fruit buns, with cheese and yogurt, with four cheese and ham 'loaves' for the long road ahead, added weight but necessary.

The road continued to climb, into the strong headwinds, climbing continuously without respite, without any forgiveness other than the growing splendour of a vast mountain landscape to the west, the road arcing round for one last panoramic glimpse of the road travelled. You can check Garmin, you can read a map, you can understand a route profile, but sometimes the constant reality of the ascent, the headwinds, the invisible pull of the back pack can drain your resolve in a short time.

Cresting the pass, between two stone monoliths, a gateway that entrances Bygdin, a silver, mountain-top lake that seemed a vast ocean atop the widest most desolate yet beautiful territory. Descending fast into a vast open bowl through swirling crosswinds, bringing back memories of the 'Glass Elevator' descent into the Californian desert on RAAM, swirling crosswinds that seem to take hold of you, descending into the desert bringing confusing thoughts of approaching an ocean, tricked by the hazy green-tinged ripples of the desert, this time approaching the silver clear ocean in the mountains, how can an ocean exist in the mountains, your mind too tired to make sense of it, too focused to think through it. Headwinds can destroy your thoughts, the worst of all feelings on the road, yet crosswinds in the mountains seem worse, playing vicious games, unbalancing and unsettling you, casting uncertainty in the mind and challenging your self-control to remain balanced, you ride with your greatest resolve, and endurance.

Crossing the roof of Norway

50 miles more, 50 miles of relentless headwind, rolling climbs taking you to the edge of perseverance, determination seeming to ebb and drain with every passing mile, positive thoughts become more challenging, you focus on why you're here, who and what you're riding for, serving to remind you to count your good fortune, to press ahead with courage and fortitude, you start to descend, a rapid long descent, as hard as the climb, the swirling wind never giving a moment of letting go until, finally, a junction, highway 15 heading temporarily east, into the valley bottom flanked by another lake, uplifted by the tailwind that sweeps through to the service station on the edge of Vagamo, a service station packed with people on the road on a public holiday. Refuel, regather and head on across the short steep ascent of the 'cut through' from Holungsoyi to Nord-Sel to be re-united with the E6 and onto Dovre, a planned destination for the day, only to find no cabins, possibly the only place in Norway to have no cabins and only a handful of camper vans, instinct alone tells you that there is no offer of alternative assistance here, you don't know what it is, you just know there's a need to press on, mid-afternoon and on towards the last chance of the day, towards late-afternoon across 40 miles of the E6 to Eysteinkyrkja, a place and a moment that was to prove a turning point, a moment so special, a moment that maybe defined the overall outcome.




Leaving the E6, a right turn to roll freely for 1km along road 29, passing under a white church standing guard over the road, overlooking another vast landscape. Left onto the gravel road to the reception of a large white building, fingers crossed, because there are no other options this late in the day, in this vast remote wilderness. Bike outside, back-pack now welded to a tired body, standing behind an American couple quizzing the elderly lady behind the reception table about the cost of accommodation and lack of restaurant facilities, they take their dilemma to the outside and a large four wheel drive.

"I am looking for a room for the night, just to sleep, I take to the road at 5am in the morning, so it's just to sleep" - the kind helpful, elderly lady offers an 'apartment' for 1200 Krona (£120)

"Just a room to sleep" I just need to sleep.

"Are you a Pilgrim"

Not sure about the question here, but there's a reason for it, there must be, can't think through a response so "yes, I may be"

Pilgrim quarters....

"Where have you come from"

"Oslo"

"Where are you heading"

"Tomorrow, Trondheim, I am leaving early, 5am on the road north"

"Then you are a Pilgrim, you can take the Pilgrim's cabin, it's open, you can shower and rest, there is a restaurant 4km along the track through the woods over there, pointing to the vast expanse of landscape"

'Aiden's' little green wrist band

The kind elderly lady points to a white parting through the woods, saying there's no need to ride along the E6. The lady knows nothing about the overwhelming touch of her act of her kindness, particularly around what would be the demoralising effect of riding back along the road you've travelled, she continues her kindness by saying that she will call the House behind the Cathedral in Trondheim, that I am to stay there, that I am to go into the cafe by the Cathedral and then straight to the House, she promised to call ahead to arrange matters, everything would be in order, just go to the cafe next to the Cathedral. Twenty minutes later after taking in every sensory effect of the cabin, I return to the white house, the door is locked, the kind, helpful elderly lady gone. Twenty minutes of time that can change everything, twenty minutes later and neither this moment nor what was to follow would have happened. You're reminded to count your good fortune, sometimes it arrives in the most unexpected ways, sometimes in the blink of only the slightest opportunity, it gives you hope and new found determination.

