Epiblog

So to sum up: 3086 kilometres - it was brilliant and it was horrible, it was hot and it was cold, it was easy and it was hard and sometimes time just flew by and other times it went very very slowly. I think that pins it down for you.
The absolute highlghts were: Harlingen (north Netherlands), Fiskebackskil (Sweden), Tverdestrand (Norway) and Godtvangen (Norway). And of course the bit around Copenhagen.
The big cycling memories were: battling with the wind on the Afsluitdyjck, the longest dam in the world , rolling hills around Ferring, riding up to the lakes in Sweden, the hills before Lyngdal and our final NSCR day - tough climbs followed by a long, long descent into Bergen city centre. Worst cycling memories - the road to Marstand for Jill (buzzed by teenagers in convertible Audis) and the E39 in Norway for Andrew - the main road between Oslo and Bergen and full of double trailer artics.
Then there were the things I never expected Jill to ever say: " That's an interesting rock formation" and " it'd be cool to be an engineer". This was of course balanced by the more expected " I think I can fit into my Prada suit now".I also never knew that Jill grew fangs and hair on the back of her hands when she got hungry - well almost; certainly very frightening.

Finally " best of's":

• best foodstuff: Danish pastries
• most attractive immigration officers: Holland
• most attractive deckhands: Norway
• best knackebread: Sweden

And of course thanks to all of our readers - a small but select group.

Next year we'll be going somewhere you dont have to sleep with thermals, gloves, hats etc.

Back home in Brighton

Cooking in Copenhagen.

It's hot. At last. I saw a thermometer showing 30c yesterday. But we suspect that is Scandinavian optimism - the same kind that makes Norwegian men put on sunglasses as soon as their is a minor break in the clouds. Maddy said that in Edinburgh she never took off her cardigan - in Bergen we doubt you'd take off your anorak. Having said that we stopped riding and took a train into the interior to go kayaking on a fjord. This was near Godtvangen - valley of the Gods - much admired by Hitler apparently. We can see his point, although we can't imagine him and Eva paddling 20 kilometres and bbqing on the beach. Their loss- if you want your awe inspired then do this trip.1000 metre sides, calm surface, raging waterfalls - just gorgeous.
Just to show we are still a bit brain and not all brawny we then went to a piano concert in Bergen main church. Extraordinary performances of Lizt sonatas.
Then onto Oslo by train over the Hardanger plateau.1500 metres and thick piles of snow at the top. In Oslo we did our usual walk around the old town and then visited - as good history buffs - the Norwegian museum of the Resistance. Very well done, very objective dealing with collaboration as well as heroic resistance. Respect for the Norwegians , but also for GB, we lost more lives there than any other nation.
Then ferry to cph as the locals tag this city. Wallowing in pastries - which are culinary crack, and putting all the weight lost back on. At least until yesterday. The good news is we cycled up to Elsinor ( if hamlet had just got on his bike ....) and went to Louisiana art gallery ( probably the best art gallery we have ever seen) and then Fredericksborg castle (glorious skanda versailles). Bad news was slight underestimation of distances and headwind. Possibly our hardest day of cycling yet! Today we are on the trail of Karen Blixen (aka Meryl Streep).

4pm, June 20, Bergen centre. Yay!

More to follow, when we get our breath back.

