Askersund – 1,982km completed
The great thing about an apartment is how simple it is to start early – no messing around, just empty the fridge into your stomach, pack the bike, tidy up and go. I had made one slight error the night before though – what I’d taken to be a pot of muesli and yoghurt turned out to be some kind of soft cheese and muesli. It was not a combination of flavours which worked for me, and I made a mental note of the labelling as the empty container went into the trash so I could avoid it again. The cold coffee and donuts combo was an instant hit though – that was definitely going on my staples list for future visits. In fact much of what I had bought the evening before became the standard fare I’d look for on future trips. Variety might normally be great, but consistency is quicker and easier for a rapid supermarket raid. Time wasn’t exactly against me – in fact at this point I was bang on plan – but it can easily slip away if you don’t keep on top of it.
Bumping back along the cobbled streets to the square and out of town, food was still pretty much on my mind. A breezy and cool 29km lay ahead which I remember only small flashes of now. The road up to the small village of Vretsdorp was a steady but gradual uphill through open farmland, and just beyond I crossed the E20 highway. I knew as soon as the route swung right to follow the main road that up ahead was the McDs – part of a highway service station a couple of junctions ahead. When I reached the turn though my heart sank a little – it wasn’t immediately clear I’d be able to reach it. The right turn looked to become part of another highway. I followed it anyway and luckily there was a narrow, if rather stony, path alongside the carriageway. I scooted along here as quickly as the surface allowed and swung into the service area after about 500m of path. I wasn’t completely sure how I’d get back but I’d worry about that after eating.
My third successive early morning Swedish McDs stop – and this venue seemed determined to topple those before for what by now I could only assume must be a prestigious “Messiest McDs in the Country” award, judging by the effort (or lack of it) put in. Honestly, it looked like they’d had a midnight rave from which they were only now recovering. Bins overflowed, tables were uncleared – and the staff seemed to be battling to contain the explosion of trash. Honestly, I didn’t really care – the sausage muffin, coffee and juice arrived quickly and tasted exactly the same as the previous two. I was already gone before there were any reals signs of progress – I did cram my trash into the one bin that still had space so as not to add to their workload. Surveying the options outside, I decided the short leg back the wrong way along the cycle path was the safest. I was facing the traffic, but it was light and I was well separated. I waited for a complete lack of cars to manage the tricky zigzag across the 3 sections of road at the final junction and was safely back on the proper side of the road.
In theory it was a short and simple flattish run to the city of Orebro, where I was aiming for a bike shop for an extra inner tube or two, and maybe a spare tyre. Neither were essential really, but I didn’t fancy having to repair tubes or get the GP5000 onto the rim if I sliced one of the GravelKings. In practice, it was a little less simple. Barriers blocked the route where I was supposed to duck back under the E20. Once again, the clearer map screen of the GPSMAP 67i came to the fore – kind of. The first bit of road I backtracked onto was brand new – and actually not fully open, making the fresh smooth tar even more lovely to ride on as I was the only vehicle on it. At the first junction, I swung right at what seemed to be an alternative road under the highway. But that was also blocked off. I swung around once again and made for a more substantial junction with a roundabout ahead. The cycle path option there was also dug up, so I steeled my nerves mingled in with the trucks and heavy traffic across the highway bridge, and bailed left at the roundabout beyond. To my relief it was a much quieter road, which before long acquired a cycle lane as it wound through the suburbs of Orebro. I’d noted down a couple of bike shops, and pulled into the first of these. It wasn’t an entirely succesful visit, but without too much delay I got the essentials – an additional inner tube of the correct size, and a replacement red blinky light for my helmet. Annoyingly, I’d somehow killed my still fairly new Lezyne the night before – bright sparks flew out as I plugged in the USB-C and that was the last light of any kind I could get from it. The new blinky was old stock from a display in the shop, so I got it cheap. But it was small, light and went on my helmet nicely. Tyres were a bust though – all the guy had were large hardshell eBike and city bike tyres. I rolled on with two of my needs sorted – and decided to skip the other bike shop as I crossed busy streets heading into the centre of the city, pausing for a photo at a lovely spot where the track swung left along the river.
Despite being a sizeable city, it was pleasant cycling – decent paths, and nowhere overly busy. In very little time I was heading back into suburbs, flanked by a blue and white hydrogen fuel-cell powered bus which seemed to be escorting me out of the city. Each time it stopped, I pulled ahead – only to be passed again a few hundred meters beyond. Eventually, as my route split from the main road and back into countryside again we parted ways for the last time. I guess I’m not really sure what to call the next stop I made at a small village shop: early lunch? late 3rd breakfast? In truth, it was more of a cold drinks and water stop as the day was becoming much warmer, but learning the lesson from yesterday I didn’t waste another stop without food. I sat outside the small village shop downing a juice, cold coffee, and eating a sandwich of some form (chicken salad comes to mind), as locals came and went, a few greeting me and asking where I was heading. With the usual look of surprise and curiosity at my replies.
