A Cycling Trip to the North Cape

What do you do if you don’t have classes for 6 months? I once had the great idea of cycling all the way to Beijing, but this seemed overly ambitious and not entirely safe. I did however want to go on an epic bike ride... I quickly found an alternative destination: the North Cape.So why the North Cape? I had ridden in France, Italy, and Germany before, and the appeal of riding through the untouched nature and into the arctic circle in total silence was immense to me. What follows in this blog is a recount of my journey.Note: The pictures were all taken with my phone, and as such of a lower quality than you’ve come to expect from us.

The Plan

I didn't want to take too long for three reasons: first, I’d be travelling solo, and didn't fancy being out there alone for a month. Second, the challenge of covering large distances every day was appealing to me. Finally, Scandinavia is quite expensive, so a short trip would be considerably kinder to my wallet.According to Google Maps, a car would have 3080 kilometres to cover, so I hoped it would be around 3000 kilometres on the bike. I did several long training rides (300 km +) which my body managed to handle just fine. Based on that information, I figured I could do it in 10 to 12 days. I did have some doubts: my most intense training week covered 900 kilometres; I’d have to cover twice that in the same time, with the additional weight from my luggage and while having to deal with considerable elevation. I knew I was fit, and I could cope mentally, but whether my body could handle the strain was unclear simply because I'd never done anything like this before.My plan was to take the train back, and I opted to validate my inter-rail ticket in the first week of my journey, in case I wouldn't make it otherwise. I only took the bare essentials with me, and the lighter the better. In all, I carried around 10 to 15 kg of luggage with me. The bike for this journey was my Giant Defy 2; a relatively comfortable road bike, which should allow me to spend some long days in the saddle, and the mounting points on the frame for a carrier came in handy for my trip. I was confident that this bike could take me all the way to the North Cape!

Crossing the Border

The First Stage: Boskamp-Hamburg (380 km)

I departed from home in the early morning, feeling optimistic and enthusiastic, but with a certain amount of doubt in the back of my head. It's strange to ride down your own street, and on roads you know well, only this time knowing you're bound for Hamburg… An enthusiastic customer from Hamburg got word of my trip, and offered me a place to stay the night. Hamburg thus became my first goal. I had hoped for a nice southwestern breeze, but it turned out to be southeastern. While this wasn't a deal breaker, it did mean I had to leave pretty early and push fairly hard if I was to make it all the way to Hamburg.I took my first wrong turn at Coevorden, just 60 kilometres from home. This meant I would add another 5 km to my trip, which was long enough as it was. Besides, I couldn't afford the time for many more detours! I did have a Garmin with me, but I only wanted to use this in emergencies. I love the freedom cycling brings you, and I’m somewhat stubborn, which is why I’m not overly fond of using sat nav. I did check the map on my phone every now and then, which was more detailed than the one on my Garmin Edge touring. I also had an old-fashioned map which I could place on the bag on my handle bars.The cycling lanes in Germany are very different to what we’re used to in the Netherlands. All sorts of strange tiles and ledges which you frequently have to hop over, and are a killer to your average speed. I often had to use small (dirt) roads as I wasn't allowed to use the main roads all the time. While this took me through many small villages and along beautiful scenery, it also meant I had to push hard in order to make it to Hamburg, especially with the wind working against me. Fortunately, I brought along quite a lot of food so I didn't have to stop often to resupply. I did have to refill my water bottles twice, as I could only bring 2 litres at a time. I knew I had to keep eating and drinking a lot, as my body would be pushed to the limit on this trip. I tried to eat as healthily as possible besides all the high-calory and sugar-rich food, so hopefully my digestive system could cope. Once again, I felt optimistic, but with a twinge of uncertainty in my mind.I rolled into Bremen at around 5, slightly later than I’d hoped, and the busy rush hour traffic meant I had some difficulties finding the right way to Lilienthal, a small village just outside Bremen from where I could set course to Hamburg. The route between Bremen and Hamburg was surprisingly beautiful, with great roads and slightly hilly terrain. The surroundings were calm and peaceful, with plenty of great scenery and wide open meadows. The man from Hamburg I'd be staying with had ridden out to meet me on his brand new bike, and from Buxtehude onwards I had the joy of being able to ride on his rear wheel all the way to Hamburg. The end of my first leg came with a great final treat: riding into the massive harbour of Hamburg in the dark is a sight I won't easily forget. I was warmly welcomed to their home, and they even had a meal ready for me! I slept like a baby in Hamburg, and it was a great end to a first stage.