Soaking in Stavanger

It is indeed raining outside. But we are in a charming B& B and have just had our first bath since Holland. Obviously we have had a few showers since then. Jill is purring - I think. The shock of the ordinary; who knew cotton sheets could feel so wonderful.
Reading other blogs about this route for research gave no indication of what it would feel like. They focus on places and distances. They don't tell you about the vivid contrasts. How your mood swings according to the weather. How you can go from bowling through exquisite towns like Fiskabackskill one moment and then sharing a main road with twin trailer artics within minutes. Or how your senses narrow as you go uphill, you see little, it goes quiet and birdsong becomes loud. But at the top the sky and landscape seem to expand massively and you can see for miles. Then you remember to brake - or not. I have entered one 40kph village at 51 kph - not recommended on a 4 pannier touring bike. I worry about my rear wheel, Jill,s bar bag flies open and I have to swerve to avoid hairbrushes, moisturisers etc in middle of road.
Or how you obsess over small things . Today I timed Jill at over 4 minutes to find a pair of socks in one bag. What do I do with this information?
Plus there are the specifics of Scandinavia. The abscence of any dark night, the remarkable fact that you can go through a whole region basically expecting them to speak English - and they do.
As for Stavanger, we came here to avoid the bad weather, expecting an industrial oil town, but they have preserved the centre beautifully. Whole districts of restored wooden merchant and artisan houses wind up the hobbled hills from the harbour, nice cafes and shops. Who knew? Silly prices of course - 5 pounds for a half of Guinness.
On the other hand a boom economy - 6000 job vacancies right now. And one of Abramovich,s superyachts is in the harbour. Like us he's skipping St Tropez for the fjords this summer. Hope he dies of exposure if he buys Modric.
Back on the road and back to reality tomorrow.

Test

Technical check

Soaking in Stavanger

Climb every mountain,fjords every stream

Just came over the highest point on the cycle route, a giant hill / mountain outside Lyngdal. A triple burger with four fries of a hill. Interesting we reach for a food metaphor. The fjords sparkled green, and the passes were mega. Going up is one thing but coming down is another. It fries the brakes as you twist and turn around alpine hairpins. Andrew has got through 2 sets already - so still some weight to lose!
We have learned that it's all about the gradient and the constant up and down is the worst - judging by those days we have been slumped outside a supermarket at 5.30 eating crisps. Today I (Jill) have been making up new words to tunes from the sound of music, talking to my gears and obsessing about pastries. Yes, I am going mad and it's time to come home. Two months appears to be our attention span.
For those of you who have been wondering why we haven't stopped en route for a bit of a holiday we think we have a reasonable explanation. The negative reason is weather. Cycling in the rain is miserable, dangerous on the roads and extra miserable when you have a wet tent. So on sunny days we cycle. Then on wet days we end up holed up in what have often been quite bleak campsites. And to add insult to injury it costs a bomb in Norway to stay and do nothing in the rain.
The positive explanation is what these countries have to offer isn't heat or beaches but amazing scenery - and the best way to see it is to keep rolling along on the bike.
So onwards to Stavanger, Bergen and the end.

To Arendal they came

Well we are 3 days into Norway. The hills are steep and the prices are steeper. We have discovered the only way to cope is to laugh at both; "cycle up that, I don't think so", " can of Coke, 5 quid? How reasonable!". We spent our first lunchtime sitting in McDonald' leaking rain from our gloves, jersey, trousers etc.
This country is in another league every way. It's tough, shockingly so compared with all the previous countries, and we,re not as fit as we thought we might after the previous 2222km. But the payoff is that it is beautiful. Small elegant harbour towns at the end of drop dead fjords and forests. The quay full of people coming in to do their grocery shopping in speedboats. Usually being driven by a 7 year old. It is a friendly and modest country. Only evidence of the oil money seen so far was a wedding party in Risor fitted out in Louboutins. And that was just the groom. We asked him as he set off on his commandeerd harbour ferry where the bride was. He replied they were going to " pick her up". We believe they had no idea who she would be and were simply going to raid the out islands till they found a comely wench. Old habits die hard round here.

40 Days and 40 Nights

Undoubtedly many of you think we are on holiday, but we cam assure you that this is far from the truth. The goal is Bergen and we are relentless in its pursuit. Riding nearly every day we have mostly been favoured by the road gods with dry days. But they play with us. One only has to say " this bit seems flat" and round the corner they will have dropped in the north face of the Eiger.
Looking back Swedens's plus points were Gothenberg,fab city, and family run bakers in every town ( Mrs bun the baker is alive well here, Britain's loss.) We cycled 400k in Sweden and never saw anything less than affluence. Jill thinks its a triumph of Socialism. Andrew thinks if that's what produces Ferraris and large yachts he is going to have reconsider his politics.

