This year's big run was on the GTR and the trip report was posted up on that forum but I will also post it up on here in case it is of interest to anyone.....
The plan
Our two weeks on the bike had been deferred from the usual May / June slot for a variety of reasons and I started to look at what could be done for late August in addition to the week I had taken earlier in the year in the Mosel.
Two options were under consideration; the first was southern Spain and Portugal but this was dismissed as I feared it would be too hot at this time of year. The alternative was to look toward Scandinavia. I had always been attracted to touring Norway but had held off in the hope that a direct ferry route from Britain would be re-introduced. It is not looking as if this is going to happen anytime soon but I had the feeling that I should try and take the opportunity to have a crack at it somehow while I could, you don't know what life will bring and the chance may never come around again.
After several evenings planning I came up with a route built around my usual target of 200 miles per day. It was not going to take me as far north as I would have liked to have gone, but I was working with a two week holiday period from work (which I pushed my luck with by adding an extra day in front and running it through to the Bank Holiday weekend). It would however allow me to see some of the south of Norway and a little way up into the fjords.
The various routes were plotted out using Tyre and then exported to my much detested Garmin Zumo. I could see straight away that I was going to have problems with it again but I had also taken the precaution of buying paper maps. Take a look at the image below; Ribe to Hirshals - about 207 miles in Tyre or Google Maps including 3-4 way-points or 15,851km the way my Garmin wanted to go which seemed to include unexpected stops in Switzerland and Croatia.
As with previous trips all of my accommodation was booked in advance through Booking.com. I tried to work with my usual £75.00 per night budget for a double room and breakfast but failed miserably this year, partly because of the way the British Pound has fallen since the Brexit vote and partly because Norway is just plain expensive. Also, as per my usual routine I found some self-catering accommodation in the middle of the trip where we could base ourselves for four nights do a bit of washing ready for the return trip and perhaps relax a little more.
0.1 Zumo's plan
Day 1 Stourbridge > Harwich (197 miles)
To take some of the mileage out of the trip and give us a head start I booked an overnight crossing in each direction from Harwich and Hook of Holland. As we had all day to reach Harwich we could afford a late start so did not rush to load the bike or get away. Whist preparing to go I remembered the problem I had had with the Garmin Zumo's power lead on the Satnav bracket and attempted to pull out the pin which appeared to be depressed into the housing. A very gentle tug with some small flat nosed pliers broke it completely, so that I thought, was the end of that. Fortunately the GTR has a 12v accessory socket and I had a USB unit that would plug into it so I would just have to manage.
Setting off around midday we struck out southeast from the midlands using the A14. There was time for a break from the bike in Newmarket and still plenty of time in hand to find something to eat when we arrived in Harwich. Although the sailing did not depart until 23:00 loading can take place much earlier so we made sure we were in the que ready as soon as the call was made.
Cabins have to be booked for overnight sailings and we were able to access it straight after boarding. I had booked a "comfort class" one which had ample room; a small double bed, a single and an ensuite WC / shower. It did not take long to make a mess of it by spreading our bike gear around before getting into some more comfortable clothes for a walk around the ship and get a beer or two from one of the bars. We headed back to our cabin and got our heads down pretty much as the ship sailed, it was going to be an early-ish start in the morning.
1.1 Stourbridge to Harwich
1.2 Boarding at Harwich
1.3 Waiting at Harwich
1.4 Harwich ferry
Day 2 Hook of Holland [NL] > Bad Iburg [D] 235 miles
After getting the wake-up call from the ship's PA we had a quick coffee in the cabin before heading down to the vehicle deck and loading and unstrapping the GTR. Even allowing for disembarking and clearing the port it was still a fairly early start and we were onto the Dutch motorway network under very grey skies and intermittent light rain.
We headed for the first planned stop of the day which was the small town of Heusden. Although this was a bit off the direct route to our overnight stop the shape of the town had caught my eye when I was route planning. I know that may sound odd, but take a quick look at a map and you will see what I mean: https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.7336088,5.1431343,1404m/data=!3m1!1e3 (https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@51.7336088,5.1431343,1404m/data=!3m1!1e3)
It was a good call and a really nice place to spend an hour walking round its ramparts after taking the obligatory GTR-and-Windmill shot. A shame that there was not a bit of sun on it, but never the less an attractive and well-kept little centre that provided a little bakery where we were able to have a coffee and cigarette at a table under an awning and out of the rain.
Next on the list was Arnhem, a town whose name is so well known due to its WWII history. I had picked a street near the once fiercely contested bridge over the Rhein and plotted it into the Zumo as a place to park up. To be fair it had a good go at getting us there but unfortunately it had been the subject of a major excavation for services work and we ended up squeezing the bike at the end of a cycle rack near the market place. If Arnhem has any architectural merit, I would have to say that I struggled to find it. Hardly surprising I suppose given the devastation the opposing sides wrought upon it during the war and there are not many buildings to see that are over 60 years old. We did spend some time though in the "Airborne At The Bridge" museum, taking in the exhibits and film recounting the story of the battles for this strategically important crossing.
The weather was not particularly improving and I made the decision to scrap the next two intermediate stops for the day. They were not particularly important but had been planned in to keep the bike on trunk roads rather than motorways. We had lingered longer than intended in Heusden and Arnhem and it now seemed sensible to push through the rain to our hotel for the night which was still several miles away over the border in Germany.
The Zumo was not going to make it easy for us though. It was very insistent that we should leave Arnhem by the excavated road and as we followed the temporary traffic flow within the city centre it gradually bought us back to where we started. I made sure that the closed road was not an active way-point and had another crack at it, this time being forced back over the Rhein before it gradually and cunningly brought us back to the closed road in the city centre. Back out again I pushed out further following the motorway signs and then when I thought it had grasped the idea began to follow its directions again – back over the bridge, into the city centre and to the closed road. There was a considerable amount of swearing going on inside my helmet as I stopped the bike, turned the unit off and got a proper map out. It must of taken about an hour to escape Arnhem and the history books could now show that the bridge was taken twice by the Allies, twice by the Wehrmacht and about six times by me'n'wifey.
It was then just a couple of hours on the Autobahn. We seemed to be riding at the front edge of the rain sometimes getting briefly ahead of it and at each of our brief breaks we found the motorway service areas full of people wearing T-shirts and surprised looks on their faces.
We parked up at the Felsenkeller Waldhotel at a reasonable hour and checked in to find a good sized room with a bit of a balcony overlooking fields and the edge of the surrounding woodland. I had my back to the window, rummaging around in my luggage when Carole shot from the back of the room, under-trousers intact but bike trousers around her ankles, waddling at high speed and trying to dive for her iPad (one of those moments that you would have had to be there to appreciate the hilarity of it) – behind my back the field had become populated with a herd of deer. We spent some time watching them before the rain came down again, this time really heavily and sending the deer running for cover. The rain put an end to any plans of an evening walk and beer in Bad Iburg town but we had a pleasant drink in the hotel bar and a chat with the hotel propriertor.
Not a bad first day on the continent on the whole.
Sounds like a good start to your trip Pete.
Though I do ask why have you not binned that useless Garmin Zumo? It has been nothing but trouble for you............ I do laugh at the continued drama it causes. It adds a totally new dimension to your adventure. :rofl2:
Quote from: Kiwifruit on Saturday, 28 October 2017, 06:31 PM
Sounds like a good start to your trip Pete.
Though I do ask why have you not binned that useless Garmin Zumo? It has been nothing but trouble for you............ I do laugh at the continued drama it causes. It adds a totally new dimension to your adventure. :rofl2:
A very fair question - Having shelled out about £300.00 on it I am still reluctant to put my hand in my pocket for something else but have now learned to use it with caution.