Heading back from dinner

Warm shower, change of clothes, hot tea, sitting in the warmth of the late afternoon sun, light sleep sitting on the deck overlooking 'the roof of Norway'. 4km gravel road through the woods to good food, strong black coffee and supplies for the morning, 4km back, check map, check bike, check clothes, gaze at the landscape view from the window, don't want to leave this place, don't want to sleep, just take in every last second of magic, this is truly a place where the magic lies. Pick up texts from Keith &  Fleur, Aiden's parents; my wife Bev & daughters Meg & Sarah, and my mum, all back home in the UK, good things come together in so many ways.

9pm, lights out, beneath layers of blankets, asleep in seconds, a deep, healthily fatigued sleep.

Day 2 - 137 miles - one of the hardest & most magical days ever on a bike, when you have no idea of what the day really holds or where you will end up, but through the kindness of people and perseverance, good fortune finds its way to you....

Long road ahead

4th June - 4am wake up, good sleep, feel ok, first thought is the weather, quick glance outside confirms a grey, slightly overcast sky, but thankfully no rain through the night so dry roads, a positive first moment in the long day ahead. Quick shower and dress, normal bib shorts plus the all too familiar practice of a second cut-down pair for added protection, to buy you a few extra days before the soreness and pain take hold. Back pack checked, packed as sparingly as possible. Bike box packed with unwanted or unneeded items and taken down to reception, their kind agreement to store the box until my return in around 10 days time, no extra charge for the service and no need to book a room for the return date, but still made the decision to reserve room, the Gardermoen Airport Hotel, a kind introduction to Norway.

Over to breakfast just before 5am and an unsurprising mix of people even at such an early hour, hotel staff, aircrew, travellers heading out to catch early flights. Good food and back to the room with one last strong black coffee to get the bike, one last look round and that was it, a moment that always seems to me like that there's no going back, you close out on perhaps the last predictable moment before heading into the unknown.

Back pack on and a quick smile and goodbye, nice that they have no idea where you're heading or what you're taking on. Gently rolling away from the hotel reception felt like one of those ramped starts to a time trial, but no countdown, no timed departure, no interval, just an empty deserted road ahead, 5.45am Sunday morning, Oslo still yet to rise.

Riding along the first section of the E6, a road that was to become my main companion over the next six days, a few miles in a westerly direction to get to road 120, heading north through forested roads, along the west side of the Hurdalssjoen lake, a misty damp morning, soulless and empty of life, solo in every respect. Almost with immediate effect you start to find annoying little problems, the interference between the back of the helmet and top pocket of the back-pack, seemingly impossible to adjust either item, you just carry on riding thinking it will eventually go away, but you still ride with head held in an ever so slightly uncomfortable position, you ride on. Riding north along the lake edge followed a gently rolling profile until reaching road 180 to again head in a westerly direction across longer bigger climbs and through the first light shower of the day, not quite enough to dig out the water proof jacket. Sight of the road opening up at the junction with the E4 was one of those small uplifting moments, every junction and change of road seems like an achievement, a new road, new energy, new sense of purpose. The decision to head north long the E4 to Gjovik rather than the option of a short section south to pick up road 34 north.

Following the E4 was a delight, back to rolling roads away from the climbs that seem to come with roads that cross east-west, passing lake Einafjorden with beautiful clear backdrop view the Vidalen mountains, forgetting it was still only very early morning all but for the solitude of the deserted Sunday-morning roads. Onto Gjovik, rolling into the edge of town to pick up the start of road 33, a new junction, uplifted again, a change of direction heading west. Stopped for a couple of strong black coffees and pastries, my first taste of a Norwegian fruit bun, the first of what would prove to be many more over coming days, a quick check of the map and miles covered on the Garmin and then off, route 33 towards Fluberg.


