Sunday 26th July 2015
I woke up feeling excited about where we were going today. If you pick up any travel brochure, or visit a Norwegian Tourism website there will be at least one article about the Lofoten Islands. They are noted for their dramatic mountainous scenery, and stunning sheltered fishing villages. Much of the islands are untouched, and have been that way for thousands of years. Well today, I was about to find out if the pictures in the brochures were true.
We all woke early and were packed up by 8. I had slept right through, with no signs of The Bear. Mark had been in contact with Stuart and Alison. They had managed to find the campsite we couldn't. The site was pre-book only. They had found the website while in Tromso and booked themselves in. Their hytte was a converted shipping container with modern furnishings. It sounded good. They were going to meet us at Moskenes Camping tonight. As there is really only one route from the top of the islands to the bottom, we may bump into them somewhere on our travels.
We left the campsite and headed north out of Harstad on route 83. The scenery began to get very beautiful, very quickly. Even though there was still some morning mist about, it was still a stunning place to ride.
The sun was slowly burning off the mist. And, with each minute that passed the views just got better and better. I was looking for a spot to stop and take a photo, and found a great spot at the end of someones driveway. Imagine opening your curtains in the morning to be greeted with a scene like this. Mark had also stopped to take a few snaps.
It was only a twenty minute crossing. As it was not long since breakfast, we didn't bother with a coffee. We would find somewhere further up the road. There were some interesting signs on the door through to the canteen.
We were waiting with the bikes in plenty of time following our embarrassing incident on the last ferry. There was a car in front of us as the ferry was docking with a young family eagerly climbing in. The Mum smiled and said hello as she got into the passenger seat. She was looking around, as Dad was nowhere to be seen. I think she was beginning to feel embarrassed for blocking us in. Then as the loading ramp was beginning to lower, Dad appears and hurriedly makes his way to his car with a plate of pancakes. I had a chuckle to myself, as he was now in our shoes! I imagine his wife gave him a bit of an earful.
We found a little grassy area further along the fjord and stopped to take in the view. There were signs that someone had camped their recently, as there was fresh ash in a ring of stones. It would be a great view to wake up to.
We rode on for another hour to the far end of the fjord. It was time to stop for coffee. Finn found us a nice café at a campsite. There was a mouth watering selection of homemade cakes to choose from. The attractive young lady ( aren't they all! ), recommended the apple cake. It was delicious. And, it tasted even better sat out enjoying the sunshine on the deck, overlooking the fjord.
With our belly's full of cake, our caffeine addictions satisfied, and our tans topped up, it was time to press on a little further.
We joined the E10 which is the arterial highway through the islands. Even so, it was virtually free of traffic. This was just as well. The views were so impressive they became a little distracting and it would of been easy to end up running off the road, or into the path of an oncoming vehicle.
I found the next few kilometres a little annoying. The scenery would be just getting to its most epic, and then the road would disappear into a tunnel! The road would then deposit you into the next stunning scene. This was repeated 5 or 6 times.
It was exiting one of these tunnels that we became stuck behind a queue of motorhomes. The tunnel led onto a bridge. One by one the motorhomes would exit the tunnel, see the amazing view, slow to a crawl while a photo was taken and then speed up again. This slowed our progress slightly, so we pulled off the road at the next view point to let them move on.
Here we met a couple of Austrian guys on BMW's. They had been caught riding in rain showers for the last few days. They were happy with the sunny weather that was about today. They were nice guys, and wished us well for the remainder of our trip.
The view point overlooked Sortland on the far side of the bay. It was a nice place to get off the bike and stretch our legs. There were lots of bikers waving as they went past. The Islands seemed to be a popular place for motorcycle tours
We stopped at Svolvaer to fuel up both the bikes and ourselves. I bought a hot ham and cheese sub, a coffee and 3 bolle, from the nice blond girl behind the counter. It was a Statoil station, but she must of been an ex-Shell employee, as she was pushing a 9. I took my food over to the seats by the window to watch the world go by.
The service station seemed to be the central hub for all the beautiful local people. I felt a little guilty sitting next to the window. I was expecting one of the staff to ask me to move on, like a homeless person sitting on the step of a posh London boutique.
As we get back onto our bikes, it was starting to drizzle. It doesn't last long though, and soon the sun is back. There is quite a bit of cloud still around but it quickly blows over too. The roads are getting a little more twisty than they were this morning, as they snake around the smaller fjords and rocky formations.
Another hour of riding soon passed and the scenery was never ending. Norway was being more than a little greedy. It had the stunning mainland. And laying claim to these islands as well was taking the piss.
Finn spotted a scenic viewpoint sign, and we all turned off into the carpark. Mark and I were just getting off our bikes when an overly enthusiastic young family rush over to us. They were acting like we had arrived to save them from being stranded for months on a deserted island. I was trying to take my helmet off and my earplugs out, so I could hear what they were saying.
It turned out they were from Stratford on Avon. They were travelling around Norway in their campervan. Every so often they would park up, get out their bikes, and cycle around exploring the area. Mum, and the son were on racing bikes. Dad and the little girl were on a cool looking tandem.
Dad had offered a £5 reward to the first of them to spot a UK numberplate. Mark and I were the first ones they had seen, hence the excitement. We chatted with them for a while. Mum and Dad were keen to find out what the very north of the country was like. I gave the two kids some of my stickers, and they all rode off waving as they went.
