Just what I’m looking for

It doesn’t get better than when you expect something to be good and it exceeds those expectations. This trip has done that in spades, and although I leave the Lofoten Islands reluctantly, I also know that more stunning scenery awaits, even if the weather will be more typically Norwegian!

There’s a certain satisfaction when travelling through foreign lands to be just what a person is looking for.

Jens, a German caravanner, was stopped on the narrow road leading to Nusfjord. He waved me down, I would’ve stopped in any case as he looked to be in difficulty. Jens opened with “Do you speak English”? Well Jens, this is your lucky day, I proudly replied “I am English”. The road was too narrow for him to tow his caravan along so he wanted to leave it in the opposite gravelled lay-by. He was alone so needed help to man-handle it, and would collect it on his return from the historic fishing village. A simple enough task, for two, which we both quickly performed. Good deed done for the day.

I bumble, or should I say rumble, around all the little roads in the vicinity of my Airbnb, and I can assure you there aren’t that many. 

I take joy in seeing the same mountains, houses and fjords in a different light, the mountains casting different shadows, the fjords emitting different shades of dark blue and bright turquoise. The scenery can look so different twelve hours apart, which reinforces the 24 hour beauty of this place.

The E10, which is the only main road linking the islands, snakes its way over bridges and through tunnels which pass either under the sea or through a mountain. At times the road hugs a mountain side with the bright blue sea below and other times wiggles along the side of a fjord. It’s like a mild roller coaster, depending on the speed you travel, but the limit of 50mph is often enough to enjoy the twists and turns, whilst still having time to admire the landscape around.

Cafe

The Sunday rules here seem to be that cafes don’t open and alcohol (if you can afford it) is is not sold. Going over the two bridges to Fredvang I can’t help but stop yet again to take photographs. I can’t seem to capture the majesty of The Wizard’s Hat and at the same time include those two bridges in such a way as to give the proper impression of how it feels to be here. None of the photographs I have published anywhere have been enhanced, there’s no reason to, the colours are truly that beautiful.

By late morning, as is the norm for me, I’m ready for a touch of refuelling, so I keep a wishful eye out for any hope that my needs may be met. Most roads around here don’t last long before they turn into a gravel lane or fjord, the northwest side of the islands have no roads at all and the beaches there are only accessible by foot. Having reached another gravel track I turned back through the tiny hamlet of …………..well it’s so tiny it doesn’t appear to have a name! Now I found just what I was looking for! Completely missing the small parking area I rode up the gravel driveway to a small place next to a house. The lady of the house immediately appeared to enquire what this young tearaway was after “Coffee and cake” was his response. “We don’t open until twelve but I’ll do some for you”. It was forty minutes until official opening time, but she let me into her craft shop whilst she rustled up some coffee and huge versions of what Rachel’s mum used to make, sort of thick pancakes. We chatted away getting to know a brief history of each other’s lives before, suitably stuffed I waddled back to the bike and rode off into the….. well certainly not sunset, more like wild blue yonder.

Ferry

I haven’t yet met a biker who hasn’t either been to “The Cape’ or is en route there. Why? I suppose much like doing any challenge, because it’s there.

On the ferry back to Bodø on the mainland, all have been way up north and are returning to their homes in France or Germany via the Atlantic Way and fjord region of Norway. All seem to have stayed in accommodation somewhere up in the most northerly neck of the woods rather than do the harebrained 800 mile, 26 hour version favoured by their English counterpart. I suspect that the way I did it will stay with me longer than using a more sensible timescale?

It will come as no surprise to biker buddies of mine that the steed of choice is very much the ……BMW GS, followed by other ‘adventure’ bikes, then Harleys, then ‘others’, Reg seems to be the only Rocket in these parts and Sven the only moto moose, which brings me to his charm.

A few days ago we were about to leave our particular hotel when a young Dutch lady coach driver approached “I like your moose”, now I’m not entirely sure what my response to that should be “You’ve not got a bad one yourself”, possibly not? As she also doubled as a tour guide she seemed to know a thing or two about the Scandinavian creatures, so much so that she assured me that Sven was the best she’d seen. I departed and left her to round up all her septuagenarians.  Eighty miles further along the E10 as I was departing a photoshoot location, who should role up but Sven’s admirer. I stopped for a brief chat and she informed me that it’s Dutch tradition that if we meet again we have to have a drink together “I’m cool with that” I laughed.