This trip did not go well compared to my previous ones as will be revealed in due course, but the Zumo was the least of my problems....
Day 3 Bad Iburg [D] > Lübeck [D] (240 miles)
The Zumo had been charged up overnight but when tried to call up the route I had planned I could see that it was going to be a waste of time. Although I had put three intermediate stops in (again, just to keep the route off the motorway) it had decided to add several hundred way-points and as I expected the screen would only display "approaching" or "ready to navigate" and no useful directions. I switched my plan to doing some Autobahn work for the morning and perhaps spending a bit more time off the bike later in the day. The Zumo was therefore switched off to conserve the battery for when we really needed it as it does seem to be able to cope with finding a single location.
I've said it before but the GTR is made for the autobahn, it is absolutely effortless at 80mph and the miles fly by. I do miss the top gear acceleration that the GSX gives me, 6th on the GTR is as it says really just an overdrive but given the speeds driven in the overtaking lanes on a German motorway I like to get an overtake done quickly so occasionally found myself shifting down one gear to pass something. We skirted Bremen but then took a little detour eastwards to the town of Lüneburg.
This old Hansiatic trading town has managed to keep a good number of its older buildings many with stepped gables some of which seem to be leaning inwards at an alarming angle. A late lunch was found as we walked around and we also came across some sort of classic car event for which a number of the central streets had been closed off. There was a surprising amount of British machinery running round including a Jaguar, MG and a Triumph as well as the German marques that you might expect.
Back on the Autobahn we eased around the outside of Hamburg and arrived early in the evening in Lübeck, the Zumo took us to within 5 minutes' walk of our hotel but it seemed to be trying a very circuitous approach and we were finally defeated by a one-way system and some bollards that it could not seem to handle. The night's accommodation was the Ringhotel Jensen which had a riverside location more or less opposite the historic Holstentor gate and salt warehouses. At least we had arrived on a warm dry evening and were able to spend a bit of time walking around, the place had that nice evening buzz to it with the street cafes and waterfront bars all enjoying good trade. I had a drink (or was it two?) at one of the bars near the hotel and then headed for bed.
There had not been much enjoyable riding today, too much time had been spent on the motorway, but both Lüneburg and Lübeck had been worth the visit.
Day 4 Lübeck > Ribe [DK] (170 miles)
The sun was shining on Lübeck when we got up so there was a chance to take a couple of better photos before leaving.
The Zumo was being positively helpful that morning and kept us largely off the motorway to our first stop of the day near Plön. This is a little German "lake district", scattered with small meres among the woodlands. We found a lakeside car park with a handy Imbiss kiosk where we sat with a coffee and looked over the lake for a short while.
Next up was Eckernförde on the north German coast where we took another break. We did not linger too long as it was now getting pretty hot and the beach is no place to be in full bike gear when everyone around you is sunbathing.
From Eckenförde we progressed along smaller coast roads until we reached the city of Flensburg close to the Danish border. A spot on the harbour quayside did for our next short break but again we pushed on as there was still a distance to go. It was not many minutes more on the bike until we had reached to border with Denmark.
First impressions of Denmark then: Flat, agricultural and windy. A bit like Cambridgeshire but with more sex shops at the border and stronger winds* A mixture of E45 motorway and the decent (but flat and straight) 24 primary road took us northwards and then west, back toward the north sea coast until we reached the day's final destination of Ribe. Not an exciting ride except that the winds seemed to be chucking the GTR around quite a bit, especially when overtaking HGVs. I eventually got the hang of getting ready to lean the bike back in and upright when we passed one, but it was a little unsettling.
Ribe (pronounced more like REEBEr according to our hotelier – if you read it as Ribe deduct 5 bonus points) is Denmark's oldest city and is wrapped around a small cathedral who's spires can be seen from some distance in the flat landscape. The Hotel Ribe is more of a pub with guest rooms than anything else but the lady owner who attended to us spoke excellent English and did offer us a bit of space in the beer garden to park up the bike. We decided to leave it in the small public car park next to the hotel as it seemed safe enough there and I don't think she had any idea of the number of garden tables and chairs the GTR would wipe out if we brought it in.
After getting out of the hot bike gear we spent the evening wandering the narrow streets of Ribe, walking along the quay down to the old castle mound and finally looping back into the square by the cathedral. A take-away shop provided us with a pizza the size of a garage door and two huge boxes of fries, all at a fairly reasonable cost. The beer garden back at our hotel was as good a place as any to round off the day with a couple of drinks.
Today had been a good day. A decent mixture of roads and places to stop along the way and Ribe is a really nice little town to spend an afternoon and evening.
*I have only ever entered Cambridgeshire from Northamptonshire so I can't honestly say that it does not have sex shops when approached from Bedfordshire for example.
Great photos :onya:
How does the wife like being a pillion on the GTR compared to the 14 ?
Quote from: Kiwifruit on Tuesday, 31 October 2017, 04:41 AM
Great photos :onya:
How does the wife like being a pillion on the GTR compared to the 14 ?
To be honest she was very "anti" when I bought it (I think she would have rather I spent the money on a new kitchen instead) and it has been hard work to get her to show any love for it.
However once we get past her mounting up over all of that luggage she has admitted she feels safer on it than the GTR due to everything around her. Otherwise I don't think she has a strong opinion in terms of general comfort between the two bikes.
Surprisingly, I do get a lot of grief about it's carrying capacity though. With the GSX (even when we upgraded to the Shad hard panniers) we carried a roll bag on the carrier which allowed for her to carry a rucksack with her bits and pieces in and she can't do this with the GTR top-box in the way. Add to that, there is absolutely no storage capacity below the GTR seat which means all of those emergency items (spare bulbs, warning triangle, alcohol testers etc) end up eating into the hard luggage space.
At least I don't have to make her lube and adjust the chain now though :grin:
Day 5 Ribe [DK] > Hirtshals [DK] (214 miles)
We left Ribe and headed east to pick up the motorway again. I had not got great expectations for this day as I really struggled when I was planning the trip to find much to leave the motorway for. Despite this I had originally planned a route into the Zumo that would avoid some of the motorway but as before it had taken upon its self to throw in several hundred unnecessary way-points and was going to be unusable. Also, a bit of intermittent rain had set in again so it seemed sensible to push on.
We did eventually cut away from the motorway to visit Mariager, a small town on the east coast but after finding a supermarket for something to eat there did not seem to be much to do other than find somewhere to stand out of the rain for a while. The town is home to a preserved steam railway so if we had of caught it on an operating day the place may have looked a bit more lively.
As we were faced with what looked like a wet afternoon we re-joined the E45 motorway and then the E39 and simply pushed on until we reached the port of Hirtshals on Denmark's northern coast. Having successfully managed to avoid accidentally going down one of the access roads to the numerous ferry terminals that sit around the town, we rode into the centre as our motorway day had resulted in an early arrival and it seemed a bit early to find our hotel. In any case the battery had died on the Zumo so we were going to have to hang around the bike for a while so that it could charge up and allow us to use it for finding the precise location of our accommodation.
Hirstalls gave us a very good indication of how expensive Norway was going to be tomorrow. The town is approached via a street full of supermarkets and discount shops, side by side all the way down to the sea front. Only a lot of Norwegians coming over to shop could justify this amount of competition in such a small town. We found a café near the sea front, ordered a couple of coffees and sat down. The moment that they were bought out we were hit by a sudden downpour and most of our coffee ended up splashed out of the cups and into the saucers. OK, we had twice as much in our cups now, but it was cold so we drank up and as soon as the squall was over headed for the Hotel Fyrklit, just a mile or so along the coast.
