Berlin, Germany to North Cape, Norway — August 2021.
Day 1
I started riding from Berlin around 11:30, taking the roads that I have known all too well now and reminding myself of Sebastian - my cycling partner. But on this journey I go alone, although how do we ever go alone these days. The internet keeps us connected to people but then on a more philosophical level we think of people. At least I think so often about all those people who care about me and whom I care about - I remember them with warmth and compassion, their funny traits and how very kind all of them are. It dawns on me how much they have done for me, how much they love me. And so I carry this love with me. Germany looks so alike to me that when I travel, turn on roads and see houses all my memories of cycling trips fuse together, one time I am in the south, other time in the north. The only way I remember places is through particular thoughts which crossed my mind as I passed them or eventful incident. Both of my knees have been plastered using sport tape to provide support - they have felt tender since a week and I worry how they will react to the stress - more than one of my trips have failed to the pain. The challenge is to cycle slow; I have all the time in the world to reach Rostock for my ferry to Trelleborg in Sweden. I cycle after some 50 km in a quiet parallel cemented road surrounded by fields. I stretch, still with fresh legs the last 50 km was a great flow. I have brought some apples and snickers with me and here I bite into my first red juicy apple. After a couple of hours I am cruising through a forest, it looks healthier and richer than the ones eventually mean to be cut. It’s been cloudy the whole day and now the rain bursts. I stand under the shade of a huge tree, the cool water reaching me bouncing through the leaves. It’s officially a deluge now and I take out my rain gear. The sweet sound of the rain and smell of earth feels so rich but I am impatient to ride, standing isn’t much fun and I can’t sit anywhere on the wet forest floor. The shower eventually stops but the riding is beautiful, the tires splashing water, the roads covered in tree remains - twigs, leaves, pine cones. I am not getting wet or dirty and it feels good that I have the clothing to protect me. I stretch whenever I stop for a rest. By around 6:30 I have travelled almost a 120 km; and I feel I can cycle more even though I had decided to only split the 250 km evenly on the two days - also I am not sure what I would do with so much daylight still left. Around 7:30 the sun is low in the sky and everything gets a goldenish warm, long shadows of the tall trees on the verdant grass. I take a detour to Müritz to get some food and then cycle another hour - the lovely sunset and the cool weather constantly nudging me forward. At 8:30 I find a nice spot - a grove of thick trees next to field and call it a night. The next big town Malchow wasn’t far and it would be a great treat to get some coffee and bakery goods first thing in the morning. The first day had been nice, the knees have fared better than I anticipated and for the first time towards the end I thought they might hold up for the remaining of the journey.
Day 2
It wasn’t a wonder that I didn’t sleep much, the first day sleeping outside has always that effect. I was awake by 5 and decided to lie still bit longer - bakeries would open at 7 and I would want coffee. By the time I packed it was 6:30 and I put all my effort not to miss anything among the leaves and the grass. I rode the wrong way which delayed the coffee and croissants but they did come and rewarded me with their existence. The route takes me on many secondary roads, some of which are quite busy and stressful. I skip one of them by turning onto another cycling route, which takes me through a gravel path inside a forest. Just as I’m admiring my wise decision, the front tire disagrees by blowing out a flat. Changing isn’t much hassle but pumping in the air is tiring. Even after 20 minutes of action, I can’t seem to get enough air in. Annoyed by the mosquitoes hovering in the wet air, I decide to ride further, careful not to put too much pressure on the front wheel. On a play ground I stop and try again; no luck. I would need to find a cycle shop. The next one is around 5 km away. On the way my phone drops and I shout in rage - things are not sailing again. Also not the first time my phone has dropped from my bike, so I am also annoyed that I am not learning from my mistakes. I quieten myself, only I am my soother here, my outlook governs everything. At Güstrow, a 20 minute detour from my path, I find a shop where the kind mechanic fixes the air pressure. I show him my pump and he waves his hand in disbelief. I realise that my pump cannot pump more air; I would need a new one from Rostock. All this wasted time has pressed up the panic button to reach Rostock. I decide not to stop for food until I am there. Although the sun and temperature has been impeccable, a strong head wind gets some work out of me. At times the salty-acidic taste of my sweat touches my lips and I spit in revulsion. The water is running out too. Around 12 I reach Rostock and I feel I have enough time to get food and get a new pump. There is only one shop on the way, because I am not crossing through the city center. We are on vacation, reads the message on the door. In India I never knew a shopkeeper who went on vacation, my uncle always had someone or the other manning the shop, but it seems reasonable to take a nice break or maybe it’s really a rich person’s luxury. I cycle further north and the crane heads appear on the horizon; the wind picks up but I can’t yet smell the sea. I am impressed that a well marked cycle way goes all the way until the booths checking the passports and tickets. The ship looms over to the west; it’s gigantic. While filming my approach to the ramp in the ship I almost trip seeing a train coming out from its belly. Someone guides me to where the cycles are parked.
