Skillingaryd – 1,784km completed
Aware that blog entries for this ride are going to be pretty extensive, it’s tempting to shortcut this day – since it’s not hard to summarize:
Chilly, wind, more wind, huge lake, busy road, heat, more busy road, more lake, more wind, more busy road, ice cream, fatigue, less busty road, end of huge lake, pretty town, eat, sleep
But, although being less varied or exciting, and more of a “functional getting from A to B” kind of day, it deserves a little more description than this. So read on if you want more of the details.
I guess I’ve already said it was chilly – so I was kitted up properly as I carefully lugged the rig back down the concrete spiral stairs. It’s a big time saver to have the bike in the room and be able to rig it up as you potter around, eat breakfast, drink coffee etc. The service station was still closed as I rolled back past, although by now it was only around half an hour to opening time. I wasn’t tempted to linger though – with the possibility of breakfast in the sizeable town of Jonkopping just 40km ahead, I was fueled up fine for now.
There are parts of this incredible journey which I remember with such clarity it’s as if I’m still there experiencing it. But the town of Vaggeryd and the stretch to the lakeside town ahead is not one of them. I can see from the profile that after a gradual rise initially, I enjoyed a significant descent (100m+) along the way. But I have little recollection of it even studying Google Earth pictures now. The first memories which come clearly are winding through the suburbs of Jonkoping itself scanning the nearby estates for a likely looking café, before coming across another McDs on the edge of town. Ordering exactly the same thing as yesterday, I sat watching families come and go in the sunny car park outside. Some other NC4K rides were leaving as I pulled in, although I don’t recall any more arriving as I sat and ate. As well as refuelling, I sorted myself with accommodation for the night. A town called Askersund sat at the other end of the large lake I’d be riding along most of the day (Lake Vattern), pretty much perfect on distance for the day. The forecast was for strong headwinds, and although there were no real climbs, there was enough elevation to make for a tiring day combined with the wind. So sticking with a cautious 200km for the day seemed the most rational plan. And better still, AirBnB had thrown up what looked an ideal apartment, right in the middle of town, near restaurants and shops, and with a super helpful owner. The price wasn’t bad either – so I didn’t hang around and risk losing it.
The route from here headed into the heart of the town, initially along a short section of wooded cycle way. Turning left at the end of this I was faced with a path closed sign, and a full scale flood beyond, presumably from the heavy rains yesterday afternoon. Ignoring the sign, I pedalled gingerly along – more in fear of hitting a hole hidden beneath the surface than the depth, which was just a few centimetres. I should have been paying more attention ahead though. Where the path swung right under the road, a metal barrier stood blocking the right side of the entrance. But the left looked clear so I rode on. Just moments before hitting it, I spotted the other section of barrier had fallen down and was part submerged. It would have been a stupid way to crash – but low speed falls are often the most serious, and I would have kicked myself if that had been how and where my ride ended. Carefully I wheeled back, managing to keep my feet dry between puddles, I inched around the barrier, under the tunnel and across to the town beyond.
A breeze wafted across the waters, and in the near distance was a bridge across to another part of of town. It was a picturesque scene which I stopped briefly to photograph. The route didn’t take that bridge, instead following the river before crossing a much smaller bridge almost at the lakefront itself. Turning left at the shores of the lake, I rode past (almost through) the nearby train and bus station, before slowly swinging right to start following the lake north. The path stayed low along the shoreline whilst the road rose up alongside. It was quite a few metres up a bank to my left before both GPS units started complaining I was off route, albeit by only a handful of metres both vertically and horizontally. Rather than turning back I kept on – with a railway line now in my way, it was a couple of kilometres until there was an opening to my left with a side street that crossed the tracks and led me back up to the main road.
