Bollnäs – 2,390km completed
On my cue cards, I numbered this as Day 14 – for obvious reasons. On the Strava log, I noted it as EI (the closest I could get to 13 upside down).
Anyhow – on to the morning, which began with a couple of laps around that breakfast buffet. It was every bit as good as described, and well worth a slightly later start (although they were already open at my somewhat optimistic arrival 10 minutes early). As well as the great food and amazing lake views one other aspect of this feast will live long in my memory. I was neither the most fluorescent nor strongest smelling person present. The early sitting was one which local workmen were obviously welcomed at – their jackets being even brighter than my lumi-green jersey, and a powerful odour of the sweat from honest, hard work which even I wasn’t quite matching. Clearly none of this bothered the staff or locals, so I enjoyed the uncommon experience of not feeling out of place in a nice restaurant.
Well fed, rolling back across the hotel driveway, I was surprised a little by the direction the route headed. Instead of the obvious, direct road out of town I turned right across a river, and then left into an urban street along its banks. Under sunny, blue skies it was a very pleasant start to the riding. After around 5km it turned along a narrow service road cum path, forbidden to thru traffic and overgrown on both sides. After crossing one branch of the river came a small island, then a dam across a second branch. I wondered how on earth the organizers had found this lovely, quiet little section of the route. It had to involve some local knowledge as it’s not even part of the denoted OSM cycle route in this area. The official “EV7” just follows the main road, which we joined after about 10km of meandering along between railway line and river.
On my track I can see an unusually early stop at an ICA supermarket after 15km. I remember the spot well, just left off the route – although it’s only by checking my voice messages to Yoli I can recall why I stopped so soon:
“Fuck it’s windy today. Just did a stretch of main road where I was being blown backwards. Cold too from the North. Turned off now in a town called Arbra to pick up supplies for the road as there’s a long stretch of nothing now.”
I have a vague memory also of needing a loo, but possibly struck out because there are couple of brief stops further along the road that morning – one of them was for snacks, which makes me sure the other was to take a leak. Bollnas sits not much above sea level, and there were a pair of slogs heading north. The first up to 160m and back down again. The second was a 2-step grind to 250m. These are not elevations that ordinarily would be considered climbs, but combined with a succession of ragged ramps in between, and after a couple of weeks on the road I was definitely feeling it. If I survived it, Sweden was going to do wonders for my cycling legs. At just past the 50km mark the haul out of the current valley ended, followed by a delightful fast flowing descent of about 15km to the town of Delsbo in the bottom of the next valley (almost back down at sea level again). It was good timing for food, and my cue cards showed a gap of 50km to the next shops or restaurants, so I detoured one block off route to yet another ICA supermarket.
There’s a growing danger here that getting across Sweden is going to just seem like riding between shops and cafes. There would of course be some truth in that, but it’s something that becomes skewed because at times I don’t remember specific details about the bits in between. Apart from “lakes” or “trees” or “hills”, or more often all three. There are some glimpses though that come back to me over the next section. The first was a sublime “beach” at one of those lakes at which several families had pulled over and were busy splashing around swimming and playing in the water. The other was a long stretch of roadworks, which started after turning left at a T-junction just beyond this point. It was a rough and not especially enjoyable 10km of loose stones and large, lumpy gravel. Even on its own, the riding would have been challenging but with traffic in both directions it took a lot of care to stay upright and away from the path of a thundering truck. It made me nervous about a stretch further ahead (beyond Boden) that had been widely posted on the ride group as horrendous. The bit I was currently on hadn’t even deserved a mention! The final part of this stretch I remember because it’s a point where I left a voice message for Yoli about how much it was sapping my reserves. It was a road profile which would become more and more familiar over coming days. As the road swung away from one lakeside, I would see a long, steady upward pull over a ridge to get to the next. This one started as soon as the roadworks ended. By way of illustration I’ve included the RWGP segment. I could almost sum up the bulk of the rest of Sweden with that profile.
There was, of course, a lot more detail that I enjoyed amongst all the uphills. A part of that being the downhills and food – both of which came next!