Islands in the sun (mostly)

Well we have done from gothenberg to the Norwegian border via Bohusan islands. So beautiful. If God won gold star for designing the Norwegian fjords then this coast gets a highly commended. But the best way to visit them is by boat, then car then possibly kayak - but maybe not ideal by bike. There are a few good roads populated by speedy young Swedes in highly expensive fast cars. Scary. Good market opportunity for speed cameras ( see which side we are on at the moment!). Jill has had a couple of meltdowns - and some of them have been touchingly when I have been cut up by some truck, RV or  convertible Audi.
We found two quiet spots at Malo and then Valo (spot the pattern?). First by a lake - fell asleep to sound of waves lapping on the rocks. Second a small island - cheap room, humoungously expensive food, a rehearsal for Norway.
Yesterday there was a huge thunderstorm, which seems to have hatched every mosquito known to man. A new challenge ,especially for Jill as they prefer her, but then who doesn't?
Sorry no more pictures until we find safe computer.

Meals and miles

Our world has got very small. Our main preoccupations are where we are going to stay and, especially in my case, what we are going to eat. This is the first time Andrew has experienced what happens to me when I get hungry. I turn into a feral, obsessed, harpy and he has learnt that life isn't worth living unless food is found immediately. Now there is always something in the saddlebags. The campsites all have kitchens, sometimes with individual cooking islands and dining tables so our routine is to arrive somewhere, check out what pots and pans they have in the kitchen and then whizz off to the shop pronto. Sometimes Andrew even gets some help putting up the tent if i've been fed first.

My obsession means that my criteria for judging how much I like the different countries I've visited are strangely linked to food. Denmark? Great pastries but no open coffee shops anywhere, ever. Germany? Massive portions but only any good if you like fleisch and lager and I fall off my bike after one lager. Sweden? Knackerbread is better than it sounds and a girl can get a taste for pickled herring.

Sweden is ahead on points because we found a fantastic restaurant on our arrival in Goteburg. Chiefly by avoiding all the crowds of graduating High school students all arriving in town on lorries with music blaring from massive speakers. I am now in a position to evaluate the relative strengths of Polish rap (from our notorious first night camping in Zandervoort) and Swedish rap.

Anyway because the sun has come out (and we are staying in a real house with rooms) we have changed our tactical approach to the trip. Instead of checking off the maximum number of kilometres we can manage every day (a daily average of 60km since you ask) we are now retiring from the tour du norse in favour of a more island hopping, ferry riding sort of amble through Sweden. Or maybe this is just a cunning ruse to put off the evil gradients of Norway the Swedes are all delighted to tell us about.

Gratuitous lake shot

One for the lads perhaps?

From the wonderful people who brought you Abba

We haven't blogged for a while but now we had a blazing hot afternoon sunbathing on some rocks as the sea washes gently onto the shore of a cute Swedish bay the spirit returns. Yes we're in another country - we have done Denmark. Or more precisely Jutland. Many of you may be under the impression that our trip has been undiluted fun. Let me assure you that blood, sweat and even tears have made their appearance - and the section down from Skagen to Grenaa was cold and wet at times. The last day was interesting as we appeared to be passing through the Danish version of Sandringham - all massive houses, forests with signs with crowns and what we assume were the words "keep out" , the pictures of men with rifles may be a clue.
The last day of cycling we whistled down the coast, another 100km day, but this time with hills and rain. Feeling very proud of ourselves we went to get the ferry only to find it doesn't run on Saturdays! So we holed up in a hytten or a "shed with a bed" to you, whacked up the heating and gorged ourselves on wine, strawberries and chocolate
But that's behind us. Sweden is a different landscape - rolling hills and people who work out. Yesterday we cycled 30 kms into the hills in blazing sunshine to take tea by an idyllic lake. Today the idyllic bay. I think you can say so far so good.

Longest, slowest day of riding yet. Some ET flying bike moments with passing motorists pointing and laughing

Getting to the point

Well here we are. At the top of Denmark - at the pointy bit called Skagen where the Baltic seas comes up the Kattegat and meets the North Sea coming in the Skaggerak,To be honest we expected it would be just another beach but with a westerly gale driving the Skaggerak and an ebb tide driving the Kattegat the result was extraordinary , waves coming from two different directions at the same time - not usual.