The Fyrklit is a huge hotel complex, we parked up the bike at random outside one of the blocks took out the luggage and walked over to the reception. We collected our keys and followed the corridor down to our room and when we had it opened up we found that the bike was right outside the door and little terrace that lead from it. There was also bit of a counter with a kettle in the room which cheered Carole up enormously; her small stash of PG tips had been with us for several days now and this was the first time since our overnight ferry crossing that she could see the prospect of a decent cup of tea.
There was no milk though, but as the rain had knocked off for a while and I felt that we had not done or seen much that day we decided to get back on the bike raid one of the supermarkets back in town. Even after a bit of shopping there was still a bit of the evening left. Previously whilst going to and from the hotel I had seen tourist signs for the "Bunkermuseet", I must have really absorbed some of the Danish language in my one full day in the country because I was pretty sure this could be a Bunker Museum.
It was, and I spent a little while roaming around the WWII concrete structures in the dunes around the bottom of the lighthouse. Some of the bunkers are accessible and contain displays showing their history. I felt a little better about our day after our visit. The riding had not been up to much and until then we had not really seen a lot, but at least now there were a couple of pictures of something for the album. No bar that evening, but we both had a cup of tea on our little private terrace before turning in for the night.
What a brilliant and comprehensive write up..
I am impressed.
Not sure I could do the same whilst on holiday.
Quote from: Speedy1959 on Wednesday, 01 November 2017, 03:55 AM
What a brilliant and comprehensive write up..
I am impressed.
Not sure I could do the same whilst on holiday.
Thanks, I can't claim that it is written up on the hoof, I usually put my thoughts down when I get home and start to trawl through the photos.
Day 6 Hirtshals [DK] > Stavanger [N] (148 miles + ferry)
As we were only a mile away from the Fjord Line terminal there was not too much of a rush the following morning to get there for our 10:00 sailing. Our crossing had been booked for the high speed Fjord Cat service that would take us to Norway in about two and a half hours. Regrettably we were first in the queue – I hate this, I would much rather be following someone else when boarding – and we were followed down by thirteen bikes from a British organised tour and half a dozen or so German riders. No drama though once I had worked out where they wanted the bike facing and we were soon lashed down and up on the passenger decks.
As ships go, the cat' really shifted and was surprisingly stable at speed. We gave the amenities the full tour but pretty much settled on the open deck at the back where I could have a smoke or two and watch the spray kicked up by the boat's jets.
Because our bike had been stowed down in the pointy end of one of the hulls and a lot of cars then parked behind us, it took a bit of a while to get out, but as there are no HGVs on this service it did not take too long to clear the Norwegian border controls and we were soon on the road for Stavanger.
I pottered along with the traffic flow for about an hour in a landscape very different from Denmark; hilly, if not mountainous, with glimpses of coast, fjord, lake or river at every turn. Whilst I was fully aware from reading up at the planning stage of Norway's national speed limit of 80kph (50mph) it was the first time that I had been in Europe that drivers actually seemed to take any notice of speed limits. Most of the time it was not 50mph but 43 or 36 if there was a series of bends or road junction in sight. During our run a few of the bikes from the organised tour had passed us and I was starting to develop the itch. We passed a retail park where a large café sign caught my eye so we rode in to grab a drink. The café turned out to be within the Norwegian equivalent of B&Q but we shuffled in and made our purchase in the hope that we would not be expected to buy a lawnmower or something before being allowed to leave the store. Sipping my coffee on the car park I made a decision to pick up the speed a little as the run was taking a little longer than I expected and I wanted some time to look around Stavanger when we arrived. And this was when the holiday started to go wrong.....
And so at the Vatlandsvann bridge with a straight clear (70kph / 43mph) road ahead of me I wound the GTR's throttle round to give me a blistering 54mph overtake on the car in front, slowly off the throttle a half mile further on, banked gently into the curve of the road, straightened up for the hill ascent – and right into the STOP paddle of a waiting police officer.
Now, let me be absolutely clear; this was nobody's fault but my own. I knew the speed limit of the road I was riding on and I went above it. The police officer, realising we were British explained in English that we were "going a little bit too fast" and checked over my photo driving licence. After just a moment or two on his radio he seemed otherwise happy with the legitimacy of the bike and wrote out his ticket explaining there was a fine to pay, details were on the back of the form and that it would probably wait until we returned home.
We continued our run toward Stavanger. The incident was unfortunate and not the end of the world, but I was not going to let it happen again. I was vaguely aware of the scenery we were passing through but now everything seemed to have changed. My focus was on my speedo, the road signs we were passing and the speed limit displayed on the Zumo which was my back up in case I had overlooked a sign somewhere – I was pretty much blind to everything else. Progress was now at best "steady" and it was taking a while to cover some ground but fortunately that day's ride was the shortest one scheduled for the tour.
Stavanger was reached with plenty of time in hand, although we did have to stop in the outskirts of the city for a while as the Zumo's battery had chosen that moment to die on us again and we needed to give it a quick charge to assist us through the central area. That done, we found a convenient motorcycle parking bay outside the Victoria Hotel, a large building on the quayside of Stavanger's inner harbour.
The hotel had a fairly up-market feel to it despite being one of the cheaper rooms I had booked in Norway and our large room also gave a view down to where the bike was parked on the Quayside. Having changed for the evening we set off to find out what Stavanger was all about. The northern side of the harbour where our hotel was was pretty lively already with the restaurants and bars doing good business in the evening sunshine. We circuited round to the old town on the opposite site of the harbour where we took a stroll up and around the narrow cobbled alleys with their white painted timber cottages – a nice well preserved little area of the town.
Descending back to the waterside we found a branch of Burger King where two small plain burgers and two packets of fries were purchased for the thick end of £20.00. We made a half-hearted attempt to walk the calories off around the park and then continued back to our hotel which seemed as good a place as any to have my evening beer. Two "pints" were purchased for around £18.00 so a carefully considered decision was made that I would sip it rather than knock it back. It was as I was making the mental currency conversion from Kroner to Sterling that I realised with mounting horror exactly the scale of the fine we had picked up that morning – it was not £46.00 as I had rode away thinking, it was £460.00. I would definitely not be falling for that a second time tomorrow.
:onya: great write up so far, that fine will sting a bit tho
I knew they were heavy on speeding but christ that's got to hurt.
Blimey, that's the sort of fine I'd expect for speeding on a stolen bike. On the back wheel. With no helmet.
If they brought that scheme to Britain the national debt would be paid off in a week.
Quote from: Mister Fishfinger on Thursday, 02 November 2017, 08:35 AM
Blimey, that's the sort of fine I'd expect for speeding on a stolen bike. On the back wheel. With no helmet.
If they brought that scheme to Britain the national debt would be paid off in a week.
No, No, you have forgotten the admin costs........ will still take 400 years.
And Mr FF how come you have our golf course ?? :confused1:
incredible write up. read it all. i couldnt come close to doing that. am now not interested in norway, too dear for me. if i lived there, a 50cc for me, at least i could feel like i was going fast.
Day 7 Stavanger [N] > Vossevangen [N] (195 miles)
Opening the curtains of the Victoria Hotel to check that my bike was still there in the morning revealed a massive change from the night before, it was as if someone had silently built a 10 storey apartment block next to us overnight. A cruise ship had entered the harbour and had somewhat obscured our view of the waterside.
After breakfast we set off again under an overcast sky. We were not intending to take the most direct route to our next hotel as I wanted to visit the port of Bergen further north along the coast. Our road therefore was the E39 which exited Stavanger and then "island hopped" by a series of tunnels and bridges, some long and some short. As I was now a Marked Man and Highway Desperado, I was riding very carefully again and trying to share my attention between my dials and the road signs. Something else was starting to nag at me as well, we kept driving under automatic toll gantries and although I had convinced myself in my research before the trip that they did not apply to motorcycles I was seeing nothing to confirm this. The only comfort I could take was that they all seemed to be forward facing cameras.
