With our obligatory photos taken, Alison was accosted by a crazy Italian cyclist who asked her to photograph him in front of the monument. He had ridden all the way from Sicily, following the route first taken by pilgrims hundreds of years ago. They would collect up some of the local seaweed ( which look like baseball sized onion bhaji's ) , walk to the Nordkapp and throw the balls into the sea to show their commitment to God.
There is now a fully mapped route from Sicily to the Nordkapp, called the E1 European long distance path which is a hint to the original.
With the photos taken we had a look around the rest of the site on our way back to the bikes. There was an interesting series of coin installations called "Children of the Earth". It must of been quite a privilege to have been chosen as one of the seven children.
Stuart and Alison went off the explore the café and tourist centre, and the rest of us had a look at the vast array of overland vehicles in the carpark.
There were lots of motorcycles including a Caponord from Finland. As it was posted on the forum that we would be arriving today, had the owner ridden up to meet us? We never did find out.
Back at the bikes we had been joined by another "fare dodger" from Holland on a BMW F800GS.
Finn, Mark and I waited a while for Stuart and Alison. They were obviously caught up in a whirlwind of tourist tat in the gift shop, so we left them to it.
There are a few small villages on the island of Mageroya. So we set off to explore. First stop was Skarsvag, a small busy fishing port. Finn spotted some reindeer feeding right next to the harbours edge. I imagine these must be the Nordic equivalent of salt marsh lamb.
Finn signaled for a coffee stop, and we found a café down at the end of the harbor. It was a café and b&b called the North Cape Experience that offered tourist trips of various sorts. Finn spotted the chalk board signs for the fish and crab specials and started salivating! I was still feeling the after effects of our late night whisky exploites, so I just ordered a large coffee and freshly baked lingonberry muffin in my best Norwegian.
"Is that an English accent?" said the guy behind the counter. "Yes" I replied. " Hi, I'm Jonathan. I'm from Surrey mate. Where about are you guys from?"
Jonathan sailed into Skarsvag a few years ago after some time in the Seychelles. He fell in love with the place and never left. He married a stunning blond lady, who I was introduced to, and set up the café and tourist trip business. He was doing alright for himself. And, I had to admit I was more than a little bit jealous.
Jonathan showed Finn the huge tanks outside, where you could choose your dinner fresh from the sea. Seeing the size of some of the fish, you would need a lot of chips! The café was a nice place to be. It seemed to be a bit of a community centre for the villagers, who were coming and going after a bit of a chat with each other. There were some prints of old photos on the wall, showing what life was like years ago. It must of been hard, and very cut off from the rest of the world.
I could of sat there all day talking to Jonathan, but we said our goodbyes and rode on a bit further.
The next stop was Gjesvaer. The road to the village was bleak with very little vegetation growing through the rocky soil. It was a very rugged, manly landscape. Just before we entered the village the road took us through a bolder strewn valley before depositing us out into a simply breathtaking panorama of the whole village.
It was as if the Norwegian Tourist Board waited for unsuspecting tourists at the top of the hill. And, then BAM, slapped them across the face with an icy palm shouting " HOW'S THAT FOR A VIEW!"
The village was empty with tourists. A few locals were busy working at a fish processing factory. There were people tending their gardens , who waved hello as we rode by. It was my favorite part of the whole island.
Leaving Gjesvaer, we made our way back the way we had came. The main road was getting busier with tourist coaches and campervans, all heading for the Nordkapp. We had one more village to visit, which was situated down a narrow road a few kilometres from the hytte.
Kjelvik is the smallest of the villages. It has a tiny harbor crammed full of red and white fishing boats. They looked vibrant against the sombre backdrop of the mountains behind. There was very little else here other than an art gallery, which was closed for renovations.
We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the porch of our hytte, chatting, researching the next few days of the trip, and watching the world go by. All the passing motorcyclists waved, as motorcyclists do the world over. We even spotted a few of the motorcycles we had seen on our travels up through Scandinavia. It seems we all had the same destination, but took different routes.
Tourist busses were streaming past at regular intervals. Mark noticed that the people on the busses were looking at us as the passed by. So, we started waving at them too. We got a few waves back, but not from everyone. Finn said it was because they were shocked at the state of my undergarments hanging on the line!
It is a shame that most of the tourists that passed by would only go to the Nordkapp Centre, spend an hour or so looking around, and then head back to Alta again. The villages were the real star of Mageroya.
Tomorrow we start making our way south, along the west coast.
Here is part 7 of my vlog:
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