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In Which I Witter On About Not Very Much, As Is My Wont
August 14, 2006 by Mike
Nordkjosbotn, north Norway
Vindicated!
I wrote yesterday of "spitting, then cascading, rain" and I know, I just know, that you sat there thinking... 'there he goes again. One spot of rain and he dives for cover. He has the meteorological equivalent of man-flu.'
Well, don't take my word it. It was "the worst weather I have seen in North Norway" according to the coach of the Floya Under-16 girls' football team. So there. And he must be good because they came second in the Altaturneringen back in Alta. Or, as the Tromso newspaper puts it today, they "won silver". Yep - they LOST the final. Deal with it.
Today's been better. I've seen rain, but managed to avoid it. The clouds in these parts seem to stay where they are, despite the fact that the wind has been blowing most of the day. The way the roads curl round mountains and fjords here, I saw the same, rather handsome mountain from three different angles at various times, but always with the same cloud clinging to it, like a nervous, spotty teenager who knows his girlfriend is much better looking than he is and could, perhaps should, be doing much better with some other cloud.
Or to put it another way, that might make some sense outside my head, there have been times today when I could see five or six completely different climates, running through different valleys or beyond different mountains.
Proper mountains, too. Craggy, perpendicular sides, vaulted peaks (when the clouds let me see them), rock face instead of the wooded dark, satanic hills further north. Ironically, as I head south I'm seeing much more snow, because the mountains are higher in altitude even though they are lower in longitude.
Yr correspondent is determined to avoid riding in snow for as long as possible, and hopes you understand.
--
The water here is a most extraordinary emerald green.
--
The route: a couple of long-winded roads to get as much coast under my belt as possible. So instead of taking the bridge at Sorstraumen, a 40 mile loop round Kvaenangsbotn. The road on the east bank was as near perfect as could be, new asphalt curving and winding for mile after wooded mile, with no traffic. The return up the west bank was in stark contrast - ruts and puddles and farm traffic. The difference had me singing a song I haven't heard since the 70s.. it goes
"'cos he lived on the morning side of the mountain
But she lived on the evening side of the hill"
and I'm slightly worried it was an Osmonds song.
Just in case, here's a gratuitous photo of me meeting Mr Rick Hall in Muscle Shoals, Alabama earlier this year, moustache to the stars, the man who produced Aretha and Wilson Pickett and... the Osmonds. Gotta pay those grooming bills somehow.
---
Following that I took the high road, the E6 peaking at Gildetun with a fantastic view out across the sea and islands. Anyone there this morning would also have had a fantastic view of my backside as I dropped the bike again, this time coming to a stop in thick gravel. Plonker. No (apparent) damage, other than to my pride.
---
I didn't see any reindeer today.
How long will it take for that not to seem remarkable, after I got used to seeing them so quickly?
---
My wiggliest bit of sticking-to-the-coast riding today was a 90-mile stretch round the very end of Lynganfjord, rather than taking the ferry from Olderdalen to Lyngseidet. That's 45 miles down one side of a thin strip of water and 45 miles up the other. Or in other words, a ride through about nine different weather fronts.
When I eventually reached Lyngseidet, my best route forward was to cut across the peninsula to the other coast, in order to head in exactly the opposite direction from my next target, Tromsø. The concept of "staying on the coast road" is hard to follow up here. Roads lead to dead ends. Or to ferries that would take me to islands with no roads. Or back to where I was an hour ago. I blame Slartibartfast myself.
I'm trying to make sense of the available roads, see as much sea as I can without losing perspective on the need to 'make steady progress', as the motorcycle examiners say.
I should reach Tromsø tomorrow. My brand new, long lost cousin Marianne and partner Michael are threatening to show me how Tromsonians like to drink beer. They should have good ideas of places to see around town. By which I mean islands and peninsulas, as well as bars and shoe shops. Though I intend to dip my toe in the 21st century while I'm there. I hear they even have electricity there... it's all quite exciting.
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By mark | August 16, 2006 1:17 PM
you'll soon get bored of them. When we were on safari and all we kept seeing was antelope type things (too many different names to remember) you long to see something else even if it's only a dog.
And I wish I could grow a moustache like that.