The Hill

Mariestad  -  Falkoping     84.5 kms     1045’ ascent

I am writing this blog is a minor stupor. This has been another day when distance increased.  So it was a very tired pair of cyclist who arrived in the middle of Falkoping with not the least notion of the location of the campsite. (Falkoping is quite big by Swedish standards) In a desperate attempt to glean some relevant information, I ran into what turned out to be a kebab place, peopled by four Turkish gentlemen. In my haste, I had neglected to securely fasten my shirt and was acutely aware of surreptitious glances at my chest. (It was only glances, as there is no longer anything worth a stare). Anyway, they could not have been more helpful. After a mixture of arm waving, English and a language I could not identify, the youngest of the quartet rushed out to his car a presented me with a map to keep. Having received very precise instructions which, worryingly, contained the word ‘berg’, we set off.  We had not the slightest difficulty following the route! The ‘berg’ was just that. So after nearly 85 kms, we watched in disbelief as this 12% hill reared up to give the day a final kick. This was the second push of the journey so far!

You may get the impression from all this agony, that the day was not enjoyed. In fact, although the morning had started very badly on the 26 and required a route rethink, it was another of those situations where the outcome is very positive.  And what a gem  of a route we (hmm.. Alan and the GPS) found. Beautiful country roads and warm sunshine. Coffee stop was taken on the churchyard wall and we were very content. It all just went a bit wobbly when we reached Skovde around lunch time and the cycle tracks assumed that no signs were necessary and so we weaved around trying to find the way out. Then it got very HOT. Otherwise, the day was a breeze and erecting the tent at the end of it was just another joy! Seldom has a sleeping bag been so much appreciated. But we live to fight another day.   

Gota Lot

Kritinehamn -  Mariestad     89.3 kms       418’ ascent

This was not a short day! As ever, the kilometres increased as the day went on and 70ish became nearer 90ish. It’s a gift we have. However, we did enjoy some of the finest scenery of the trip so far and that takes some doing. Our magic GPS indicated that we could run a parallel route with the main road. (The detailed viewing of this instrument was initiated by the fact that, for the first time, a crabby motorist had sounded an irate horn at Alan. This went down badly with my husband who raised a finger at said driver and hoped for his early demise. Fortunately he wasn’t six feet tall and didn’t take up the challenge.) But as a result we found this rather bumpy and wavy track which ran alongside the lake (the HUGE one) and at one point it did resemble the ocean (the lake, not the road) as nothing was visible on the horizon. Having late re-joined the main road, we crossed the Gota canal, which is apparently one of Sweden’s main tourist attractions! (Not very well publicised I think.) It joins Lake  Vanern with the west coast and has 58 locks one of which I rushed to photograph. Something else which requires further investigation.

We spent a second night on the lakeside. I guess it must be our natural charisma, but we have been allocated some stunning situations on our campsites. This one was no exception. We also witnessed as we had last night, a sunset to rival any we have ever seen and so we took some pictures!

Saw those big birds again and a red squirrel which seemed reluctant to run off until I arrived and unclipped my pedals. At which point, it suddenly shot up the nearest tree – a wise move I thought. As we left the campsite this morning, we watched a deer with her fawn. It was obviously our day for wildlife.

Magnificent Midnight

Filipstad – Kristinehamn   55.4 kms        172’ ascent.

Today was to be a short day in terms of actual riding. The aim was to arrive at our next site early so that we could complete all the domestic and internet tasks that we had been unable to do at Mr. Happy’s site. Just for once all went to plan and we even found time to partake of a coffee in the campsite café! Our cabin is looking out over Lake Vanern which is HUGE. We enjoyed a superb sunset while supping sadly, not a glass of wine, but a cup of coffee! It may have been this latter which contributed to my difficulty in sleeping. But , as with most things, there was a positive outcome. At midnight I strolled onto the verandah and witnessed the sun just below the horizon; a new experience for me. I trust Alan will post one of the photos on the blog so that you can share in the magnificence of it.  