A series of wooden steps led from the carpark to the top of a rocky hill. Here a large wooden deck provided a 360 degree view of the jaw dropping scene in front of us. It was very tranquil sat up at the top. Even the sound of the traffic far below us could not be heard.
I had a quick look at my map before we moved on. We were now about 90 minutes from our campsite for the night. We had loads of time, as it was just after 2pm. Finn had heard from some friends of his, that there was a motor museum just off the main road twenty or so kilometres ahead.
It was worth a look, so Finn led the way. More glassy fjords came and went before the scenery became more coastal. I made a few riding mistakes where I wasn't really looking where I was going. I had to take avoiding action a couple of times as I got a bit close to the edge of the road!
Isolated white sandy beaches started to appear. The surrounding dark, menacing looking mountains seemingly out of place with the rest of the landscape.
The as we arrived at a village of Flakstad, mother nature delivered her best surprise yet. White sandy beach stretched out along the whole bay. It was like being transported to another world. Here we were, well inside the Artic Circle, sat overlooking a perfect white sandy beach. If a young lady had appeared with a tray of Pina Colada's, I wouldn't of been surprised.
Reluctantly, I climbed back onto my bike and we set off further south. Finn had spotted signs for the museum, and we turned off down a small side road which led us to a fishing village.
The motor museum was a strange place. It was an old boat yard filled with an eccentric collection of items ranging from 100 year old boat engines to stuffed seabirds. Some of the engines were slowly put-put-putting away, to provide an aural backdrop in some of the less random engine sheds.
There was also a working blacksmith shop on site. The sights, sounds and smells took me back to when I had just left school. I worked at a small engineering workshop which had a forge running most of the time. It was like being transported back to those days of learning new skills.
After looking around for a while, we stopped at the café for afternoon refreshments. I had my first icecream of the trip. We sat overlooking the little harbor, soaking up the sun. The water was crystal clear, and you could see right to the bottom.
The final kilometres to Moskenes have to be the most photographed part of the Lofoten Islands. An impressive modern bridge connects Moskenesoya to the rest of the island group. The road starts off with some impressive fjords. But, it is not as if we have seen any bad ones!
The road then led us out to the coast, on a modern newly finished highway complete with open walled tunnels so as not to spoil the view. They had obviously spent a great deal of money on this twenty kilometre stretch.
The modern road led us into a tunnel. Exiting the other side was like turning back time. The road became a narrow single track which linked the tiny fishing hamlets together. Traffic was a bit of a nightmare. Motorhomes and tourist coaches were struggling to negotiate some of the tight turns which slowed progress down to a crawl in places.
This was probably just as well, as tourists were wandering about in the road trying to get the best photo spots. The village of Reine is the most popular. Reine is a living travel brochure. Its red and white wooden buildings, sprinkled over the shoreline like hundreds and thousands on a delicious cake. The contrast between the delicate little houses, and the imposing granite mountains was truly magical.
Finding the campsite was easy, as it is located directly behind the dock where we will catch a ferry tomorrow. As, we approached the reception building some familiar faces were waiting for us. Stuart and Alison had just checked in. We did the same and pitched our tents.
Moskenes Camping is hugely popular. It is one of the few campsites on the southern island. And, due to its location next the ferry terminal. There is a large area of hard standing for campervans and motorhomes, and a few grassy areas for tents. The tents were pitched right on top of each other. Lots of backpackers and a few bikers had already set up their tents. It seemed to be a case of if your tent fits in the space available, take it before someone else does.
Stuart had a portable BBQ with him, so he fired it up and Mark and I went for some supplies. We spent a nice evening sat around the BBQ. Mark discovered the pub next to the reception building, which he thought was very reasonable at £6 a pint. Finn produced his bottle of Danish Bitters and handed round some warming rations.
A Finnish guy and his teenage son came wandering over as we were eating. They had been out on a fishing trip during the day, and had a decent catch of fish. They had too much for his family to eat, so had grilled up the rest and was offering them to any hungry campers. Stuart took him up on his kind offer, but the rest of us were stuffed. I suggested trying the hoards of backpackers and walkers in the other tents.
It was then that we met a young couple from Yorkshire. They were taking public transport and hiking around Norway, trying to see as much as they could in the three weeks holiday they had. It sounded like a tough way to travel.
He was a very handsome chap, and Alison was smitten. He looked like a muscular Tom Daly. Alison drifted off into a Fifty Shades of Grey daydream, no doubt hoping he would dive in her direction, as she watched him pitch their tent. Mark and I were in stitches!
In complete contrast his beautiful girlfriend was a tiny slip of a thing. How she was able to carry the huge backpack she had with her was amazing. It was nearly as tall as she was!
They both looked completely knackered by the time they had some food on the go. Mr Muscles was trying to hang up some washing on the children's swings near their tent. Feeling sorry for them both and hating to see them struggle, I lent them my washing line and pegs.
As the sun started to lower in the sky, the wind got stronger, and the temperature dropped. I sought the welcoming embrace of my down filled sleeping bag, and settle in for the night.
Tomorrow we will catch a ferry back to the mainland.
Here is part 10 of my vlog:
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