End of a Journey

The ferry was good, and so was the company over a beer. A hot shower and bed for six hours. Off the ferry early on Thursday morning and the breakfast appointment with Paul and Becky. Pip. Have a great camping holiday with your mates. Be good!

My Mums face when I turned up earlier than expected, on her doorstep, was wonderful. Then slowly through the lanes of North Warwickshire. My road is peaceful and quiet, and it was good to see friends and neighbours after so long away. I slept the afternoon yesterday, and again today. So tired. Special thanks to Alan for lending an ear at 10 o clock at night, when I needed one.

The end of a journey? No. Apparently it is the beginning of a much bigger one. I have a book to write once I have figured out publishing and monetising the undertaking.

Pictures over the next few days. I promise.

Touch and Go

This trip has one more challenge for me. The clutch on the bike is on the way out. This morning I was up and down the local highway assessing the state of it. My honest opinion is that it will probably get me home. My route takes me through Hamburg, and there is a lack of dealers in Sweden. The conclusion is therefore that I should start the journey tomorrow as planned. If the clutch gets worse I may have to break my journey for a couple of days in Germany. We shall see. Worse things happen at sea.

Domsand

I came back from the rally on Gotland exhausted. I've lost weight witch I couldn't afford to do. So I booked the cabin for a weeks holiday to recuperate. Eating, sleeping, spending time with friends who are also on holiday.

The first few days were hot and sunny. Time spent around the harbour, the rigging creaking and chinking in the gentle breeze. Ice cream on the beach. A proper holiday. Lunch with friends. Good news on Östen. He is out of hospital after having a stent done. The guy must be as strong as an ox because he took me to visit the church in Habo this afternoon. Thanks to Ida for the guided tour. The inside of the church is painted with pictures all over. Not a square inch is left undecorated. I have never seen anything quite like it. Hello in cyberspace Ida. Welcome.

Eating, sleeping, and not drinking too much beer. On Tuesday I begin the long journey home. I will never be ready to leave this place and these people, so I might as well begin. Down to Malmo. Through Denmark. Ferry to Germany, then the long road west to the Netherlands, and Hoek van Hollens. Then a boat back across the North Sea to Harwich, and a full cooked English breakfast in Cambridgeshire. I am honestly looking forward to seeing friends and family, and especially Mum.

Dinner with friends on Sunday and a great stop over, escaping from torrential rain. Finally my last few hours in Domsand and an off the cuff invite to go sailing on Lake VÄttern. rare glimpses of sunshine and the peace of 2 knotts for an hour or two. leavetakings. Tomorrow I really must leave for home.

See you all soon.

Pictures from Domsand. I love this place. Also check out www.vmck.org/

Bikers for Myton

I want to tell you about the wonderful thing the club here at Domsand have done. The money I owe in rent for the cabin is to go to Myton Hospice. I am totally blown away. Thank you all for what you have done.

Since they refuse payment, and I donate directly, we also attracted gift aid of 60.33 GBP.

The clever bit off the back of this is the longer I stay, the more Myton Hospice receives. I may just stay forever beside the shores of this beautiful lake.

Sincere thanks for this wonderful gift.

I need rest. I am physically exhausted. I'm sleeping 10 or 11 hours a night. I am intending to start to homeward journey next week, ..................................maybe.

Gotland

Friends. New friends. Old friends at home. Friends who help you out of a mess, or spend time shooting the breeze.

I rumbled back into VMCK after two days hard riding. Earnst drove over from home to let me into a cabin for the night. It would be an early start in the morning.

The lightning strike was very close. I was lying in my tent when the pressure and temperature dropped. I tasted the metal taste of Ozone and what hair I have on my head tried to stand on end. "OH shit". Nowhere to run. The strike hit behind the trees, and I slumped into my sleeping bag for a quarter hour before searching out a beer. I get ahead of myself though.

Gotland is a large island off the coast of Sweden. It's a popular, sunny, tourist destination and was on my wish list with no chance of fitting it in. Sincere thanks to the club for inviting me along. The ride out across the country to the ferry was very nice indeed. Five bikes and seven people, meeting others along the way. It is always special a gang of bikers riding onto a ferry, helping each other lash their machines to the deck plates, secure gear, and head for the cafeteria. Three hours to chill, before the hot sun of Gotland and a busy rally/meet sight.

Lots of bikes and smiling faces. Riders of all ages enjoying what we do. More a culture than a hobby. We are one tribe across all countries. It was a long weekend and if the bucket loos, heat, cold water washing, ever got us down, spare a thought for the people who put it together for us, and their wonderful hospitality. Thank you Gotland MCK.

I described the lightning strike which I remember vividly, to avoid describing the horrendous hang over I had the day before, after foolishly drinking with the Danish contingent. :-) We will do it again sometime Henrik !! I can wear one of those biker jackets with the integral airbag. I will also leave my tent open so that I don't have to figure out how it works.

Browsing around the walled town of Visby, and the ride out on Sunday with Ernst, Östen and Per. Wonderful memories. Also a night of Blues and dancing the night away with a lady biker with style. I think your bike looks wicked with the cherry blossom on the tank. I was deeply impressed.