The early parts were really no bother – a cycleway with nice smooth tarmac ran alongside, keeping me nicely away from traffic. Up to and through the town of Bankeryd the situation was much the same, but not far beyond the conditions shifted into what I instantly hoped was not going to be a pattern for the day. The route joined a very busy road that was marked as the “195” – fast moving cars and trucks mixed together, and no real cycle lane for safety. There was an occasional thin scrap to the right of the white line or, on some of the uphill stretches, an additional lane – sometimes in both directions. But whilst this added width to the road and somewhere to ride, it also increased the speed and number of fast overtaking manoeuvres, with slower moving trucks or buses still wanting the lane I was also trying to ride in. Lake Vattern is ridiculously large – around 150km long. And I’d barely travelled 15km of that so far. I really hoped the rest wasn’t like this. The heat was building and the headwind was increasing in strength too – but although these taxed my physical strength, it was mental strength that I needed more at this point. There was no practical way around this section – I guess that was why the organizers had routed us along here in the first place. We needed to get North along the lake, and there were no traffic free options. I was just going to have to put my big boy pants on and tough it out. Once again, the headphones went on to distract from the thundering traffic and lighten my mood. I never ride busy roads if I can avoid it. But right now, there was no avoiding it.
Almost exactly half way into the day, and a bit less than halfway up the lake, the route took a brief but welcome detour into the town of Hjo, which was utterly delightful. I really regret not taking photos of the lake views rolling into the town itself, but I did snap one of the town square from the café table where I sat scoffing a gourmet burger and chips. A table with three other NC4K riders watched over my bike was I went to the self-service counter to order – a favour which I repeated for several other riders who then arrived as I was eating. A few seemed to find the busy road as stressful as I had – but others sounded much more laid back about it. I guess your tolerance level is entirely dependent on what you’re used too. Clearly mine was on the low side for busy roads. As I was considering where to get a replacement inner tube, one of the guys seated near me helpfully pointed out a bike shop sign that I’d failed to see behind where I sat. As quaint as the old fashioned looking shop was though, one look inside showed it was more of a general store rather than dedicated bike shop. A small line was already waiting, with a single person serving each slowly, I decided not to waste any time. I had spares – a town ahead could replace the punctured one. I rolled out of town hoping we were not going back onto the 195 – despite the wider map view on the GPSMAP 67i showing that we were.
Fortunately, although there was still nearly 100km to my stop for the night, only another 30km was the less than lovely 195. It was more heat, more wind, and more traffic – but at a crossroads with a road marked the “49”, the road I took over the other side of the junction was quieter and much more pleasant. This crossing was also the point thr route swung inland and lake Vattern disappeared from view on the right. It was not the end of water side riding though, the twisting country lane following a network of smaller lakes and waterways. Away from heavy traffic, the riding was enjoyable and scenic once more. And at small bridge between lakes, which also crossed a lock with transiting boats, it was impossible not to stop for photos – and ice cream. Although I skipped the busy artisan truck and went for the fast food joint opposite to grab a Magnum. Sure, I’d have liked something more handcrafted, but not with the 20 minute wait I estimated the queue would cause. In hindsight, I should probably have grabbed some chips or real food too – but my mind had wandered a bit in the heat and my body was not yet signalling it’s needs.
