Friday 31st July 2015
Todays ride could go one of two ways depending on the weather. If it was cloudy and wet like it was yesterday, it would be a long torturous ride. If it was clear and sunny, it had all the makings of being an epic day. We were heading towards Bergen, via the FV13. The FV13 runs from Forde to Voss and passes over some of the most picturesque scenery in the region. It is one of the 18 designated National Tourist Roads. During my research for this trip, it was a constant favorite among those who had ridden it.
Looking out of the windows of our hytte, I could see that it was spitting with rain. Mark checked the weather forecast. It was changeable. We would be riding through lots of different valleys today. Yesterday taught us that no two valleys had the same weather. With an open mind we packed up and prepared to leave. I was feeling a bit lethargic this morning. I had a sore throat and my ears had popped. We had climbed up to 1197 metres yesterday, and my body was feeling the effects.
Our ride began by following the 60 along the shore of the Innvikfjorden. The light rain was all but gone, but the roads were damp. I was leading the pack today. And knowing the condition of Stuart's tyres, I set a nice steady pace.
The fjord was perfectly calm with barely a ripple on the surface. The huge mountains were still shrouded in the morning mist, which was slowly burning off with each passing kilometre.
Todays ride could go one of two ways depending on the weather. If it was cloudy and wet like it was yesterday, it would be a long torturous ride. If it was clear and sunny, it had all the makings of being an epic day. We were heading towards Bergen, via the FV13. The FV13 runs from Forde to Voss and passes over some of the most picturesque scenery in the region. It is one of the 18 designated National Tourist Roads. During my research for this trip, it was a constant favorite among those who had ridden it.
Looking out of the windows of our hytte, I could see that it was spitting with rain. Mark checked the weather forecast. It was changeable. We would be riding through lots of different valleys today. Yesterday taught us that no two valleys had the same weather. With an open mind we packed up and prepared to leave. I was feeling a bit lethargic this morning. I had a sore throat and my ears had popped. We had climbed up to 1197 metres yesterday, and my body was feeling the effects.
Our ride began by following the 60 along the shore of the Innvikfjorden. The light rain was all but gone, but the roads were damp. I was leading the pack today. And knowing the condition of Stuart's tyres, I set a nice steady pace.
The fjord was perfectly calm with barely a ripple on the surface. The huge mountains were still shrouded in the morning mist, which was slowly burning off with each passing kilometre.
A few kilometres along the shore, we came to the village of Olden. This tiny village is a popular stopping point for the huge cruise ships sailing around the fjords. The one parked at the dock this morning was the same one we had seen at Geiranger yesterday. The passengers were all boarding coaches to take them to the Birksdal glacier about 15kms away.
The small dock was littered with little tourist road-trains that offer guided tours of the village. It was all a bit too Disneyland for me.
The road began to narrow when we reached Karistova. A few kilometres further on the road turned inland away from the shore and began to climb.
The cloud was lifting all the time. I could begin to get a sense of the true scale of the fjord below.
As we approached the summit we came across some of the locals out for a morning stroll. They seemed completely unfazed by the traffic around them, and just carried on regardless.
The scenery became more rugged on the other side of the mountain pass. Rocky snow capped mountains filled the view, as the road snaked down to the valley floor far below. Small villages with brightly coloured houses, appeared as we reached the lower reaches of the valley. Some of these were farms growing crops now that the slopes were much more shallow.
The 60 joined the E39 at Byrkjelo. The next 20kms were a fast blast along the wide open road to Skei.
At the end of the fjord, the first of the mountains we would cross over came into view. It was bathed in sunshine which looked promising. Big patches of blue began to fill the sky. I just hoped they stuck around for a while.
It was not to be. Just before Forde, at a village called Moskog we turned onto the FV13. It began to spit with rain again. But, it was bright up ahead. There were some very nice modern, but traditional looking homes beside the first few kilometres of the road. Some of their locations looked idyllic.
The brown National Tourist Road signs confirmed we were heading in the right direction, and the views began to improve with the weather.
As we began to climb up the first twisty mountain pass the sun was shining brightly in the sky.
The road down the other side had some seriously tight corners, and only a low wall to prevent you plummeting down into the fjord below. It was not a place to be a hero!
At the bottom of the descent we stopped to take photos of the first waterfall we had seen. There is a hiking trail that visits all 29 of the waterfalls along this route. We would never get to Bergen tonight if we stopped at them all, so we only chose the more impressive ones.
The road continued, weaving its way along the valley, crossing white water rivers and hugging the shores of the fjords along the way. Up ahead lay the snow covered mountains we would soon be crossing.
I pulled in at the next set of large waterfalls, as the road climbed up towards the snowy mountains . There was a sign for a coffee shop, but it was closed. For such a popular route there was very little in the way of anywhere to stop and relax for a while.
There was a beautiful early 60's Mercedes 220se in the carpark on Austrian plates. It looked like a stylish way to tour around Norway.
The waterfalls were very fast flowing. A modern footbridge enabled you to cross over the main part of the falls. It was part of the hiking trail that disappeared off into the mountains.
As the road reached the top of the pass, it began to rain slightly from the low cloud. The river which ran along side the road was frozen in places. There was no other traffic on the road. Just the four of us. There was signs of life though. Every so often a small wooden hunters lodge would appear, some with smoke rising from the chimney.
The first other traffic we saw was a single biker travelling the other way. We weren't the only ones silly enough to be out here!
