Mora – Vansbro 78.3 kms ascent unknown but quite a lot – again!
It was tempting to stay longer in our chalet, but Vansbro beckoned and it promised to be a shorter and less arduous day than the preceding one. Or maybe not! We footled along happily until coffee time. Alan stopped (cos he is always in front) at very strange looking building, beside which was a museum and a café. We decided to give the museum a miss but not the café. Later, we discovered that the building had been a huge kiln for smelting iron. This had been an important part of the Swedish economy until the greater efficiency of coal (not available in Sweden) had displaced the less effective heating with charcoal. No doubt the museum would have been a mine of information but today time was not on our side and the clouds were looking ever more menacing. They did not disappoint and in a short time the predicted downpour commenced with no sign of a let up. As usual, we were a little tardy in donning waterproofs. By lunch time we were absolutely soaked and managed to find a layby with a shelter of sorts. We shared this facility with a number of cars and caravans in which everyone was dry. These fortunate folk looked askance at two wet cyclist and Alan was moved to comment that we also had a caravan and a car which rather begged the question – ‘why are we soaking wet on bikes?’ We know the answer to that – ‘We just love a challenge!’ Soggy sandwiches are not unfamiliar to us so we munched on in defiance of the wet. A visit to the loo was required before we leapt on to our bikes, and what a treat that turned out to be. The cubicle was heated and the blower made short work of drying a very wet anorak. By the time I emerged, Alan was instigating a search. However, he did not hesitate to indulge in the same experience. Livened by this temporary bout of warmth we continued our sodden journey.
Maybe in common with other main roads, the nearside of this road was indented, presumably due to the weight of passing juggernauts. This gulley instantly filled with standing water and was the only safe place for a cyclist to ride without fear of imminent death. So now we had to endure the resistance of treacle (well that’s what it felt like).
Our little cabin this night, was indeed little but we did reach it about 10 minutes before an almighty storm turned everything into Noah’s flood. Lucky or what. Mind you, our little shed was reminiscent of a Chinese laundry once we had divested ourselves of all our soggy,no soaking, gear. We thanked our lucky star for ensuring that we did not have to spend this night in a small tent.