The Adventures of Jules

Sign off

2010-09-06T15:00:00.004+01:00

Welcome to John O'Groats where the local date is 27th August 2010. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until the van has come to a complete stop and the Captain has turned off the seat belts sign.

On behalf of the Captain and the Navigator, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for choosing Adventures of Jules Travel for your journey this year.

If you have any questions about the route we have taken or any comments about the service you have received throughout this voyage please do not hesitate to contact the Adventures of Jules crew at

adventuresofjules@europe.com

In the meantime, we wish you a very pleasant onward journey and hope to have the pleasure of welcoming you on board again very soon

;)

Acknowledgements

2010-09-06T15:00:00.003+01:00

There are many people without whom we would not have been able to do this trip and would never have actually got any further than the cambridgeshire border.

Particular thanks go to my family; Mum, Dad, Tom & Katy, for willingly allowing us to fill their homes with our most precious belongings and clutter up their driveways with both us and our many and various cars before we could leave - sorry, you'll need to keep the stuff just that little bit longer... :) Also to my Mum for acting as trip secretary and tirelessly dealing with all the dull post and general admin from which it seems there is no escape, to my brother for so capably being on hand when things needed sorting out in our house and to my Dad and Katy who read every word of the blog when the others were just too busy... :)

We are also very grateful to Will's family; Tom, Julie & Chris, Vicky, Jeni & Dan, Peter & Bonney and Jim & Elissa and all of our friends; Leah & Shelley, Cathy & Paul, Matt & Jude, Ben & Ali, Dave, Amy & Colin for either looking after some of our belongings and/or providing us with food and a place to park whilst we have been of 'no fixed abode'.

And most especially to Catherine and Alex, Kathryn and Austin and Dave and Emily for all of the above and additionally the use of their various workshops, garages, tools and time without which we would probably never have left our own driveway (or, more worryingly, their driveways!), let alone the country.

Thank you also to Bill, Brian and Ulla, Kiri and Meli & Rafi, people whom we have met on the road through random chat and being in the right place at the right time and who, through their emails, suggestions, ideas, shared experiences, food and bits of electronics (especially the wifi aerial!) have made our traveling life so much richer. Do give us a shout if you're ever in the Cambridge area!

And last but by no means least thank you so much to all of you who have joined us on our epic journey - those of you we know and those we don't and those we didn't know but now do - and especially all those of you who have written to us along the way, your comments and emails were always much appreciated!

Many centuries ago, a chinese poet apparently once said that

to re-create something in words is like being alive twice

And I can definitely concur. Writing this - which has turned out to be far, far more epic than I ever expected at the beginning - has made me appreciate just what we've done, seen, learnt and discovered on our travels, but it has been so much better to have you all on board too. I do hope you've all had a good time :)

That's All Folks

2010-09-06T14:52:00.007+01:00

So. Here we are. Lands's End to John O'Groats

Nine months, 26 countries and 20,000 miles later.

Honestly, there have been times when this moment seemed inconceiveably far away - and times at the very beginning when it felt we would never actually leave let alone come back! - but the last few months and countries have simply flown by.

But wow, what a trip!

Its kind of hard to sum up really. We've been to places I've always wanted to go to but never got round to, including:

Rome and the Sistine Chapel (and seeing the pope!),

The Alhambra,

the Millau Viaduct,

the Scottish Highlands,

the hilltop towns of Tuscany,

and all of Croatia

Places that I had heard of but never thought I would get to, including;

Romania, Transylvania and Dracula's castle,

Bulgaria,

the Baltic States,

Athens and the Parthenon,

Delphi and the belly button of the world,

Piza,

Florence,

Gibraltar,

Auschwitz/Birkenau

Nordkapp,

the Arctic Circle

and Santa's Village

And countless truly amazing places I had never even heard of, let alone considered going to, including;

Dune de Pilat,

Eze,

the Cartagena gun emplacements,

the Merry Cemetery in Romania,

the Meteora monasteries,

Slovensky Raj National Park,

the Trollstigan and Sognefjellsvegen roads,

Cinqueterre National Park,

the Bulgarian Communist Party Headquarters at Mount Buzludzha,

the greek temples at Pasteum

and Slovenia in its entirety.

In our valiant little van we have journeyed to three of the four corners of mainland europe,

as well as its very centre;

trekked up and over over frozen, snowbound mountain ranges and plains

and across scorching, sunbaked scrubland;

and survived places as hot as 40° and as cold as -9 and below.

We have stopped in huge cities and tiny villages, on the truck buffeted sliproads of motorway service stations

and halfway up deserted mountains or in moorland laybys in the middle of nowhere

and we have dined as richly as kings on fresh caught mussels in white wine and cream or frugally and simply on risotto made from nothing more than rice and a chicken stockcube.

And we have done and experienced and eaten things I would never have believed if you had asked me this time last year:

tramping over a norwegian mountain skirting the edge of a glacier and round a meltwater reservoir,

firing an AK47 in an underground soviet bunker in Riga,

spending four days at the new moon sacred circle opening ceremony in a hippy camp swimming in lakes and doing yoga in a Finnish forest,

sunbathing on an FKK beach in Croatia,

basking in the midnight sun,

solar showering on top of a Portuguese cliff top and the water actually being warm,

listening to Fado in a backstreet Lisbon restaurant

riding on a 12m high mechanical elephant in Nantes,

wine tasting lessons in Bordeaux and buying wine 'en vrac' in the south of France,

learning the correct way of drinking cider with tapas in spain

getting stuck in the sand on a beach in the Algarve with the tide lapping only centimetres from our front tyres,

driving along a Top Gear Top Driving Road, mountain pass road with 3m high walls of snow on eitherside,

climbing a polystyrene ice wall on the beach in San Sebastian

swimming in the Atlantic in January, the Adriatic in May and the Aegean in June (for our next trip we are going to move on to bodies of water beginning with B... ;) )

and,

enjoying octopus in Portugal,

potato sausage in Poland,

cepelinas in lithuania

reindeer stew in Lapland,

squid in its own black ink in french Basque country,
pintxos in San Sebastian,

horse burgers in Ljubljiana and

fish we caught ourselves, bbq'd over a driftwood fire in Norway.

And we have, as you know, found electronics and car parts shops across europe and fixed our little van in a variety of unlikely places, proving that you just don't need a garage (although Will would disagree with that...) if you're careful and/or desperate. At the last count, the list included:

Changing the distributor, throttle and airfilter and fitted an additional airflow sensor in a carpark at La Rochelle,

Buying a lamda sensor from a scrapyard in La Rochelle (and subsequently a second one)
Changing the main battery in a Nordauto carpark in Bordeaux,
Strip down, test and refitting of the starter motor in car park at Dune de Pilat,
Getting the brakes fixed in a garage in Vigo where they spoke no english

Buying a new, custom made, stainless steel, performance exhaust from a garage in Seville where they spoke no english,

Changing the leisure battery in the carpark of of an autospares shop in Parma,
Fashioning temporary rocker cover gaskets in a carpark in Isola, buying new gaskets in Pula from a shop where they spoke no english, and fitting new rocker cover gaskets in the airport carpark,

Buying a third lamda sensor from a friend of a VW beetle owner we met in a coffee shop near Sibenik,
Learning to bumpstart the van in reverse down a hill in a residential street in Split when Will had incorrectly wired up the above lamda sensor and completely flattened the battery,
Changing the oil and oil filter change on a roadside in Ioannina,
Changing the spark plugs in a layby in the Slovakian Tatras,
Gap checking the tappets in a campsite in Poland,
Further stripdown and clean of the starter motor by the side of the road in Bruges.