In addition to sunsets, I have to say that Sweden has delivered the most magnificent display of roadside flora. I would challenge any of the famous gardeners to produce such an array of colour, shape and texture. Mind you, they would know all the names of the plants, and I can name but a few.  They have provided a great deal of pleasure and a distraction from sore bits and bobs. A further distraction (not a falling off one) has been the sight of some very large birds. From a distance they looked like Rheas but much smaller. I know they are not. But we don’t know what they are. No doubt, a very famous tourist attraction about which we are totally ignorant. They are very fine, whatever they are.

2000 kms

Vansbro  -  Filipstad    99.5kms      816’ ascent

We knew that today was going to be a long haul so it was heads down and GO. It seemed likely, in view of the fact that today was Midsummer and therefore, a national holiday, that the road was likely to bear less traffic. So, although we continued to climb (I am beginning to think that I don’t notice the downs) at least there were fewer vehicles rushing by.  We are, I know, slow learners, but today we succeeded in clothing ourselves in waterproof gear BEFORE it rained. Unlike yesterday, it did stop after a few hours and then the wind (yes, you have guessed correctly) up our nostrils, successfully dried us off.  After six quite long days and now past the 2000km mark, we were looking forward to our rest day in a comfortable cabin beside a lake. We are beside a lake! It is quite charming but that charm does not extend to our accommodation which is uncharacteristically very basic – two bunk beds, a table, a ‘fridge and an electric kettle.  Camping gear to the rescue.

On this site, any concessions to the modern age are yet to be implemented. Thus, no internet or a very dubious connection using the local ‘phone network. This missive, therefore, will not reach your computers for at least another twenty four hours. I hope you find it worth the wait. Tomorrow we head off for a short ride to a site which hopefully will provide all the things we required of this one. Just another small blip.

Wet -Very Wet

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.

Grumpy But Getting Better

Hamra – Mora   95.6 kms       1463’ ascent

Having re read yesterday’s blog I see that I felt a little disquiet yesterday at the prospect of a further 11kms of climbing. However, it would be at the start of the day on fresh legs. It just goes to show that no matter how positive you are, there are times when nature decides differently. As predicted the first 11 kms climbed high twice before we reached the main road which also continued to climb although slightly (not that you would notice) less steeply. After less than 20 kms, and more than 500’ of climbing, but after two hours of pedalling, a coffee haven appeared and we took a break to scoff coffee and muffins. I have to admit to being less than my usual even tempered self. In fact I was exceedingly bad tempered. It may have had something to do with fatigue but more likely just a case of the grumps (who was,I have to say, very patient with my morose mumblings).  

We did eventually reach Mora and, after much meandering, found a gem of a reward for a hard day in and out of the saddle. Our host was a jovial and charismatic fellow. Our accommodation was new, clean and well equipped AND we had a broad band connection but by then, although slightly less grumpy, I was just too knackered to write a blog. Sorry guys.

Things improved again when our host explained that, although the chef wasn’t starting until tomorrow!, he could rustle us up a meal and a glass of wine. Mood definitely perked up at this point and as we ate, there ensued a long conversation during which we learned a great deal about each other. If you should find yourself in Mora, this is the site to be on. Alan will include the website in one on Alan’s boring bits. So, refreshed, and believing tomorrow could only get better, we bade goodnight to our chef cum receptionist, cum campsite owner, and got our heads down. (Sheets not sleeping bags – more luxury). 

 web address - moralife.com

We Needed the Exercise!

Ytterhogdal – Hamra      83.8 kms                         1836’ ascent

It may have come to your notice, dear follower, that we are less than enamoured by the volume of traffic we encounter on parts of the main roads. Yesterday, after studying the map, it was decided that we would leave the E45 and take a cross country route which promised to be more tranquil and actually a little shorter.  We had agreed on this deviation accepting that there was an element of climbing involved. The first 20 kilometres were the fastest we had so far ridden and with the whizzy wind still in our favour , we were feeling very optimistic about our choice of route.  Hmm, if the first 20 were the fastest, the next 60 were the slowest! We should have realised something might be amiss when we passed four walkers at the start of an uphill section. We waved complacently while they exchanged incredulous looks. The map had promised viewpoints which were looking forward to as a reward for pedalling up the hill. At this point, there were a number of things which we had misunderstood. Firstly, that the first view point was at over 1500’, the second was that, although viewpoints by definition mean that one can see for miles, at 1500’ all that was visible was more trees! No sign of the promised wildlife e.g. bears, wolves, lynx or moose, although we did spot a fast moving  red squirrel. Nor did the situation much improve. We had, however, achieved our major aim. The road was almost totally devoid of passing traffic! Any that did pass did so cautiously, having very sensibly noted that the unusually uneven road surface was likely to cause a major trauma to exhaust pipes or suspension. (For some time now, we had puzzled over the cause of raised circular humps in the road surface. Today provided the answer. It is the revenge of the trees! In order to construct the road it would have been necessary to cut down trees and then cover the proposed roadway with asphalt or similar. The latter has sunk allowing the tree trunk to re-emerge and cause havoc for the unsuspecting car, van or lorry. Bikes, of course are immune to damage as they have plenty of time to take avoiding action!