Germany to the South of Sweden

Stages 2-3-4: Hamburg-Jonkoping (662 km)

My next goal was Denmark. The first stage went well, but the distance (which was slightly greater than I'd planned) and the wind meant I had some recovering to do on my next day. The wind had turned from the southeast to an eastern/northeastern breeze, but there wasn't much I could do about that. After having done the first part just on my sense of direction, I quickly ended up on the road to Puttgarden. Though the wind wasn't ideal, the weather did turn out to be perfect otherwise. The flowing roads along the German coast were beautiful, and the area unsurprisingly attracted a lot of tourists from the area around Neustadt.I planned to take the ferry to Denmark from Puttgarden, but in order to do so I had to cross the Fehmarsund: a massive bridge to Fehmarn island. After looking for a way to cross the bridge, I found myself out on the main road, which combined with the lorries and strong gusts of wind proved to be somewhat daunting. Once I got to Denmark, I quickly found myself a hotel as the clock was already nudging 9 pm.

After this relatively short stage, I really wanted to stay on schedule. This meant I had some distance to cover in the next leg: time for some proper mile munching! My goal: Sweden. Again, the weather was great but with a (south)-eastern wind. This stage would take me right across Denmark. The flowing ups and downs in the road, often great views, proper cycling lanes, and beautiful weather made this stage absolutely great. The only downside? I was starting to get slightly burned because of that lovely sunny weather!I took the boat from Helsingor to Helsingborg, and from there I tried to make it to Markaryd before nightfall, which I just managed. I'd taken a wrong turn in Sweden as well, and ended up on a fantastic little dirt road with a steep climb in it. Riding without navigation certainly made my journey more adventurous! The wind had also turned favourably, which meant I could pick up some speed on the last stint of this stage, and with 288 kilometres covered I felt good about the distance as well. I hadn't picked a destination yet for the next leg, but I did want to cover a large amount of kilometres again as the wind was on my side for now, and I knew the weather wouldn't stay this fair forever. First though, I got myself some sunscreen...The next day, after having covered myself with sunblock this time, I set out for another day of riding with a nice tailwind. 2.5 hours in though, the rain came. First only mildly, but it steadily intensified, so I decided to dress up warm while taking shelter under a bridge before setting out again. I carried the sunscreen with me for another couple of stages, until I finally threw it out, virtually unused.

A little while later I had to find shelter yet again before riding into Jonkoping. Upon my arrival, I had my first mechanical problem: a broken spoke. All the ledges and rough roads combined with the added weight of my luggage had proven too much for my wheels to handle. I did have spare spokes on me, but I opted to go and see a mechanic who could properly repair the wheel. This meant finding a hotel, and waiting for tomorrow.

Across the Heart of Sweden

Stages 5-6: Jonkoping-Orebro-Gavle (447 km)

Jonkoping is on the Vattern lake, one of the biggest lakes in Europe. When I woke up in the morning, I could hear the rain and wind pounding on my hotel window. I knew I was in for a day of rain and headwinds...First though, I had to go and look for a bike shop to have a new spoke fitted, and then I'd need to buy some rain pants. These would come in handy for the next stage (Jonkoping-Orebro 209 km) and the one after that (Orebro-Gavle 238 km).These stages would take me from the south of Sweden to the eastern coast. The roads and forests felt endless at times, which allowed me to think about myself, my environment, anything really… I was doing great physically, but how long would that last? Can I increase the amount of kilometres I cover per day? Is the wind going to change? If it's 9 degrees and rainy down here, does that mean it'll be snowing by the time I arrive up north? Would you need to be a little autistic in order to live here in the middle of nowhere? If I'm running a 39/17 at 90 rpm, how long will it take me to get to Gavle knowing it's another 94 km? What am I supposed to actually do when I pass a sign warning me for falling rocks? Is it actually useful to continually watch the cliff face for falling rocks? When will I spot my first actual moose now that I've passed a hundred signs warning me for crossing moose? Should I continue my studies, or just find myself a full-time job? It goes on, and on… Thoughts like this passed through my head every day.