And that's without mentioning the complete engine stripdown and rebuild before we left

or the ecu project which I know some of you don't want to hear any further about.

So really, where do you start to explain?

I am anticipating earnest questions in imminent (hopefully!) job interviews along the lines of:

"So what have you learnt, during your year off work?"

My immediate answer will of course be:
"Well...

The best showers in Europe are halfway down the beach at Figuera da Foz,

Pizza Hut in Poland has far faster wifi than McDonalds in Poland, afterall, who takes a laptop out when they go for pizza??
It is always worth checking for wifi, even in the most unlikely places such as petrol stations or in the middle of Bulgarian fields where you can't see a building for miles in any direction,
It is far, far better to drive into strange cities really late at night when there is no traffic,
There is always free parking provided you are prepared to drive far enough out of the centre and walk or cycle back,
As a corollary to the above, never, ever, if you can possibly avoid it, drive through mediaeval city gates, arches or walls or down cobbled typical streets. It will end badly.
Soaking dried basil in olive oil does not make pesto, although the resultant sludge is better than no pesto in extremis.
Bread, olive oil and balsamic vinegar do not make a good drving snack - not, as you might think, because it's messy, rather that when you put the bottle by the side of your seat to stop it rolling around then forget about it and open your door, it falls out and smashes on the ground... Oh yes, in a petrol station forecourt no less..."

Is that not what they mean do you think??

Honestly though, it may be an overused and cliche'd saying but it is true, travel really does broaden the mind. We have learnt so much about art and architecture, flora and fauna, geography and geology, places and people that we would just never have considered otherwise and a whole gamut of european history from west to east, from the Etruscans to the Soviets. Although it is the most recent stuff - the stuff which has happened whilst we have been alive -which has been the most fascinating and shocking and really brought home just how lucky we are in england.

And I can prove it! Since we've been back, we've listened to a lot of Radio 4 - people speaking english at me! - and we have heard all sorts of programmes referring, in varying degrees of detail, to things or places we have been to or read about in the last nine months, including:

The USSR and Stalin's treatment of the Baltic States,
The peaceful cohabitation in Spain of the Moors, the Christians and the Jews in the 11th-15th centuries and the significance of the Alhambra as a Moorish powerbase in the retaking of Spain by the Christian Monarchs,
The problems in the Romanian healthcare system since Ceaucescu in an interview with a doctor in a hospital we walked past in Bucharest talking about a boy from the Saxon villages,
The Greek tragedies, including extracts and characters from the Illiad and the Odessey,
A crazy gunman in a small town in eastern Slovakia which we stayed in,
Google and the invention of their back-rub page ranking technology (not strictly from anywhere we went but a fascinating audio book called The Search which we got from Bill)
A character in a book at bedtime remebering Fort William and Glen Coe where we have just been.
And, and, we now know the location of or have been to many of the places on the full and unabridged coastal shipping forecast, broadcast after Sailing By at 12:50am, from Ardnamurchan Point, to Cape Wrath to the Pentland Firth...

So there you go :)

And another cliché which has been proven; it really is true that if you don't speak the language, the best thing to do is keep repeating yourself more slowly and more loudly! Honestly! I know this is the derided, stereotypical view of what us brits do when confronted by foreigners rather than attempting to learn any languages but we have had many people do the same to us in their language and it really does work!

And people really are, by and large, everso willing to help. If you need something enough, however obscure, you will always find it or at the very least, someone who can tell you where to find it, if you just keep trying and keep asking in the right sort of places. And once you're in the right place, language is suddenly not an issue - you need a new exhaust in spain but don't speak spanish? It will be near impossible in a normal garage but get yourself to a workshop that only sells exhausts and the possibilities are endless.

Although that being said, I have been amazed and humbled by the levels of competency in english we have found in the most unlikely places, like small petrol stations, supermarket checkouts and corner shops in deepest darkest Bulgaria and Romania.

Although I have been trying! I can now say "hello" and "thank you" and smile in no fewer than 14 languages! And decipher the greek and cyrillic alphabets. Get me :)

But it is time to come home. As I have said before, Will is itching to get back to the challenge of a real job and back to his (or at least a) garage so he can fix things properly and even I have had enough of UNESCO churches, cathedrals, castles, and mazes of typical cobbled streets for a while.

And we've got so much to catch up on! It's not often that you really sit back and look back at what has happened in a year, especially to other people, not just yourselves but there has been so much going on back home! Seven new jobs, two new houses and one to come, two engagements and a wedding this week, and five new babies we haven't met yet. Other people have been busy whilst we've been fecklessly wandering around :) and that's just what we know about so far!

So, back on the road for one last time then. Time to head south then, back to life, back to reality and see what we've been missing...

...England here we come!

They think it's all over...

2010-09-06T14:51:00.000+01:00

Written 27th August

...it is now.

A most unexpected post script to our grande finale awaited us outside our van door this morning - glorious sunshine! Brilliant!

So I spent a happy morning finishing my daisies

whilst Will went for another walk to the stunning Duncansby Stacks

then it was off into the village for some proper finishing off photos.

So, all finished then...

...and yes Mr Toaster, before you say it, it is finally, and definitely, now time to get a shower, a shave, a haircut and a proper job :)

Perfect End to a Perfect Day

2010-09-06T14:49:00.002+01:00

Written 26th August (sorry, lack of time and internet for over a week!)

But before we get to that...

drummroll da da da, da da da, daaaaa!

Full house on Cardinal Point Bingo!*

Hurrah!

Yes our road to John O'Groats took us along the north coast,

past more deep lochs

and stunning beaches,

across the wild deserted moors

with high peaks in the distance

and finally through the much tamer, gently rolling farmland of the North East Highlands

and right past Dunnet Head, the northernmost point of mainland Britain.

A sheer cliff promentory with a view to the Orkney's - somewhere else on Brian and Ulla's recommended list which we will have to come back to - and in a full circle, past John O'Groats to the east on the one hand, all the way west to Cape Wrath on the other and due south to the rest of the country dead ahead.

So here's to the end of that quest, just the big one left as the clouds start gathering on the horizon... Race to the finish then!

John O'Groats is a bit like Land's End but with slightly less tat (no shopping mall or tacky arcade at least) and sadly slightly less impressive scenery.