We edged slowly up the coast and soon we reached Mortavika where the expanse of fjord before us was too wide to have been tunnelled or bridged and the crossing was by a small ferry. No pre-booking was required as it runs very frequently and there is always room for bikes. By Norwegian standards the cost was very reasonable too at about £15 one way for bike, rider and pillion. To be fair the wait for the ferry and loading did not take unreasonably long and this crossing is only around 15 minutes but when it is all added up there was still an impact on time. There is no need to strap the bike down on these sheltered waters though.
After disembarking at Arsvegen we continued north between coast, mountain and fjord. In the right circumstances this should have been a stunning run but I was fighting back the throttle and the views were now being obscured by low cloud and light rain. There was no real joy in riding along here, basically being stuck in the same line of traffic that had come off the ferry with you which was all cruising along at the legal limit, not daring an overtake and not enough momentum to lean the bike into any curves. Along this section we were mostly crossing fjords by bridges but there was at least one long tunnel of over 7km which allowed a couple of minutes shelter.
Next up was the Husavik – Sandvikvag ferry. This one runs hourly so if you don't get your timing right you could be hanging round a bit. The crossing is around 20 minutes plus your wait and loading time and is something that needs to be factored in with your route planning.
From here Bergen should have been (metaphorically) in sight, but the time it had taken to get this far and the rain had somewhat dampened my spirits. I decided to scratch my visit to Bergen it was going to be too wet to enjoy walking round a city centre, the camera had hardly been out today as everywhere was looking too miserable. I was also uncertain about what speed I was going to achieve on the next section of the day's run to our hotel. And so Bergen became the first of many casualties on my itinerary and we skirted the city to head inland.
The run between Bergen and Vossevangen followed the pattern of the earlier part of the day; wet, dull, slow and watching, watching the clocks. I knew we were getting close to Vossevangen but our hours on the road had already eaten the battery on the Zumo so we pulled up a at a lakeside kiosk so that we could get a drink and charge the unit up for 10 minutes so we could be guided in. It is not as if it had been really needed for navigation, but that speed limit display had still been providing a double-check for me.
I was not expecting much from tonight's "hotel" and that is pretty well what I got. When I was booking there was a very limited selection in this area and I had taken a double room in what was basically a hostel. Most other rooms were shared occupancy and the clientele were mostly back-packers and hikers. The room was sparse, there was no television (not that we would have watched it, but it is the principal of the thing!) and at £117.00 was nearly half as much money again on top of the beautiful room we had had the night before in Stavanger.
There was however a shared kitchen available where we were able to make a cup of tea and that was pretty much where we wrapped up the day as a 10 minute walk into town in the rain did not appeal. Looking across the lake from the terrace at the back of the hotel we watched the low ribbons of cloud hide and reveal bits of snow on the mountaintops beyond, A bit of sunshine would have been nice but the weather sort of fitted the landscape. Today was a bit of a write-off and an early night may make tomorrow come sooner, perhaps it would be better.
Yes indeed, a great write up and photos. Cool for us down this way to get to see what must be a beautiful place .
Thanks for taking the time and trouble to post it Pete.
Trip reports are one of my favourite things to read about.
:cheers:
Day 8 Vossevangen – Hjelle (195 miles)
Despite the budget nature of the hotel generally, we had a decent breakfast in a room overlooking the lake and a least there was a bit of sun on it now. We got back on the bike for no more than a couple of minutes as we needed to go into town; partly for fuel and partly to go in search of a cash machine. We had come away with around £150.00 in cash in each of the currencies of the countries that we would visit, just so that we had something on us as we crossed the borders and our day and a half in Norway had already eaten away a good chunk of what we had.
The original intention for the day was to head out to Falm, take in a renowned viewpoint and then on via a detour to see the stave church at Borgund before continuing north. It was going to be necessary to recalibrate though now I knew the rate of progress we were actually likely to achieve and I allowed the Zumo to pick a more direct route and resigned myself to missing some of the things that I had planned to visit.
We did still capture the first intended stop of the day though, the Tvindfossen waterfalls that lay at the side of the E16. We competed with the coachloads of Chinese tourists for a space to take a couple of photos and then continued on up the Vikafjellet mountain tourist road. OK, it was not the route that I intended but the scenery was not disappointing. I was starting to take it in a bit more now, listening to the note of the engine rather than watching the clocks so much and backing off the throttle whenever the big Kwak sounded like it was starting to enjoy its self. I'd generally settled into riding in fourth gear most of the time, fifth was OK on the 50mph stretches but as a lot of the roads were 43 or 36mph the lower gearing was necessary to "pick up" the bike in the bends.
We entered the Sogn Og Fjordane area with lakes, waterfalls and mountains at our side all the way, eventually dropping down the side of Sogonfjorde at Vikoyri. I knew this town also had a stave church, so that became a substitute for the one I had originally planned to ride out to and gave us another break from the bike.
In front of us now was the crossing of the fjord and another ferry, this time between Vangsnes and Hella. This one runs every half an hour so there is no real pressure to arrive for any given time and allows fifteen minutes relaxation watching the mountains float by before mounting up again.
A while down the road we found a tourist sign to an attraction, as this was not my originally planned route we were not at all sure what we were pulling off the highway to visit, but we found ourselves at the foot of the Boyabareen Glacier. Yet another beautiful spot with the blue-white ice spilling down the mountainside and another excuse for a shot of the bike in the landscape.
As well as my own throttle control there was plenty to keep our progress in check, every few moments a new vista would open up and tempt us off the bike to pull out the camera. Just after one such stop at the Skjørbakkane utsiktspunkt (viewpoint) a bigger delay came as just above Utvik we found ourselves at the end of a very long queue of stationery traffic extending from the village up through the hairpins on the hillside above. We must have been stuck up there for an hour or more but at least the sun was out and the view across Innvikfjorden was pleasant enough. We watched one or two other bikes filter down the outside of the queue, only to come back defeated. I really could not decide what to do, Norway is a vast landscape but like the highlands of Scotland there are a limited number of roads running through it and turning back would almost certainly result in a very lengthy detour. Soon word reached us that the village centre was blocked by an overturned lorry, it had just been cleared and they would release the southbound traffic first so we could expect to have to wait perhaps another half hour. They must have had a change of mind about which traffic to clear first though because minutes later we were on the move again.
We followed the side of the Fjord and eventually reached Stryn where we were able to take some fuel on for the last bit of the journey. It was time to look after ourselves as well though because we had not eaten much that day so as well as a coffee from the petrol station we decided to "go native" and purchase some sort of sausage in a bread roll. Not sure what exactly we were getting into we just bought the one and split it between us. A sausage containing cheese is a bit alien to me but it filled the gap a little.
We could not hang around long though as the low speed limits, my frequent stops to enjoy the landscape and the delay caused by the road blockage had resulted in the afternoon heading rapidly toward evening and I was not sure what the check-in arrangements were for the accommodation that we had taken for that and the next three nights.
We rode along the Stryn valley eastwards alongside river and lake and eventually reached the Hjelledalen Hyttesenter, a group of about 10 holiday chalets just off the main road. A note on the reception door told us that our name would be found on a card on one of the doors, they key in the lock, that chalet would be already prepared for us and the reception opened at 20:00. As it was about 19:45 it seemed that we were not late after all...
