Think of your favourite biking road but enhance the excitement value. Imagine the most stunning scenic setting and relocate your road. Now take the road, and stretch it out for a thousand miles. Finally, remove all the other unwanted road users. Sounds too good to be true? Go to Norway and make your own mind up.
For many years, seeing the midnight sun has been high on my travel wish list. Somehow, the idea of the sun never setting instils the kind of awe that only natural phenomena can inspire. The idea to visit the most northern tip of mainland Europe, the North Cape, Norway’s Nordkapp came from a biking buddy Iain. Over the winter months a plan was hatched: He invested in the map and I purchased the guidebook. It was decided to take the ferry across to Bergen and ride our Honda Africa Twins the 1500 or so miles up the coast to reach the Nordkapp for the summer solstice on June 21st.
Before we embarked on our trip, the ‘experts’ provided us with three good reasons for not visiting Norway. Firstly, it always rains. Secondly, there are lots of mosquitoes in the summer. Thirdly, it is too expensive with beer costing £4 a pint. We decided we would put it to the test.
Mid-June and two shiny XRVs rendez-vous at the Newcastle ferry terminal. The bikes are looking seriously overloaded for a twelve-month round the world trip, let alone a fortnight jaunt in Scandinavia. In considering the kit list, there is general agreement that it is always better to come over-prepared. Hindsight will later suggest that when visiting a country where there will not be darkness at night, there is absolutely no need for a torch.
Twenty-four hours later and the ferry docks in the historic city of Bergen. The trip starts in the worst possible manner as I ride over a nail on the ferry deck and the repair bill comes in at close to £100. I make a note to replace the torch with a spare tube and tyre levers for next time. Spirits are not deflated though and we are soon cruising in the heart of the majestic Norwegian fjordlands.
Hairpin Heaven
The first three days, we explore the fjordlands taking whichever road looks the most suitable. It proves a difficult choice. Aficionados of Michelin series maps will be pleased to note that 90% of the Norwegian road network is flanked by a green line designating a scenic route.
After tracing the northern shore of the mighty Hardangerfjord, we turn northwards through lush green valleys and meadows of wildflowers, crossing staggering mountain passes through dazzling snowfields to the largest fjord in Norway, the Sognefjord. We are soon familiar with the common features of the road system here – tunnels several kilometres long and ferry boats for crossing the fjords. While the tunnels are remarkable feats of engineering, the novelty soon wears off amid the icy chill and traffic fumes. We follow the lead of a group of wizened German riders, bikes laden with beer supplies, and where possible we take to the old roads over the top of the mountains.
Words can never do justice to spectacular scenery. In order to get a flavour for the scenery, I would suggest a blend of Chile and New Zealand with a hint of Canada (Vancouver Island maybe) and a good helping of Switzerland thrown in for good measure. On a perfect day with the sun shining, there are more shades of colour on display than can ever be named.
Geiranger enjoys the most dramatic of settings at the extremity of the Geirangerfjord. Guarded by towering granite sentinels flanking the turquoise waters of the fjord, the village may only be reached by ship or by road via a series of unbelievable switchbacks at each end of the town. As picture postcard settings go, this is Shangri-La in what appears to be a land of Shangri-Las. Following the sweeping, roller-coaster descent and switchback zig-zag ascent, the Africa Twins and their riders are loving the roads with ear-to-ear grinning evident all the way to the mighty Trollstigveien, waiting just an hour up the road.
The Trollstigveien or Troll’s Path is one of the most famous of the Norwegian mountain passes. From the summit, the grey asphalt unravels through eleven remarkable hairpins worthy of any racing circuit, clinging impossibly to the near vertical rock face, looking like a Scaletrix set 500 metres below. The descent is a mixture of terror and euphoria. So good in fact that both riders are seen to return to the top and do it again.
There is no shortage of accommodation along the way in Norway, ranging from camping to luxury hotels. We usually go for the wooden cabins at the many campsites, normally in the most mind-blowing of natural settings. Even the basic cabins are well equipped with a fridge and occasionally kitchen facilities. There are plenty of other bikers to meet and compare notes with.
