Skoganvarre – 3,989km completed
There are sadly no photos for this entry – the header is just a Google streetview clip of where I ended up.
The last trip to the bathroom was just for an actual shower, and to clean my teeth. Even if I’d wanted to use the loo there was nothing left inside to get rid of. Eating slowly, I managed the smallest part of the packed breakfast from my fridge – juice, yoghurt, fruit, and half a slice of bread and cheese. The rest was too much. I left an apologetic message on the booking site to the owner for not managing more, and not fully being able to clean all my plates. I did bag and drop the few items of trash though at the recycle bins as requested on my slow trudge back to the road.
All my energy was gone, and the little I’d managed to eat wasn’t close to kicking in yet to replace any of it. I could barely turn the pedals – even the slightest uphill gradient forced me to get off and walk. But thankfully, I was beyond the really hilly terrain. Just a couple of small ramps and a run down to the coast not far ahead. In fact it was so close, on seeing the 25km signs I immediately began to speculate whether the hotel there would have been a better bet and saved the whole episode. But in truth, I had no way of knowing the real cause – it may not have been the campsite water anyway. And the hotel ahead would have been 250km yesterday, a distance I would not have had the confidence to book until the hour gain which only occurred late in the day after my plans had been made. So overall, it was a waste of what little energy I had to speculate – I just slogged on until I reached the left turn into the town of Lakselv. I had no energy to continue without a break – so I pulled into the parking lot beyond the hotel and up to the X-tra supermarket. I was too tired even to enjoy the change of letter in the shop naming.
I dithered there for more than an hour before I managed to haul myself onto the bike again. In between, I made two visits to the shop. The first for coke, snacks and the usual supplies. The second in a vain search for custard – something I remember buddy Peter reckoning was ideal when your stomach was in the kind of trouble mine had been. I didn’t find any, and fell back to some sweet looking yoghurt with a fruity syrup in a separate corner. I can’t say it did a lot, but it was some extra sugars and a few calories.
I managed just 35km further on the next leg – all of it slow and painful, but scenic as heck since it was mostly along the coastline heading north. There were a lot of sections of roadworks, many of which were gravel stretches, and a few hills too. Riding along my first ever actual fjord would have been an amazing event on any other day, and I was able to look up and enjoy the scenery to some extent. But a lot of its beauty didn’t fully reach me. The route swung inland briefly, over a hump of higher ground, just over which I spotted another Coop in Billefjord. I was done – I needed a stop. I had hopes too that there may be some accommodation here. By now I’d covered just enough ground to put me in reach of a finish tomorrow, albeit later than planned. But although my cue cards hinted otherwise, I couldn’t find any lodging or room. The Coop, small as it was, at least had drink and some basic food – breads and the like but no sandwiches. The owner did kindly allow me to use the staff bathroom (at huge risk to himself, although he was unaware of that of course).
Sat on a bench outside, the afternoon was warm and sunny. I knew I could not go on much further, at least not yet. I’d already tried a bus stop for a lie down, but it was in full sun. Across the road was a large white building which looked like a church, but could feasibly have been a local town hall too (not that there was much actual town here). With people inside and a few cars arriving it was a tad busy, but the grassy shade around the side was too tempting. I did go inside and ask if they minded a smelly tramp-like bloke dossing down on their lawn. As much as I understood the reply, the gist seemed to be that it was OK as long as no one could actually see me. I wheeled around the corner, unloaded my saddle pack as a pillow and crashed out on the grassy lawn in the shade of the building. Sleep came almost instantly – the 50 minutes or so before my alarm dragged me back was just enough. Combined with another visit to the store for coke, or some such, I rode slowly on.
My remaining hope of somewhere to stay that I could realistically reach was 30km further on in Olderfjord. Even that was a stretch. At the end of a long northbound section, the coastline swung westwards into a deep bay – at the base of which I could see the little dots of buildings I was aiming for. But a strong headwind which I’d been sheltered from hit me full face as I turned into the bay. My progress towards those buildings was so slow I may as well have just got off and walked. Only pride, and the promise of the occasional freewheel down a small ramp prevented me from doing so. There didn’t appear to be any road on the other side of the bay which suggested the route must go uphill after the town, over higher ground to reach the coast again. I had nothing left inside for that. Whatever was available in the town – that was as far as I could go for the day. I passed a small store attached to a garage, and then the main tourist junction of the town – part café, part bus stop, part gift shop, and behind, with red letters on the roof was what looked like the hotel. Phew – my cards said this was here, but after the last town I was less than confident.
It wasn’t immediately clear how to get in – so I tailgated a lady entering through the doors. Inside, I asked if she worked there – and got the mixed news. Yes she did, and no, there were no rooms available in this part of the hotel. And definitely no, I couldn’t sleep on the couches. They looked comfy and all that I needed really so I pressed a couple of times, but she was resolute. My persistence did pay off though – reconsidering, she said maybe there was one cabin left at the back. Honestly, after last night, a cabin would be my last choice – but if it had a bed it’d do. I followed her back to the shop, and my luck was in. There was one last cabin. As I paid for this and got the key, she explained the rules, the layout, and where to drop the key for an early departure tomorrow. I declined the offer of sheets – I had a sleeping bag, but honestly I doubted even that would get used. The cabin was more spacious than expected, with a fridge, and three bunk beds stacked infeasibly in a tiny annex to the right. Packed in there they looked more like the end of a bad game of Jenga than a bedroom. None of that mattered though – because at the other end of the tin roofed shack, beyond the coffee table, there was a massive couch. The nearby shop was closing soon – but there was time for a quick one hour nap before heading there to get supplies for tomorrow. After that I had more time – the café was open until 8pm, so I had time for another couple of hours before some more substantial food. I set my alarm before allowing the enormous fatigue to wash over me fully. I sank down into the couch, fully clothed, and it swallowed me whole.
I felt already better after the second sleep – not ready to ride again, but more importantly I was ready to eat. Unexpectedly, I managed all of the massive burger, dripping with ketchup and juices – and most of the fries. The rest would work for breakfast, maybe. I was tempted by coffee, but needed sleep more, but an ice cream went down pretty well instead. I messaged with Christoper and Benjamin whilst eating – they were literally across the street sat on the beach. I could not be 100% sure this wasn’t something that could be passed to them – the last time I had been this violently ill was Noro Virus. So I suggested a meetup was a risky plan – plus I felt like shit and really could only think of sleep. Any level of conversation was beyond me. Sadly, we agreed catching here up wasn’t meant to be, but we’d keep an eye out for each other tomorrow. I’d already cancelled my hotel booking on the outskirts of Honigsvag – I knew earlier in the day I could not reach that far. I felt confident I could manage the remaining 127km to the finish tomorrow, but I’d need to do it in one go at a slow but steady pace. And with no idea how long it’d take, I set my alarm for 3am. It was an arbitrary time really given the perpetual daylight, but it felt enough leeway to reach the finish. The couch devoured me once more and I was out until the buzzing on my wrist woke me.