Lycksele – 2,950km completed
The promised packed breakfast was waiting for me in the lobby which, initially, seemed deserted. I’d barely parked myself at one of the tables before a chap appeared from a door behind the breakfast bar and offered me coffee. Even though I’d already had an iced coffee whilst getting kitted up in my room I did not pass up the opportunity. By the time I got up to leave, I’d managed to eat or stash most of the breakfast bag – my tummy and pockets were bulging now with the extra calories. Given the day ahead, it was a good start.
Bright, blue, and wet would be a fair description of the day outside. The rain showers had continued through the night – unheard by me, insulated in my triple glazed cocoon. The bike was mostly dry though, and all still safe. I quickly loaded the bags bag up, checked the tyres, wiped down the chain and added a fresh coat of lube to handle what was likely to be another wet day. Maintenance done, I wheeled over to the only waste bin I could see to lose my dirty cloth. A lady was sat by it in a wheelchair savouring her morning cigarette. We exchanged greetings as I turned around and rolled across the car park. The hotel was on a small headland, and another cycle path bridge led me across a small loop of lake to parkland beyond. The view back across the city in the watery morning light prompted me to pause for a photo before turning out of the parkland and onto the road, leaving the city behind as I wound up to cruising speed.
The initial kilometres were gradually uphill. It wasn’t taxing, but not yet fully warmed up I dropped into easier gears to spin up with an easy cadence. Drops of rain were already falling before I’d reached the top of the first ramp but they couldn’t dampen my spirits compared to the sight which greeted me as the road levelled out. In a scrubby area of small, low bushes to the left of me three shadows were moving quickly. It took a few seconds to realise what they were, but as they bounded up onto the road in front there was no mistake. My first reindeer! They paused to glance at me for a moment – during which I realised I had no idea how aggressive they might be if threatened. They were not huge, but their impressive antlers looked like they could easily oust me from the bike. They had other ideas though and leapt into scrubland on the right, and disappeared into the trees beyond. What a superb start to the morning.
I kept hoping for more – but none visited me as I ground out the long kilometres. To take my mind of the damp, chilly riding my mind invented a game “Rainbow Trash” – the idea being how long it would take me to see pieces of litter in all the colours of the rainbow. Swedish people didn’t seem to litter that much, so I figured it would occupy me until the first town, but I was disappointed – just 18 minutes later I’d managed a complete set. So a second part to the game was invented – could nature provide me with all the colours in less time? Sadly, it did not. I had 6 of the 7 colours in less than 5 minutes, but blue (or indigo) were my downfall. Allowing the sky as one of these (a stretch, but occasionally visible between clouds). But nature could offer no other source of blue – I scanned the trees for the blue flash of a Jay’s wings, but none came up. After half an hour, it was time to admit defeat – nature, although lovely, just couldn’t match the diverse colours of human trash.
I knew the first town was a long haul into the day – but there was a sort of rest area / fuel stop shown on the map where the route crossed a main road. I peered closely into the parking area as I went passed. Aside from a handful of campervans though, there was no other signs of life. One closed up hut looked like it may have been a café – perhaps not open yet, or closed on Sundays. Either way, it seemed to offer nothing – so instead I pulled to the side of the road a bit further along, part way up the hill leading away from the crossing. I had plenty of supplies anyway, so I fished some assortment of these out (including one of the now ever present bananas) for a quick snack, whilst also taking a leak (thus obeying endurance rule #1 – never stop for just one thing). It would be wrong to describe the next 40km as bland, or samey, or featureless – it was every bit as scenic as any part of Sweden so far, but it’s hard to recall specifics now. Aside from a lot of open road, trees, lakes, and rain – lots of rain. There was a cluster of houses just at the point the route turned right towards Norsjo. I quickly checked whether the fuel station café was open, but it was shut as Google had predicted. With the main town only around 5km further, I didn’t bother looking for the other café my cue cards had suggested (I’d also noted this as also being closed on Sunday).
Disappointingly, the “grill” in Norsjo which Google said would be open wasn’t – maybe the time or the weather. I was wet, and a little cold too. An indoor, hot meal would have been perfect to warm me up. Instead I circled back to the CoOp I’d passed on the way into town. I guess they probably had food options I could have microwaved, but it was too much effort to figure out – so I got a cardboard carton of pasta salad, loaded with black olives, lettuce and cheese. It was actually pretty tasty, and with a bit of menacing hovering, I managed to scare away some kids from the entrance area and grab one of the two or three chairs in the entrance area. So I did at least stay dry and warm whilst eating it. I’m exaggerating of course, their mum spotted my need and ushered them to move as soon as I came back from the checkouts. Fuelling up now and earlier had left me in dire need of a loo for the kind of thing you do not like to leave beside the roadside. I have been asked whether 6,000 calories per day makes this a problem. And yes, you do need more frequent and larger stops to cope with taking on board 3 or 4 times more fuel than a normal day. I was not hopeful when I went inside to ask a member of staff – loos did not seem common in Swedish supermarkets. But to my surprise, I was in luck. The helpful chap directed me through a “staff only” door into a large warehousing area at the back and very kindly let me use their staff toilets. Needless to say, I did my best to leave them as clean as I found them, despite the extra-large load they had just suffered.