Suffering Along the East Coast

Stages 7-8-9-10: Gavle-Sundsval-Umea-Skelleftea-Lulea (776 km)

The stage from Gavle to Sundsvall was slightly special, as this was where I'd be celebrating my birthday on the bike! By now I'd gotten used to the headwind, and having to push into it for over 200 kilometres didn't really bother me any more. The journey slowly made me put certain things in perspective: wind is just wind, and you have to deal with it. These things just came with the territory. I was just happy the rain stopped after a few hours and I could spend the remaining leg of the trip to Sundsvall in nice weather. I did start to get some cramps in my upper left leg during the last two hours, but I had to suck it up and keep going, as I knew I could recover once I was there. Sundsvall was quiet (or actually a little boring) and the bars I spotted seemed less than interesting, so I just looked for a hotel and went to sleep. I'd get that beer some other time. The day, the weather cleared up and even the wind was on my side on my next leg to Umea! My route mainly took me over the E4 motorway, which luckily isn't nearly as busy as we’re used to here. In most places, I had plenty of space to myself, but in some spots the road would get narrow and I had to pay close attention to trucks coming by. My experience of riding in echelons, especially with riding on the gutter, came in handy here while crossing the narrow stretches of road. I tried to avoid using the motorways as much as possible, but with few proper roads running up north, my choices were often limited.

The highlight of this stage was definitely the Högakusten bridge over the river Ångermanälven after 70 kilometres of riding, with a fantastic view over the islands, the sea, and lakes. It was like a fantastic fjord-scape!Physically, I was starting to suffer. The muscle cramps from the day before remained, and they started to affect my riding. I also started to feel hungry after 2.5 hours, even though I had filled up at breakfast back at the hotel. I didn’t have any more food on me, so I decided to take it easy and resupply at the next town or petrol station. These turned out to be considerably further away than expected! I had hoped to stock up in Gallsgatter, but there wasn't much more to see besides a few houses. Certainly no stores or supermarkets! Thankfully, I found a camp site which had a restaurant, where I could eat a couple of sandwiches. The owner considered my trip to be very ambitious, as she claimed it had been snowing at the North Cape the day before. While this wasn't great news, there wasn't much more I could do apart from pushing on, and hoping it wouldn't be too bad.I wasn't prepared for frigid winter conditions, so I'd have to keep an eye on the weather for the coming days. Despite the fact that I could now eat and drink properly again for the rest of the day, my muscle cramps continued to get worse. Thankfully I managed to push through it, as I really wanted to make it to Umea before nightfall. The cramps, coupled with the stories about bad weather, didn't give me much hope. After uploading the stage on Strava, I was surprised by the amount of vertical metres covered. Though it had been a hard day on the bike, I had the feeling the vertical metres had been counted twice for some reason.I decided to take a relatively easy day after that, riding “just” 140 kilometres. It was a beautiful leg of the journey through a quiet and dense forest, where I spotted my first moose and some patches of snow as well. Even though I decided to cover a small distance, and was taking it really easy, the cramp just kept getting worse. My thighs felt like they were on fire on every little climb, and as soon as I got out of the saddle they just locked up. Getting back on the bike after every stop was torture, as the pain kept shooting through my legs. I wouldn't let up though, and forced myself to keep going to Skelleftea. Besides, I had to sleep somewhere...This short stint was hard, as I had to ignore every single doubt about why I was doing this. I tried to think back to something Jose de Cauwer once said. Freely translated, he stated: “-but you’re still moving…”. As long as I kept moving, I'd be doing fine, nothing else mattered. This sustained me to Skelleftea.That night, I started to have serious doubts on whether to push on to the North Cape. How badly do I want to go there? Would I recover from this? Have I trained enough? How is my body going to cope for the next few days? Can it even handle another 1000 kilometres on the bike? These thoughts kept milling through my head all night.I wanted to go to the North Cape, but not at all cost. I wouldn't mind if it hurt, just as long as I kept having fun. I had nothing to prove to anyone, not even myself. I just wanted to experience a ride like this. I didn't want to make the remaining 1000 kilometres a living hell, I was after all on vacation. A rest day didn't appeal to me either, as I feared I wouldn't be able to get out of bed afterwards. A long string of short stages wasn't an option either, as I wanted to be back amongst the people, and I had to be back in time for my job. I hoped that, with a little extra sleep, some extra fruit and vitamins, I would recover. I had no idea if it would work, but I did know that all I could do to find out, was try.The day after was another relatively easy one, with just 140 kilometres of riding to do after having taken a mild painkiller. Surprisingly, my legs felt relatively okay, even when the painkiller wore off. All that remained was a bearable muscle ache like you'd expect. I now assumed the cramp had been caused by meeting the man with the hammer two days before. In the lovely town of Lulea, I found my morale and confidence once again!

