2017 Norway trip ("To Hejlle and back" / "Norway and how not to do it")

[Rynglieder]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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.
 

[Rynglieder]

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 )

[KiwiCol]

Thanks a million Pete, awesome.

[Mister Fishfinger]

I really enjoyed that trip report, thanks for posting it.

[Andre]

I enjoy your travel reports. Norway won't see me on a bike. If ever than only as backpacker.