day 9 - viking practice

Well, that was a mistake. The tourist brochure describes a scenic "old road from Nordheimsund to O/ystersee". I naively thought that this meant that there would be, like, a "road". The brochure should have said the "old rocky, steep, thornbush-infested goatpath". My favorite features of this path were ample cowflops, barbed-wire fences with anti-sheep-escape ladders, and absolutely no scenery whatsoever. Ugh.

And why am I in O/ystersee, a significant detour from my bergen-bound route? Viking cruise. Sundays only, a local viking enthusiast takes folks out in his 1/2 scale replica viking amphibious assault craft. I may not be able to kayak the fjords, but rowing a mighty viking ship seems more appropriate anyway. The captain let me steer for a while - the boat is surprisingly nimble even when powered by a bunch of German tourists.

viking karl
Originally uploaded by wolftone.

In my day-glo biking outfit, I don't look much like a viking. But I bet I smell like one. Laundry must be done, and soon.

Here on the west side of the fjord, they grow cows instead of cherries and apples. The east side smelled much better.

The rest of the day was biking and lots more biking. We have 19 hours of daylight now and I needed every second to get to Bergen on time. This was a long, hard pull over multiple huge mountain ranges. I passed a few ski lifts by the road and even broke treeline at one point. Things were so desperate that I was hallucinating a Biker's Paradise Hotel where nimble-fingered technicians handle brake pads with care and a team of fair-haired scandanavian masseuses pound out leg knots. I was about to give up, but about 45 km out of Bergen the road flattened out and the headwind died. (Also, there was noplace to stay even if I wanted to.) Shackles broken, I raced the last half feeling much better. Some of the road paralleled a low-lying fjord which I suppose was pretty, but I was too dead to appreciate. I arrived in Bergen in just enough time to see the sun set on the westerfjord, and my hostel had dormitory space available. (In a cruel twist of fate, I chose to stay at a place situated on the highest point of a very hilly city.)

Total distance today: 150km. When you're climbing norwegian mountains with full panniers, each km feels twice as long as it is. I'm much more wasted now than after a flatter imperial-units century.

Some heavily accented New Yorker is hassling the reception staff about pizza and there is an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie screening in the lounge. Yup, I'm in a youth hostel. I'm now laundering my weapons-grade polypropeline and plan to sleep very well tonight. Tomorrow, there will be no significant biking.