The Final Push

Stage 11-12-13: Lulea-Pajala-Maze-Nordkapp (851 km)

After getting another good night's rest, I got back on the bike with the feeling I'd now be leaving civilisation behind and the adventure would begin in earnest. I had confidence in my abilities once again, and that confidence grew in the first 30 kilometres; no cramps, no muscle aches. I even had a nice tailwind and the weather was lovely. This hugely boosted my morale.I rode alongside a lovely river for kilometres on end, and after that entered a quiet and peaceful region within the Arctic circle. The snowmobiles and wooden houses and shacks reflected a way of life which seemed very distant from what we're all used to here in the Netherlands. Old cars which are beyond repair are left where they are, as the first breaker or garage is probably at least 200 kilometres away. Reindeer are also a frequent sight. The alien properties of this part of the world continued to amaze and surprise me.

Still, I didn't want to push my luck that day, so after just over 200 kilometres I found a hotel and checked in. After uploading my latest stage, I was once again amazed at just how few Strava segments I had passed, and how few people had completed them. Everything just showed me how sparsely populated the northern part of Europe really is. I wanted to cover the last 630 kilometres in 2 rides. I felt great and it seemed like the ultimate finish to an already awesome adventure. The weather was great, and the wind was on my side as well, so I felt confident. The first hours through Finland went great due to the perfect weather and quiet road, which I could follow for over 100 kilometres. The town signs turned out to greatly influence my way of thinking. Muonio 78 km, Muonio 53 km, Muonio 33 km… This got me all the way to Muonio, and not much after that I did the same for other places: Kautokeino 128 km, Kautokeino 93 km Kautokeino 76 km, Kautokeino 39, Alta 120, Alta 110, and so forth… This reassured me I was moving forward, while creating the illusion that the sky was the limit. The stage took me over both the Swedish - Finnish and Finnish - Norwegian border.From the moment I entered Norway, the forests became less and less dense, and the amount of vegetation dwindled. Snow became a more frequent sight, and some lakes were still partially frozen over. I pushed on into the night and finally pitched my tent somewhere along the road between Kautokeino and Alta, not far from Maze. To my disappointment, my sleeping bag was still wet from the rainy ride two days back, so I put on my leg warmers and a wind breaker so I wouldn't become too icy and tried to get some sleep.After a short night I rode on to Alta. After Alta, I had to deal with a tough climb which ended on a high plain (high being relative at 300 metres). The plains were a bizarre sight: barely any vegetation, and virtually no inhabitants. Traffic was virtually non-existent. Nowhere along my journey had I felt more remote, until a busload of Dutch tourists came by in a touring car. The world’s a small place after all...

