Thursday 30th July 2015
I had slept well. There was a small stream that trickled past the side of our hytte and out to the fjord at the end of the campsite. It was a very soothing sound, that soon had me drifting off to sleep. Unfortunately, it was now having a different effect as my bladder alarm clock now had an accompanying soundtrack.
I walked back from the shower and toilet block to find Stuart adjusting his chain with my shiny new breaker bar. Cheeky wotsit! We all got packed up, and hit the road. The old man who ran the Gammelsetra Camping site, waved us on our way.
Todays ride was not going to be that far in kilometres. But, the nature of the roads and fact that we would be making a few stops meant that it could be just as long as yesterday. We had two chices for the first part of the route. Either we could ride back to Molde and catch a ferry across the fjord, or we could ride all the way round. As the ferries only sailed once an hour, we all opted for the latter.
Leaving the campsite we headed into Eidsvag, and fueled up. The nice older lady behind the counter, was trying to serve us at the till, and cook a burger for a truck driver who had stopped for breakfast. I pointed out the smoke coming from the hotplate, and she rushed to save the flame grilled burger! She apologised for keeping me waiting.
"Det er ikke problem", I said. One of the few phrases in Norwegian I knew. I then thanked her as she gave me my change. I quick " Ha det bra", and I was done. As, I was walking out the door she smiled and thanked me for speaking a little Norwegian. In perfect English!
We left Eidsvag, and set off along the shore of Langfjord. It lived up to its name, as it certainly was 'Lang'. There was low lying cloud obscuring the true scale of the mountains either side. But, it was still a stunning ride.
Small red painted, wooden farm buildings littered the shore. It was a very calm, and peaceful start to the day. It was the sort of Norway I could imagine living in.
After circumnavigating the fjord, the road started to climb up and over the mountains into the next valley. We were now entering the cloud line. The road began to get wet and slippery, especially in the tight, polished hairpin corners. Stuart was beginning to struggle. His rear tyre was past its best having ridden from the north of England, all the way to Greece, and then around Norway. His traction control must of been working overtime.
Across the summit the visibility was down to 50 metres. But, as we descended into the next valley and down to the shore of the Romsdalsfjord the misty rain began to thin out.
Here we joined the 64 to Andalsnes. Up ahead a ferry was just docking. This is the one we would of caught, if we had decided to take that option this morning.
Unfortunately, the ferry had managed to unload its cargo of tourist coaches and motorhomes just in front of us. This meant we were forced to settle in and follow them along the meandering fjord roads for a while.
There were lots of touring cyclists along this stretch of road. It looked like hard going for some of them as the rain came down again.
A series of roadworks slowed our progress just before Isfjorden. Heavy rain had caused landslides and road-crews were busy clearing the road. But, this left the surface covered in a thick layer of slippery mud.
We pulled in to a service station in Andalsnes ( a Statoil with nothing of note in the lady department! ), for our morning coffee break. It was cold this morning, and we were all ready for a warming cup of enthusiasm.
We met a group of Romanian riders on big modern bikes. They too had also decided this would be a good spot to shelter for a while. They were taking a similar route to us, and we ended up meeting them at various points throughout the day. They were a nice bunch of guys. But, they were fed up with all the rain. They had ridden for five days from Romania, in constant rain. They made jokes about the "British Weather", before they headed off on their way. After warming up with a coffee and a hotdog, we set off after them.
The 64 continued around the shoreline of Andalsnesfjord, twisting its way through little tunnels. There were groups of tourist traffic to contend with but we soon picked them off, and were set free on the flowing roads.
We then turned off the 64, on to the 63 tourist route. The rain was beginning to ease off just as we approached the bottom of the first mountain pass.
Once round a tight left hand hairpin, the road hugged the bank of a fast flowing river. I was beginning to recognise the scene opening out in front of me. It was one I had seen many times from the travel sites and internet searches during my research for this trip.
Here, enveloped in a blanket of mist was the Trollstigvegen. Ranked as the most popular piece of tourist road in Norway, it must be on every motorcyclists bucket list. The "Trolls Ladder" is also the subject of many local historical stories, and folktales.