The riding beyond was lovely – but continuously up and down as it wound over each hillside between the lakes. The effort of these gradients combined with the mental and physical battles of the day so far began to sap my energy, slowly at first and more rapidly with each new rise. Tiredness prevented me identifying the underlying issue for longer that it should have. But eventually, thinking back across the day, I realised I was under fuelled. I forget if I was carrying it with me or bought one at a shop (I can see a couple of stops), but somewhere a banana appeared and was eaten. As were several snack bars over the next few kilometres – in fact I ate my supplies almost dry. Even the Haribos bought days before and lost in the bottom of some bag or other got fished out and eaten as I rode. The effect was slow, but it came. As I rolled down into each dip, the rise up the other side became less and less dreaded, and more quickly overcome. But the sequence of rollers just felt endless. I recalled pictures and stories of this type of terrain from earlier editions and a worrying thought occurred to me – would all of the remaining 1,500km of Sweden be like this? Honestly, if I were to make the words of this section proportional to how the effort felt in my mind, it would end up longer than the rest of the blog. In the heat of the later afternoon, with flagging energy, the undulating road seemed to last forever. To get through I just had to focus my mind on each metre of tarmac in front of me. Worrying about anything beyond that was a fruitless waste of energy. As well as a lack of calories for the day, another factor only came to mind later in the day when I messaged Yoli:
This PM nearly broke me – engine just gave out with 60 to go. Ate my whole bag empty to just keep rolling. It’s that dreaded day 10 / 2000km battery fail – one minute cruising, then a tiny hill and boom, legs suddenly say “NO”
The quiet lane became the 202, and then later the 205, but none were as busy or troubling as earlier. And with the last of the rollers done, a the outline of a church, and then a whole town appeared in front of me. I’d made it to the top end of lake Vattern and the town of Askersund. Phew! I was glad to have got this day of riding in the bag, and in good time too, looking at the time as I swapped over to Google maps for the last leg to my accommodation. The town streets were closed to traffic – some kind of local festival or other. But riding through was fine, and just beyond the crowds lay a cobbled town square. I swung left across it, and then right onto a small pedestrian street leading off the top of the square. After two blocks I was stood outside my b&b – the building easily identifiable because of a bright painted frontage opposite which I had seen in one of the gallery pictures on AirBnB. Working quickly through the owners entry instructions, I had the key from the lock box and was bumping the bike up one straight flight of stairs to the first floor. With no one to tell me not too, I decided it was fine to let the bike as well as myself into the eclectically furnished, busy interior of the small flat. Yoli would have loved the jumbled assortment of decor. For me, all that mattered was it had a bed, somewhere to prop the bike, a small but usable kitchenette and a shower. Nothing else was important right now.
My gear unloaded and devices on charge, I went back to the square. Although I did not realise it at this point, what I did next would become routine over the days which followed: a late PM visit to a supermarket for supplies. In this case, the shop being handily on a street corner opposite the apartment. The other thing I did was something which I’d do less and less of over coming days – visiting a smart restaurant for a full meal. As I waited for what I hoped would be a large bowl of pasta I fished out my cue cards for the next couple of days from my jersey pouch. Up to this point there had not been that much need to use them. I could see from the amount of brown ink (my “take note” colour) and regular occurrence of the word “Sparse” that they would become more and more valuable over the coming days. A place called “Barken Lodge” had caught my eye when studying the route back home, and seemed ideal – only 15km over distance on what the cue card indicated was a “grey” day climbing wise (middle effort – neither hardest nor easiest). I grabbed a booking online and sent my standard list of special requests: meal on arrival if possible, safe bike storage, early or packed breakfast. Honestly though, I was beginning to get more and more relaxed on all of these. If I knew in advance no food would be available, I could shop on the way – as evidenced by the bulging (ultra lightweight and packable) backpack of tomorrow’s breakfast supplies sat on the chair next to me. And “safe bike storage” seemed to be the norm – at no point in recent days had my bike felt in any real danger of theft, and the more remote the route became the less of a risk that seemed.
When the pasta arrived it was superbly tasty – although I could easily have eaten a second bowl, and did briefly contemplate asking. But my breakfast was ample for tomorrow, and the cards had reminded me of a McDs 30km into the next section for a second feed. So I wasn’t stressing over refuelling – I’d already recovered from the fatigue well, and would take much more care on the cause (not eating enough) over the days ahead. Dinner and other routine tasks sorted, I headed back the handful of meters to the apartment. Lying in bed contemplating the event so far, it was impossible not to be pleased. According to the Garmin, I had already exceeded the magic 2,000km for only my second time – although in reality, that point would come up soon tomorrow (the Garmin Odo reading included the bits at sea I think). Most of the flatter days were now behind – and although those ahead would barely go above 2,000m per day, the cumulative effect on top of existing efforts was definitely going to be a physical challenge. But with a mentally challenging day overcome I was beginning to feel confident. Barring mishaps, I might actually manage this one. With that thought in mind, sleep came quickly as my tired and sore body sunk into the bed.