Wednesday, 28 May 2014



I am looking at the bike’s odometer and it tells me I have done 6600 km from Bruges and 3500 km from Trondheim, Norway where I posted my last blog post.  I am in a quaint village close to Helsinki, resting at a friend’s house (thank you Jan for your generosity and friendship, it saved my life).  All my gear is soaked, muddy and I am exhausted and on the verge of collapse.  The past 2 weeks have been the most challenging of the entire expedition so far.  With the exception of few glorious hours of sunshine here and there, I rode the bike through the worst weather I could have imagined: high winds (highest at Nordkapp, 20m/s), low temperatures (1 Degree Celsius) and snow, icy roads and then rain all the way to Southern Finland.
I left Trondheim in heavy clouds, heading north to Mosjoen.  The road was straighter and the riding was not difficult, except that it rained on me the whole day.  The camp in Mosjoen was lonely but they had good facilities and I made sure I used their warm kitchen where I cooked and dried my clothes.  It is amazing how your spirits are lifted up when you cook a warm meal and rest in a dry environment.  This would be my second last haven of warmth and while I didn’t know about it, I had a sense that Nordkapp will not let me conquer it without putting up a fight. 
As I headed north to Narvik, I passed the Arctic Circle on top of a mountain.  The day was miserable, of course, low clouds, wind and 3 degrees.  The Center at the Arctic Circle was open but empty, no visitors, as the girl at the counter told me that this is too early in the season for visitors.  I got that from several other people who told me I am crazy to attempt Nordkapp this time of the year.
Narvik Camp was closed so I camped wild (in Norway and most of Scandinavia you are allowed to camp virtually anywhere where there are no farms, plantations or private properties, it is called the Right of Access), on top of a hill overlooking the Narvik Fjord.  It was a quiet night and I needed to rest, as the next day I was heading for Alta, my last stop before Nordkapp.  I was already riding 500 km per day, which is nothing if you are riding in Namibia (where I rode 1300 km in one day, because the roads are straight, virtually no traffic and very little population), but not in Norway, where the speed limit is rarely 80km/h and the roads are winding around the high mountains. 
As I headed to Alta the landscape changed to round-top mountains and more snow.  It was becoming very desolate, with fewer villages and less trees.  I felt I was riding in Nunavut, Canada and I shook my head, suddenly realizing what is waiting for me.  When I arrived in Alta, rain started, yet again, but I was already set with my tarp over my tent so I was dry, fortunately.  It rained most of the night and the next day and while I was cooking, the lady from the camp came and told me that I could stay in a cabin without extra charge.  She must have seen in me a suffering soul and felt pity... I was surprised that a Norwegian would offer me something without money (no disrespect intended, but Norwegians should join Planet Earth and have prices that can actually be reasonable: I paid 1 Euro for 1 Egg in Mosjoen in a grocery store, where I paid 1.09 Euros for 10 eggs in Rovaniemi, Finland.  5 Euro for a loaf of bread is unreasonable in my humble opinion, and over 2 Euro for a liter of petrol in a country that has immense oil reserves, seems to me a “little” ridiculous), but as I talked to her, I found out she was Finnish.  Aaaah! God bless the Finnish! No wonder she talked to me, as throughout all my traveling through Norway, for 3 weeks and over 3000 km, only 4 people talked to me and were curious about my journey.
I woke up the next morning in a snow blizzard, 1 degree Celsius and close to 10 cm of snow weighing heavily on my tarp and covering my bike (see photos below).  Nordkapp was showing its teeth, as I had only 240 km to go to complete this quest.  I waited one more night and the next morning, May 23rd at 6:00 am I left Alta and headed for Nordkapp.  The road took me through a mountain pass and it was dry, but as I climbed the mountain, just rounding a peak, I hit ice on the road, blown by the heavy wind on top of the mountain.  I didn’t have much speed, I think less than 60 km/h, but I came on the ice too suddenly and I started skidding towards the left side of the road pushed also by the wind.  I was screaming in the helmet on my own and I used engine breaking to reduce the speed but the bike being so heavy it was heading dangerously towards the cliff.  I put both my feet on the ground to maintain stability so I don’t tip over and I spotted a large snow pile and I headed straight for it.  I thought it might be better in the snow than at the bottom of that cliff.  I hit the snow pile hard, ice flying everywhere but I stopped and I was happy to be alive.  The road was very lonely that morning, it was cold and I was frozen stiff.  I couldn’t push the bike, of course, and I dug around it as much as I could and I jumped on it and I did what I thought it would be the best choice: I opened up the throttle and let it rip hard into the snow.  My amazing bike (which has never seen so much snow and ice in her life) and my amazing Heidenau K60 tires pulled me out of the frozen snow that morning and back on the road.  The rest of the mountain pass was done very slowly, 20 km/h with both feet down until I reached the valley below and I stopped on the side of the road to control my shaking (whether it was from the cold or from the idea that I could have died frozen up there, I don’t really know).  160 km to go to Nordkapp and I seriously thought it might not happen anymore.  To come 25.000 km from Africa with this in mind and stop short of Nordkapp was a genuine possibility at this stage.