At Land's End, you do at least get a feeling that you're at the end of the world and there is nothing beyond - once you turn your back on the tat anyway. At John O'Groats it just sort of stops. And then there are the Orkney's, resplendent on the near horizon, seemingly just within touching distance. And they take the iconic sign board down at the end of the working day! But to be fair, we weren't there for very long, just time for a couple of photos and a postcard to adorn the wardrobe next to our Land's End one, before we headed to nearby Duncansby Head with its lighthouse, cliffs and impressive stacks. This is more like it!

So here we are. Parked up with a view over the gentle hills down to John O'Groats. Official end of the trip!

Curiously, if you go to Land's End, it is 874 miles to John O'Groats but if you're going from John O'Groats it is 876 miles to Land's End. I bet those two miles make all the difference if you're on a push bike! I wonder if that's why most people go south to north and not north to south... :) still, we clicked over 20,000 trip miles today on our journey between the two so there you go. It's nice to have such a lovely round number to finish on!

Despite that though, it feels all a bit sudden really. I honestly didn't expect when I woke up this morning that I would finish the day here! It feels like it should be more momentous somehow.

But we have cheap and cheerful bubbly fizz to celebrate - Lidl Cava, their champagne being unexpectedly too expensive for van dwellers! - one glass of which is already making me feel a bit giddy - I am such a cheap date these days! -

my final daisy is painted - bit of a hiatus in daisy painting as I ran out of paint in Finland and it was €18(!!) a can in Norway... -

and the sun is setting on John O'Groats and our adventure in a splendid display of glorious colour.

The perfect end to a perfect day and an even more perfect trip.

Cheers!

*giggle*

* For the cardinal points fact fans amongst you:

Extreme Points of Mainland Great Britain

Northernmost point – Dunnet Head at 58°40′N 3°22′W

Southernmost point – Lizard Point, Cornwall, England at 49°57′N 5°12′W

Westernmost point – Corrachadh Mòr, Highland at 56°42′N 6°13′W **

Easternmost point – Lowestoft Ness, Suffolk at 52°28.87′N 1°45.77′E

**Corrachadh Mòr (56°42′56.20328″N 6°13′40.59731″W) is a small hillock on the Ardnamurchan peninsula in Lochaber, Highland, Scotland, notable for adjoining the most westerly point on the island of Great Britain. It is about 36 kilometres (22 miles) further west than Land's End in Cornwall.

Depending on which coordinates are used, this headland is 30.78 metres or 42.81 metres west of Ardnamurchan Point (about a kilometre to the north). The latter is commonly, but incorrectly, described as being the most westerly point on the peninsula.

You take the high road and I'll take the low road...

2010-08-30T21:49:00.000+01:00

Written 26th August

And we'll all get to Scotland at the same time as we're all traveling in the same little van :)

I will say this now and up front: I am not going to do Scotland any justice here. It is glorious and beautiful with a long history crammed full of outlaw heroes and famous battles and haunting castles and sadly we only have time for a whistlestop tour on this occasion. And with our current re-starting issues, I have had to curb my usual "oh oh oh stop it's pretty I want a picture" habit too, so some of the best scenes and places we have passed are either uncaptured or seen through the fly splattered windscreen. Which is a real shame but there we go, can't be helped. It should be enough to wet your appetite.

It didn't start gloriously though.

We awoke to more rain in our little loch-side stop but pressed on anyway

and it had cleared up a bit by the time we reached the edges of Rannoch Moor and the famous West Coast railway line which cuts across it to link Glasgow with Fort William and on to the Isles.

No Hogwarts Express chuffing along the line beside us this time but in consolation, a vast expanse of moor, a beautiful impressionist daub of purple and green.

Cloudy and wet again by Glen Coe, just a few miles further down the road

but happily it was clearing again in time for the curiously angled Corran Ferry

heading for the Ardnamurchan peninsula,

the westernmost point of mainland Britain.

Yep, we are back on the last of our cardinal points quests and somewhat surprisingly, if you look at a map which shows the UK as it is commonly orientated, the westernmost point of the mainland - obviously there are lots of islands further out - is all the way up here and not Cornwall.

It was a proper rollercoaster of a single track road, hurtling up and down and round corners and would have been fabulous in the midget, which would have approached it like a game of Rally Sport Challenge, dodging in and out of the passing places and round and past other vehicles with the skill and speed of a gokart on steroids.

But it was somewhat less fun in an ever-willing but slightly lumbering van where every unanticipated sudden stop had the potential of turning into a prolonged and frustrating starter-killing halt.

But we got there in glorious sunshine - which sadly disappeared before the photos whilst we had a celebratory cuppa - with its lighthouse and view of the isles.

Reporting pedantry obliges me to clarify that, according to Wikipedia that well known repository of truth and fact, the westernmost point is in fact Corrachadh Mor about a kilometre to the south. I know, I know, that's no middle of the night nine kilometre arctic expedition to actual north and in the spirit of the quest we should have actually gone there, but when we looked at an OS map in the visitor centre, there was no marked path and much of the way seemed to be across marshy ground at sea level. And then it started to rain. So this is as west as we will go.

Three down, one to go!

Back on the road then, after a tactical bit of sitting around until it was dark, which made it much, much easier to see when someone was coming in the other direction but also gave the added frisson of danger and excitement of unpredictable deer hopping over fences and into the road... There should definitely be a Scottish Highlands version of Grand Theft Auto or similar:) and so to a random layby stop where we awoke to fantastic sunshine.

And a much better day weatherwise yesterday - hurrah! Along the Road to the Isles

- albeit heading away from the Isles -

to Fort William and a glimpse at the top of Ben Nevis (I think) looming over the town holding back an impending blanket of cloud. Scottish tourist sight: tick!

Onwards and upwards then.

Over the tops of the moors,

alongside lochs,

past Eilean Donan castle, sitting regally between Loch Alsh and Loch Duich

and on to Kyle of Lochalsh, the link between Skye and the mainland. We did inadvertently voyage over the sea to Skye, but found that the sky was somewhat merging with the land and sea over there so turned round and headed back over the bridge towards the sunshine.

After a short detour to Plockton - dubbed Scotland's prettiest village,

but sadly neither very small van friendly nor adequately captured here -

we washed up on the shores of Loch Torridon

at Shieldag for a much needed break from driving and a fabulous loch view,

before a heading on through Wester Ross to Gairloch

and an epic drive along the coast to a spot recommended by Brian high above Corrieshalloch Gorge to watch the sun set orange against a green and purple land and sky.

Beautiful.

And happily another glorious, glorious day today,

over some fabulous roads with the peaks and valleys of the North West Highlands spread out before us under a vast expanse of blue sky.

And our first John O'Groats signpost! We're nearly there!

It is simply beautiful up here. Not as high as Norway, there are no snowcapped peaks here, but instead the most glorious palate of colours . Whereas Norway is a stark contrast of deep blue sky, mirrored by sparkling lakes, set in lush green flora and punctuated by grey craggy rocks, Scotland is an endless rumpled blanket, woven together in a natural heathery tweed of seamlessly blended ambers, oranges, greens and purples. A very different epic but epic nonetheless.