The chalet had plenty of room and everything we needed; a room with a double bed, another room with bunk beds where we dumped all of the bike gear, a mezzanine reached from a ladder in the lounge gave two further single beds so it would be an ideal base for a group of people who wanted to split the cost. It did however have knotted pine clad walls, knotted pine ceilings, knotted pine floor and knotted pine furniture. I hope I am not offending anyone but I am not particularly keen on the stuff, it was going to be like living inside a packing crate for a few days but I had no doubt I would cope.
All in all not a bad day, which I had enjoyed as a tourist if not as a motorcyclist.
Day 9 Hjelle – Maloy ( 160 miles)
We had three full days to look forward to from our base in Hjelle. The intention was to use one to ride out to the Atlantic Road via the Trollsteign (Troll's Ladder) and back and the other days to do as little or as much riding around the area as we fancied. After hauling myself out of bed and stepping out of our lounge onto the veranda at the front I was greeted with the hiss of car tyres on the wet road in front and light rain falling from the clouds clinging to the hillside around us. I decided that today was not the day for the big ride and set about looking at the map with a mug of tea at my side.
In the end we decided we would ride back west to Stryn, the largest nearby town that we had passed through yesterday and at least pick up a few groceries, we would see where we went from there if the rain was not getting any worse.
After a quick supermarket visit it did seem to be easing a bit so we decided to continue west toward the coast, there was no particular destination in mind which gave us the comfort that we could turn round at any time we wanted. Maloy was picked at random from the map and we set off.
It was a reasonable couple of hours ride, the road was pretty much flat as it tracked along the waterside at sea level. The landscape was reminiscent of going along the Great Glen between Fort William and Inverness in in Scotland. It was of course a very steady run, probably averaging just over 40mph given the limits on the road - it seemed such a shame, the bike was crying out to be let loose.
Maloy, our destination, was an island separated from the mainland buy just a short span of sea and was entered over a tall, arched and curved bridge. The town its self was pretty unremarkable and I am sure that with a bit of planning I could have picked somewhere a bit more attractive. Nevertheless we found ourselves a drink and watched the boats in the commercial harbour for a while.
The route back was the same way that we came, there was not really much choice. Approaching Nordfjord we felt the need for a "comfort break" and located the public facility at the side of the Fjord. Entry it seemed, was by contactless Visa card at a charge of 10NoK (£1). This just about summed up Norway for me; High finnancial investment in excellent modern facilities, embracing the digital age and moving to a cashless society. However, me and the missus are not Norwegian we are British, so noticing that the door had been left slightly ajar we both nipped in and stole a piss.
Our run out to the coast had left time in hand so after stopping briefly to take some photos at Oppstryn ( the end of the lake as we were approaching Hjelle) we agreed that we would continue past our chalet and ride a little way up the valley and climb to the start of the Gamle Strynfjellsveg.
This is the old mountain road into the Stryn valley which is now made mostly redundant by more modern roads and tunnels but which survives as a tourist route and still serves the local ski resort. We were not going to go too deeply into it as this was to be our exit road when our time in the area came to an end, but from a leaflet we had picked up we knew there to be a hotel with a viewpoint where you could take in the scene down the valley.
We climbed a series of hairpins on the [15] road and then turned off onto the old route where some tighter hairpins on this narrower road bought us to the hotel at Videseter. It did not look as if non-residents were encouraged, there was a barrier at the car park and there did not seem to be drinks of any sort available to casual tourists. There is always somewhere to park up a motorcycle even on a narrow road, so we managed to take a couple of pictures in the fading light before dropping back down to our accommodation where we grudgingly attended to our laundry and spread it about the place to dry overnight.
No beer again tonight, steps will have to be taken.....
Day 10 Hjelle – Stordal (140 miles)
First mug of tea and cigarette on the veranda and I looking at rain again, probably worse than yesterday, in fact I could barely see the hill in front of us. There was a realisation that if I wanted to reach for the Atlantic Road it would have to be today but already I knew the route including the Trollsteigen was unattainable. I allowed the Zumo to calculate a direct route, it was still going to be a lot of mileage and the weather was against us but we would have a go.
We left Hjelle and travelled east along the valley to the hairpins where we had climbed to the old postal road the night before but this time stayed with the modern road and tunnel toward Geiranger. I had promised myself I would keep the stops to a minimum but emerging at Langvatnet high in the mountain peaks with bare slopes and patches of snow a pause could not be resisted.
Continuing round toward Geiranger we passed the entrance to the Dalsnibba viewpoint (1500m above sea level) but again we elected to pass by, partly because of time and partly because judging by the heavy cloud we would not have seen a great deal anyway. Even though it was overcast the twisting, turning road [63] was a spectacular ride even at the now usual pedestrian pace.
Just before Geiranger village we came to a viewpoint overlooking the fjord and village and my instincts got the better of me again, we pulled the bike up between more coach loads of Chinese tourists and spent a short while looking at this iconic view, the one that seems to appear first whenever you search for tourist information on Norway. It's funny, on the brochure pictures the sun always seems to be shining and I found myself wondering how many days or weeks the photographer had to wait.
We dropped the last mile into Geiranger but simply passed through, we climbed the hairpins at the other side of the fjord and again skipped the viewpoint on this side as we made an effort to make some progress.
But the reality was that we were not covering enough distance. It was cold, wet and slow. I remember calculating at one point that we had managed to cover about 12 miles in half an hour and reaching the Atlantic Road was looking more and more unrealistic.
We eventually reached Eidsdal where another ferry ticket was going to have to be purchased if we were to go on. I searched in vain for a hot drink to sip whilst I decided what to do but nothing seemed to be open so I settled for a smoke. It seemed a bit pointless just to go back the way we had come, but equally I was not sure what the point was going to be of joining the ferry queue. In the end we boarded the ferry in the hope that the roads would open up and be quicker on the other side of the Fjord.
This was the case to a certain extent, there were less steep ascents and descents and the road flowed pretty well but only at the usual 50 or 43mph. We pressed on in the rain eventually reaching Stordal where we came across a petrol station that offered the chance of a hot drink and to get out of the rain. There was a canopy on the outside sheltering a table with an ashtray where I spread out my map and sipped my coffee whilst gathering my thoughts; should we carry on or not? Eventually I reached the bold and firm decision that I would go back into the petrol station and buy a second coffee. It was also time to think about something eat again and again with a degree of caution we purchased a "Burger Dog" (It may have been Poodle, but I can't be sure).
It was time to let it go. Although it was one of the points I was looking forward to on this holiday, there was going to be no pleasure in getting there at the speed I had now disciplined myself to riding, in fact it was just TEDIOUS. I then knew for certain what I had begun to realise the day before; taking a four day break in the middle of a tour had always worked well before for us, but this time it had been the wrong thing to do. We should have picked additional overnight stops. A hotel near the Atlantic Road would have needed a 150 mile ride from Hjelle rather than a 300 mile round trip. And so this little petrol station in a rather remote village was to become the northernmost destination of our trip.
I would not have to go back the whole way that we had come though, if we back-tracked a few miles we could pick up a ferry to Stranda and then a route would open up that would result in a circuit of the Geirangerfjord, so this in the end is what we did. The road from Stranda is the only road that we had ridden on in Norway that I would call in poor repair. The ruts and potholes added to our speed challenges somewhat and bounced and rattled the GTR for a few miles. A sign for another viewpoint came into sight and again, as this route had not had much forward planning I was not sure what we were pulling off the road to see. We were about due another break anyway and it turned out that this lofty lay-by (Ljoen) gave incredible views down over the other end of Geirangerfjord. The way the road above overhung the viewing platform gave the added advantage of some shelter from Mother Nature trying to extinguish my cigarette whilst we watched the seemingly miniature ships below.