The Road to Hell
Three days and 1500 kms to go to the summer solstice at the Nordkapp and we have taken more photographs than completed kilometres. It is time to put the hammer down as the Twins depart Trondheim on the E6 Arctic Highway. After the scenic paradise of the Fjords, we are soon passing through hell. A village called Hell, just off the main road in fact. To the bemusement of passing locals, we pose for the standard photograph by the road sign (there is no “Welcome to Hell” sign, the more juvenile reader will be disappointed to learn) before doing the same at the railway station. For the record, hell is roughly translated as prosperity in Norwegian.
I dislike road numbers on scenic routes. Who would expect the miserably numbered E6 to be one of the finest roads a motorcycle can travel anywhere on this planet? As the main north-south artery, the speed limit on the E6 increases to a mind-blowing 90km/h. Caution is needed with the throttle in Norway as minor speeding infringements can result in major expenditure (£150 or a 5-day stint in jail for an 11km/h ‘misunderstanding’ Iain can inform you). The police even come equipped with credit card machines. There is one, quite literal, silver lining to restraint – fuel economy. We regularly exceeded 300 miles per tank and turned in 20% fuel efficiency improvements on our UK personal bests.
On the road, the bikes are cruising alongside tumbling anarchic rivers, passing through aromatic birch forests, snaking across frozen mountain passes and admiring the pretty coastal fishing villages. We compare notes during the frequent stops and agree this could indeed be the best biking road in the World. The bikes have been bought with big trips in mind and the Nordkapp run totalling some 4000 miles proves a useful testing ground for both bikes and kit alike.
A significant milestone is reached at latitude 66o 33’ as we cross the Arctic Circle. Surprisingly, we expected the weather to be a little chilly at this point but a wry smile is raised at the fine weather and the use of the summer riding kit. From this point north, the trip experiences continuous sunlight for the next week. A freaky experience when it comes to sleeping and plays havoc with your body clock.
Riding north, the landscape slowly transforms to what I have always imagined to be the typical arctic look. Craggy, unforgiving peaks of fused rock and ice. Frozen tundra, sparse vegetation and the occasional reindeer or two. A detour is made to Tromsø for some expensive birthday celebrations. The city is home to the most northern university in the world. From here onwards, pretty much every place claims uniqueness as the most northern something-or-other.
Back in the saddle, the traffic is predominantly moving north for the 21st. There are plenty of motorcycles of all varieties and the ubiquitous motorhomes. Occasionally, a herd of reindeer stray onto the road. Those that have already seen them pass by quickly; those who have not wait around for the necessary photographs.
Midnight Sun
The Nordkapp is not the true northern-most point in mainland Europe. That dubious honour goes to some off-the-beaten-track spot on the next peninsula along from the Nordkapp. It is not even on the mainland – just a small island linked with an enormous under-sea tunnel that passes an impressive 230m below sea level over a distance of 7km. The least impressive thing about the tunnel is the expensive toll, a wallet-whopping £6 each way.
I had imagined our goal to be a god-forsaken piece of barren rock. But as the bikes sweep along the sun drenched coastal route, up to the tunnel entrance, the sea gently lapping the sandy shoreline, the North Cape seems more North Wales than North Pole.
We depart our campsite at 10pm for the final few Ks to the kapp. The sun is still riding high and the sky is clear. It looks like we will be lucky and see one of the few clear nights at the cape. The route climbs steadily to the visitor centre entrance. Over just a few kilometres a freezing fog has mysteriously appeared and lingers frustratingly over the cape. Expectant masses of visitors from all around the world wait in the ethereal gloom, shrouded from the sun. Perhaps it is fitting that we sample some genuine Arctic weather, just so long as it is a brief experience and the winter gloves will not be needed. Atop the 300m high cliffs, at a latitude of 72°10’, the scene is something of a circus with as many as 10'000 people trying to keep warm.