And right up here in the far north, the most fabulous expanses of fine white sandy beaches at the top of the world.

So, here we are, stopped for lunch at Durness. We had planned to potter along and stop up here somewhere before a grand finale and triumphal arrival at John O'Groats tomorrow but according to the tourist office it is set for horrendous rain tomorrow - the sort you southerners have apparently been having all week - so we are going to head right on there now.

to be continued...

Overwhelming Welcome

2010-08-30T20:10:00.000+01:00

Written 23rd August (sorry, been without internet for ages, was easier to find in backwards eastern european countries... ;)

We have been completely overwhelmed by a fabulous Scottish welcome!

After a beautifully calm crossing, we awoke to brilliant sunshine

and the sight of the english coastline sailing past on the horizon - sadly no one could tell me where we were -

and when we next looked out, there was the iconic Forth Railway Bridge steaming towards us.

Even the sun came out again to welcome us as Jules sailed under the famous bridges.

And as promised, Brian and Ulla came out to the ferry to meet us, with their grandchildren in tow, and escorted us home. A somewhat interesting journey...

As I have already alluded to, despite our ferry claiming to be one of the newest boats on the North Sea, whichever genius designed it has clearly never driven a car on to it, let alone a little van which doesn't like stopping or restarting.

The car deck was two floors up - same level as the passengers so Jules was out in the fresh open sea air - reached by a 30° ramp with a tight three point turn manoeuvre required at the top to get parked.

But instead of loading cars one at a time, straight up the ramp and round the tight corner, they beckoned three cars up together then left two clinging on half way up. Which as you can imagine, is not nice for most people, even those who love hill starts, but is damn near impossible for those who have 1.5 tonnes of bus which stalls if you take your foot off the accelerator and doesn't restart happily - sadly even after its successful strip down and clean, the starter motor is back to its old grumbly self again. We only realised what was happening with the loading plan when we were car two of three, halfway up the slope... Will tried to stop using just the handbrake and nearly yanked it out of the dashboard in the process. Then the handbrake broke, we started sliding backwards, the engine stalled and the people in the car behind us started looking very scared and rapidly backing away until Will slammed his foot on the brakes and of course Jules stalled... So. Stopped. Halfway up. Better than careening back down out of control but still not great. And the ferry operative was impatiently waving us up.

Will did manage it - thank goodness -by getting the engine started (eventually), with my foot on the footbrake and a coordinated three-legged effort of clutch, brake and accelerator to bunny hop our way up the vicious incline accompanied by a strong stench of burning clutch. Poo! Where we continued to cause chaos by stalling three times in the required three point turn...

Disembarkation was calmer - forwards in a wide circle and downhill, easy! - but the drive home was interesting to say the least. It turned out that the hand brake still worked - albeit with a nasty grinding noise - if you pulled it but it wouldn't stay on so we could still slow down and then bumpstart it if it stalled, provided we didn't lose too much momentum - Will is extremely good at this now - but much of the journey was spent willing Brian not to stop... but at least by following him, we knew which side of the road to drive on... :)

I once before likened Jules to the Tardis - a fantastical conveyance of retro blue cuboid design with a mind of its own, larger on the inside than it appears on the outside, which materialises where and when you least expect it, only to sit unobtrusively and unnoticed by the side of the road until called... - but Jules' required driving style is now also somewhat reminiscent of the erratic lurching and wild lever pulling modus operandi required to pilot the Tardis - and Will has the wild hair for it too... ;) Much fun!

And so our first 24 hours back on british soil was spent in Brian and Ulla's wonderfully welcoming and photo filled home where even if you are on your own in a room, you are never alone, surrounded as you are by the pictures and memories of those who have been welcomed in before you.

And Brian's garage contained just the things needed to enable Will to fix the handbrake on the patio, namely some copper pipe - which was cut and fashioned into a new collar thing - and something to hammer the rest of it back into shape. Yep, as usual, the fix was effected with a spot of precision bashing :)

So, all fixed and stuffed full of delicious home cooking, properly stirred scottish porridge (Brian actually has the correct scottish implement for the task rather than just a wooden spoon!) and as much tea as we could drink, we waved farewell to Brian, Ulla, Elspeth, Felix and Carina and bunny hopped and stalled our way back across the Forth to Dunfermline to visit Will's school friend Ben and his family. A train ride back to Edinburgh city centre (and a several miles of lost wanderings round the city in my ridiculously unsuitable sparkly heels - Will said I had to wear them otherwise there was no point having trogged them all the way round europe - when we failed on the first instruction on the directions to the pub) took us back into town for a drink and a curry with Ben and another of Will's school friends, Emma, and so our reintegration to civilised british society continued. To be completed over the rest of the weekend by takeout pizza hut pizza, trips to two different parks to play on the swings and the slides, a Wii sports challenge and even a full roast chicken dinner. Definitely home!

Having been thoroughly spoilt all weekend in other people's family homes, by this morning we had to tear ourselves away or risk never actually getting to John O'Groats. Afterall, Land's End to Dunfermline-but-then-we-couldn't-extricate-ourselves-from-someone-else's-lovely-sofa doesn't quite have the same ring to it as a journey plan... :) so we waved goodbye to Ben, Ali, Amy and Lucy and got back on the road

Sadly though, the weather hasn't quite caught up with our plans. after a beautiful weekend, it has decided that today is the day to remind us that we are in Scotland in August by bucketing it down :(

After a lazy start, we skirted Stirling - with a peek at the top of the William Wallace Monument amongst the treetops and a glimpse through the drizzle at the imposing castle squatting squarely on the hill -

and made it to the pretty grey stone town of Callander in the pouring rain. But just to damp for anything exciting.

So here we are, by the side of Loch Lubnaig having decided to stop for the night and hope for better weather atop the moors tomorrow. The midges are circling but not getting in - although having survived the mosquitoes of Finland in a field full of naked hippies, set between a swamp and a lake, scottish midges hold no fear for us and it is certainly far too cold for any naked lake swimming here! - the rain is battering down but we are warm and dry and snug in our little vanny home and we have the last of our bulgarian pesto with the last of our norwegian pasta for dinner. So all back to 'normal' after our wee house dwelling holiday :)

Our map has been well and truly scribbled on by Brian, who has plotted our route and recommended fabulous roads, overnight stops, interesting places and the cheapest petrol in the northern highlands (fyi: it's Tesco's on the northern outskirts of Wick) and I have had my pronunciation corrected - "Locks are things you find on doors..." thank you Ben! - so we're all set. Highlands here we come!

PS Big birthday shout out to my dad who has reached a significantly venerable age today - Happy Birthday aged father(60)!

Back in Blighty!

2010-08-20T14:28:00.000+01:00

Just a quick one. We are safely back in blighty (arrived yesterday) and did indeed get our fabulous warm welcome from Brian and Ulla and are being thoroughly spoilt!

