We have almost completed the second leg of our Norway travels - Bergen to Oslo. The route has taken us through some dramatic countryside. Up a long, steep valley leading out of Bergen into waterfall country, and then high up across 'The Rallervagen', an old railway workers road which runs across mountains and past summer glaciers. The roads have not been quite as good on this leg of the journey, with numerous sections of dirt.
The start of the rallervagen was covered in rocks the size of fists, which I explained to Matt as I struggled to push my bike through them. He misheard me and now believes the rocks to have been the size of 'fisks' - which is Norwegian for 'fish'. The fish here are big, so I stand by that comment. In any event, bianchi and her sexy skinny tyres were not quite up to the task, which I noted every time a mountain biker went skimming by. There were moments where I thought I would not make it through and would have to find a train station. Thankfully Matt pushed me on and the road improved, offering spectacular alpine views. Just below the highest point, and miles from anything, was a cute little coffee shop. It was a little like hiking in the Victorian High Country and discovering that Cope Hut now had a barista who was selling coffee for ten cents a cup. (An improvement on the Norwegian standard 8 bucks for a double espresso.)
Some time during the upwards and downwards roll between Bergen and Oslo we ticked over 2000kms so far. When he gets a chance to do some strava calculations, Matt has promised to add vital statistics such as meters climbed, average speed (not very fast), calories burnt and then replaced via Danish pastries... I can say that, milage for each day has been a little shorter than in Denmark, mostly as a result of the hills, but also because we had to time our ride so that by 3.30pm we were in a cafe with a television each day in order to watch the Tour de France. It has been a little odd watching it while the sun is still up!
Matt is currently recovering from what looks like leprosy or a methamphetamine addiction but is in fact the result of an attack by midges, which he innocently believed to be gnats. I suspect that Dan Brown is currently working on a book about midges and their evil machinations. Poor Matt briefly lost the power of speech, beyond being able to mutter 'I'm just so... so... itchy'. I've discovered that the little blighters are attracted to lactic acid in the blood. The difference between my legs and Matt's at the moment suggests that he might be working a little harder than I am. (Or that I am, in fact, just so much fitter and that I don't need to generate as much lactic acid up the hills. A theory I prefer, but which he does not believe...) After Scandinavia we head to Scotland, where I understand the midges are organised, unionised and militarised.
We head to Oslo this afternoon where we will stay a day or two before heading for the Swedish border and cycling to Gothenburg.