Back on the bike again we followed the [60] past Hellesylt down to Grodas, just beyond which we picked up on the route that we had travelled out and back on the day before. This time when passing through Stryn I remembered to stop off at the supermarket and pick up a beer, at least I would have a drink to help me consider my options for our last full day in Hjelle.
Great scenery and write up Pete.
Day 11 Hjelle – Dalisnibba – Geiranger – Hellesylt – Hjelle (100 miles)
Having had all of my ambition kicked out of me we agreed that we would have an "easy" day as our last day in the area. Ironically the weather was looking much better and there was even a bit of sun on the top of the hill in front of us so we rode out eastwards again up the Stryn valley toward Geiranger as we had done the day before. This time though we turned on to the road that headed for the Dalisnibba view point and "Geiranger Skywalk".
I was not sure that the toll for this road was actually going to be worth paying, there was still a lot of cloud around the tops but I reckoned it was sufficiently broken to offer us a reward if we were patient. This is another steep ascent with a series of tight bends and hairpins but I proceeded with some confidence; Carole has been my "wing man" for so many years now that I know she will be looking behind and up the road to give me warning of anything coming down the hill, this allows me to concentrate on balancing the bike and watching where the front wheel is going – I don't have to ask, I just know she is on to it. There are of course the obligatory charabancs filled with Oriental types that want more than their fair share of the highway, but we picked our way ever upwards with alternate views of mountain or the inside of clouds.
We had just divested ourselves of helmets and gloves and was looking at the mountains behind us when we became aware of a rising murmur from the tourists at the top of the car park and their rush toward the glass balustrade of the "Skywalk". We walked over to see what had caught their attention and found that the clouds had parted to form a nice hole that picked out the intense blue Geirangerfjord with a seemingly tiny cruise ship at its head, about 4500 feet below us.
As I expected the clouds shuffled around sufficiently for us to see pretty much all around us, even though it was by instalments. The [63] road below us which had carried us to Geiranger yesterday as it would again today looked like a perfect map or satellite image. I spent some time looking at it in frustration; a man ought to be able to ride a bike on that at a safe pace of this choosing, unfortunately Norway needs a 160mph bike like a dolphin needs a hand-drier.
We spent a fair bit of time at the top - if I have paid for a toll road I like to get my money's worth and the shifting clouds kept throwing up opportunities for the camera. Eventually we mounted up and made the drop down to the town of Geiranger.
Considering the number of tourists here it was surprisingly easy to park, nearly everyone is arriving by launches from the cruise ship or by coach. After withdrawing another wedge from an ATM we found ourselves a drink and something to eat from the supermarket and sat on the harbourside for a while. We then took a look at what short boat trips may be on offer and eventually settled on the idea of putting the bike on the Geiranger to Hellsylt ferry although it would not be due out for another hour. After procuring a small tin of Café Crème cigars from the supermarket (about £11.00 instead of the £5.00 I was used to) we passed the time by climbing the hairpins at the northern side of the lake and taking in the view that we had passed by the day before.
The ferry trip would give us a one hour cruise along Geirangerfjord so that I could take in a bit of the scenery without worrying about how fast I was going. I had noted before how reasonably priced Norwegian car ferries had seemed, but not so with this one – you really are stung for the tourist premium. This cost £67.00 which is almost certainly more than you would pay to cross the English Channel. It was nice though to be able to take a few pictures of the great number of waterfalls on both sides of the fjord.
Eventually we were offloaded at the quayside at Hellesylt but hung back by the white water running through the town for a while whilst coaches picked up the foot passengers to take them on the circuit back to their ship. From there we found ourselves running back along to Stryn using the same road that we had done the previous two afternoons. Sadly I did not get the buzz from it that that I had done from riding the same stretch of the Mosel that I had done on three consecutive evenings s few months ago, Germany had proved a far better place to be at one with the bike.
It seemed right to end the day with a little detour into the village of Hjelle. Although we had been in the area for a few days we had always bypassed it with the tunnel that takes the main [15] route past the centre. After a few minutes looking along the fjord we made our way back to our hut and began to prepare ourselves for the journey southwards that would start in the morning.
Day 12 Hjelle – Lillehammer (165 miles)
There didn't seem to be anyone round to hand our keys back to once we had had a sweep and wipe round the chalet so we locked up and left the key in there door safe in the knowledge that it would take a really desperate and muscular Viking type to try and nick that old 28" CRT television.
We left the Stryn valley as planned by climbing the hairpins at the eastern end of the valley, past the hotel that we had paused at to take in the view a couple of nights before and this time properly onto the Gamle Strynefjellsveg mountain post road. It was a bright clear day for a change and plenty of places called to us to stop to absorb the landscape and take pictures. Sadly the all year round summer ski centre appeared to be closed for the season, so no coffee with my cigarette.
There was plenty of wildlife roaming the road, disappointingly there were no Elk just your usual mountain dwelling cows and sheep. This old road now just serves tourists and not many of them at that, very little traffic passed us in either direction. Although the first half of the road was in very good condition it started to deteriorate after the ski centre and my speed dropped even further as I made choices between the loose gravel in the middle of the road, the potholes in the vehicle tracks, or the steep drop down the side. I made a point of not riding over the edge and focused on trying to stay in the vehicle tracks and just nipping onto the gravel when a crater appeared. I was now starting to become nervous about facing a decent on this road assuming that I would have to face the same downhill run as we had climbed through the hairpins on the way up.
But that was not how it turned out. A house appeared, then another and another. The road went back to being reasonably surfaced and then emerged at a T junction with the main [15] trunk road. And a bonus – this must be a major arterial road as it had a 90kph speed limit, the first we had seen since leaving the expressways around Bergen. Now I could legally ride at 54mph, the sun was shining and although the landscapes was a little more agricultural rather than rugged it was still a really great road to roll along. We were tempted off after a while or a sign for Billingen which suggested that there was parking, a coffee and some sort of country park to be found. It really was a nice spot, next to a rushing river in beautiful woodland, a place seemingly used as a starting point for hiking trails. We took our coffees on to the café's veranda and watched the sheep running back and forth over the bridge looking for whatever it is that interests sheep.
From Billingen we continued between mountain and river until we reached the E6 Highway which then took us south along a chain of rivers and lakes giving some enjoyable and sensibly paced riding toward Lillehammer. There were of course numerous stops along the way because that's how I operate and I'm sure a determined rider would have knocked off the mileage much quicker if they just wanted to get from A to B. One tourist guide I had read likened this route to the Mosel Valley in Germany; In my opinion it is short of castles and totally lacking in vineyards however I saw the similarity of a good road running for miles alongside a broad sweep of water and the towering hills on either side.
We arrived at the Lillehammer Turistsenter Budget Hotel at a reasonably early hour, the name of the place had concerned me a bit when booking but it really was OK; A nice room with a view down to the bike on the car park and the river (or lake) in the near distance. As there was a fair bit left of the evening we got changed and having acquired a street plan of the town from the reception set of for a walk of about 15-20 minutes to the town centre. We did not particularly find a lot to see to be honest, the town is most famed for its Winter Olympic park sitting on the mountain above the town and which seemed a bit too distant for an evening stroll, but managed to get a hot meal at a snack bar before walking back to the hotel.
A can of something (which tragically turned out to be alcohol free) was purchased from the fridge in the hotel reception and we sat out at a picnic table in the grounds enjoying the last of the day's sun before retiring for the night.
I'd quite enjoyed the day with the bike today, it was much more like I was hoping the trip would have been.
Stunning pics and a great read... what more could anyone want on a damp Thursday evening? Great work! :clapping:
Day 13 – Lillehammer – Larvik (177 miles)
After the usual routine of breakfast, getting the gear on and loading up the bike we set out once again in sunshine. Initially we continued along the E6 again but I did not fancy motorway all day so broke away toward Gjovik for a route that would also avoid Oslo.