Ferry crossing good but poor Jules did not like the two 30 degree ramps to get onto the top car deck, and even less being made to wait halfway up. and the handbrake broke. which is a problem as this was Will's main method of encouraging it to coast to a stop at traffic lights and junctions etc so that he didn't need to take his foot of the accelerator to use the actual brakes, thereby keeping the engine running...

so now we have a van which doesn't like starting (starter motor is grumbling again even after its clean up) and doesn't like stopping... ho hum

he is fettling it under the dashboard as we speak

I am sure it will all be fine... :)

Live Update!

2010-08-18T15:21:00.001+01:00

So here we are, Zeebrugge-Bad (beach). sitting in glorious sunshine - where was that when we wanted it yesterday?!

The ferry leaves in two hours and some unknown time later - Norfolkine have told us the departure time but not the arrival time, presumably they reason that so long as you get there, you don't mind when! - we will arrive in Rosyth. Where we have been promised a fabulous welcome committee by Brian (from Ronda) and his entire family and will also be meeting up with some old school friends of Will's at the weekend, before we head on northwards.

Can't wait!

See you again soon on the otherside of the road!

The motorways of northern europe

2010-08-18T15:10:00.002+01:00

Written 17th August

Are dull. And tedious. And very, very slow. Which is not something you expect in Germany which is famous for its lack of speed limits on autobahns - not that that is an advantage in Jules of course, although I did consider a trip to the Nurnberg ring... ;). Well, relaxed about speed they may be but they do not deal with road works very well

Jules' triumphal visit to its ancestral homeland was less than exciting. No sooner than we got on the road than the traffic ground to a halt. And then craaaaaaaawled along. Not good for a little van that stalls if you let the revs drop - through, say, changing gear or putting your foot on the brake for example - and refuses to start again if the starter's hot and bothered. Will ended up pushing it for a bit, as it was just as quick as driving at the speed of the traffic and it gave the starter a chance to calm down. And some people did offer to help which was nice. The thing about a little van like Jules is that it is cute and people expect it to have problems because it is quirky and old so they most often do help. And much as I hate a) conforming to stereotypes and b) people casting aspersions on the reliability of my brave little van - which is very good really! - this is nonetheless quite nice of them.

We made it to a layby in the middle of the roadworks and decided to stop for lunch, before we ended up stopping traffic. Surrounded by other people with bonnets open, steaming engines and bottles of water - oh dear. It was quite funny watching people crawl past us and see their looks of concern at our imagined plight turn to jealousy as they saw the cup of tea and cheese sandwich in our hands whilst they were many long, slow miles from sustenance of any kind . I love my little home on wheels!

Back on the road when the traffic was moving only for it to stop again only a couple of kilometres further on. Dull, dull, dull. But fortunately just by a rest stop exit - again full of hot steaming engines - so we decided just to sit it out, with the radio on, where the only bit of the traffic announcements we could understand being a list of motorway numbers followed by "elf kilometers", "sieben kilometers", "ein-und-zwanzig kilometers" (sp?) All buggered then.

Still, we were ok in our little rest stop with tea and then dinner and tantrix, until much later on when we were able to get almost as far as the german side of the netherlands border late that night. Not quite the plan but we don't fancy trying to drive into any cities with a poorly van and if the roads stay like this, we'll never make the port in time.

But Holland flew by the next day. And the roads were clear and flat enough for some further tests of the new ECU project. And, we discovered, whilst stopped for lunch in a service station on the otherside of Apeldoorn, that we can get radio 4 on long wave! Hurrah!!

So we had 'You and Yours', some book programme, some news, The Archers, The Afternoon Play, The Food Programme (extolling the delights of pirk scratchings - ick), PM, more news, more Archers, Front Row, something about the pollution from the Piper Alpha disaster, and best of all, Just A Minute somewhere in the middle of all that!

In fact, by the time we had parked up in a layby on the outskirts of Bruges and were sat in a totally steamed up van in the gathering gloom with the rain beating down on us, listening to Just A Minute, it was almost exactly like a cold november evening we spent in the Cornwall the day before Land's End. You wouldn't believe it was still August! The rain was so battering that some of our window seals have started leaking again, something which hasn't happened since we bathroom sealed them all up in La Rochelle! There must be something about this particular brand of north-western european rain which makes it particularly penetrative.

Still all good acclimatisation for coming home :)

We discovered the other day that we had recorded copies of "Britain's Best Drives" - you remember, BBC series from last year where Richard Wilson follows the "Motoring Guide to Britain 1959" or some such publication, and drives round in a series of 1950's cars to see how they've changed. So we're watching some in preparation. The Yorkshire Dales episode we watched the other night was beautiful but I kept getting distracted by the fact that he was driving on the wrong side of the road... I'm sure it will all be fine...

We're suddenly seeing lots of UK cars here as well (actual UK cars with GB stickers unlike all the UK plated cars we saw in eastern europe which were all clearly being driven by locals - all R-reg which is a bit odd) but as we, and they, are not so exotic, surprised to see someone else who is english in such a remote/far flung/out of the way/unlikely place, or desperate for english conversation (or a combination thereof), there isn't the same incentive or compulsion to stop and chat.

We are very nearly home!

Only light drizzle today, and an unexpected spare day - presuming I have correctly worked out what day of the week it is, something I do have to keep compulsively checking! - so off into Bruges, which is Belgium's famous mediaeval city

full of winding cobbled typical streets, a perfect chocolate box of a town- quite literally! - full of quaint houses,

picturesque canals,

fantastic buildings,

towering churches

and mediaeval market squares

and, of course the ubiquitous Belgian chocolatieres.

Sadly, due to budget constraints, we had to forgo the delights of the Story of Chocolate museum (history of belgian chocolate and tasting) and the Frites museum (history of belgian frites and tasting) but we had a nice wander and a free chocolate sample in one shop

before treating ourselves to coffee - sweet, sweet real coffee, for the first time since Riga over a month ago! - in a youth hostel bar with wifi. Another treat and much more civilised than stealing it on street corners!

And back to the van for english lunch of boiled eggs and soldiers, accompanied by the melodious tones of Radio 4. Perfect.

And Will has decided to take advantage of the dry, extra wide parking space to take the grumbling starter motor apart. Well, we've got 24h to get the 30-odd km down the road to the ferry. What can possibly go wrong?? And no, it doesn't make more sense to do it on the otherside of the ferry - as I and at least one other person have asked - no really it doesn't. You see we will only have just over a week in scotland and we have friends to see and extreme points to find, whereas we have a whole spare day here which would otherwise be spent twiddling our thumbs and staring out the rain spattered windows or, heaven forbid, wasted in some bar reading reddit and the rest of the internet, and trying to make one espresso last two hours (oh, hang on, we already did that last bit). So you see, it really is the only sensible thing to do!

A simple multimetre test has proved the problem is not the solenoid, so the starter motor is now on the van floor, and whilst he's got the battery disconnected - so no radio 4 :( - and is up to his elbows in spanners and emery cloth cleaning contacts, I'll give you that ecu update I keep promising. Although I will probably get interrupted every now and then to find, pass or hold things...