I am now back at Domsand, Bankeryd. I have some serious sleep to catch up on. I think I have done my last crowded camp site or dorm. Flash packing and soft beds from now on. Quiet time with friends for a few days. Plan the trip home across Germany. Head home satisfied is the plan. I haven't finished here yet though. Time to relax, watch the harbour, think about that book I have never written. Would people read the rubbish I write?

Drowned Rat

After two nights on a crowded campsight, and after walking the hills, and enjoying an afternoon on a boat on the fjord, I moved on in steady rain. I had two days to get back to Jönköping (notice the Swedish keyboard? Thanks Ernst), that meant I needed a minimum of 200miles today. Mostly I got away with it, but at tea time north of Oslo I got drowned. My gear stood up well, mostly. My gloves would take two days to dry out. I carry spare gloves under the saddle.

One way or another we are carrying injuries. My right ankle got chewed to pieces by midges, and infected. I needed to get to a pharmacy to sort it out. Elsa was running low on oil, but that is all it is I hope. I smelled the clutch a couple of times after the Trollstigen, but not since I topped her up. The worst casualty is Jane. The bluetooth in the helmet got soaked and stopped working. When I tried to remove it from the helmet, glued joints gave way. Jane is now totally mute. You should be careful what you wish for. I have vision only now for the rest of the trip. I better concentrate on speed limits. I see a trip to a dealer upon my return, warrenty in hand.

The Trollstigen

It was in the Trollstigen pass that it all finally came together. We became the two wheeled cyborg. The first time a saw the pass I just slowed to a stop and muttered "oh shit". I have ridden the passes of the Alps and northern Spain, but the Trollstigen is unique. It is a perfect staircase up the near vertical face of a cliff. You can see every riser from the bottom, with the tour bus and campers making their way up it like toys on a children's miniature layout. Honestly I would have been more confident with a rope and climbing gear. It was one of the riding highlights of my tour. I came here to do this. First I took a ten minute rest to allow a tour bus to climb the ladder. Two campers vans were arriving, so I set off. On every hairpin the bike was horizontal. On a big tourer I got close to getting my knee down. The big boxer engine growled, booming off the rock face, and stuck behind a van the clutch burned a little. I made an unavoidable overtake which should have been hairy, but really thought nothing. Thinking would have undone me. I would have hesitated and stalled out. My BMW horn stopped one bus reversing onto me, then the hill start from hell. Elsa howled her displeasure. Jane's maps in the cockpit provided radar like views aiding and giving confidence. If I was thinking at all it was only spatial awareness. Angle of attack, speed, time off arrival. Then I reached the top. I flew by the seat of my pants. Gift shops and ice. I stopped to get the badge for the bike to prove we were here. At this point I met the only other bike I have seen with a UK plate. More lunatics let out of the asylum!

It doesn't matter which way you approach Geiranger, it is spectacular. Deep and sheer, Geiranger fjord is the most dramatic. You can ride from fjord to fjord and it doesn't get any better. Exhausted again I took a cabin for two nights. Tomorrow involves walking boots and a boat to cruise the fjord.

The Sexty Fear

Thanks Paul. I'm writing some retrospectively to catch up. So much has happened. Biker rally Gotland later.

Jane, my GPS has been loosing her English. The Sexty Fear is the name of the road which I know as the Atlantic road. Sexty Fear is how she now says 64. Worse still Vatta and I are learning our Norwegian from her. We now use Norweglish!!

The Atlantic road is one of those must drive biker roads. It is a small section of the journey between Kristiansund and Molde, a real feat of engineering. Bridges linking tiny islets out into the Atlantic. Some of these Bridges are short but high, allowing ships to pass. There is a Wow around every corner. If you are out this way on two wheels, the Atlantic road is a must have. The whole length has only been open a couple of years.



I

I mentioned a Swedish biker, Bjorn last time, and his help when I was exhausted on the road south. This day I repaid him. On my way into Kritiansund I saw him standing listless beside his BMW at a closed filling station. I waved, he waived back but didn't look too good. I slowed, and pulled a very showy "U ey" and went back to him. He was in the same shape I had been the previous day. The station was closed so no coffee. No problem. I had a flask of hot strong English tea. Not his drink, but today it was welcome. Once he was revived enough we rode together, me keeping an eye on him, until we reached a ferry across a Fjord. Saturday services gave us a long rest, and at last the coffee he wanted. He continued on the Alesund with me waving goodbye, turning for Kristiansund and the beginning of the Atlantic road.

A very tired Bjorn.

According to Jane our next road is the Sexty Today ??

Update from Gotland Island

Hi from Kevin's Press Officer.
Kevin has had no Internet access since Sunday. Kevin is at a motorcycle rally on the Island of Gotland with the Jonkoping motorcycle gang.

Kevin may get a prize for the "Furthest travelled to the event" category.

More news from Kevin in a couple of days.

