How do you get home now?
It was a fair question which friend and colleague Martin sent me over instant messenger. So here’s one final instalment of the NorthCape4000 journey covering just that. Plus some impressions and thoughts which have come to me over the weeks since finishing
10 Aug 2024, North Cape, around 14:00
Photos done and card stamped, I took several laps of the visitor centre in the hope Christopher, Benjamin and Viktor were still around. For some reason I’d assumed they were ahead of me – only later in the evening would I realise they were about an hour behind me. In some ways though, it was a blessing that I gave up the search for them when I did. Heading towards the café and bar, the photographer came through with me (his name still eludes me). I offered to buy him coffee, but it seemed like they had an arrangement with the centre so the cup he poured was already covered. I took up his recommendation of the waffles – ideally, I fancied something savoury, but the choices were limited and the waffles were fresh and tasty looking, loaded with cream and fruit. Most important of course was the celebratory beer – with alcohol this time. It was the first proper beer I had drunk in over four months, and I did not even look at the price so as not to spoil the moment. The photographer and I exchanged parting words as I headed towards a table and he went back to the main hall to prepare for the last few arrivals.
Honestly, it did taste good – but maybe not quite as great as my mind had imagined. I’d become used to the zero beer taste, and whilst this was better, it was just a beer after all. And it was eclipsed really by the moment. I may have been celebrating on my own (well not quite on my own, as Yoli was there in spirit and on chat messenger) but that is pretty normal for the end of an epic adventure like this which ends up in the middle of absolutely nowhere. And there it was again, that question. As the emotions slowly subsided, the nagging reality came back – how was I getting back? Freed now of the self-supported requirement, Yoli had stepped in and sorted me a hotel in Honningsvåg for the evening. Being a Sunday, the first and only bus to Alta was tomorrow at 16:00. I wasn’t quite sure how it worked, or if there would be space for me and the bike, but it was at least one part which seemed doable. I also wasn’t sure how to get my bike packed even when I reached Alta. Actual, proper bike boxes had run out locally days before and the event group was covered with posts about people getting cartons and bubble wrap from a local DIY store called “Biltema” and making their own. That did not sound easy or fun, but it was at least a problem for tomorrow or Monday morning. Also something I could sort later was flights later – once I’d got to my hotel. But the pressing question was how to get there.
I wandered back to the car park, on the way checking that I could get back into the visitor centre on my one ticket – the chap at the turnstiles assured me it was valid for the full day. Somewhat reluctantly I trudged back to the bike. I was slowly resigning myself to the likelihood that another 30km of hills and what was now a fierce headwind was my only option. I loaded up the bike out and wheeled from behind the wall back to the main car park. I figured I’d go past a few of the RVs on the way out and see if any were leaving and would give me a ride. And then I saw it. Some distance away, but directly in my eye line, was an empty, parked, public bus. I wasn’t really looking at it at first – I was looking beyond at the area where the RVs were parked. But slowly something about the number on the front seemed familiar. It was the 110 – the bus to Alta, on a normal day, but today it was the final bus of the day, leaving at 3pm and finishing in Honningsvåg. I had known there was one more bus, at 3pm, but the event guide had told us they didn’t take bikes any more. With it stood right in front of me, I decided to see if I could find the driver and maybe convince him to bend the rules.
“I’m not sure where he is, but they’re usually in the café. Check for a guy who looks like a bus driver”
This was the advice from the lady in the ticket booth outside the centre. As vague as it was, it was 100% accurate and useful. I walked back inside, and at the first table right by the café entrance was a guy who could only be a bus driver.
“You look like a bus driver”
It’s possibly the most forward and direct introduction I have ever used, but it made the guy burst out laughing and nearly spit out his coffee in the process.
“I am”, he replied. “Can I help you?”
He could, more than help me, as it turned out. With absolutely no convincing required, he agree to take me and the bike. And, in the process, another cyclist by the name of Julian, overheard us and also managed to get a ride too. We agreed to meet him back by the bus a little before 3pm, and I went to grab another coffee.
My Voile straps came into use once more as we loaded up. My bike got pole position lying down in a narrow shelf like section of the luggage hold, but Julian had to remove his wheels and needed something to tie everything to one of the uprights in the hold to keep it from sliding around. His frame was carbon, so he had reason to take care. The bus ride back was pure delight – a chance to enjoy the incredible scenery fully, and savour just being here, this far North. Julian and I struck up some conversation on our respective journeys as the bus bobbed and swayed along. The weather was utterly insane – blue skies and 27 celsius, in the arctic.