How did we get here? Well after leaving the Shining hotel - the fun of opening hundreds of doors on all  the floors where you are the only two people inside - we prepared for the day. Jill attended to her dodgy kneee by buying a handball knee protector -  very tank girl. Apparently handball is big in Denmark but as I have never heard of it we will have to take Anders the Handball Viking word for that. For myself I bought a new inner tube and replacement mirror off Erik the Chainsaw Viking. Erik was a weedy man with a passion for dangerous machinery -I felt an instant bond, Many people may be thinking we are just on a cycling holiday but in truth we are on a serious cultural and anthropological mission, seeking out the links that tie the UK to our forefathers. We have already established that most of the population of Birmingham orginally came from around Wilhelmshaven based on appearances and dietary behaviour.

Suitably fettled we took off north east. Usually we follow the map but our Danish cousins have an amusing approach to creating a cycle network, They look to see what they have got and if there are any gaps they just draw a line across the gap - through fields, beaches etc. Which is how we got lost in a forest this morning - but then we did in Yorkshire last year too, so it could be us. These rutted tracks into the deep, dark wood are called Klitplantage. Seriously. No sniggering at the back please.  Anyway yesterday we ignored the so-called route and followed tracks next to main highways and made over 100 kms - 102 to be precise. To celebrate this - and it means we have done over 1000 miles now - Jill bought a bottle of red wine which we quickly glugged back. This morning dawned tetchy. Jill losing her cool when being blown off her bike next to an oil rig (fortunately not in middle of North sea - but in Hirtshals dockyard). Think the opening of Four Weddings and a Funeral.

Hirtshals was an interesting place. We cycled down the High street to find a very thin, unkempt man with four greyhounds, 3 kebab shops and The Kitty Cat Club. Imagine our horror then to discover that everyday Norwegians arrive in this s**t heap after a 4 hour ferry ride to buy food. How expensive must it be there? And we'll be there for a whole month. Ooops.

We have taken to staying in garden sheds (sorry, huts) that the campsites rent out. Andrew's eyes lit up at the thought of sleeping in a shed.

Petit dejeuner sur l'herbe

Readers have asked what we have been eating so here is a pic of breakfast. I find it so much easier to speak Danish with a Danish pastry in my mouth. Ladies, the good news is that you can eat pastries and lose weight. The bad news is you have to cycle 1000 miles to do it. And eat baked beans with cat food for dinner. The camp site shops have an eccentric range which I guess is the reason the Danes turn up in camper vans full of food. And lager.
It rained (a bit) today so we softie walters ran for the youth hostel in Fjerritslav (pronounced phlarrgh). It has a coffee machine, snooker, table tennis and we are here all alone. Which was great until Andrew started talking about The Shining.  Hope this is not the last post. As it were.

Thoughts from a town called Svaenker

Danish is a challenging language. It's written with lots of words that might be English- but are pronounced without any consonants. Which sounds like moaning. Perhaps they are moaning. Or maybe alcoholism is even more rife than we suspect.
North Jutland is definitely Scandinavia. Big open skies, lakes full of swans, Russian composers (made that up), and dark dark pine forests. Basically this is a country that picked an argument with an ice age - and glaciers ground it into little bits. Which the wind then blew around. And some people are worried about global warming!
Another proof of Skandaness is that the open country looks like Wallander country. There is the red barn which contains the religious cult. Bit quiet during the day but obviously the sacrifices start after we go to sleep ( about 8 since you ask). Over there is the Volvo - not burnt out yet, but soon will be.
Ironically despite all our obvious German prejudices we were chased down the road in Oskbold by Danish tanks and bridge layers.
Off to cook our Spartan meal, living off the land,with only what lies to hand. In Aldi.
While the Kellys were here we dined in fish restaurants whose magnificence would make a fully grown walrus weep with happiness. These Danes can do fish. Rick stein would be lucky to be running a whelk stall here.
Readers have asked us not to go on about the wind. So instead we will talk about Aerodynamics. When Jill starts lagging a few lumps of bubble chocolate soon gets her going.     

