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

[Mister Fishfinger]

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.

[Kiwifruit]

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 ?? 

[grog]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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.

[Kiwifruit]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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.....

[Rynglieder]

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.

[KiwiCol]

Great scenery and write up Pete.

[Rynglieder]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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.

[ARH]

Stunning pics and a great read... what more could anyone want on a damp Thursday evening?  Great work!   

[Rynglieder]

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.
 

[Rynglieder]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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.