Anyway, back to the action. Having climbed until our legs were threatening to function no longer and having passed some wonderful wild camping sites, we finally arrived in Hamra, our chosen overnight stop. Hamra was shut! In a desperate search for some overnight shelter, we found our expected campsite, now abandoned with an equally abandoned bandstand. It was, at least, shelter from the increasingly whizzy wind (now in completely the wrong direction) and   the rain. Almost resigned to a fairly uncomfortable night and with a problem of no decent water, we made one final foray into the village where Alan had previously spotted a sign which might be significant. Hoorah, it was. A quick peek up a short track, revealed a little hamlet of huts. Having rung an advertised ‘phone number, a nice lady appeared and produced a key to a splendid apartment. So we are recuperating slowly and have vowed not to deviate from our chosen path again. We are not quite finished with this one yet as we still have 11 kms to ride before we join the busy,but less demanding, main road.

Interesting Encounters

Asarna – Ytterhogdal    (Mid Point Sweden) 70.4 kms   296’ ascent.

What a fine start to the day. Sun shining, birds tweeting happily and a wind blowing up our backsides. With the whizzy wind and the fine weather, this fairly short ride promised to be a reward for all the headwinds and hills. And so it was. We were, however, definitely back into trees and then quite suddenly, trees on mountains. Mmm, maybe just hills. Very pretty either way.

For the second day in succession we came upon a café at a time when our bellies were protesting their emptiness. Now, my Swedish is non-existent and the proprietor of the café spoke no English and his answer to my request for food was ‘No’. Quite a bit was lost in translation, for having decided to partake of a coffee anyway, we both re-entered said establishment and Alan spotted what looked like a menu hanging on the wall. A second customer explained, in perfect English, that it was indeed a menu advertising home cooked food. His recommendation was to order the first item on the list which I did. This dish was duly delivered by the male equivalent of Julie Walter’s waitress and was quite delicious. (Rosti type potato with cream and anchovies, served with fresh rolls and salad.)

 Our new acquaintance, the other customer, seemed quite keen to converse and so we spent a pleasant and informative hour or so learning more about Sweden, its weather, its trees, its history and its customs. One of the latter is to take place this Friday, namely Midsummer (isummer only started the day before yesterday and already it is half over!) which means the whole of Sweden will celebrate in style which, in turn, means we may have a problem finding mossie free accommodation. Curious to know how the indigenous population cope with these little beasties, Alan posed the question. Rumour has it that the Sami lie outside for the whole night of the first mossie day, quite naked and presumably get munched but the problem is solved for the remainder of the two days of summer. My suggestion that Alan try this cure was, unsurprisingly, declined

 It transpired that our companion worked in forestry, or more accurately, owned large tracts of forest in Sweden and in Latvia. Keen to show us part of his empire, he copied that tactics of the TV reporters and stopped us in a layby in order to present his forest to us. It was a great way to learn more about the countryside through which we are travelling. So our thanks to a very interesting Anders Nilsson.

Not content with one encounter with the populace, Alan struck up a conversation with a fellow cyclist (wearing willies) while I was once again surveying the shelves of the supermarket. Having asked the expected questions of where did you start and where will you finish, his answers were somewhat surprising. He was a Finn who had inherited a 200 year old watch made in Mora and he was on a quest to establish its origins and then he would cycle home again. We wished him well and the last we saw of him was on a campsite which we had abandoned in favour of a hotel room minus mossies.  It has to be said that the system of huts is a great idea but just occasionally it falls flat on its face as it did this evening. The huts, despite their two star rating, were in a state of dereliction with ill-fitting windows and doors. AND after only a few minutes,( no seconds), Alan had provided a blood donation to the local population. So cheap hotel room it is.