Are we nearly there yet?

How far have we gone now? After days of this Andrew bought me an odometer but now all he hears is me calling out ooh 30k; 40k up, with childlike glee all day long. So I am proud to announce that computer says we have biked over 1000kms!

Return to Scandinavia - this time we have the helmets!

The Germans seemed reluctant for us to leave. 2 punctures in two days. So we took the traditional route of calling in the Americans. Once fitted with kevlar tyres (by the nice American man in Niebull) our way out was clear.

Next stop was the island of Sylt which had been billed by Conde Naste Traveller as Germany's cool island. It transpired that this is a bit like saying the rich part of Bangladesh. We were anxious as we had induced Grant and Sara to join us here so rode up and down the island checking out campsites. Settled on one that at least felt more Isle of Wight than Angelsea. The best bit was a restaurant right on the lovely beach (and behind glass with heaters and blankets)

Gods blew us out of Germany with the sweet caress of a southerly wind. Rain mind you , so we had a surreal crossing of a causeway to Denmark in the gloom at about 30kph without turning the pedals. They have punished us today mind you.
Denmark is great so far - even the bus shelters are designer cool. Shops have stuff you'd want to buy. People are good looking. Oh yes vikings rule - apart from the alcoholics.

Ribe last night which is a well presrved medieval town - a trading centre between the Vikings and the south. Then history passed it by and it became frozen in time - a bit like Britain. If you ever pass this way I cannot recomend too highly the Postgaarden B&B. Like being locked in a pub with four poster beds.

Now in a Youth hostel in somewhere unpronouncable. Very quiet.

Life is a Cabaret mein chum

Nearly escaped Germany. Usual method - sand in trousers. Not intentionally though. English people almost unknown up here - at least not since the last lot arrived by parachute.

We have been doing Saga cycling over the flat, flat dykes with many retired Germans for company. In the single file trains across the crappy German tracks Jill treated everyone to her repertoire of old time songs until the segue from Ain't Misbehaving into Lili Marlene drew a few funny looks. The last couple of days have been through very pretty villages and rich seaside towns - think Bournmouth. This was good as it has stopped us saying "that was better in Holland" every five minutes. However, it has to be said that the scenery, cycle tracks, food and locals were all better in Holland.  Teutonic efficiency has taken a battering as well - more kaput ships than working ones and shops whose opening times appear to be decided by a random number generator.

The high spots have been a meal (err, Italian) in a pretty little market town square called Meldorf. Andrew spoke lots of bad Italian and we got free drinks. 12 hours sleep that night! Also we have fallen in love with the German beach chairs, called Tageskuragabes, which look like little wooden  thrones crossed with an ice cream parlour ( Actually we have since  found out we are idiots - this means "daily rate" in German - the proper name is StrandKorbe). If we were into birds we'd also be raving about how many different types we've seen (and heard every morning). We've settled into a rouine of sleeping 10 hours, packing up the tent, cycling, having coffee, cycling, eating...you get the gist. After two whole weeks of brilliant sunshine the suggestion of rain has been met by optimistic Andrew with a spot of Ark building. After all, we are below sea level most of the time.

To Haven and Haven not

Finally made a ferry! Crossed Waddenmeer to Eckwarderhorne and then onto Bremerhaven. Sailed on with a following wind. Spent night being adopted by German carvanners who gave us löads of local beer. Now sitting in a cafe in Cuxhaven - tomorrow we cross the Elbe and push on for Berlin. Sorry, that should be Schleiswig Holstein. Which was a question in "1066 and  all that". We´ll let you know the answer.

Germany got prettier. These are some of the prettiest windturbines we have seen out of the thousands we have passed.

Up and down

Cut the  corner and arrived in germany on bus laid on to replace kaput ship. First crack in edifice of teutonic efficiency. Spepsd north with tailwind - bliss. First night in German supercamp. Must say Germans getting better at camps. Ooops bad taste. We swore we were grown up and wouldn't mention the war - but it does provide fertile invective against car drivers.
Today more headwinds - the gods toy with us.