Shortly before we arrived, the bus driver mentioned he would be the driver for the first part tomorrow as well, and waved vaguely in the direct of a petrol station at the start of town. He said if we met him there half an hour early tomorrow, he’d let us on and make sure we got our bikes stowed and had a seat before his first official stop at the start of the route to Alta in town. It wasn’t exactly clear how this worked, but it sounded like a great option so Julian and I agreed to meet there tomorrow if we didn’t see each other sooner. I must confess, the rest of the day was mostly resting, eating, and a bit of wandering around taking a few photos neat the hotel. Although much improved, I was still lacking energy for anything more adventurous. I did find a good restaurant for one last reindeer steak and an extra beer – which I ended up barely being able to finish. Clearly I may have found my riding boots, but my drinking boots were stuck somewhere back in May still. More troubling was that it didn’t really bother me either – I could be heading towards becoming a two beer lightweight.
11 Aug 24, Honningsvåg
Short version: after enjoying a large and slow breakfast, I checked out, rode into town, and whiled away a few hours in a café where quite by chance I met Julian, before we both headed back to our “unofficial” bus stop at the edge of town. Actually, there isn’t really much worth adding in the longer version now I come to think of it – just a lot of cups of coffee, eating, and chatting.
We’d parked ourselves under the canopy of the petrol station but were just debating whether the bus stop over the road was a better place to wait when the driver came past, saw us waving, and pulled over at the stop which he wasn’t really due at. He urged us to get loaded quickly, before heading to the far edge of town to pick up passengers at the official first stop. The bus ride to Alta took a few hours – although I was paying more attention to savouring the scenery and chatting with Julian rather than looking at the time. We stopped to change drivers at Olderfjord where I had spent the last night of the event. Beyond there the route was all new and unfamiliar. I was glad not to be riding it though. Not that it was bad in any way. It was just as lovely as the ride up here, but despite it only being 250km or so, my body had spent enough time on the bike. I just wanted to get home now, as quickly and easily as possible.
Yoli had done a great job with that in terms of the next hotel. The bus passed the Biltema store just moments before dropping us off in Alta. It was a five minute walk from the hotel she had booked me into. It was too late to go looking for boxes tonight, but they opened decently early tomorrow. It was still going to be tight to buy cardboard and tape, get back to the hotel and figure how to build a box, and then get to the airport. I probably had no more than two hours at most before I needed to be in a cab, so I’d have to motor in the morning. I was probably more nervous about this part than anything over the last few days. Even with getting sick, the event cutoff had never really felt like a deadline I was going to miss. The flight tomorrow did though. All I could do was start early, and not hang around.
12 Aug 24, Alta
I loitered optimistically around the breakfast area 15 minutes early – and sure enough, the staff obliged and let us in to get coffee and stoke up. Once done I headed straight for the DIY store, getting there just as they were opening up. I had a plan already – I’d checked their box sizes, and options for tape etc last evening and made a list. I also included a box cutter, bubble wrap, and corrugated packing card too for good measure. But the real life saver was that they had small, cheap suitcases with wheels. That would let me strip literally everything off the bike and dump it in the case. I figured the weight saving would dramatically reduce the need for the box to be structurally strong. It just needed to be well padded and stay in place – there was nothing heavy inside to break it or fall out. With a little convincing, the lady in the shop even said I could take the trolley back to the hotel as long as I promised to return it. It was so loaded down that I’m not sure how else I’d have got it all back to the underground parking lot where the bike stood.
The next 90 minutes were frantic. I had a rough design in mind, which sort of worked – basically splitting the cartons flat, and taping them into 2 larger sides, using the existing folds to make top, side, and bottom edges. It was not pretty, or that stable, but it kind of worked. One other thing I bought really salvaged the design though – an industrial roll of cling film. If you’ve ever flown through a South African airport you will see places that will cling wrap your hold bags – every inch of them, wrapped multiple times. I took the exact same approach here. What started as a wobbly, flimsy box ended up pretty solid. Ugly as heck – but solid. I managed almost all of this solo too, with the tools I had on the bike, plus the knife from Biltema. I did ask for one bit of assistance – a long handled Allen key, which a friendly Kiwi biker graciously offered me from his toolkit to shift one of my pedals, which was stuck fast. He also took a photo of me working on the Heath Robinson contraption of a box.
I was finished with just enough time to get the trolley back as promised before carefully loading the box into a cab. Ideally I’d have liked a direct flight home, but everything went via somewhere – in my case, Oslo. I wasn’t sure the box would survive too much baggage handling – amazingly it did though, with zero damage to the bike inside. The story really ends at Alta airport – but with one final twist. Rider #29 who I had met at breakfast on the last morning in Sweden was in departures waiting to also board the flight. He had been much more laisse faire about the whole process though – he rocked up at the airport with nothing packed, lucked straight into a proper solid box from someone arriving, and was sorted with none of the mad DIY rush. Whilst a part of me felt envious of this, a bigger part was not. The whole “build your own bike box in Alta” process is such an integral part of NorthCape4000 folklore, my event would have felt incomplete if I’d missed out on this one last facet of the incredible adventure.
Summing Up
Did the event live up to expectation?