After a few minutes, I breathed deeply and I jumped back on the bike, decided that I would take a kilometer at a time and see what happens.  The wind was increasing, blowing from the right side hard; my hands were numb and I felt very cold down my spine.  The thermometer indicated 1 degree still, but I was sure that the wind-chill factor at this temperature would be way worse than I expected.
As I turned north at Olderfjord, it started to drizzle, some sort of frozen rain, making the road extremely slippery.  On the way to Honingsvag, the road is built right on the side of the sea, with high cliffs on the left and the churning Arctic Ocean on the right.  Few kilometers outside Honingsvag I entered the Nordkapp tunnel, a 7 km tunnel that goes 5 km under the sea to reach the final stretch to Nordkapp.  The tunnel was freakishly dark, I had to pull out my goggles to be able to ride and it was very cold in that darkness.  No cars, no traffic and my state of mind suddenly took a turn for the worse; deep depression set in, I started shaking uncontrollably again and I turned the bike around inside the tunnel and stopped.  I had 32 km to Nordkapp this way, or 240 to the Finland border that way, where straight roads, friendlier people and warmer temperatures would welcome me.  I starred in both directions inside that tunnel and the darkness starred back inside of me.  It was a very natural decision to quit, it felt easy and unremorseful.  I jumped on the bike, started it and as I put it in first gear, the deep rebellion in me woke up and said: “Screw this!  Screw natural tendencies and easy decision making! Today, I go against myself, against my mind and against my will!”  I turned the bike around and headed to Honingsvag and Nordkapp. 
After passing Honingsvag, the road becomes very narrow (3-4 m wide) and climbs higher to reach the Cape.  There are no more trees, the wind is unrestricted and it was blowing me off the road into the cliffs that were dropping on each side.  I grinded my teeth like never before, hating the rebel inside me and promising I would never listen again to its idiocy.  Nordkapp was now only 9 km in front of me.  I grinded some more and I leaned harder on the right side to counteract the wind power.
As I reached Nordkapp that morning, 10:45 am, 1 degree, 20m/s winds (3 local forecasts were posting that), my odometer was indicating 24525 km from Livingstone, Zambia and 6 months and 9 days from our departure.  I rode to the gate and the poor young guy there looked at me astonished; I was alone, no other soul in sight and he said: “Welcome to Nordkapp!”  
I asked him to go inside, but then I realized that I have to pay to reach the building.  When he told me I have to pay 25 Euros to pass, I looked at him, deeply and I thought: “If I jump on his neck and strangle him, it wouldn’t help much.  He is just working here.”  I told him with a very frozen smile: “I will just turn around”.  I did a U-turn and rode 100m down to the Nordkapp sign where I said I should at least take a photo.  I climbed off the bike and as I put the foot peg down the wind almost toppled the bike on the side.  I couldn’t get away from it to take a picture.  The photo you will see of the Nordkapp and a part of my bike was taken while I was pushing the bike with all my power with one leg, against the wind, while I stretched backwards to be able to take the bloody photo.  It was extremely disappointing to go through so much hell to get there and to be stuck at the sign, by myself and not being able to document it properly.  In retrospect, I don’t care anymore, Nordkapp was mostly a symbolic feat for me, as the place itself is not that spectacular; it is a rock on a top of a ridge.  As I found out later, it is not even the northernmost point of Europe, the real one cannot be reached by car or road, as you have to hike for about 8 hours to get there.  For me though, it was the conquering of my own fears, tendencies, weaknesses and doubts and that is why Nordkapp will always be important to me.  It brought out the inner struggle and helped me understand how fragile us humans are and how we can also find strength to push our limits further.
I rode 4 more hours that day, even though I was frozen and wet and as I headed south towards Karasjok, I found the road challenges very feeble in comparison to what I just witnessed. 
The next day I entered Finland, where the roads are straight, the speed limit 100 km/h, the people friendly and the prices reasonable.  I was still shaken from the day before, but I was feeling invigorated and had a deep sense of peace and tranquility in my heart.
Nordkapp was on the top of my list since 2011 when I started to plan for this expedition.  Our major direction from Livingstone was North.  North to Nordkapp of course.  Reaching it implied serious shift in physical direction (I would now head south to Turku, Finland and then East for the next 11.000 km to Vladivostok, Russia) and in my mental attitude as well.  Now, Mother Russia awaits for me, with its humongous distances and cultures and secrets.  When I entered northern Finland and saw the first signs for Murmansk, the hair on my neck stood up.  I need few days to recover from Nordkapp trauma and set my mind for Russia.
On my way down, I stayed in Jan’s friends’ homes, Mr. Eero in Rovaniemi and Mr. Rogers in Malax, excellent gentlemen that opened the doors for a stranger like me.  It felt very weird to sleep in a bed, eat some amazing food, and chat with these people.  Even though I was coming out of one of the top countries in the world, I felt I was coming out of the Amazon Jungle (where I have spent some time in the past).  It was the same feeling because of the loneliness I endured in that country and the challenge of riding through its mountains and fjords. 
Norway will forever bear its print in my soul and my subconscious... It is with mixed feelings that I declare that, truly, this is a paradise country to ride your bike in, even though it will hurt your wallet, your heart and your mind; but if you make it, you will become a stronger person inside and out, just like the Vikings of Norway are.