Aside from the detour along the river in Orebro, the route since Askersund seemed to head away from the maze of lakes and rivers, crossing farmland and then rising up through thick forests. Around the 100km mark for the day though, the riding changed back again. Instead of deep stands of trees both sides of the road, at least one side now was along some lake shore or other. It was impossible to keep track of them all – as soon as you reached the end of one, the road would ramp up, twist around, and drop down to follow the shore of another. Occasionally, at higher points, there’d be a view across a larger swathe of countryside – revealing the full extent of the patchwork of water, mountainside, and forest. It was vast – and utterly breathtaking. Here and there were campsites and clusters of lakeside cottages – which judging by the cars, were being enjoyed by folks on holiday. And around one of these bends dropping down to a lakeside came a moment which brought tears to my eyes and will live in my memory forever. Some distance ahead I could hear and see what looked like a party – people standing either side of the road, jumping and shouting. Only then did I spot a fellow rider passing through them. Soon after I was whizzing down towards the spot, only to hear similar cries – except now, they seemed specifically for me:
Go Rob! Well done. Woop Woop, You’re doing great!
There was even a blackboard out with “Go Rob” written on it. I waved, smiled and said thanks as I passed through. But only later did it occur to me, they must have been doing this for every rider going past – checking the tracker, and adjusting the name as each of us came through. It was such a wonderful moment I stopped and pulled over to leave Yoli a voice message to tell her about it. But in truth, I kind of wished and stopped and at least got the names of the families so I could mention them on Facebook and say how much it meant. Luckily, sometime later Viktor would do this and I’d see his post and get to add my own personal thank you. It’s crazy how much these small moments of human connection and kindness mean after so many kilometers riding alone. Realising that someone who does not know you is still taking time to cheer you on. And in the middle of nowhere.
Of the various “Store”, “Maybe Café”, and other notes I’d made on my cue cards, the one which I ended up picking for some proper food was the most obvious. Rolling out of forest alongside a main road I could see the small Pizzeria shack I had highlighted on the cue cards across the roundabout. I even vaguely recognised the building, having studied these more sparse sections in depth to ensure I had a solid grasp on where to get supplies or lodging. I was on the verge of going for another Hawaiian when I spied something that seemed to have a similar assortment of the right types of fuel, but more unusual flavours: banana and curried chicken. It was too weird a combo to resist – and it worked ridiculously well, although from memory, in the warm afternoon sun, I didn’t manage to completely finish it. In hindsight, I should probably have sat longer and tried harder – because the terrain ramped upwards after this point, and the heat of the day rapidly sapped my energy reserves again.
For the next 25km or we stayed alongside, or on, the same main road (route “50” according to the map). On the outskirts of Bangbro/Kopparberg though we turned right and up into a series of hills that we clearly needed to get across. There was an immediate climb of about 200m, followed by a series of more “Swedish rollers” which taxed the mind as much as the legs, the way ahead always seemingly “up”. I can see from my track one stop I made at a random unpaved turn off, which looking at Google Earth now I kind of recognized as somewhere I stopped to take a leak. A little further is a stop which needs no memory jogging. A booking office for cabins and adventure tours that also had what I was craving – coke and ice cream. Plus a chair outside to sit and enjoy the now lengthening shadows and cooling afternoon. There was only around 40km left, and checking my booking messages I could see that my hotel had arranged both evening food and breakfast, so there we no more stops needed for supplies. With no time pressure, I sat and enjoyed the peace of the forest around me, and the coming and going of guest staying at the cabins under the trees. It really was an idyllic spot, and the tiredness from the hills soon flowed out of me.
Had I know what was to come, I might have stayed longer. I’d crested the ridge, and what lay beyond was almost all downhill – or it felt that way. I literally flew along covering the remaining distance in a couple of hours easy riding. There were a few ramps along the way, especially on the last stretch beyond the town of Soderbarke, where the current GPS track ran out and I paused to load up the track for the next day to navigate the final part. With Barken Lodge noted down and available I hadn’t really looked at accommodation in the small town – but judging by its size as I went through I’d probably have found a room of some kind. The time was still early though, so I was glad of the extra distance before stopping. It was a little lumpier and felt further than I’d expected, and I remember repeatedly checking the GPS and signs to see if I’d missed it. But eventually a sign on the right indicated the spot I needed to turn off into the woods and towards the nearby lake. Riku’s chat message to me pretty much sums it up:
Hello, how’s it going there? Hope the knee holding. The map showing you in the middle of nowhere.
The knee reference was a reply to a comment or day or so back that my knees were a bit fucked. I did my best to reply in Afrikaans, which is Riku’s native tongue:
Ja – tussen niks ‘n nerens. Daar’s baie fokkal hierso
The lodge building had clean and simple lines – not quite stark in design, but almost. Set in such glorious woodland though, there wasn’t really any need to try and outshine the surroundings. Simple worked. Propping the bike outside, I went and got booked in. The chap at reception showed me a balcony off the main reception area where I could store the bike overnight. Next to this was a luggage store room with a fridge that had both my dinner (pasta) and breakfast supplies in it, plus a microwave on the counter. He explained I had sole use of the room so could come and go as needed. Whilst he poured me a zero alcohol local beer (very good, but the name now lost to me) I unpacked, lugged gear to the room, stashed the bike outside, and zapped the pasta in the microwave. Tomorrow’s cereal looked suspiciously like dried dog food pellets, but I figured it would probably taste better than it looked. With a decently early arrival, and all my needs sorted, I took advantage of the extra towels to get my gear washed and mostly dry. According to the cards, I was about 15km up on plan – still a long way to go, but a decent position to be in at just over halfway into the ride.