Eleven tight, steeply banked hairpin bends, climbed up the mountain side in front of us. Halfway up stood the little narrow bridge perched on the rocks in front of the powerful Stigfossen waterfall.
After stopping to take some photos at the bottom, with much anticipation we set off to the top.
The first thing I noticed was how narrow the road was. Hundreds of tourist coaches drive up and down this road every day. I didn't really fancy meeting one on its way down, especially on a corner.
The hairpins were tight. I was down to first gear for most of them. The wet road surface wasn't helping matters either. A few bumbling motorhomes pulled over for us to pass where they could, which was nice of them. Just before the cloud line, I pulled over to take a picture of the road below. Somehow the mist added to the drama of the whole place. Was a troll waiting for us just out of sight? I didn't spot one under the bridge!
At the top of the Trollstigvegen a large tourist centre and café has been built. We pulled in to find our new Romanian friends parked up. There was a walkway out to a viewing point over the valley below. Lots of tourists were taking "ironic selfie" photos in front of the wall of mist, out on the viewing platform. The café was packed with people sheltering from the weather, as was the gift shop.
I bought a troll sticker for my bike. I also asked Stuart to take a photo of me with the troll outside the gift shop. It was the closest thing I could find to a real one! I overheard a young mum tell her little girl that she wouldn't see a troll today because they don't like the rain. I don't blame them!
We left the ever increasing crowd behind at the tourist centre, and headed for our next stop, Geirangerfjord. The road began to wind its way down the mountainside, but this time in a more gentle, winding manner.
Once below the mist, the view of the valley in front of us was beautiful. It was like riding through a tunnel, with a cloud roof. Tiny turf roofed cottages were dotted along the sides of the road. Some of them were holiday homes to lets. It would be a great place to stay.
At the end of the valley the road narrowed and began to follow a white water river. A carpark full of tourist coaches signaled our arrival at the Gudbrandsjuvet. This is another popular tourist attraction. I don't know where all the tourist were though, unless they were sheltering in the very modern looking, glass fronted café. There were also a small hotel here with rooms overlooking the falls.
The Gudbrandsjuvet is a 5 metre narrow and 20–25 metre high ravine through which the Valldøla River forces itself. The waters have formed a complex of deep potholes and intricate formations. The depth down from the surface of the water is about equal to the depth of ravine down to the river.
According to a story from the 1500’s, the ravine was named after a man called Gudbrand, who ran off with his new bride and saved himself from his angry pursuers by jumping over the ravine at its narrowest point. Gudbrand was declared an outlaw for his deeds, and lived the rest of his life in a stone hut in one of the side-valleys above Gudbrandsjuvet.
The roar from the water was phenomenal. As I pulled into the carpark, I could hear the sound of the water above my exhaust note. An impressive iron and stainless steel walkway led from the carpark, weaving its way over the falls and between the trees. There was some serious power in the icy water below our feet.
I didn't spot the owner, but there was a cool looking Honda café racer in the carpark when we got back to our bikes. I noticed it had a GoPro camera mounted on the front to catch all the action. It looked like a lot of fun.
As we got to Valldal, every village had little roadside stalls selling strawberries. They were everywhere. It seemed to be the Nordic centre for strawberry production. The sheltered valley must provide the right conditions, despite the altitude.
The white water of the river was providing a bit of fun for an adventurous few, too. The water must of been freezing!
Every few kilometres we would end up looking at a view like this. There were lots of solid lines down the middle of the road, so we ended up sat behind them for long stretches of this road.
But, we were soon able to get going again, and enjoy the road and the scenic views.
The rain returned as we reached the other side and started climbing up the mountain roads of Ornevegen. Near the top we entered a tunnel which took us through to the next valley.
Here the rain had stopped. The weather was so localised, it must be a nightmare for the weather forecasters. Every valley had different weather.
Ten kilometres later we got our first sight of the Geirangerfjord. We pulled into the carpark of the viewing area. I had read in my guidebook that there was a better view from a clearing 150 metres along a footpath.
The guidebook was right. We found the clearing. And there in the distance, just visible through mist was the fjord. A young Norwegian couple had followed us along to the clearing. They asked me to take some photos of them in front of the view, and insisted they took some of me.