If you're not interested, skip to the bottom and hopefully by the time I'm done there will be a starter motor update!

< ECU UPDATE >

So, ecu, where were we? Actually, I can't remember so here's a quick recap of the story so far.

Jules is a fuel-injected US import. But, they didn't have computers in those days - not small diddy engine bay sized ones anyway - so all the sensors and controls were done with analogue electronics and mechanical hardware. This is actual space-age technology!

For Jules, this means that the fuel input requirement is a function of airflow. Airflow is controlled by the throttle* and measured by a flappy paddle which moves with the volume of air and pushes a slider along a track, into which is built a cunning variable resistor. Literally the fuel map is etched into the hardware with lazers. The resistance changes depending on whereabouts on the track the slider is. The ecu responds to the voltage and squirts an appropriate pulse of fuel into the cylinders, which is adjusted according to the temperature of the air and the temperature of the engine.

Now, when we set off, we had three problems. Well, we had several problems and an uprated cam shaft may not have helped. But, the three main problems were:

1) a leaky throttle which didn't close properly - so it was always having some airflow when you didn't want it and over revving,

2) air leaks within the engine - so the airflow meter wasn't actually measuring all the air which was going into the engine so the fuel mix was wrong anyway, and

3) worn area or holes on the physical
fuel map - so at some airflows, especially 20mph in second gear - just what you need for pulling away, motorway queues, town centres, corners, slowing for traffic lights etc etc - it suddenly doesn't get a proper voltage signal and bunny hops down the road.

All of this meant we weren't very fuel efficient and, more importantly, were more often than not running with an incorrect fuel/air mix and being either too rich or too lean is bad for the engine.

So, once we were underway, Will set about trying to do something about this.

The first step was to replace the throttle - which he did in La Rochelle for one out of a citroen saxo which we happened to have kicking around (as you do, don't ask, it will be replaced for something bigger and more suitable when we get home). He then set about plugging as many air leaks as he could find by various means, including new hoses, corks, bike inner tubes, tape and various types of goo.

He then fitted a new airflow meter (from an Ford) inline with the old one (which necessitated a new performance airfilter as well) and plugged a lamda sensor into the exhaust pipe just before the silencer.

The plan was to create a new mini ecu using an arm development board he 'borrowed' and a pick and mix selection of electronic components scavenged from the electronics shops of europe and eventually replace the old airflow sensor. Basically using a centimetre square chip with a level of processing power which would have required a computer the size of the van dealership to brute force override the original hardware. The original designers would be flabbergasted.

As you know, this worked. To a point anyway. We ended up in Poland with something which did control the fuelling but Will discovered that in the process that he needed more than the two inputs he had, at least enough to process throttle position, engine speed, lamda and airflow, to make it work properly

But with no possibility of a rearchitecture at that stage, Will took delivery of a fancy new circuit board from an ex-colleague who is also on the trail of creating his own ecu, this one as an open source project designed to be applicable for cars with up to 12 cylinders!

This shiny new board has a squillion analogue and digital inputs and an inlet manifold air pressure sensor** and pages of complicated equations to convert air pressure readings to appropriate fuel input at volumetric efficiency. Hurrah!

This means that Will can hook up the following :

- two temperature sensors (raided from a metro if I recall correctly) which are now calibrated (thanks to the fridge and the kettle we have on board) and which measure air temperature and cylinder head temperature***,
- the air pressure sensor,
- the lamda sensor, and
- the rev counter he has designed which reads the spark frequency off the distributor to calculate engine speed,

Will's task from Adam was to put together the fuel injector drivers from the components provided and write the driver software. Which he has done. He's also adapted a lot of his 'hunting' code from the old project which adjusts the fuel according to whether the lamda reading is rich or lean.

The problem now is integrating into our engine bay.

The natural next step would be to connect the existing engine up to some diagnostics and measure the fuel injector pulses for given revs, copy that into the new software, hook up the new ecu and simply tune it.

But, as he keeps reminding me, Will is doing this on the road without the benefit of a garage or proper tools. By choice, as I keep reminding him :)

But this means he is without the benefit of useful things like an oscilloscope. So he is currently using the new ecu just to replace the old airflow sensor - so using all the temperature, pressure measurements and complicated equations to determine the fuel required - and, by using a variable resistor to change the output voltage, turning the output from it into something which looks like the output from the old sensor for the same fuelling and feeding that into the old ecu. A bit like having an external heart pump doing the actual work whilst your old heart is still in there before going in for the big transplant manoeuvre.

But things are never that simple and there are always bugs in your code, especially if you don't have any way of bench testing it. So whilst we've been driving along on these nice flat roads where Will can hold the engine at a relatively constant rpm (which is more difficult than it sounds as we don't actually have a rev counter on the dash for reference), I've been in the back with the 'stuff' - there are wires everywhere coming out of the lid of the engine bay like rainbow coloured spaghetti! - twiddling the variable resistor until the voltage output from the new ecu is the same as that which is coming off the old airflow sensor (there are technical reasons why it can't do it by itself which I have forgotten) then Will is pulling the knob which switches the engine to using the input from the new ecu - he's wired up the defunct rear screen demister knob for the purpose, which is much, much better than having to duck dive into the engine bay and slide my morrisons miles card between the contacts of the old sensor to physically disable it, which was the previous solution! - and we see what happens as it hunts for perfect lamda at that rpm. Exciting stuff! There have been some code rewrites required along the way which have been dictated to me and then reprogrammed into the chip - I am quite the expert now! - but I think it works! Well the graphs I am creating seem to be showing it doing something which Will says is 'the right thing' so there we go! Just need to create some kind of map for the whole rev range now....

But we have run out of motorway for now. So I'm not sure what happens next.

But there we are, progress!

And on the subject of progress, I need to go hold the starter motor and pass some spanners, hang on...

< / ECU UPDATE >

Hurrah! Success! The starter motor is back in situ with all its internals back internally, all its contact surfaces cleaned and all its wires hooked back up and not only does it work, it is much more enthusiastic than the low pitched grumbling we were getting before! Hurrah! It will need a new bearing in it at some point soon but should last at least until we get home. One less think to worry about.

And perfect timing. Just in time for the news, Cabin Pressure and The Archers on Radio 4 then we can go into town and celebrate our last night on foreign soil.

Mmm beer. Sweet, sweet Belgian beer.

* Engine Mechanics 101:
1) The throttle is connected to the accelerator pedal. You press the pedal, the throttle opens = more air flow into the engine therefore more fuel required = higher volume of air/fuel mix into the cylinders = bigger 'bang' in the cylinder to drive the piston up = faster engine. Took me a while to understand it was all about airflow and not that the accelerator pedal made the engine pixies cycle faster...

** Engine Mechanics 101:
2) Modern fuel injection systems use inlet manifold air pressure and temperature to determine fuel requirements, not airflow. This brings us kicking and screaming into at least the 1980's!