Though the wind had been behind me the day before, it was working against me once again on my final day. This impacted my speed somewhat, but this didn't affect my mood as I was on the final leg of my journey. I was just happy the temperature was relatively high and the dreaded extreme weather didn't show. After spending days amongst the trees in dense forests, the barren plains were a stark contrast. It wasn't unlike what you see at the Mont Ventoux, where you rise up out of the forest and leave the trees and any other vegitation behind. The road ran along the coast all the way from Olderfjord to the North Cape, and it’s there that I met my first fellow (cycling) travellers. There was an Australian who just started on his journey from the North Cape to Rome, and a German man who was walking from the North Cape to Gibraltar (7000 km in 200 days, an average of 35 km a day). My admiration is virtually limitless, as he was carrying roughly 10 to 15 kilograms of gear judging by the size of his pack. I figured the North Cape tunnel would be the last big hurdle. The North Cape is on an island, and there's a tunnel which runs from the mainland under the sea at a depth of 212 metres below the surface. The first part of the tunnel ran down at an immensely steep angle, and I had to brake regularly to safely get down to the bottom. I stuck to the uttermost right side of the road, in order to stay out of the way of traffic coming up from the back. The noise in there was immense, and the sound of overtaking cars echoed loudly through the length of the tunnel. Oncoming traffic also sounded as if cars were approaching from the rear, which made it all the more confusing. The last 2 kilometres were up a steep incline, but as this was the final push towards the line, I managed to block out any pain or fatigue.After the tunnel, I had another 50 kilometres to go through rocky and sandy terrain, which in many places was still covered in snow. The final 25 kilometres of the journey proved to be the most arduous, with steep inclines and descends. My lightest gear was barely enough to keep moving, but by weaving along the road, I managed to stay on my bike. The barren landscape, snow, and sheer emptiness of the place left a lasting impression. At 21.00 that night, I reached the North Cape. I felt incredibly worn out, but with an equal sense of relief and satisfaction that I'd made it. I took some quick pictures and then started looking for a place to sleep, which was still 15 kilometres back. I figured I'd have plenty of time to do some sightseeing the day after.

The Ride Back

The next morning I felt nothing like having to go over the steep climbs again to get to the North Cape. I'd seen the sights, so I decided to stay in bed a little longer. Afterwards, I got back on my bike and headed south, as I'd be taking the train back home. Before I could do so however, I had another 600 kilometres to cover in order to get to the Kiruna train station. I met an Austrian guy on the way who was travelling through Europe with his camper and offered me two cans of Red Bull. He had driven all the way through Norway, but had been greatly delayed because of heavy snowfall. I once again got the sense I had been extremely fortunate with the weather. The last stretch to Oberfjord was once again marked by heavy rain which continued through the night. This led me to take a bus back from Oberfjord to Alta.The weather was considerably more fair from Alta onwards, and I wanted to take the opportunity to ride to Kolari through the night under the midnight sun. As it turned out, Kolari station was closer than Kiruna. Though the cramps returned somewhat, the long distance didn't really matter to me any more, as the thought of getting on a train home the following morning sustained me. It was weird to ride through the night without the sun really going down, and without the light ever fading.

It was hard for me to imagine how it would be like during the time of year when there's barely any daylight at all...When I arrived at Kolari station in the morning, it was completely abandoned. The main hall was locked and though my Finnish is non-existent, I could discern from the signs that there wouldn't be any trains departing from here that day… That was quite an unexpected setback! The strange thing about a journey like this one though, is that you run into all sorts of negative things along the way: rain, headwinds, cramp, broken spokes, a couple of punctures, a wet sleeping bag just as you're completely worn out… All this affects the way you look at setbacks like these, and allow you to put things in perspective. So I laid down on a bench in front of the station, and got some sleep until I was woken by two teenagers who were taking scooter driving instructions on the empty parking lot. According to them, a single train would depart from Kolari once every week on Saturday. Upon hearing this, I decided to ride on to a hotel and the next day I took a train home from Lulea.

In Closing

I didn't really know what to expect up front, but I thoroughly enjoyed my voyage. I've been to an incredible part of Europe. Ultimately, the North Cape turned out to be 3117 kilometres away, which took me 13 days to cover. I've learned a lot about myself in that time, and it definitely taught me to put things into perspective. Whether I'd do something like this again, I'm not sure. My trip to Beijing is far from certain at least. For now, I'm going to continue my studies and at my job at Mantel. We'll see what wonders the future holds.

I'd like to thank everybody for all the great support, reactions, and for letting me borrow the gear I've used. Without your help, this adventure would have been far less awesome.

STRAVA

 

For the data freaks and Strava fans: all the stats on my ride can be found in my Strava profile (as said, the amount of vertical metres covered seems to be off though).

 

Translated by: Bart van Es