The next 20-30 miles proved tough, a really long climb over mountains in the Vardalsasen area, seemed relentless, compounded by another shower, this time resorting to the weather proof jacket, not the greatest apparel but finally necessary. Onto Odnes passing Randsfjorden towards Bjorgo Burflat and the last big junction of the day, a wide open road intersection, sweeping right onto the E16 and the final stretch of the day, heading north once more, rolling flat road which lifted the speed from the last two-three hours. By now early afternoon and more traffic but that uplifting feeling that comes with knowing the destination is in sight, the town of Fagernes, a left turn by the lake off the E16 and into town, passing hotels that were for sure way beyond the allocated budget, to find a campsite and the offer of a Hytter next to the lake, perfect setting, a near perfect end to being on the road for nearly 10 hours. Sitting under the canopy of the cabin, with hot tea the rain came within minutes, a 45 minute torrential downpour, your spirits drop at the thought of this being the next morning, with limited supplies, limited clothing and a long day in the saddle.

Then, the sky changed, not just for an instant but for what would prove to be the next five days, the E6 and blue sky becoming the two closest companions on the road, sitting there again watching the double rainbow appear from the lake, you can't help but count your good fortune.

Eat, rest, long hot shower, bike check, clothes check and asleep by 9pm, proper deep sleep.

Day 1 - 130 miles

Room with a view

'Rainbow stripes'

Hytter by the lake

Monday morning!

Oslo bound...take two!

Saturday 3rd June, backpack and bike box packed, checked, double checked and checked again, pretty much too late to go back through what can only be described as a general packing inventory, seems to be the same content for every trip, although this time cut by at least half to factor in the reduced weight and volume for a fully unsupported challenge. The road that lay head would certainly feel longer and slower with unnecessary weight.

Left home around 6.30am kindly driven to Stansted by my wife Bev, a short 45 minute drive along the back country roads I'm so familiar with on a bike. Into the drive-through drop off point at the airport, three minutes is all you're given, almost no time for proper good byes, hundreds of people partly distracted by the severity of the penalty fees that hang over one of those special moments. As the car disappeared out of sight thoughts turned to the vagaries of the check in and security check procedure, always a slight doubt around check in surcharges or whether the bike box would really be accepted, but to the credit of Ryan air a completely seamless, slick & courteous fifteen minutes, first in line, boarding pass issued, back pack cleared for the cabin (not sure how this got through, the size and weight of a small car!) and bike box checked in.

Two hours north east and on the approach to Oslo, with an admission that, having checked ten times over, still carried an underlying anxiety of landing in an outlying airport, 100 miles from the hotel and start of the Arctic 1000 route, even walking through the airport it was difficult to completely rule out some false start, maybe an onward train journey or expensive taxi ride. But all proved just as slick as earlier that morning, directed to the bus stand for no more than five minute wait and ten minute drive.

Checked in and room allocated, second floor back of the hotel facing green hills and woods, ten minutes from the airport and near serenity. Bike box unpacked and re-assembly completely complete, another anxiety over, no missing parts, no damage. Time to walk a short distance alone the E6 immediately outside the hotel and the planned start point for the long miles ahead, re-assured by the receptionist that it was permissible to ride the E6 even on the outskirts of Oslo. The hotel is located on a side road, parallel to the E6 for a short distance, this couldn't have been better, at least the first mile effectively on a closed road, everything looked fine for the early morning start that lay ahead.

Back to the room, shower and rest. Dinner proved to be an introduction to one of those well known talked about aspects of Norway, the cost of dining out, cheapest option in the menu, steak, fries & soft drink, £45, more costly than travelling from Essex to Oslo, the budget constraints could kick in tomorrow.

Lights off just after 9pm, all considered a pretty damn good start for what lay ahead, you count your good fortune in whatever way it arrives.