*** Engine Mechanics 101:
3) the metal lump of engine which houses the inlet valves into which the fuel is squirted.

pictures!

2010-08-17T14:23:00.002+01:00

all the way back to the middle of Norway - which isn't actually all that long ago, just feels like it!

And that's all we have time for...

2010-08-16T17:58:00.001+01:00

Written 14th August

Dating from as far back as 710 AD, Ribe is one of Scandinavia's oldest towns and its well preserved mediaeval town centre is a higgledy piggledy maze of cobbled typical streets lined with crookedy half timbered houses.

Set on a river a few miles from the Wadden sea, Ribe was established by the Vikings and quickly became an important trading centre for both Denmark and western europe, providing, as it did, a link between christian europe and the pagan northern countries. And even after the Vikings, Ribe continued to prosper in the middle ages when most of the current town was built.

Apart from all the shop fronts and restaurants which are now almost seamlessly melded into the old buildings which line the main pedestrian streets, the town centre seems to be largely unchanged from the original builders' design.

Complete with its cathedral, a mish mash of styles from romanesque to gothic, which dominates both the town square and the skyline.

So much so that, according to the tourist brochure, a visiting american student apparently once asked "What are all the houses used for?" and was pleasantly surprised at the answer "we live in them!" ahh, bless.

It even still has a proper ye olde night watchman, who keeps the peace in the streets of an evening, ringing his bell to announce the sunset and telling his tales of days gone by. Although we didn't see him this time round.

It's all jolly lovely. A little bit like a single story version of Sandwich in Kent, for those of you who have been there.

We wandered the typical streets

and peered into courtyards,

then set off on a quest to find a bakers and the Kringle which Ulla had insisted was the best of the danish pastries. Well they all looked pretty good to be honest!

I'm not sure we actually got kringle, despite me writing it down, but whatever it was it was sticky and scrummy. Mmm cinnamony bun. Yum.

And sadly, that's all we have time for, on this, the mini-est of danish mini-breaks.

We'll definitely come back though. And in case any of you get to Jutland, here's Ulla's full list for you to cut out and keep. I'm sure she won't mind the rest of you benefiting from some insider knowledge!

From top to bottom:

This part of Denmark most laid back and very friendly.
The best art gallery in Denmark is at Skagen, right at the top. The light there is wonderful and has attracted many painters, and the paintings of the most loved ones, the danish colorists are there and not to be missed.
Aalborg has a nice feel to it.
The West Coast, although take care if you go swimming, the current can be ferocious, particularly at Jammerbugten.
Silkeborg, which is the Danish Lakedistrict. With Himmelbjerget, which translates into the Heavenly Mountain.
The old town in Aarhus is worth a visit.
Ribe is quaint and with an old centre.
The island of Romø where the starlings gather in their 100.000s - black sun they call it.
MøgelTønder is quite nice.
And Tønder itself is border country.
The danes are good at design. Clothes, furniture, architecture, and do find some danish amber jewellery to admire.
Summer clothes are cheap and cheerful, particularly if you are partial to purple or stripes in nice colour combinations.
Denmark is also a great bicycling nation, and the bikes HAVE RIGHT OF WAY WHEN THEY ARE COMING UP ON YOUR INSIDE, SO IF A BIKE WANTS TO CARRY STRAIGHT ON AND YOU NEED TO TURN RIGHT STOP! OR YOU WILL HAVE AN IRRATE OR MANGLED CYCLIST ON YOUR HANDS. IT IS TRULY WORRYING, CHECK YOUR MIRROR BEFORE TURNING RIGHT ALWAYS, IT IS NOT A NATURAL THING TO DO FOR A BRIT.
Also on a less worrying note, it may be really nice to hire bikes and find a bike trail, there are lots of them. Around the Silkeborg lakes should be nice.
Netto is the equivalent of LIDL and best value for fruit and veg, bread, beer and wine. You may find quite cheap frozen north atlantic salmon in the freezer in the supermarkets.
Nice bread too, but expensive at the bakers, supermarkets better.
Rugbrod is what we eat, the sliced thin dark ryebread, sold in the supermarkets in small packets of around ten slices. Good with liverpate and cheese.
Try also ROGET SIlD, whole smoked herring, it is lovely.
Try also a hotdog from a hotdog stand in the street, not too deadly.
Danish icecream is not bad either.
And treat yourself to a piece of KRINGLE from the baker. Just say you want half a KRINGLE. Looks fairly uninteresting, but it is the best in the pastry department.

So there you go, you're all set for a little danish adventure. :)

But we have to be on our merry way. Although sadly its not so merry. The motorways of northern europe is the plan. Dull. Very dull

We still have 900km left to go before our target arrival in Zeebrugge on Tuesday night - which doesn't sound to bad but remember, we have an optimal cruising speed of 60km/h - and my little van is not happy :( It is still stalling rather than stopping at every opportunity, the starter motor is over-worked, over-tired, whiney and irascible, the fuel gauge has developed a heart stopping habit of plummeting off the scale in the manner of a nasty fuel leak, but is probably just a loose earth connection deep somewhere in the engine bay and the gas regulator is on the blink so sometimes we boil the kettle with a roar of flame and sometimes we are just gently warming its bottom with just the merest blue lick of flame.

Maybe it is time to come home.

Still, its not all bad. We are currently sat in a very fine german motorway rest area just the othe side of Hamburg, we have proper special rice with all the ingredients - a nearly forgotten treat! - a lovely danish lager to sip on and the cheesiest of cheesy 80's and 90's pop in the mix on the radio. Even 99 Red Balloons! Its positively party time!

Natural Highs

2010-08-16T17:55:00.002+01:00

Written 13th August

Although it is no Norway, Denmark is not flat. No absolutely not. In no way. Not flat. Afterall, as I have been told by an actual, real Danish person, it's not Holland! And you shouldn't let the fact that we've visited the monument on top of Denmark's highest point - a dizzying ascent on a hill which is itself 17,086cm above sea level, fool you into believing anything otherwise... :) and moreover, it is a hotly contested and highly controversial spot, as you will see...

We had a surprisingly pleasant ferry crossing.

The weather was nice, the sea calm. All jolly lovely. Not as good as being able to sleep in our own little van of course but we are experienced ferry-ers now so we well know that sleeper seats are anything but. So, forearmed with our duvet, blanket, two sleeping bags, the laptop and film collection and a box of pre-cooked pasta for dinner, we shunned the seats and made a little nest on the floor at the back, behind the last row of seats and between the wall and the lockers. Perfect. In fact, by the time we woke up, the majority of our fellow dorm mates were also on the floor with varying degrees of pre-planning in evidence. I don't really know why ferry companies go to all the bother of seats to be honest. A set of rolly mats on the floor would be both cheaper and easier to clean, let alone more comfortable for the passengers. And they could run yoga or pilates sessions in there during the day. Why not?