It was raining again as I left Norsjo – or maybe still, I hadn’t really paid attention to whether it had actually stopped. The riding followed an interesting little part of the route after around 25km. Turning right and left across a main road, it swung onto a quieter country lane with a sequence of what felt like lakeside or maybe holiday homes stretched out along it. It was a delightful area, that became more interesting still at a small centre of the community ahead. The little hamlet of Kusfors had clearly been heavily influenced by the arrival of the railway. Beside the road were a number of signs indicating this heritage, and beyond the village store, directly beside the lake, a large static steam train stood proudly on a short section of remaining track. Leaving Kusfors was a little more strenuous than the long, flat, dead straight section coming in. Where the road turned away from the lake it rose up sharply – only 100m or so of vertical, but with a gradient around 9% it put some strain into the legs. It was done quickly though, and the next 20km of riding were pleasant and rolling (if still occasionally damp).
I’d originally intended just a short supermarket stop in Jorn – quick water refill, drinks and snacks. But chatting with some locals outside I learned of a food truck a couple of blocks away. Their comment of “just burgers and fries, but good” was all I needed to hear, and I rode a bit deeper into the town. The lady running the truck seemed have only just opened but she quickly fired up the frier and made me a huge carton of freshly cooked fries. I wonder now why I didn’t also get a burger, but I was already kind of full – the fries were plentiful, and I only just managed to finish them. The truck had a very small awning which I hid under scoffing down the scalding hot fries as more drops of rain fell.
I’d barely got 5km beyond Jorn before the wind started to become more than a little troubling. So much so, after slogging up a long ramp to a ridge that had been visible for some time I paused to take a photo of the wind turbines (the header shot for this episode). My path had swung into the direction they were facing, taking the full force of the wind until I dropped off the ridge to lower ground again where it was a little calmer. In the valleys beyond railways became a regular feature of the afternoon. For long stretches I seemed to be riding alongside some tracks or other, many of the villages along the way being dotted with small stations. I wasn’t sure if it was the same line as Kusfors – probably not given the scale of the hillside since then. But clearly this area was well-served area with rail lines.
I knew on a Sunday, through small sleepy villages, the chances of a full blown restaurant was unlikely. My cue cards noted a shop which may be open around the 165km mark though. So on reaching the village of Langtrask I turned left and headed a few blocks across the rail lines and into the village to see if I could find it. The shop was there – but seemed to be some kind of “honesty” based 24 hour store. A lady outside explained that you used a bank card to get access, serv yourself, and then scanned and paid for whatever you took at the exit. It was a novel sounding idea and I was keen to try it – but sadly, my cards were refused. Only local bank cards seemed to be allowed. It was a little frustrating – especially as according to my cards, there probably wouldn’t be anything else for the remaining 60km. Food wise I could manage, but my water reserve would be running short by then (from my last stop in Jorn to the end was over 100km). I could manage though, so I rode on.
As luck would have it, most of the the remaining kilometres to my overnight stop were steadily downhill. So although I didn’t find any kind of shop open from that point, at least my progress was fairly rapid. Although I did make a short photo stop for an especially significant building at 197.5km. When studying the maps, I’d failed to find any kind of lodging along this stretch – and as a last resort, had stuck a waypoint in for a covered bus stop I’d spotted on Street View. Now alongside it, it looked exactly like the picture I had seen. I reckon the roof would have offered some cover even from the heavier rain we’d had, so it wasn’t a bad fallback plan given I had a waterproof bivvy and warm summer inner bag in my saddle pack. The town of Alvsbyn was only another 25km though, which I’d covered quickly with the easier riding.
A short section of path along a busy highway soon became the run in to the town itself. Where this reached a roundabout I swung left onto a cycle path and made my way to the Hotell Villa Sparta which was a few blocks beyond. Getting into the hotel involved a phone call to the remote call centre who gave me the code to the front door. Inside though, the automated terminals for getting your card key were all offline. Calling the helpful lady again, she directed me behind the reception counter to a drawer where they kept the manual keys for each room. Not a sole was around as I let myself in – so I decided, with no one to ask, I may as well grant myself permission to store my bike in the room. Although I did not immediately go up to my room. With no staff on site, the restaurant was not open for dinner – and would not be open for breakfast either. So I headed back into the town centre for supplies.
My original plan was to get both dinner and breakfast at the CoOp – but as I made my way there I passed a pizzeria, which seemed like a much better idea. So I ducked in and checked they were staying open, made a quick dash up to the shop for breakfast supplies, and returned to order a pizza for dinner. Overall, despite the rain, wind, longer distance, and zero facilities hotel, the day had worked out pretty well. I sat eating my pizza rather pleased with things. I was 30km up on the cue card plans, had gone over the magic 3,000km, and it was still early evening. Plenty of time to do some laundry and have a decent sleep. Before leaving the restaurant I also sorted accommodation for the night beyond. It was another fairly basic looking hostel, but it seemed workable – a 205km day tomorrow, which would leave me perfectly located for the the major milestone of Gate 4 and the Arctic Circle the day after. Supplies bought, and evening meal done, I wheeled back to the hotel with a massive sense of satisfaction. The bike fitted easily in the lift, and the room was a decent size with everything I needed. The bed was very comfortable – although by this stage, pretty much any flat surface was good enough for a solid night’s sleep.