When the boat (doesn't) come in

Well, we waited 5 hours and finally the hotel we'd camped out in told us the boat had broken. We are promised a replacement bus service tomorrow. We'll see. Meanwhile 'forced' to stay in a hotel. We've enjoyed having a bath and proper towels. After a week we are really loving it. Like camping as well as the cycling. The kit is working well apart from M&S socks (holes after two days) and the duvet could do with being warmer. What I really need is hand cream, lip balm and moisturiser. Andrew could do with some thermals becasue going to bed in his cycling leg warmers is abit rocky horror show.

One country down, four to go.

Sitting by the dock of the Delfzjil bay waiting for ferry to Germany. Some uncertainty as to whether it exists!
On Monday we tried to cross the Afsluitdyjk - essentially a 32kko causeway across the sea in 35km headwind gusting possibly 60k. Strangely wxe were the only cyclists to attempt it that day. Halfway across persuaded nice guy called Wim to take us the rest of the way in his van.

Camped in Harlingen, a lovely seaport with canals and fine Dutch merchant houses. Now Jill wants to retire here!
Next day cycled 77k into weaker headwind - dutch very helpful when we got lost.
Scenery in North Friesland flat, windmills with sheep covered dykes. And their poo all over the cycleway.

All well apart from burnt ears and lips - and sore bums. Sunny days but cold nights. Woke up to find frost this morning - wearing all our clothes in the tent.
Started using cooker to brew brit tea at difficult moments - and to augment our banana and yogurt diet with bean and tuna stew.

bad start. no boats for 2days so have to cross dyke for 35k in 40mph headwind. panic sets in

Day 4 catch up

Got to a rest stop on Texel an island off the Dutch coast. Sun is shining and we haven't fallen apart.

We started the first day in Holland in time honoured fashion by making the wrong turn off the ferry (come to think of it we just did again!) - nevertheless we can now claim to have actually seen the hook of Holland which is, amazingly, shaped like a hook. Despite a lack of sleep we soldiered on into the headwind past greenhouses, dykes and dunes. The cycle ways in Holland are amazing - totally seperate and safe. On the other hand they do like to wind them up and down the dunes so rumours of Holland's flatness have been exaggerated.

We ran out of steam after 70 kilometres and camped in a sandpit in Zandvoort. I think it beleived it was a luxury campsite but as the amenities included drunk stoned central european drug dealers I would take issue with that.

Day two was wonderful however. Cycling up to croos the NordZee canal at Ijmuiden and then on through National parks full of birds. We ran out of steam this time after 57 kilometres - the strength of the headwind was increasing. NB we have discovered that multi pannier-ed bikes have the aerodynamics of a brick.  By luck we ended up in campsite in Schoorl which is just gorgeous - a bit like New England but full of friendly Dutch people somewhat inebriated as it was The Queens birthday. Lots of kids in orange teeshirts on bouncy castles - probably adults actually. The campsite was as lovely as the previous night's one was horrible. We are now much less grumpy. Our neighbouring caravaners gave us camping chairs and a table and we had a good picnic and then our first night of sound, long sleep.

Day 3 to Texel - 51 kilometres. Our distances are shrinking! Right - here comes the excuse: the headwind was amazing today - slowing us to walking pace. When it was a cross wind I had the sensation of leaning sideways into it - I looked at Jills bike and she actually was! Beautiful scenery again and bright blue skies. Jill now wants to retire to Holland. The National parks turned into a hilly landscape of dunes alongside beaches with swathes of golden sand. We also cycled past tulip fields. So- all worth the headwind really. Now staying in a hostel so we can do some washing but as long as the sun shines we are happy campers.

Look mum no hands

The longest journey starts with tea and cake

Day One

Packing up to leave and it's an odd feeling, leaving for so long. We'll miss everyone. Here's a picture of all the stuff we are balancing on the bikes. We've got hours to wait in a cycle cafe (Look Mum No Hands) in London because of the rules about when you can and can't take bikes on trains. Andrew has put a link to his phone so you can see where we are. Probably in Hertz rent-a-car.