Arctic Circle, 66 degrees North, in Norway.
 On the road to Narvik

 My camp in Narvik
 Towards Alta

 It is sinking suddenly in my mind that this will not be easy

 May 22nd Snow blizzard in Alta

 After I got out from the mountain;on the way to Nordkapp, this is how the road looked
 Lots of reindeer herds on the way to Nordkapp
 Lonely Sami village before Honingsvag

 The Mountains of Nordkapp; the wind here was howling through the desolate valleys
 What you don't see here is the bloody wind pushing against my bike and my leg, fully stretched, holding the bike to not fall on me while I took this photo.  The GPS was showing: 71.10 20 N, the Nordkapp is at 71.10.21 N

 Finland, with its beautiful lakes and forests

 Rovaniemi, on the Arctic Circle again; huge difference from the other side in Norway
 The Candle Bridge, one of Rovaniemi's landmarks
 Santa Claus's Village on the Arctic Circle, 7 km from Rovaniemi

 Rovaniemi from the mountain top
 I visited the Santa Sport Academy, an amazing project to provide the local youth with sports.  I dream of my Sports Academy to look like this one day...

 By contrast, this is where my kids are playing the same sport, 25.000 km away: soon we will provide better chances to these young people to showcase their talent to the world.

Thursday, 15 May 2014


It is pissing rain here in Trondheim as I write this and I am wondering when is this going to end?  The past 2 weeks gave me nothing but cold, rain, snow and high winds, with the exception of few short magical hours of blue skies and perfect temperatures.
As I left Belgium, the mood was not good, even the damn music I listened to was talking about loneliness and the weather was cloudy and disturbingly depressing.  I was supposed to ride 300 km that day to a camp in Holland; I rode like a maniac 690 km all the way to Northern Germany to a village I don't know the name of and slept in a camp out in the bush, with no one in sight.  I wasn't going to stop for few days anywhere until I got to Norway.  I rode to Flensburg the next day, then Frederikshavn, Denmark, where again I camped in a place all by myself as the season is only starting and no one was camping.  I took the ferry to Gotheborg, Sweden and I was supposed to camp in Sweden somewhere, but rain was on me yet again, and I decided to just ride.  I ended up somewhere between Honefoss and Klaeken in Norway, in a beautiful village.  Norway was beginning to show its beauty from the moment I crossed the border.  It would be the start of a shocking journey, of a solo ride that would take me so far through 7 mountain ranges, 5 fjords and extremes of weather, from 1 degree on top of mountains covered with snow to 21 degrees in Hardangerfjord, camping in a cherry orchard in paradise.  I decided to split in 2 episodes my Scandinavian tale, mainly because of distances (over 3000 km so far and still 3000 more to Helsinki) and because of the amount of photos I collected.  It is impossible to give you a just idea of what I am seeing in one post with 30-40 photos.  I have over 600 so far and they keep on piling.  I do 400 km in 9 hours because I stop a lot and film and take photos.  Below you will understand...
Norway so far has climbed to the 2nd most beautiful country in the world (in my book), a short second after New Zealand.  West Coast of Canada comes 3rd, Alaska and Northern Canada 4th, South Africa 5th, Namibia 6th, Vietnam 7th, Australia 8th, Vanuatu 9th, Morocco 10th, in case you wondered what the 10 top countries of this traveler are.