PS from Alan.  I,ve just worked out why he was wearing willies. My ankles are covered in bites. The little bastards have no regard for lycra or socks!

A really wide load just made it through the bridge

The Scenic Route

Ostersund – Asarna    74.6kms   846’ ascent.

We have agreed that days when we don’t ride are a necessity for the purpose of personal and equipment maintenance. Their disadvantage is that the urgency associated with our daily routine is carelessly cast aside. So, this morning at 6.45, my body required a stiff talking to in order to leap enthusiastically from my really quite comfortable bunk. The little lecture worked well and by 7 the kettle was boiling, and the morning rush was in full swing.

We had some reservations about our route out of Ostersund as we knew that, as cyclists, we were unable to use the nearby section of the E14. We should have had more faith in the clever designers of the city’s road system who had provided a cycle way which took us for over 12 kms and thence onto the part of the E14 that we could ride along. According to our trusty map, our chosen route was classified as’ scenic.’ The definition of this term in Sweden would seem to be much the same as it is in France e.g. there are a lot of trees with brief glimpses of water and/or mountains but the essential ingredient is that the road must undulate quite significantly in order that these marvels of nature can be viewed from a variety of angles. This is not quite so effective from a cyclist’s point of view, as many glimpses are missed while concentration is centred on obtaining sufficient oxygen. Nonetheless, we did notice a significant change to the countryside in general. Trees are definitely fewer and fields with cows grazing, are emerging. The lakes (well more like inland seas) are around almost every corner and, except for their propensity for attracting Alan’s greatest fans, are quite beautiful. We even came across a café at lunch time, which served lunch! And on a Sunday! And very good it was too. So, sandwiches for supper.

We are accustomed to expect our daily travel distance to increase as we ride, so it was with no surprise that an extra 12 kms was required before we reached our campsite for this night. Tonight’s cabin is perfectly situated on the high bank of a rushing, rocky river and the sun has just come out. It’s hard to imagine a better experience and we count ourselves very fortunate. 

Alan's Boring Bits

Little Things That Fly and Bite

In Sweden, they come in three sizes - small, medium and large.

The small ones are social creatures playfully flying round in groups the size of the average thunder cloud. They make no noise on approach, land lightly, strike and delicately dine on the merest drop of your precious blood. There are those amongst us who will not react. A slight red mark is the only tell-tale sign of attack. There are others who will look down at the exposed flesh to see a thousand pulsating spots each demanding to be scratched and infected with the detritus lingering in readiness under the finger nails.

Medium sized flying bitey things are highly skilled and intelligent assassins. Having observed their targets behaviour, they will hide in readiness. Favourite spots include picnic tables, park benches, all designated swimming areas, at the head of the bed, on top of the shower, under the rim of the toilet……They are noisy blighters, buzzing and farting with excitement at the prospect of a good meal. At the point of strike, You have 0.76 of a second to retaliate. You can increase the retaliation time by using “anti things that fly and bite” spray. I can highly recommend the stuff I’m using – “Murder Mossies”. It comes in a metal container as it dissolves most plastics. When left to dribble down the side of the bottle, it dissolves the paint along with all the dire warnings about where not to put it. It is the equivalent of agent orange and will defoliate your aspidistra as well as removing all facial hair. You know you have used it on your face because your skin contracts to an Anne Robinson look alike. Although this stuff will cause RAF tornadoes to deviate from their flight path, medium sized flying bitey things love it. It is the aperitif before the main course and hence the marginal increase in swotting (retaliation) time. End result is a pulsating lump demanding to be scratched and infected with the detritus lingering in readiness under the finger nails.

Unlike the medium and small varieties, the large versions do not have hypodermic proboscis, rather they have north sea oil drilling rigs as appendages. You will not know that they are around until you see the blood streaming down your leg and a lump of what was your epidermis hanging from a well sized hole.  End result is a pulsating bloody great mound demanding to be scratched and infected with the detritus lingering in readiness under your finger nails.

Sweden is a lovely place famous for Abba and Little Things that Fly and Bite.