Photos are taken next to the globe monument and the wait for midnight continues. Not since the eclipse of 1999 have so many people stood with so much anticipation looking at a cloudy sky for a glimpse of the sun. When the time finally comes, the sun makes the briefest of appearances creating an eerie scene in monochrome. Our mission accomplished, we return to the campsite to toast our success with what remains of our alcohol rations. Meanwhile the sun climbs higher in the sky welcoming in a new day.
Midday arrives and we are back at the Cape, the scene of tranquillity and sunshine a far cry from the madness of the ‘night’ before. Gazing out over the cruel Arctic Ocean, I realise that the awesome spectacle of the midnight sun is not defined by a single tick of the clock but rather by the cumulative exposure to constant daylight over several days. Somewhere out there, the North Pole sits another thousand or so kilometres away. As for Iain, me and the trusty Africa Twins, our next destination lies a little further south.
The Lofotens
The E6 is retraced, skipping Hammerfest (most northerly town in Europe, and the first to get electric street lighting), and a detour is made to the popular Lofoten Islands. White sandy beaches and turquoise waters are not typical in the Arctic Circle but are exactly what you find in the Lofotens. The four mountainous islands linked by bridges and tunnels will hardly be mistaken for the Bahamas, particularly if you try a swim, but they come as yet another surprise in this remarkable country. The roads are as expected on the islands – perfect for two-wheeled motoring.
We stop for the night in the tiny fishing village of Henningvær and rent a rorbu, traditionally the accommodation of visiting fishermen. Built on stilts above the harbour, these wooden structures now make comfortable and atmospheric places to stay in the scenic coastal villages. The fishing villages are full of brightly painted red and yellow buildings some dating back 200 years. I had never visited anywhere quite like it before and for inexplicable reasons reminded me of the old Popeye cartoons.
My favourite of the islands was Moskenesøy. With grotesquely shaped peaks, the landscape has been described as Tolkienesque. Sure, the terrain is certainly mystical and you would not rule out spotting the occasional dragon. But it is here that the exquisite fishing villages of Reines and Å can be found. After the earlier visit to Hell, there was more signpost photography at the place with the shortest name in the world. Pronounced ‘awe’, Å is a good spot to see and smell the local dried fish industry at full strength.
Return to Bergen
A ferry trip, 800kms on the E6, a speeding ticket, a leaky fuel tap and the first rain shower of the trip, the Africa Twins arrive back in the fjordlands for the run back to Bergen. Over the next two days the magic continues as the route passes through Lom down the Lustrafjorden to Urnes. Iain nominates this his most scenic spot on the trip. A tough choice in this land, as before long we are heading up the Snovegan or snow road to Aurland . This takes in the highest mountain pass in the country with glaciers and frozen lakes replacing waterfalls and fjords as our photographic subjects. Somewhere below us, the longest road tunnel in the world passes all this by without providing a clue to what is being missed somewhere up above.
Finally, back in Bergen we explore the cobbled streets and wooden warehouses of the Bryggen trading district. It feels strange to be back in a city where for the first time on the trip there is other traffic to contend with. The fish markets of Torget are also worth a look with a fantastic range of sea creatures for sale. Fish does not come fresher than it does here.
Over a well-earned pint of Ringnes beer, we toast the successful completion of our ride. There is just one mystery we cannot solve: We only saw six other British bikes but hundreds of other continental bikers. Is Norway a biking secret our European counterparts are keeping from us British riders? I recalled the pre-departure advice we had received about Norway. The weather had been perfect. There had been no biblical-style plagues of mosquitoes. However, the beer price has increased to £5 a pint! True, Norway is expensive, but maybe for the quality riding on offer it is just a luxury that must be paid for.
For me, I never knew that such unspoilt natural beauty existed in Europe and only an overnight ferry ride away. The road network is simply awe-inspiring and I challenge you now to show me a better country more suited to motorcycle travel than Norway. Once the credit card is paid off, I will be back and hope to see you there.