Crasher goes North: A damp start followed by a hot day in the saddle

Map of Day 4

Saturday 18th July 2015

Having dropped off to sleep after a long hot afternoon of riding, I am woken just after 1am by the sound of rain on the roof of my tent. At 6am it is still raining. Light, persistent rain. The kind of rain that clings to every surface. We were offered a two bed Hytte ( camping hut: think garden shed, with a couple of beds and a student hotplate )and we should of taken it.

I can hear Greg is awake in his tent next door. After a bit of a discussion, we decide to break camp, get on our way, and stop for some breakfast somewhere up the road.

The view from my tent. Not a bad scene to wake up to

Packing up wet tents is never fun first thing in the morning

Our plan for today was to head North East. As, I had arrived a day earlier than planned due to the ferry debarkle, we now had two days to get to the first planned meeting point in Mora, on Sunday.

I should explain at this point that there are a few of us planning to meet up at a couple of campsites on the way up to the Nordkapp. We are all travelling from different parts of Europe, and on different ferries. When planning the trip, Greg suggested a couple of places where we could meet up to form a convoy. The ultimate aim being to take a group photo at the Nordkapp.

We head towards Skotterud on some country lanes. The riding is good, with empty roads and lots of sweeping curves. It's just a shame I can't see any of the countryside due to the low misty rain stuff.

We stop at a petrol station for some fuel and breakfast. Scandinavian petrol stations are normally equipped with a fast food/ pastry counter. Hot dogs ( polser ) are the staple snack. There is usually a meal deal of some sort. The big offer at this one was 35NOK ( £2.80 ) for a coffee and an icecream. The woman behind the counter says she is having trouble selling icecream due to the weather. I buy a nice looking Danish pastry and a coffee. Greg buys a meal deal of three boller ( a cinnamon spiced fruit bun ) which are a popular treat, and a coffee. The coffee is really good. I never encounter a bad cup of coffee throughout the whole trip.

There is a lounge area in the shop. Greg tells me it is normal for Scandinavians to stop, have a coffee and a snack, and sit for a while before carrying on with their journey. He says I will see over the next few days why this is important, as the towns are quite a long way apart.

As we sit there sipping coffee, an old man comes in to buy a newspaper and pay for his petrol. He wanders over, says hello, and starts chatting to Greg in Norwegian. He has spotted my bike with a UK plate and wanted to say hello. He starts to talk to me in perfect English. So much for panicking about being able to communicate with the locals!

We chat for a while about our trip, and also about how he had travelled around in the UK. He then made his excuses and left, as he had his wife waiting outside in the car. Greg told me it was unusual for people over 55 to speak good English, as it was not taught in schools at that time. When they do speak it though, they like to practice it with any travelers they meet.

It had stopped raining so we set off again. Greg had looked at the weather forecast. As it didn't look too good the way we were heading, he suggested heading straight to Mora, and spend an extra day there exploring. We headed for Arvika, in the direction of the E45 which would take us up to Mora.

It was good to be riding on dry roads again. The woman in the petrol station had suggested a scenic back road to get us to Arvika. Her instructions were a little vague, and we ended up taking a few missed turns.

But, we soon found our way on some great roads. We joined the 61 at Charlottenberg, after heading in completely the wrong direction for a few miles due to the road signs disappearing. Both Greg and I clocked on to this fact pretty quickly, so no real harm was done. We even managed to find a short cut on the 238, through a village called Skog which cut off about 20kms from the journey. The views were also getting better.

At the junction where the 238 joined the E45, Greg pulls over at a roadside dinner. It must be lunch time then!

We were greeted by a nice lady who asked what I would like. I attempted to order a hamburger in Swedish. She spoke back in perfect English and thanked me for trying! Greg ordered the beef stew and dumplings which the nice lady recommended.

The hamburger was amazing. Served in a freshly baked bun, with homemade pickles, chunky chips
and a salad. Greg's stew looked good too. It was great food, and seemed cheap. I kept reading about how much eating out costs in Sweden. But, this only cost us about £6 each. The view from the window was pretty good too.

With full bellies we hit the road again. The E45 is the road I would of taken all the way from Gotthenburg to Mora, if I had not decided to meet up with Greg. I am so glad I didn't choose that option.

Mile after mile of straight featureless tree lined road. Greg had warned me that it was a necessary evil to come this way if I wanted to get to the Nordkapp in a reasonably quick amount of time. Some of the straights were hundreds of kilometres long. When a corner or a crest in the road appeared it was a welcome distraction.

As we entered the town of Torsby I could smell burning plastic, and assumed it must be from some kind of industry, as we were riding past some large factories. I had a cursory glance at all my luggage just in case one of the straps had caught on the exhaust.

The smell disappeared a few minutes later as we left the town and headed back into the wilderness. About another 50kms up the road, Greg's bike slowed, his engine died, and he pulled over off the road. He was trying to start his bike but it refused to turn over. His battery was flat. Now I knew what the burning smell was!

Greg removed the seat from his Caponord. His right hand seat panel was all scorched, and the wiring loom had burnt out.

Aprilia wiring looms are a common cause of breakdowns due to the cheap build quality and components used. Greg had upgraded his regulator rectifier a few months earlier so that his bike would be more reliable for this trip. His wiring crimps had vibrated through, and earthed on the frame causing a small fire in the loom! The battery was no longer able to be charged. And so the bike ran until the battery voltage ran down to a critical level.

Removing the seat panel revealed the full horror.

We were now stranded in the middle of nowhere with a cremated Caponord, and no spares. And, it was starting to rain.

Luckily Greg had made the wiring connections with quite a bit of length left on the loom. I decided to cut out the burnt wiring and try and join the good wiring back together again.  We had nothing to loose.

I got busy with the tools, while Greg held his jacket over us to shelter us from the rain. We had no joining crimps, so I bared back some of the wire and tightly twisted the wires together. I then wrapped some insulation tape round the wires as tight as I could.

The connections seemed strong enough. Now to see about starting the bike. There was just enough life in the battery to turn the engine over, but not enough for it to fire up. And, there was no way we were going to be able to bump start it. I had what I hoped would be the solution though. For this trip I had purchased a micro power pack to charge my netbook. It also had the function to act as a jump pack to start a car. It was supposed to be able to start a diesel V8 several times from one charge. Well I was about to see if it would start an Italian V twin stallion!

I connected the jump leads, and turned on the ignition. I pushed the start button and without any hesitation, the bike started. The risk now was that the bike would die if I disconnected the jump leads. With a firm 14.2 volts showing on the dash mounted voltmeter, I disconnected the leads. The bike not only kept running, but was running and charging well.

Greg and I hurriedly put the bike back together and he got going. I packed away my tools and took off after him. If his bike kept going, we both had enough fuel to get to Mora. We would then be in a bigger town, with more repair possibilities.

We got to Mora, and stopped at a petrol station just before the campsite. If the bike didn't start again we could push it from here. But, it did start again like there was nothing wrong with it.

We booked in at Mora Camping which is a large municipal campsite in the centre of the town. The site was huge with lots of motorhomes parked up. After finding a nice spot we put up our tents; just as the heavens opened. It rain hard for ten minutes and then stopped as quickly as it had started. It would continue to shower for the rest of the evening. We sat around talking and reliving the events of the day, as we listened to the live music coming from the far side of the site. It turns out this is the last night of a three day Swedish dance music festival. That is why there are so many motorhomes full of line dancing middle aged couples. It was a strange musical genre. Less Swedish House Mafia, and more Country and Western meets 1970's Eurovision! Luckily it stops at 11pm. I retire to my tent, and I am out like a light.

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