Norway has managed to shock me to the core of my soul, because the diversity and marvel of this country are hard to describe.  Mountains few thousand meters high, packed with snow and minutes later you find yourself at the bottom of a canyon sitting on the beach of a fjord with perfectly clear waters surrounded by small villages with red houses reflecting in the mirror below.  Hardangerfjord is home to more than 400.000 fruit trees, lining the slopes of the snow capped mountains above, all the way to the waterline.  Peaches, cherries, pears, apples and plums, all were in bloom when I was there (May is the perfect time to visit Hardangerfjord, apparently), releasing their perfumes everywhere and making this place look like out of a Heidi story in the Swiss Alps.  The farmers there supply more than 60% of Norway's fruit from an area of about 10 km long.
From Hardanger I headed to the famous Geirangerfjord, 500 km north through some of the most dramatic landscapes I have ever been in my life.  Rugged mountains with extremely steep slopes where roads were built, waving their way down in the valleys, immense tunnels dug through the belly of the mountains (I was lucky to ride through the Laerdal Tunnel, the longest in the world, stretching 25 km through a massive mountain.  These people didn't just built tunnels, they build parking spaces with blue lights (see below) and even roundabouts, sending you to different directions right there under the massive rock.  They didn't even bother to cement the tunnels but left them carved into the stone for a natural look.  Apparently, the granite is so strong, they don't need to do anything else but to carve their way through it.  It was very humbling to ride my bike through these tunnels, especially that many of the smaller ones don't even have lighting so you have to really feel your way through them (not good for me, as I ride with tinted goggles, making me completely blind inside these tunnels).
Their standard of life is higher than anywhere I have been before, and the prices reflect that: I was lucky to buy all my food in Germany otherwise I would have been forced to beg here.  With my kind of daily budget (25 Euro, food, gas, accommodation) I couldn't even serve a proper breakfast here.  On the other hand, all water in Norway is safe to drink and everywhere you turn, even in the smallest, most remote village, the facilities are impeccable.
I arrived in Trondheim exhausted, cold to my bones and excited in the same time, for having crossed all those mountains, through so many landscapes and places and seeing so much beauty.  My mind is still racing with the images that entered my eyes.  I wish I was a professional photographer with professional equipment to capture all that I have seen, but I managed to capture images that will be with me for a long time.  I was just lucky I guess to arrive here on my own terms, riding my own bike and having the freedom to choose where and how long to stay.
From here on, Finmark will start soon with the Sami people and their beautiful locations and herds of reindeer.  I only hope I can reach Nordkapp without having to freeze on the way there.

For a great website for bikers, click here: Displaying ADVMoto-Sig-Horiz.gif

The morning I left from Hardanger, I had a neighbor, which is rare, as I usually camp alone.  His Land Rover reminded me of my African treks and I took a photo because it was a perfect opportunity

Laerdal Tunnel, the light are as you see, marking the parking places

Geiranger Fjord

Amazing Trondheim

My camp in Trondheim; again, alone.