Observant track followers may spot an ICA super in Friggesund at the start of the climb. I either ignored or missed this when preparing my cards. Possibly I got too excited by the possibility of a Pizzeria in Hassela. Which is in fact where I ended up – although I opted for the pasta at this stop (a massive plate of steaming cannelloni). There were tables outside – but I definitely ate inside the small café, maybe to get a break from the afternoon sun. I also remember getting a key and having to go to the premise next door to use the loo – presumably it was shared with the other tenants of the building. By now it didn’t even occur to me to lock the bike – or worry about it being safe outside. I’ve got to be honest here, the 50km between Hassela and Sundsvall did involve a few long sections of just sticking my head down, with music cranked up, and kilometre counting. The terrain (the hilliest since southern Germany) had me wondering if I’d been over ambitious in my accommodation choice. I was beginning to worry if I’d make it in daylight, or if the supermarket I was aiming at would be open as I rolled through. A long downhill about half way into this stretch gave me some hope and respite. But that was short lived – dipping down to an old river bridge, all I could see the other side was more hills ahead. As the route dropped down out of countryside and into the suburbs of Sundsvall it was already much later in the day than I’d expected to this point. As I wound through the handful of city blocks I took in the views – the buildings were an interesting mix of new and old. Here and there were welcoming looking cafes or restaurants at the corners of refurbished warehouses or sleek new glass buildings. But I could feel the clock urging me on – something I’d not really paid any attention too since the first day into Innsbruck. Much as it would have been nice to stop and take photos, or have a meal, I didn’t really have time. I’d miscalculated my ride for the day somewhat and the only answer was to press on and make it work. At some point, as I headed across the middle of Sundsvall, I passed another rider – maybe one of the guys from India – and we exchanged greetings, before each heading off in different directions. I guessed he was staying in town for the night.
After the short, flat section through town, the route turned left onto a side road which immediately began to rise up gradually. The coastline lay below and to the left, and to the right was a mix of woodland, housing and apartment blocks. leaving the coastline below. After a kilometre or so though, the busy E4 lay directly ahead and the route swung left to follow it – both roads continuing together, dead straight and slowly upward toward a distant ridge. For most of it, the riding was on an adjacent cycle path, industrial estates lining both sides. I knew, from memory, that somewhere near was a McDs and I weighed up the pros and cons of stopping. I definitely needed extra fuel this evening, but I also needed to shop for breakfast supplies for tomorrow. A supermarket would provide both in a single stop – and, having filled up well already today, a couple of pot noodles would suffice for this evening (and be light to carry in the backpack). Reluctantly, decision made, as the McDs came into view I rode past. There was also the matter of the weather – ahead, rolling over the ridge, were heavy banks of dark grey clouds. Delaying at a McDs stop had cost me a soaking once so far on this ride and I wasn’t keen for another. If I kept going, I could possibly stay ahead of the storm – it was far from certain, with the smell of rain already in the air, but it was worth a try.
The cycle path looped away and then back to rejoin the road as they both ducked under the highway. Over the ridge, I was moving fast again, but paused to get on my jacket as a few large drops of rain began to fall. But it was just a light shower – gone almost before it started. Getting to the shop took longer than I’d expected – it was a full 13km before I reached the highway exit junction where the town was signposted right. It was a further couple of km beyond this point to the town. My progress wasn’t helped by the fact I dithered and made a mistake in my routing, turning right towards the main street too soon and ending up on an unexpectedly steep street of houses. I slogged up a 10% gradient in completely the wrong gear before arriving, out of breath, at the broad avenue of shops in the main part of Timra. I needn’t have stressed – I was in plenty of time for the CoOp. With rain nearby, I propped my bike inside the large hallway whilst I grabbed doughnuts, coffee cans, juices, pot noodles, bananas, and extra snack bars for tomorrow. The backpack was bulging but not overly heavy. There was only another 20km to ride with it, and after a bit of wiggling and jiggling, I managed to get the lumpier parts away from my back. The streets were now damp again from a fresh downpour whilst I’d been shopping.