Kev's Press Officer

Riding the Midnight Sun

The Finns set off early for Abisco. I continued at a leisurely pace onto the Lofoten Islands. I was taking time out drinking tea and map reading, when Thomas rolled in on an old K series BMW. Another middle aged Swedish rider with time to play. We were joined by another Beemer with a Swedish couple on board. An impromptu rally almost. Out of the networking Thomas and I teamed up and sauntered the length of the islands together through sunshine and showers. The Lofotens are truly stunning. Don't pass up an opportunity to visit. Into the evening we explored, taking pictures. We had the idea of sharing a cabin and catching a morning sailing on the Bodo ferry. Checking out the ferry terminal Thomas announced that he thought we should jump on the boat, then ride south through the night in the sunshine. Since I had an invite to go on holiday to Gotland with VBMC next week, and I felt finished with the Lofotens (without appropriate company the romance of the place was of no use to me), so on an impulse we got on the boat.

Standing alone on the rolling deck of a ship bound for Bodo, the midnight sun literally on my face. If my body felt the cold, my mind did not register it. Thomas was sound asleep on a row of seats inside. I hadn't managed that. We set off across the southern Arctic landscape at 00:30, and rode until 02:15. I could go no further and had to sleep. I liked Thomas but we had been out of sync for hours. He was fit to ride and wanted to continue. I could not. I erected my tiny tent while he brewed us both a coffee. We talked and finished our drinks, said our goodbyes, then he rode off south on the E6, and I crawled into my bed.

As rough camping goes it was very good indeed. A picnic area on the outskirts of a village that clearly care about it, judging by the flower boarders. Heavy wooden tables and benches and a rest room with hot water and a socket to recharge my helmet. I could want for no more. I awoke at 06:00 rested, and enjoyed a gypsy breakfast. Refreshed I set off for Trondheim to break the back of the journey down to the western Fjords. I needed big distances quick to allow me to meet the VBMC gang to go to Gotland. There was nothing I wanted from the middle part of Norway this trip. I needed 500 miles and had bagged only 85 through the night. By 15:00 I was trashed and 150 miles short. Bjorn watched me stagger off my bike at the filling station, bleary eyed and unshaven. He was riding an R1150RT. The predecessor to my machine. We shared a coffee or two, and he poured over maps and plans with me, concluding that the Atlantic road and the Trollstegen pass were very possible in one day on Sunday. Conversation and coffee revived me. Thanks to Bjorn for that. It was a favour I would return further down the road tomorrow. The camaraderie of the motorcycling community is absolutely stunning. I've said it before. We really are one tribe.

I got a cabin soon after that. A shower, shave at last, and a hot meal of "dog food" and potatoes, and 10 full hours sleep, and I was ready to continue to Kristiansund and the amazing Atlantic Road.

Reunions

The afternoon ride back to Alta was bleak, windy and cold, as you would expect. The local police had changed their site of operations, but were once again raking in the tourust dollars with a sneaky prone position in a ditch for the officer with the gadget. What seemed so unfair about my ticket was that anyone who knows me knows I don't speed. I boringly stick to the limit at home. I'm just not a chancer. I thought the limit was 90kph. It wasn't, it was 80. I made my case, but the officer was just not interested. He issued his ticket. No fixed fine, the sum is too big. 300 quid!

Cold, hungry and if I am honest, really tired, which was not great because I wanted another 100 miles before rough camping for the night. It was going to be a miserable post Cape night tonight. I was refueling the bike when one of the Finnish riders, Aki, drew up beside me. "HI. Do you have somewhere to stay?". They had a cabin close by and offered me one of the beds. I accepted without hesitation. That was the beginning of a fellowship that would last two nights sharing cabins, and one long, stunning day of motorcycling as a group, running for the temperate south. They were great company. easy going and patient when I would not increase my pace above the speed limit. Aki and Sami both had women and small children back home in Finland, who they clearly love very much. Two guys with a passout for a few days to hoon around Lapland on their bikes. They ride well to.

The Cape

The last 22 miles across the island were precarious. Unprotected drops hidden in the cloud. It was blowing a gale. The fog lamps of the car in front led me in to the pay kiosk. 28 GBP, but worth it. I parked the Beemer with 2 arriving KTMs ridden by two Finnish bikers. We shouted greetings before the three of us leaned into the wind and struggled to find the famouse globe. Then fighting the wind again we made our way into the visitor centre for hot drinks, and with luck, a wait for the cloud to burn off.

The cloud cleared and the wind dropped. We got the views of the cliffs and out across the Barrents Sea. At some point I lost track of the Finnish guys which felt a shame. I met up with an exuberant German biker who wanted to build a cairn to mark our presence here. So we did that laughing a lot on and off for quite a while. Germany are still in the world cup and we are not, as Vernon pointed out. But that is Ok.

It was hard to leave Nordkapp. I have spent so long planning for today. I have invested so much energy and emotion in coming here. I met my challenge. 3000 miles to the Cape, solo. Alone was the hardest part for sure. There were times when I wondered what I had let myself in for. But here I am with the sea breeze on my face, and a very large grin. I hope we raise lots of money for the hospice at Myton.

vernon and I rode the scary roads together back to town for a quick hot dog and coffee lunch, before I went off in search of a bank to pay for my "helicopter ride" . I shared my reality patch speeding fine with Vernon who is clearly as daft as me, because he got it. "Harry Potter rides a BMW!" He said.