I do recall that it was a pleasant ride for the day but in all honesty not much else. Looking back through my photos there was apparently nothing that enticed me to pull out the camera until we reached Larvik on the south cost of the country in the late afternoon. The landscape we had run through was mountainous but not the rugged type of country we had experienced around the fjords, more like running north to south through mid-Wales.
Our entry into Larvik was somewhat compromised by major reconstruction work on the motorway and bridges but we found our way through the diversions into the town centre and then with considerably more effort managed to locate our hotel which was rather off the beaten track up at the top edge of town. The Trudvang Gjestegaard was a U shaped buiding wrapped around a courtyard and provided safe parking for the bike which we could also see from our room, it being the only one with a bit of a balcony.
As we had not stopped much during the day there was plenty of time to walk down the hill toward the town and harbour for the evening. I really enjoyed the hour or two around Larvik, maybe we were lucky, everywhere seems better when the sun is shining.
With the help of a town street plan picked up from reception, we initially found our way to the top of a crag in the middle of the town which had a lookout tower and a couple of cannons and gave views out to sea. I explored with the camera for a little while whilst Carole caught up with a few people on her various mobile devices. A walk along the esplanade then took us to the harbour and then beyond to a small park (Tollerodden) on a headland which had a little lido tucked away round the back.
Next destination selected from the street map was a waterfront shopping complex where we found another cash machine (yes, the money was gone again) and a supermarket where we picked up a little food and a can of Carlsberg to take back to the hotel. I had also run out of the cigarettes I had brought from Denmark on the way up so was forced to part with £12 for a packet of Marlbro to feed my addiction.
It seemed a bit of a slog back up to the hotel, but we were soon taking advantage of our little balcony for the last drink of the day.
Day 14 Larvik – Hirtshals (40 miles + ferry)
It was a morning where we had time on our hands. The ferry from nearby Langesund back to Hirtshals in Denmark was not due to sail until 14:30 and we were only about 30 miles away from the port. The Larvik street plan we had been using the day before had a an inset showing the nearby small town of Stavern and this seemed as good a place as any to while away a bit of time.
We found our way by chance rather than intent to the Fredriksvern shipyard, a historic naval base now largely a heritage centre. The previous day's good weather was not to be repeated and we found ourselves exploring in something between light rain and drizzle. If the conditions had been a bit better I would have been happy to spend a little longer around the boat sheds, barracks and fortifications, there were other old structures including a large pyramid shaped gunpowder magazine on islands just of the shore, I can't be sure if these were accessible to the tourist with a bit more time to spare.
Having had enough of the rain we rode back up to Larvik and then made the short run across to Langesund. We still had plenty of time in hand but there was not much to occupy us after a half hour walk so we decided we may as well do the last mile to the ferry port and hang round in the queue. It was not the brightest idea, there are absolutely no passenger facilities at the terminal and we eventually abandoned the bike and tried to take a little shelter under an overhead loading gantry. We were joined in our dry spot after a while by a young Polish biker who was making the same crossing and learned from him how he was returning to Poland after crop picking in Norway where had earned in a few months more than he would in a year in Poland doing his trained profession as a physiotherapist – those are the extremes of the economies in Europe I guess.
Eventually we were loaded onto the ferry, no sea cat this time – it was to be a large "super ferry" with a lot of HGVs to load and unload. The crossing was also longer in distance than the route we had taken into Norway. This combined with the slower ship was going to result in a 19:00 arrival back at Hirtshals in Denmark. This long on a ferry (without a cabin to sleep or refresh yourselves in) is more than enough and I found myself getting bored after a couple of hours. A visit to the on-board shop resulted in the purchase of a sleeve of cigarettes each and a multipack of cigars. The shop assistant the pointed out that this exceeded the amount that we should take into Denmark, but not before he had already charged it to my card. As I didn't facing the complication of putting stuff back and trying to get the card refunded I decided to add smuggling to my list of holiday crimes; not so much as a professional smuggler, just at the level of a keen amateur.
I knew when booking that it would be early evening when we reached Hirtshals so I had reserved a room at the Hotel Fryklit again. At least we knew where we were heading and we would not be checking in too late. We also knew where we could pick up a bit of milk so that Carole could have her evening cup of tea again as the facilities would be there for us in the room. We checked in just in time again, by the time we had walked the corridor to our room (and found that just like the last time the bike was parked right outside) it was absolutely hammering down and we were grateful we only had to scurry a short way to get the bags off the bike. The wind had also picked up and the evening was spent watching the flags disappear one by one from the flagpoles in to the darkness.
The next days could be wetter, but they would certainly be cheaper.
Day 15 Hirtshals – Flensburg (240 miles)
Similar to our incoming journey, this was not really much of a day to remember, simply a motorway run north to south through Denmark and stopping at nothing other than the odd service area. I know many people are happy to ride like this to cover some mileage to an ultimate destination (I've done it myself) but it is not something I really enjoy. As I had not taken sufficient time to identify anywhere interesting to break off the idea was simply to get back into Germany and have a good afternoon and evening where we were staying.
The wind was slicing across Denmark again but at least it was warm and dry. We exited the motorway a few miles from the border with the intent on spending the handful of Danish currency we had left, but in the end we were back in Germany before we had seen anywhere to shift it.
We found a supermarket near Wasserleben where we brought a few provisions and then parked near the beach where we knocked up a sandwich at a picnic table outside a closed down mini-golf kiosk. There is not much you can do on a beach in full bike gear (other than hang round the bike whilst the ignition is on for the Zumo to charge up) so we made the run through Flensburg and beyond to the location of our next hotel.
To the best of my limited knowledge "Seeblick" translated as "lake view" and I thought it was perfectly reasonable to expect one - perhaps there was many years ago before the forest grew around it. Although the room was a good size and had a door to its own little terrace there was no bar in the hotel. A poster on the lobby wall suggested that there may be a café at the start of the footpath down to the lake so after getting changed we set off on foot with high hopes of a beer or a coffee.
The café was however closed (if it had been open at all that day) so we just carried on down the footpath and a little way around the banks of the Sankelmarker See before finding a fork in the path that would allow us to circle back around to the hotel. The climax of the day was a couple of tumblers of tap water from the bathroom and an early night with the paperback.
I resolved that tomorrow would not just be a motorway day.
Day 16 Flensburg – Quakenbrük (215 miles)
There was no avoiding the fact that it was going to be pretty much an "Autobahn" day again but I was going to break it in two and make sure that I had a few hours off the bike in the middle. Looking at the map the obvious candidate was Hamburg.
So off we went along the [7] and in the main I went as fast as I damned well wanted. We did come across slowing and then stationery traffic at one point as vehicles came within a few kilometres of roadworks and although I am not comfortable with filtering with the GTR it did not present too much of an issue. The GTR is a big bike (and some unkind souls may accuse it of being morbidly obese) but German drivers customarily move to the extreme right or left of their lane to produce a central clearway for emergency vehicles. Nobody seemed to have an issue with me riding the bike down it and I probably had a journey through some fifteen minutes shorter than a car driver would.
I try to limit the number of cities I visit on a bike tour. When all things are considered they are not really fun places to be on a motorcycle but we bludgeoned our way into the centre without any incident. Now, you know those people who put a little ball or flag on their car aerial so they can find it in a car park? I did the same with the bike, but I used the 280m high Heinrich-Hertz Television Tower. I reckoned if I parked the bike under that I would stand a good chance of spotting it no matter how lost I got in the city.