On the way out of Timra I got completely turned around – and for a moment could not understand where the route went. I turned down a loop of road which looked correct, but got angry beeps from the Wahoo very soon after. Eventually, I turned back because it could not be the direction I’d gone, and after a few metres of backtracking I saw a narrow cycle path that I had missed dropping down to the right. It curved right, so close to both of the other roads I’d tried that it was almost impossible to separate them even on the clearer Garmin map. It swooped down and back up and brought me out in a housing estate. I was properly on track now, and sped along the straight roads and paths until I came to a short, steep loop in the road which took me up and over a railway and onto a more major road. It wasn’t far to go now. As requested, I had let the owners know when I was leaving Timra, but I didn’t really expect what came next – although I sort of sensed it as it unfolded. The dim grey evening made it easy to spot the lights of a car as it approached from behind, but instead of rushing past – the twin yellow pools lighting the road in front slowed their advance as the car pulled alongside, window down.
“Are you Rob?” the driver called out and then signalled me to pull over. She was one of B&B owners. Through the window, she explained her husband was out enjoying some fishing nearby, but she would check me in. She apologised her English was not as good as her husbands, but did her best to explain how I got there (it was still better than my Swedish).
Even with the instructions, it took me a while – in part because it was uphill initially. But even after that, I could not for the life of me see any B&B sign – or the “quilt” she had mentioned. I couldn’t for the life of me figure what this might be a mis-translation for. I knew I had to go beyond the point where the event route split upward to the right. So it was only after this point that I really started scanning for clues. Eventually, I spotted a hand written AirBnB sign at the start of a gravel drive (I’ve still no idea how this was a quilt). The drive was bumpy but being downhill, rideable at a reasonable speed. I was fairly sure I would not have enough traction tomorrow though and would probably be walking up. At the bottom was a stables, and to the left a grassy track to some wooden outbuildings. I guessed these were the lodgings, and bumped my way along to them. There was a small covered porch area, with table and chairs and plenty of room for the bike to stay dry under. I propped it underneath, unloaded, and let myself in.
Soon after, the lady came down and explained a few things: the Jacuzzi was next to the bedroom, and I was welcome to use it but please don’t touch the controls, and take a shower first. The toilet and shower were in an outbuilding a handful of paces across the meadow from the cabin. The water from the kitchen tap was fine to drink – direct from a spring. And I was to help myself to anything else I needed. Thanking her as she departed, I stood for a moment – and tried to take it all in. Which was impossible really. Somehow, I had managed to book myself into a Swedish horse farm – surrounded by trees, and a river flowing to my right just beyond the shower block. Apart from the sounds of nature, it was absolutely dead silent. I closed my eyes and just smelt the air and tried to take in how ridiculously peaceful this place was. A small, perfect oasis of calmness and tranquillity – perfect to get away roads and riding, even if only for a few hours.
The kitchen didn’t take much figuring out – all I really needed was a kettle for the pot noodles. But I also figure out how the interesting looking coffee pot worked (with fresh ground coffee supplied by the owners). It was a sort of electric version of an old school stove-top pot: water in the bottom, coffee grounds in the top which the boiling water flowed into and then dripped down through. That was definitely going to get used tomorrow. Now getting dark, for the first time on the ride, my head torch came into use to figure out the unusual combination of lighting. Some of it was for table lamps, and some strings of Xmas lights. Not all of them were plugged in initially, but with some fiddling, I got enough light in the dining/sitting area and bedroom to see what I was doing. All the while, the jacuzzi bubbled away in the annex off the bedroom. I kicked myself for not getting here an hour or two sooner, but at this point I just needed food and bed. The latter, thankfully, having a ton of blankets on it – which were need as it had got pretty chilly over the last couple of hours. I got to sleep easily in the peaceful surroundings – but a huge storm broke in the night, which woke me up with great crashes of thunder and bursts of lightning for a good hour or two. Thankfully, it eased off around the time I needed the loo. Given the surroundings I did not bother with any clothes – just dashed across the field stark bollock naked, only using the headtorch on reaching the corner of the outbuilding so I could figure the lock. Honestly, as rustic as this place was, it was one of the highlights of the trip so far. I really felt I’d stumbled into a proper part of rural Sweden.