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Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson

Bicycle touring journals

August 5 Saturday sunny Bicycle touring Norway

We haven't seen our Kiwi bicycle touring buddies, Arran and Rebecca. Sharon thinks we may have passed them somewhere. We bicycled 90 kilometres yesterday, maybe they did 100? Quite a bit for their first day of fully loaded bicycle touring though, as they've been off the bikes for nine months.

And it was hilly, even though it felt as though I would climb a little and then coast and coast a lot more than I had climbed. The roads in Norway are spectacularly smooth. Downhills on a fully loaded touring bicycle are fun again, now that I don't have to watch for cars, tractors, or darting sheep on a one-lane road with two-way traffic driving on the wrong side of the road amidst lots of potholes.

We cross another fjord on another ferry. The morning light hits the water and sparkles all the way to a mountain across the fjord. Everywhere in Norway is so picturesque; it is like a Banff or Jasper or Lake Louise everywhere we look.

All of the towns seem to have a beautiful clear lake and big majestic snow-peaked mountain behind them. These ferry crossing are like mini sightseeing cruises.

Once we're off the ferry we pedal a little ways, looking for a breakfast spot by the lake. We find a bunch of wild raspberries. Sharon eats hers, hand to mouth, while I put mine into a bag to eat with my cereal later, covered in milk and sugar.

We climb on our bicycles to a high point overlooking town. We can see the ferry come in as we finish breakfast. Sharon reports she saw two touring cyclists get off.

Soon we see the neon orange and neon lime green paint of Arran and Rebecca's bike frames cycle into view. "Hey Kiwis!" I yell.

We bicycle with our Kiwi friends, climbing a long steep pass over a mountain. We pull our bicycles to a stop at a cascading waterfall, as much to admire the scene as to take a breather from the arduous climb.

We get back on our touring bicycles and continue to climb. Sharon, riding beside Arran, grunts, "My worst nightmare is I climb a steep pass and discover I've gone the wrong way."

Arran grunts back, "My worst nightmare is I have to climb a steep pass."

We round a hairpin corner on our heavy touring bicycles and can see the road continue up and up and up around a series of bends. Arran lets out a loud groan.

Sharon says to him, "We have to go over that ridge, you know."

Arran whispers, "Did you hear about the cyclist that died?"

"No," Sharon says, surprised. "Where was this?"

Arran grunts again before answering, "Another cyclist threw them over the railing."

"I bet this was in Norway," Sharon says.

A quick descent brings us to a cherry stand where we stop to eat a basket (of cherries, not actually the basket itself, of course. We're hungry, but we're not stupid). After paying 20 Krullers into the self serve tin can, I trot to the house to get water from the lady there. She points to a stream and says, "You can get it right out of the stream. That's where this tap water comes from."

Arran had put his money into one of the tins on the stand. The woman comes over, bringing more cherries as they are almost depleted at the stand. She picks up one tin container. There is no money in it. She glares at us accusingly. Arran picks up the other container and rattles it reassuringly. "We put it in here," he says with a smile.

We leave the cherry stand and confront another steep climb. There is a toll for this great bicycle touring scenery. It is sunny and hot. My cotton long sleeve dress shirt springs a leak.

We have a quick descent on our touring bikes to Utna, Norway, where we planned on having a late lunch. We arrive at 2:20 PM. The only grocery store in town closed at 2 PM. We found that interesting, because according to Arran and Rebecca's travel book, stores in Norway are closed all day Sunday. Guess it needs an update.

A larger center, Odda, Norway, is 45 kilometres away. There is supposed to be a Rema 1000 food store there. Sharon and I decide that if we ride fast we can surely get there before 6. Guess it depends on how many killer ascents between here and there.

We jump on our touring bicycles and pedal past a breathtaking waterfall spilling off the top of a mountain. We bicycle through a 1.6 kilometre long tunnel that leaks.

We are cranking along steadily. When we're over halfway to Odda, a little white car slows down beside us. Arran rolls down the passenger window. "You guys are doing great," he says.

"You're not doing so bad yourself," I observe.

When we arrive at the store I elect to stay with our bicycles while Sharon goes in to shop for groceries. I tell Sharon that if she sees Arran in the store, ask him if he wants a ride back.

He isn't in there. He must have already got groceries and we missed him somehow.

After our grocery shopping spree, we mount our bicycles and ride out of town along a lake. Sharon spies a hiking trail along a river. Above us, a huge waterfall shoots over the mountain. Hot August days in Norway are great for huge waterfalls ... all the snow melting in the high country. There are cascades and waterfalls tumbling in all directions. The scenery in Norway is brilliant for bicycle tours.

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