Our parking spot was also at the gates to one of the city's botanical gardens and knowing that Carole enjoys her plants and gardens I thought it might be a good place to start our brief visit. It was a bit of a change for both of us as we had not done anything like this during the trip. We walked through the park in our own good time and emerged on the south side where we continued through the city streets, eventually finishing up at the Binnenalster; a sort of small inner harbour were we took a few minutes with a cold drink on the crowded promenade.
We could hardly have claimed to have got to know the place, but we had had a bit of a taste of Hamburg and at least I felt I had been somewhere worth remembering. There was still a way to go though and as it was again too hot for walking city streets we returned to the bike and re-joined the Autobahn.
It was not an unreasonably long ride on the motorway before we exited into the Lower Saxony countryside. This is probably the flattest area of Germany I have ever ridden in and hinted at the approaching Netherlands, wind turbines sprouting from farmland and catching the unbroken wind. We found the Hotel Niedersachsen without any difficulty, the proprietor was a very neatly dressed proper old gentleman who took us to a very nicely appointed room and offered courtyard parking for the bike. Once changed we set off to explore Quakenbrük; I took an instant like to the place but then again I have always been fond of German provincial towns. There were well looked after old buildings, clean streets and friendly natives. There were also frog ornaments in the shops and resturants, frog footprints etched in the pavements and a general excess of froggy motifs everywhere - we decided that it was probably just one of life's mysteries. An imbiss bar gave us frikadele and pommes at a table in the late afternoon sun and a bar around the corner from the hotel was the source of my evening beer or two.
I went to bed fairly content, Hamburg and Quakenbrük had given me some memories to take away.
Day 17 Quakenbrük – Hoek Van Holland (200 miles)
Our host was very attentive at breakfast. Not the usual buffet, but everything brought to the table by him. We actually find this a bit difficult, being presented with things that we don't want to eat, I suppose it is done with the best intentions (and probably for reasons of the hotel's economics) but fortunately what Carole would not eat, I would and vice-versa, so we got away with leaving clean plates after a bit of swapping.
When checking out we asked the gent about the frogs; "Oh," he said after a moment to decipher our Black Country accent, Quak, Quak – Quackenbrük. So now I have learned that German frogs go Quack – every day is a school day eh? I wonder what German ducks say.......
The plan in for the day was to follow the same principal as the previous day; a couple of hours on the motorway followed by a couple of hours visiting a suitably placed town or city before cracking on. We had only made a few turns out of Quakenbrük when I glanced down at the Zumo and was surprised to see my next turning was into my destination ninety-odd miles away. I thought it was having another of its attempts to wind me up, but in fact the small tree lined road in the countryside that we were riding on was joined by another to become slightly more important followed by another, soon becoming a dual carriageway and then past this adolescent stage into a fully-fledged motorway.
And so we broke away from the motorway into the small Dutch city of Zwolle, a place of interest to me mostly by virtue of it being halfway between Quakenbrük and Hoek Van Holland but also because the map had revealed it to be surrounded by a star shaped waterway, much the same as Heusden right back at the start of our trip. At least the sun was shining on Zwolle though.
This year had been my first visits to the Netherlands and if you have never been before I would recommend that you come to this town, it is just as your imagination paints a picture of Holland. We tried the usual trick of trying to conceal the GTR in a cycle stand secured our helmets and jackets to the bike with the ever useful cable lock and set off to do a half lap of the canals and a walk through the centre on foot. Definitely a place to consider for a second visit on day.
From Zwolle it was a straightforward motorway run back past the outskirts of Rotterdam and on to Hoek Van Holland. We had arrived with a couple of hours to spare before our night sailing was due to load so we parked up in the town centre rather than aiming for the port. The town is unfortunately a child of 1960s planning and architecture, perhaps it will be fashionable again in a hundred years or so but it was not to my taste so we went off on foot in search of something better.
A walk of ten minutes or so along the coastal road bought us to Fort 1881 – I think is name probably gives the game away but there were other clues such as its large domed gun turrets. I made do with just strolling around the perimeter fence as it was due to close although I would have happily handed over a few Euros for a look around if we had allowed ourselves more time.
Mounted up again, we made our way along the Stena Line ferry queue and handed our reservation number to the young lady in the check in booth. She handed over our cabin key cards and said "because you have a comfort class cabin the mini-bar is complimentary". Wifey was most dis-chuffed "Huh, they never told us about that on the sailing coming out". No big deal though, it just means my bar bill will be smaller later.
I do enjoy a night sailing, the feeling of having arrived somewhere the bike safely "garaged" below us and knowing that there will be somewhere comfortable to eat and drink for an hour or two for the evening. We had loaded early though and despite having settled into our cabin and getting changed there was still a two hours or so before the ship was due to leave its berth. I think the thing most etched in my memory from the evening was standing against the ships railings with a pint in my hand watching the sun go below the horizon and throwing a yellow-orange light over the sea and the frantic coming and going of cargo ships.
Day 17 Harwich – Stourbridge
I'm not sure why I woke up at about 04:00. Perhaps it was the nightmare of over-sleeping and 1000 passengers drumming their fingers on their steering wheels because my bike was in the way and they could not disembark – whatever. I lay in my bunk and watched a light track across the cabin wall and then another. I assumed we had passed another ship and curiosity drove me to look out of the porthole; it seemed that we were entering Harwich already although we were not scheduled to be off-loading for a couple of hours. Now being wide awake I got dressed, grabbed my complementary orange juice from the mini-bar and my cigarettes and took the long walk down the corridor to the outside deck at the rear of the ship.
It seems that the crossing is much quicker than the passenger timetable suggests. The ship gets moored and there is an hour or so of activity, firstly in unloading empty trailers with an Amada of little tractor units queuing at the dockside, the HGVs are then unloaded and it is not before most of them have cleared customs that the ferry's PA wakes the car passengers to try to scrape the last few pounds or Euros out of them with the breakfast menu.
There is not much to say about a ride from Harwich to the West Midlands, so I won't. It's all over and I'm going home. The benefit of the night sailing was that the GTR was back on the drive by lunchtime, unloaded, power washed and sponged over by the middle of the afternoon. I reckon Carole would have had our laundry done by then as well if it wasn't for the seven loads that the kids had saved up for he whilst we were away which seemed to be demanding more urgent attention. Poor woman, she is going to need a holiday soon.
Time to reflect. Would I do it again? No, not like that; Norway needed much more time than I gave it given the way I like to use my leisure days. I would only consider it again if the direct ferry between Newcastle and Stavanger was reinstated and I could have a full couple of weeks there or alternatively if I was in a position to take three weeks of work.
Of all of the European trips I had done it was the one that I had been most anticipating and in many ways turned out to be the most disappointing with destinations culled from the programme and a general feeling that I had simply not been able to take the pleasure of riding my bike as I wanted for two weeks. Norway is a beautiful country and should be visited if you get the chance, but perhaps consider leaving the bike behind. Take an all-inclusive fjord cruise or take a camper van loaded with sensibly priced beer and food from Denmark. The bike is wasted.
I know I have done a considerable amount of whingeing whilst writing this up but in the interest of balance I can't say it was actually a bad trip. I will eventually forget about what I couldn't do and no doubt look back over the photos in time and take some satisfaction over what we did actually see and achieve. It has given me a story to tell myself and some other people have taken the trouble to read it as well.
Thank you for that.
Here's to next year.
Pete.
(Futher photos on my Flickr site if you want them: https://www.flickr.com/photos/rynglieder/albums/72157685650076651 (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rynglieder/albums/72157685650076651) )
Thanks a million Pete, awesome.
I really enjoyed that trip report, thanks for posting it.
I enjoy your travel reports. Norway won't see me on a bike. If ever than only as backpacker.