In the ship I roam on the deck but the sun is incredibly hot and I wouldn’t mind some rest and so I go inside to find a place to sit. You see why the tickets were so cheap - there are not enough places to sit for everyone but I find a lounge room where many Swedes have put up the mattress. The person next to me looks funny, lying on his back eyes shielded from the light by heavy black sunglasses, he is busy snoring. I lay down next to him while waiting for the phone to charge. There is not much to do in the ship once it is too cold to be outside. Most people are busy finding their way through the confusing alleys and stairs - some floors are only accessible if you are on the right part of the ship. I have forgotten most of my food in the cycling bags, as well as my jacket, and so I don’t know how to idle away my time. At 9:10 Trelleborg comes into view and the ship turns to allow its back to the ramp on the port. I get down on the section where all the trucks, cars and cycles are parked. There is a rich blue/greyish colour outside, clouds hang low in the sky, seagulls circle around the ship hoping to catch some fish in its wake. The air feels refreshing after the stale, sticky inside. I am excited, I unlock my bicycle heading down, the thundering sounds of the ramp beneath me, leaving the ship for the tracks. A ramp is being slowly brought down into position on the ship, once in place, cyclists including me are among the first to leave through the gates and touch Sweden. I want to get away from the port and find a place to camp before it gets too dark but I need to buy some food first. I head out to the nearest supermarket and buy some soft bread and eat it with some yoghurt. I follow the path marker on the map. Earlier on the ship I had noticed that the route went through a secondary road and had sent Sebastian a request to plan an alternate route; he hasn’t replied yet. Cars sped by on the street and I didn’t know if I was allowed to cycle on it. I thought to give it a try, and if someone honks I’ll know that I’ve found something wrong. Nobody honked; cars sped by me. I decided to cycle the 10 km until the route joined this big road - in fact now might have been the better time to cross it, it would have been busier in the morning. On the map I only saw agricultural fields and houses. I searched for a suitable place for 30 minutes and then, tired, I parked my cycle underneath an apple tree on the corner of a farm - the wheat ready to harvest - and slept next to it, the mattress and the sleeping bag in the bivvy. I woke up before the sun rose and was already looking for the deeper dark recesses of the bivvy to hide my face when a startled partridge flew away next to me - shaking myself in the process. I lazed about until the sun came clean into view, packed my stuff and was back on the bike looking for someplace to have coffee.
Days 3-5: Trelleborg to Nora
The first few days in Sweden and the clouds hung so low that I always felt that a downpour was imminent. Mostly though, it had rained before me and I cruised through the rolling countryside with the smell of earth wafting through the air mixed with the barley ready to harvest. Every morning the first goal was to find coffee and a supermarket to buy some fruits and yoghurt, after which I fell into a good rhythm, cycling the whole day until 7 or 8. With the legs still fresh and driven by the desire to see more and cycle more, I was doing almost 200 km a day and was thus ahead of my planned journey. Had to go into Lund to buy a new air pump as the last one was too weak to pump enough air. The warm day and the many lakes where I could easily jump in were a pleasure. The highlights were the cycling trail I discovered from Ulricehamn to Falköping and the hilly stretch between Degerfors and Nora. The countryside was littered with summer houses, only a few were occupied, all had gardens mowed by robots - what a waste of space and resources were the thoughts I often had in Sweden. At Nora, I slept at a naturalist camping place where everyone was friendly and some were very curious that I wasn’t carrying much stuff.
Days 6-8: Nora to Stämnas — Start of the Tough Days
After three intense days of cycling, my knee was starting to complain and I had to caution myself against injuring it badly - it had happened before. The route went through quiet gravel paths with dense conifers on both sides. However, the green was often interrupted by large sections recently cut down. I camped another night in a camping place close to Borlänge. On the phone, the manager warned that there was a large congregation of musicians who would be playing through the night - great, I thought, something to take my mind off the knee! I hobbled into the camping place for a nice, hot shower and enjoyed an evening of accordion and guitar music. The next day I taped up my knee, the route skirted through Falun, the next big town, and before I knew it I was cycling up a big hill into a sparsely populated area of a nature reserve. I knew it would rain heavily that night and wanted to take refuge in a church some 40 km away. However, my knee had other plans and I was forced to stop early. I decided to sleep under the shade of trees but the rain got progressively heavier in the evening and I had to look for shelter elsewhere. The next day was a long and slow one. I decided to change my route and go more east along the coast where there were more shelters and places to get food. In retrospect, this was a great decision. The day ended in Stämnas, the weather had gotten better as the day progressed and, after changing the cleat position and stretching a lot, my knee was feeling much better. I was still moving northward and that was what mattered the most.