I guess if you’ve soldiered through the whole blog you’ll already know the answer – but if not, it’s a resounding “YES!”
Was your pacing right – did it change?
I learnt a lot of lessons about myself and my riding on my two attempts at TCR. The benefit of those experiences helped me to know what would be a sustainable pace for me right from the first day. I did get marginally quicker as the event went on, but overall I rode conservatively and within a level where I could recharge properly on sleep and food each day.
Were the cue cards worth the effort?
Beyond any doubt. I spent many hours studying the route maps to create them and all of that effort paid off. Because of them I knew which stretches were no problem for food or lodging, and when sparse sections were coming up and where I could find the few re-supply points. As well as adding confidence and security, this saved me a ton of time having to search around for things. I knew what was nearby, when it was open, and could get what I needed efficiently. I have carried these cards on TCR too, but the card layout and way I used them on NorthCape4000 was more effective.
At what point did you begin to think you’d finish?
When I saw the car park at the end! But seriously, I didn’t dare to dream too far ahead – that just sets you up for an emotional roller coaster if or when the next issue arises. It’s much better to just think about the road and challenge immediately in front of you and trust that getting over that repeatedly will get you to the end. I did literally see daylight at the end of the deep, cold tunnel onto Magerøya island though. When I stood in the sunshine getting my cold weather gear off I knew I would finish. Even if I’d had to walk on the last hills I had time in hand to make it.
How was your prep?
I was a bit worried I had not done enough long rides in preparation – relying instead on a lot of long slow endurance sessions on the indoor trainer, plus a few kit check rides. I knew I had enough experience of long multi-day events to not really practice that part. I just needed to be fit enough to get through the first four days of hillier riding, and then ease myself in from there. I’m sure that’s not an approach which would work for everyone, but I got to the start fresh and not feeling over fatigued and I don’t think there was any point where I felt my fitness was going to let me down. Of all the challenges along the way, my body’s ability to handle the physical exertion was never really one of them.
What was the hardest part?
Physically – getting over the Alps and out of southern Germany. But because it was expected, it wasn’t mentally hard. The hardest mental part was without doubt picking myself up after a night of sickness and telling myself I could keep going. I really needed a day in bed to recover, and it was just willpower that got me back on the bike.
Favourite part?
I’d struggle to pick one moment to be honest – all of it was special, in different ways. I think probably the Finnish glamping pods, with the wood fired sauna and meeting the guys was the least expected part and definitely a highlight. I was quite surprised too at how picturesque Honningsvåg was at the end, although beautiful weather and my huge sense of satisfaction at having completed the event probably had a lot to do with that.
1 thing extra you’d take, 1 thing you’d leave behind?
I would definitely pack an easier to fit spare tyre – that would have saved me a stressful hour in Denmark. That aside, I’m struggling to really pick 1 thing I missed though, or didn’t need. There were plenty of things I didn’t use – but those were for eventualities that thankfully did not arise. The next time my inner voice wonders if an 11 year old bicycle pump needs replacing though I am definitely going to listen to it and go shopping for a new one. The cold weather gear seemed like needless dead weight right up to the point it became essential – so if you ever find yourself planning for this event, do not skimp there. Use light gear for sure, but make sure you have enough to be warm down to zero if needed.
Would you do it again?
Almost the same answer as Munga in 2018: yes and no. Yes because it is such an amazing experience. And No, because I have done it and there are other adventures out there. Except as I write that I feel a need to caveat it as a “maybe No”. Whilst a second go wouldn’t have quite the same sense of unknown about it, or the rush of “can I actually do this?”, it would still have the wonderful scenery and amazing adventure which comes from such a long bike journey. So there is a chance I may.
Did Christopher, Benjamin and Viktor all finish?
Yes, they did. In fact not much after me. I guess in hindsight I could probably have found them, but I was still in a shabby state and barely had much conversation in me. We keep in touch regularly on instant messenger though and I am sure our paths will cross again someday on more cycling adventures.
Will you have another go at TCR now?
I include this question because I’ve been asked it a lot, not because it’s actually occurred to me. You never say never, but I think it’s very unlikely. The exact reasons I chose NorthCape4000 and believed I could complete it are still, largely opposite to the realities of TCR. Even though I have now finished a 4,000km trans-european ride, I still don’t think I am any more likely to be able to complete a TCR within cutoff than on my previous attempts. Which really takes away the temptation to enter again.
Daily breakdown
And something I have never done before but which felt appropriate here was to include a breakdown of my riding stats for each day of the event
Links
Finally, a couple of links for those contemplating this ride for themselves:
- My Kit List
- The Cue Cards I used – printed double side, it uses a single sheet of A4. Then cut up so that each card is a handy reference for several days at a time. In areas with plenty I kept them short – entries every 50 or 60km with towns or places to stay. In sparse areas, I listed pretty much anything that looked to be useful.