Another kilometer from the carpark was another viewpoint. This was right at one of the tight hairpin bends, on the road down to the fjord. Everyone was just parking up at the side of the road, so we did the same.
From here you got a full impression of the immense scale of the fjord. Huge cruise ships and ferries looked like toys as they passed by metres below.
Several coaches had deposited their Northern English contents at this viewpoint. It was a selfie frenzy, before they were rounded up by the tour guides, crammed back on the coaches again, and driven off to their next location. I was thankful for our freedom to explore the sights as we wanted, rather than being told what to do. It is not my kind of holiday.
We bumped into some of the Romanian riders here. The rest of their group had carried on the Geiranger village, at the bottom of the valley. That was our next stop.
The road down to Geiranger was another steep, twisty hairpin infested delight. Some unlucky tourist got it wrong though. He had either pulled over to take photos, or to let a larger vehicle passed. His Vivaro van had two wheels on the road, and the other two stuck down a very deep ditch. The van was nearly at the point of rolling over. It was going to take a bit of effort to get it back on the road!
We pulled up in Geiranger, and parked near the ferry terminal. Mark and I went to explore the tourist shops to see what lovely things we could waste our money on. Stuart and Alison went for a wander on their own.
Geiranger has expanded for one reason. Tourist spending. There was so much crap on sale it was amazing. It seems that sticking a Norwegian flag or a troll emblem on any item, instantly transforms it into an object of desire!
I did spot something that caught my eye. A future Mrs. Crasher contestant selling tickets for a local open top, bus tour. I thought better than to ask if that referred to her or the bus! Judging be the seedy looking bunch of men boarding the bus, they were thinking the same thing. Mark then pointed out that I was just as seedy looking. Cheeky wotsit!
I settled for a coffee and a chocolate bar. One of the large cruise ships moored in the fjord sounded its fog horn. This appeared to be the " Get back on the ship, it's time to go" signal. With that, more groups of Northern English pensioners, stopped fondling the tourist tat in the shops, and waddled back to the ship.
I realised I had not used up my daily icecream allowance, yet. So, I found a icecream stand and bought a 99. I think my new friend had his eye on it though!
Suitably refreshed, we got back on our bikes for the last stretch of riding for today. We were heading roughly in the direction of Bergen, which is where we were hoping to stop tomorrow night. For now, our plan was to ride for another hour or so, and then find a campsite for the night.
We climbed out of Geirangerfjord, and headed for Dalsnibba. The road took us past all the expensive hotels on our way out of the village. The road was steep, with lots of hairpin bends. To add to the challenge, many of the corners were covered with diesel dropped by the tourist coaches. There were lots of guided cycle tours operating on this side of the fjord. It looked fun riding down. It probably wasn't so much fun riding up.
Soon we were climbing back up into the mist and cloud again. Visibility was far from ideal on the treacherous road ahead.
If the weather had been dry. I had originally wanted to ride along the 258,known as Gamle Stynefjellsvegen. This is a 27 kilometer long scenic gravel road. But, it was not to be. So, we took the main FV15 road instead. The FV15 started in a huge snowy valley before entering a series of long tunnels.
Occasionally there was huge walls of snow. We stopped in front of a couple. The first one was a bit lame. The next few were better.
Such is the altitude, and the all year round temperature, much of this snow is permanent. The roads were clear though, so we had no problem riding our bikes.
At one of the bigger walls of snow, I stopped to take a selfie. Mark thought he would try and "photobomb" the shot. I nearly dropped my phone as he tripped and nearly fell flat on his face!
The road continued and the next thirty kilometres were filled with huge frozen lakes. Even though it looked cold, the temperature was around 10 degrees celsius. We got to the small town of Stryn, and stopped at a supermarket for supplies. A quick look on my map showed that may be some campsites nearby on the FV60.
I led the way, and at a small town called Loen we stopped at Lo-Vik Camping. Here we found two hytte just across the road from a large fjord. The hytte were the usual fair. Clean, warm and cosy. The shower and toilet block was state of the art though, using keyfob readers to activate everything.
Here is part 14 of my vlog:
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