Days 9-11: Stämnas to Skellefteå
Weather and spirits rise again! After a few tough days, the weather opens up and, even though the going is slow, the changing landscape and road types keep me engaged. I start listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks and getting hooked again, after so many years! On the empty roads, especially downhill, I remember all the people who have made my life worthwhile and a deep gladness and gratitude washes over me. In Sandslan, I camp at a beautiful camping spot and the owner is a nice, friendly woman. In the evening I meet a German couple who invite me for an Auflauf and beer - a lovely evening after a long time riding alone. The stretch of road on the E4 highway is unnerving but I go on it at times nonetheless to cover some distance. The sleeping spot the next day is even better - a beach overlooking the Gulf of Bothnia, the water warm from the Gulf Stream (Raunii fact). The next day I am back in the flow again, the pain has completely subsided and every day is simply riding from dawn to dusk, looking at the landscape, thinking fondly of people, listening to the audiobook and stopping for coffee. Life is simple.
Days 12-13: Stämnas to Pajala
Getting wilder now. All the while, my first real destination in my head is Luleå, because there are no big cities after that. The approach to the city was slow as the only cycleway close to the highway was in bad shape. Only 50 km before, both my bottle cages had broken and so my first stop was to get new ones. I took the opportunity to also buy repair patches for the tiny holes in my air mattress - they would force me to wake up every hour to blow air into the mattress 😅. I felt relieved reaching Luleå because that was the first time I felt confident of reaching the North Cape, which was still 900 km away. I slept in a noisy camping spot after having a long chat with a mechanic from Lithuania, who had driven all the way to help with some repairs at the local steel plant. The route went along a gravel path along the river Kalixälven, which was very broad here and apparently famous for salmon fishing, eventually getting constricted near the village of Jockfall, leading to an impressive waterfall. The mosquitoes of all sizes came in hordes now and after stopping I had to immediately put up my mosquito net and go inside the bivvy.
Day 14 (14 August)
I woke up as usual around 6, my body telling me that it is sunlight and I must awake, then I realised how north I am, that it is probably 6. I rolled up the sleeve of my bivvy over myself, felt the ground underneath me and gave my air mattress bursts of air for it to rise up again and give me some comfort for some more time. By the time I woke up again around 7:30, the sun was shining directly at me through the trees and I knew I had to get up. The usual process followed but this time, inside the mosquito net - I rolled up my sleeping bag, then the bivvy, then the mattress, changed my clothes and kept everything in the net outside, then in quick steps I packed everything on the bike, removed my jacket, stuffed it in the seat pack and before the mosquitoes had time to have a good go at me, left my campsite. The sun was already so up in the sky that the air was warm. I knew that the next coffee break and the crossing to the border was in Pajala, 46 km away. Without coffee to wake me up to the world, I counted the kms to Pajala. Next signboard read 37, next 30. I hadn’t had much food left - 2 snickers and a nut mix. I ate half on the 30 km mark and decided to save the rest after the half way mark. The morning was always slow going - groggy, I just pedalled until my first coffee break. But then wait, I spotted my first reindeer in the distance. I slowed down to shoot it but then saw it slowing down too - it had a good look at me before trudging itself into the forest. It was a female, without any antlers. OSM said that there wouldn’t be any villages in between so I was surprised to find villages - people active in the morning - mowing their lawn, driving their tractors to somewhere. I stopped in between to take another break - in the morning small breaks to the destination, it will come, don’t hurry, just wait and pedal. I stopped and pulled my bike. 15 km away and I found a house marked cafe and stopped - it was closed - whether they were yet to open or closed because of vacations, hard to tell, but I ate the rest of my food and stretched my body. Pajala greeted me with repair shops, I turned into the city center and was actually surprised to find many shops - most of them closed at this time, it was almost 10. I entered the supermarket and bought sweet bakery stuff, chocolates and fruits. Then went to the nearby coffee shop and asked if I could eat my food. They seemed quite a good cafe - Cafe Noca - and visitors streamed in and out the whole while I was there. Sitting outside drinking coffee, an old gentleman greeted me and asked where I came from - I told him Berlin and he proceeded to tell me that he had been there many times. Many times, why so, I asked, and he told me he had meetings there. I asked him what he did and he told me that he was a retired reverend and they had annual meeting of the dioceses in