July 15, Risohamn to Torken, then onto Skland July 16 and Sommaroya on July 17
When I unzipped my tent and looked out, a white mist had descended, shrouding the mountains and filling the valley. It was wet and cold, but so it often was in Norway.
My plan was to pack my gear, and then head up the road, hopefully, 15-20 miles, eat my breakfast (bike oats, recipe below), and then find a place to recharge all my devices. Two days of wild camping drained them all. (Yes, yes, I know
I should have brought a solar charger. Add it to the list along with the cotton t-shirt and the boyfriend to massage my neck. Or maybe those should be separate lists.)
Packs loaded, I clipped into my pedals and had only ridden a couple of miles, when I spotted a lodge that looked like an Adirondack lodge transported to Norway. There were flower boxes overflowing with blooms, weather-worn wooden siding, and huge windows overlooking the fjord. The only indication that it was Norway and not the Adirondacks was the grass growing on the roof! Andoy Friluftssenter, the sign said.
Out front, a boy was mowing the grass, which is a rare sight in Norway. Norwegians love electric robot lawnmowers (like our vacuum cleaners) and they travel constantly across the grass keeping it short. They’re adorable! You only see a person mowing if the grass has gotten too high for the robots.
The lodge looked so warm and cozy and a cuppa tea sounded so good, that I turned off the road, and headed up the driveway to the lodge.
I got off the bike, walked up to the door, and was greeted by a large sign that said, “CLOSED, Hours 12 noon to 8 pm.” Disappointed, I turned around and headed back to my bike, but as I passed the dining room windows, I saw two motorcyclists drinking coffee and a person at another table eating toast. (If you have been reading these essays you know where we are going.)
I turned around and went back. I opened the door, walked directly into the dining room, and said, “The sign says closed but you look like you’re eating!”
The man at the table alone answered in a lovely British accent, “True. I seem to be eating breakfast. Nigel Is around here somewhere, I’m sure he will help you.”
Assuming Nigel was the server (turns out he was the owner) I went back to the lobby to find him. “Is it possible to have a cup of tea?” I asked.
“Black tea with milk and sugar?” He asked, also coincidentally with a British accent.
“That would be great,” I said. “And could I possibly charge my devices while I drink the tea?”
Nigel led me to a delightfully comfortable leather couch, next to a dual outlet so I could charge my devices. Then he brought me a large pot of hot tea, a pitcher of milk, and a glass cut bowl with brown sugar cubes as in, “One lump or two?” He set it all down on a tree stump in use as a table. Perfection.
I had all my devices plugged in and milk and sugar (1 lump please) added to my tea. I took my first oh-so-warm sip and then I had an idea.
Quickly before I could think too hard about it, I went back into the dining room, walked right up to the Brit who was still eating his toast, and said, “Want company while you finish your breakfast?”
“Yes, please join me,” he said.
And so I sat, and we talked, and soon I brought my entire teapot, milk, and sugar over. He was a Brit living in Sweden. Also, a cyclist. Also heading to Tromso. Also catching a flight to Oslo on Saturday. Also at the point in his trip where instead of making miles, he needed to slow down so as to not get to Tromso early.
We talked so long that the mist cleared off. We talked so long that Nigel cleared the breakfast buffet and started to set the lunch buffet. We talked so long that the boy finished mowing the grass. We talked so long that all my devices were fully charged.
And then we kept on talking, for the rest of the week. I got to hear those great British words like “brilliant,” “krikey,” and “posh.” Rich loved to “faff around” with his gear, and the weather was “stable” or “unstable.” And I got to have companionship for the remainder of the trip.
I’d say we cycled together, which we did a little, but mostly we rode our own pace and caught up at the ferries or the campgrounds. It was more like the parallel play they talk about it preschool.
We were unlikely partners- he made hotel reservations months in advance. I made mine when I rolled my bike into the lobby and was certain I’ll arrive and liked the lobby.
He rode faster than I did, 14 mph to my 10, but I packed up camp much faster than he did. So generally, I left camp and then he caught me later in the day.
We had entirely different packing techniques. I stuffed everything into my two panniers and, although I pretended to have a system, at least 3 times a day had to take it all out to find something. He had a specific place for everything in his 8 sleek bike bags, but it took him hours and hours to put it there.
We both got a lot of joy from our way of doing things and at the end of the day, we got to the same place, so who is to say which is the right way?
We filled our water bottles from glacier runoff, swam in the fjords late at night, raced to get ferries, teamed up with other cyclists, did hikes under the midnight sun, and swam some more. We talked and laughed and poked fun at each other.
We visited Senja, known to be one of the most beautiful islands in the Arctic. I had no idea there are white sand beaches, green and blue waters, or swimming in the Arctic! It looks like Bora Bora.
At night, when we crawled into our tents, there was something comforting about seeing our two bikes leaned up against each other, as if they too were finding comfort in the companionship.
When we finally arrived in Tromso, we explored the city together, figuring out the bus routes and the associated apps, finding me cotton clothes to buy, and lingering over celebratory drinks and dinner.
I am well suited for solo cycling travel, except for two aspects- hanging out at beautiful places (I should have brought a paperback. Add that to the list.) and exploring cities. How perfect that I met Richard during the section of the trip that included lingering in beautiful places and exploring a city.
Traveling with him also helped me figure out how I could do a trip like this with someone else.
I don’t think our paths will cross again, but I am so thankful that they did. I experienced so much joy just because I walked up to a table and said, “Do you want some company while you finish your breakfast?”
A side note about tea vs coffee.
Most of the time in Norway, I drink coffee. The coffee is $4 a cup and is excellent. Unlike at home where I find the coffee bitterer and in need of sugar, here the coffee is perfectly delicious, although I usually add milk. But they do not have a tradition of refills. Quite sad as one cup of coffee is never enough to warm me up. (We’ve already discussed cold and wet.)
Tea in contrast, is served by the pot and that is why I ordered a pot. Also it reminds me of my friend Annie, who always makes me a cuppa, which warms my heart and soul.