A few minutes later I spotted my dream cottage. Perched on a rocky outcrop on the edge of a fjord, and surrounded by snow capped mountains. I was just a lottery win from paradise!
As we approached the far end of the fjord, a couple of sheep came over to say hello. The little bell showed they belonged to somebody. But, there wasn't a farm house in sight.
The far end of the fjord was frozen. The road and the fjord seemed to pass through a narrow gap up ahead.
Here the fjord ran over a huge waterfall, that had frozen. But, what was more impressive was the view of the valley below as we rounded the corner.
Before us lay a twisting snake of a road, down through the valley as far as we could see. The next nineteen kilometres was a stunning mix of hairpin turns and vast views of the surrounding landscape.
Once down at the valley floor the views and awesome roads just kept coming. The road skirted around the perfectly still Fjaerlandsfjord for the next fifteen kilometres, before ending at a ferry terminal in Dragsvik.
I was in heaven. Norway had delivered today, on an epic scale. So much so, that when we arrived at the ferry terminal I shouted my love for that road rather too loudly.
" I'm going to find a Mrs. Crasher. And, we are going to buy a little place along by the fjord, open a tea shop, and live happily ever after!" Mark was in stitches. Because I had my helmet on and my earplugs in, my declaration was at a volume the whole ferry queue could hear! Oh, well!
My second embarrassing moment was to arrive shortly after. A young, blond ticket collector approached us. As, Stuart was paying for the tickets I realised my helmet camera was still running. I thought I would take a quick snap of todays first Norwegian lovely.
Mark was nearly crying by now. " It's so loud! We all heard you take a photo, you old pervert!" It turns out that the shutter noise on my Drift camera is less than subtle. Oh well!
After a short wait the ferry arrives. I manage to ride aboard without any further embarrassment. It was a short ten minute crossing over to Vangsnes.
We rolled off the ferry and head towards Vik. The FV13 is quite narrow in places, and it catches me out. I am looking at what appears to be a waterspout out on the fjord, when I get to one of the narrow sections. My right hand pannier rubs along the barrier as I get too close. As the barrier springs back from me hitting it, me and my bike are catapulted across to the other side of the road. Luckily the road was empty. Otherwise, I could of been looking at the front of an oncoming vehicle.
I am laughing at what just happened as I stop at the nearest pull-in. Stuart and Alison who are behind me pull over as well. Stuart has seen the whole thing and checks I am alright. I check the bike over to make sure there is nothing bent. The only damage is a small scrape on the pannier. I now have matching adventure scars on both sides of the bike!
Not wanting to break with tradition, I ride off up the road on the back wheel!
We catch up to Mark ( who is leading our group, and is completely oblivious to as to what just happened ), in the small village of Vik. Here the road turned left and started to climb into the mountains.
The sun was back with us and the view back along the valley was stunning. But the best was yet to come.
As we reached the plateau at the top of the climb, everything began to get a bit more `Nordic'. It was like riding over a huge camouflage army surplus jacket.
The road was deserted. Huge rolling, snow capped mountain tops covered the landscape as far as you could see. The road surface was smooth with superb levels of grip. I was a great place to ride.
Huge frozen fjords covered much of the very top of the landscape. Underneath the water was icy blue and crystal clear. We pulled over to take a few photos.
The only vehicle we did see up here were serious pieces of kit. This one was taking animal feed out to a herd of sheep grazing up on the mountains.
As the road began to descend the scenery began to increase in volume.
Until it opened out into a vast valley in front of us. But, vast doesn't seem to be a `big' enough word to describe it. It was a huge, immense place. It was Glen Coe turned up to 11. Perhaps Brobdingnagian is a better term.
I felt like a very inconspicuous spec, as I traveled along the arrow straight road of the valley floor.
I'm sure several seasons passed by the time we reached the end of the valley. Here a large ski resort was set up on the mountainside.
Agriculture had also returned with winter wheat drying on long racks at the roadside. This is a very traditional style of drying crops that was phased out in the UK hundred of years ago. It was interesting that it was still popular here in Norway.
As we approached the end of the FV13 in Voss, the road raced alongside a fast flowing river. We stopped when we got to Voss for fuel, and a coffee stop. I was famished by the time we got there.
Then it was back on the bikes for the final leg to Bergen along the E16.
The E16 started as a fast flowing A road. But, the last forty kilometres into Bergen were horrible. It was another toll-road like the E6 to Trondheim. Solid barriers and an average speed limit meant we were stuck in a line of traffic for most of it. There were also lots of long polluted tunnels mixed in with this. Add in a 1970's Rolls Royce that was burning oil, and you get my idea of riding hell.
I was also feeling a little apprehensive. A few years ago I was offered a job in Bergen. After weeks of deliberation, I turned it down for a job I now despise. I have regretted it ever since. As we rode towards the city, I was starting to think what could of been. "But, that was then, and this is now. Lets not spoil a great day", I said to myself.
After getting led straight into the city centre by Marks' satnav, we pulled over to find our way. We were going to find somewhere to spend the night, and then possibly come back for a look around.
With campsites loaded into various satnavs, we took off around the city bypass. Just south of the city in the suburb of Nesttun we found a campsite with hytte to let. We checked in and made ourselves at home.
The interiors were all furnished with things from Ikea. They were the most modern ones we had stayed in so far. I got busy with recharging my cameras, and uploading files while the others decided what they wanted to do this evening.
Here is part 15 of my vlog:
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