Berlin. All the while we were communicating sitting from tables far away and so I asked him if it was okay to come closer. He invited me to his table and told me he was happy to chat with people. He told me that although he was retired he was helping the local parish in this town because they didn’t have anyone, and he had a nice little cottage that belonged to the last reverend and that the place was also a museum - so, so you see, I am quite old, he joked. He told me he was earlier in Piteå and enjoyed downhill skiing - I have been doing downhill skiing since I was a boy. And the hills around Piteå were excellent. Not possible here, you have to go to Finland, but you can do cross country from outside my doorstep - in winter they even have a 30 km lighted track. I wanted to know more about the winter, rather the transition from winter to spring. Well, you know we are 100 km above the Arctic circle here, some dark months we don’t get any sun and then when the sun finally comes up end Jan, beg Feb, people rejoice, and then the spring, everything lights up intensely with the snow lying around and the sun. I love the winters here, I love skiing. Also lived with Sami people - hills around and had to walk a lot, road was gravel. What’s with them, I asked. The church and state were together, wanted to convert the Sami, make them be like them - not good conditions, improved last 15 years. Adopted daughter who lived in Luleå - from Madurai - had two daughters a few months old, he said proudly. Himself didn’t have children? Which route would I follow? Swedish or Finnish side? Finland has better roads. Time to leave, he said. Another man looked at my bike, approached me, told me that I have an old bike. Told him it’s rust, bike’s new. Wished me good luck. I left, realised the border was not Pajala but Kolari, 25 km away. Felt really good and active after the coffee.
At Kolari, I left Sweden for good and entered Finland - would recommend the great pizza place there! No border checks, just an empty customs booth. I camped that night in Pallas National Park, overlooking a beautiful lake, the ground covered with tiny blueberries which I knew were edible from my previous trip to Finland.
Days 15 and 16: Pallas National Park to Alta, and Alta to the North Cape
It had started to drizzle as I left the campsite in the morning and as usual I was on a lookout for a cafe, though I knew that most of them opened at 10 or 11 during the summer time. The drizzle turned into rain and the slick roads were. The dense conifers around me were truly impressive - with their long branches bending under their own weight. I was on a lookout for elks but didn’t see any. Around 11 I saw what looked like a place to rent cottages, went inside and found coffee! Hungry, I also asked the lady if she could make me some vegetarian sandwiches. We ended up having a long chat on climate change, mass tourism, and ‘how much humans really need’. From the town of Hetta, I turned right on the E45 and the vegetation suddenly became sparser - mostly shrubs and small trees clustered around the road - one could now look far into the fells of the arctic. I entered Norway around 2, having shown my covid pass at the border. I ended the day at a camping place in the village of Kautokeino - the kind owner allowing me to sleep in a huge Sami tent, inside were benches covered in warm reindeer fur. I had a most comfortable night in the tent for the temperature dropped to almost 6C. The next day was a long one - I was beginning to feel tired, perhaps because the destination was not far now, but also the sun beamed down heavily and the straight highway road felt monotonous. Still 80 km away from the next big town of Alta, I heard something snap and realised that a spoke in the front wheel had broken. Unable to true the wobbling wheel, I had to remove the brakes and went the rest of the distance into Alta without any real braking power. 50 km from Alta the rolling hills suddenly stopped as the road went first along a huge lake and then entered into a gorge. In Alta a mechanic recentered my wheel, although I couldn’t find a new spoke. Eager to get a headstart the next day and filled to max with a family size pizza, I left the city immediately, starting a long climb up a hill. Around 9, the sun almost setting, I found a camping spot on a strip of land jutting into a lake.
The next day, I wasn’t sure if I would make it all the way to the Cape. It was still over 200 km away. After a long 40 km of going up, I entered into a wide flat landscape, the road piercing ahead and into the horizon. From then on and all the way to the cape, I had major emotional upswings - the landscape was something truly extraordinary - the road hugging the coastline, following its twists and curves, the sea and hills in the distance, it was every bit of the wild northern landscape that I had imagined. The tunnels were unnerving, they were wet and cold and magnified the sounds and lights so immensely that once I thought a train was coming towards me! I reached the North Cape at 8:15 PM, a 12-hour day - completely exhausted from the long and hard climbs. This was it. There was no road ahead, only the sea stretching into the distance :)