Our Danish destination of Hirtshals was not a terribly inspiring introduction to the beauties of Denmark, being, as it is, mainly a ferry and container ship terminal with a stretch of beach and a small low-rise town attached, but it provided us with a much needed laundry and best of all, we were welcomed with a very timely email from Ulla (Danish wife of Yorkshire Brian whom you will remember we met in Ronda) with a fabulous list of tips and Danish things to do and eat and an invite to call in and see them when we get to Edinburgh. Fantastic!

Sadly, looking at the map, our budget and the distance we have to travel between now and our next ferry from Belgium, we won't be able to fit all of them in this time round - including the art gallery at Skagen, Denmark's northernmost point which is apparently amazing - but we'll have a jolly good go at those we can!

So, washing done, back on the road and heading south, down the motorway past endless rolling field of corn. Bit like east anglia really, not that Denmark is flat you understand...

Our destination was the Danish Lake District which also contains its highest peaks. A stop at the very helpful tourist office in the pleasant town of Silkeborg - which, incidentally, is the home of the both the oldest paddle steamer in the world, the Hjejlen, which will celebrate its 150th birthday next summer and the famous Trollund Bog Man, the best preserved of his race who is more than 2,400 years old - set us on the right track for finding the Himmelbjerget, the Heavenly Mountain.

Too expensive to park at the actual mountain (well, for freeloading van dwellers anyway) so we found the nearest free layby and had a very pleasant peddle back up. A week or so ago, Will foolishly let me ride his far superior bike as we couldn't be bothered to get both of them off the back if it was just me setting off somewhere and I have discovered just how much easier cycling on his bike is.

All this time I was lagging way behind thinking I was rubbish and genuinely it was the bike! Well partly the bike anyway and as it was free, a rescue bike kindly donated by Uncle Jim and Auntie Elyssa for our trip I can't really complain. So now we have swapped and I am merrily cruising along at a cracking pace whilst Will is cursing the brakes and the gears and the saddle and the fact that it doesn't freewheel very well. He still arrives at our destination first of course but the difference between arrivals and our combined journey time is much less... :)

The Heavenly Hill has a nice view over some undulating hills and a large tranquil lake and is a very pleasant stop but we were soon back on the road and heading for the big one, Denmark's highest point at Ejer Baunehoj.

The top of the hill used to sprout a warning beacon but is now home to a fine triumphal arch monument, which you can climb to the top of via a spiral staircase - I told you it was a dizzying ascent ;)

it also has a lift with the most fabulous Thunderbirds-esque arrangement at the top to preserve the square-topped silhouette of the tower.

Hopefully there will be a video here...

And a fine 360° view over the absolutely not flat surrounding landscape.

In fact, as we later learned, there are more than 20 peaks within the immediate surrounding area and accurately measuring which is the highest has been a matter of hot debate for over 200 years.

Originally, it was deemed to be the Himmelbjerget, measured to be 125m above the level of the lake. Then in 1830, the measuring task was passed to the military and their superior instruments, who, in 1847, declared it to be Eger Baunehoj (lit. The Hill topped by the Beacon of Eger).

Nearly 100 years of peaceful agreement went by, during which time a monument was planned and erected on top of Eger Baunehoj. But then, crisis! In 1941, an independent scientist took new measurements and declared that nearby Yding Skovhoj was actually the highest point, thanks to its ancient burial mound, Eger's burial mound having been destroyed in the building of the very monument which had been erected to commemorate its highest point status!

Well, controversy reigned. The debate was hardly out of the papers. Which was actually the highest? How could this ever be satisfactorily resolved?? Would they have to move the tower??? (I am speculating somewhat here, it was certainly in the papers)

In 1953, someone finally settled the matter by declaring that only natural elevations should taken into account and the measurements should not include any man made interventions in the landscape (ie ancient burial mounds). A recount was done and Eger Baunehoj was found to be a whole six centimetres higher. Phew!

But, the tale doesn't end there. Oh no. Not content to let sleeping hills lie, another scientist came along in 2005 and did some digging around and declared that the previously unconsidered Mollerhoj - the former site of a windmill some 200m away from Eger Baunehoj was actually higher!!

After some deliberation, it was decided that, at only 200m away, Mollerhoj did not constitute a separate peak in its own right so the whole Eger Baunehoj massif was declared to be the highest point, standing at 170.86m and the farmer who owned the Mollerhoj land was prevailed upon to allow a footpath between the state owned Eger Baunehoj and his personal geographical high point. The blurb described him as being 'unsurprised' by the new ruling, I like to imagine a crusty old cow man saying something like "eee well of course its the highest point. Stands to reason dunnit, if them there went and built a windmill on it. I would have told 'em if only some bugger would've arsked me" in his finest danish Grundy accent :)

So there you go. Not only is Denmark not flat, it is in fact controversially hilly!

But enough geographical excitement for one day, time for some history. So onwards to Jelling.

With its mediaeval church, ancient runestones and Viking burial mounds, the small village of Jelling is one of the cornerstones of Denmark's history as a nation.

Its prominence starts with the Viking King Gorm the Old (936-959 AD) who erected a runestone in memory of his wife Thyra which says

King Gorm made this memorial stone for Thyra his wife, Denmark's Adornment

The runestone is significant as it is the oldest discovered inscription which refers to Denmark in Danish (well Old Danish anyway) and Denmark's Royal Family can be traced right the way back to Gorm, making it the oldest unbroken royal lineage in Europe.

Gorm himself was buried in Jelling, with full pagan rites in a massive burial mound which today measures 65m in diameter and 8.5m high, and was built on the site of an even older bronze age burial mound.

It was Gorm's son Harald Bluetooth who, having converted to christianity, erected the first of three successive wooden churches at Jelling. Not to be outdone by his father, he also erected his own memorial stone, this time in latin style runes (ie left to right not vertical) and richly decorated, an influence accredited to the illustrated Christian books of the time.

Harald is credited with the unification of Denmark, which at the time included a bit of what is now southern Sweden, and his memorial stone inscription reads

Harald King made this memorial stone for Gorm his father and for Thyra his mother that Harald who won the whole of Denmark and Norway and Christianised the Danes

According to the museum, the stone would have been colourfully decorated and shows an image of the crucifixion, which has been deemed to be the oldest nordic representation of Christ. The stone has therefore been christened, Denmark's Certificate of Baptism, marking as it does, the country's transition from pagan to Christian beliefs.

It is believed that Harald reburied the body of his father in a crypt within his church in a christian ceremony but also built the second and larger mound - 70m diameter and 10m high - possibly in further memory of his mother.

By the time of his death in 987, Harald had fought and lost to the Germans to the south, who claimed some of Denmark's territory - a border battle which was destined to continue for centuries to and fro - but his son Swein extended the reach of the Danish Kingdom as far as England and his son, Cnut the Great, ruled England and Denmark until his death in 1035, becoming the first nordic king to be accepted as equal by Christian royal houses of europe. So there you go. I didn't actually know that!

Back on the road again and heading south once more, past signs for brilliantly named villages. We have seen a Fitting, a Hopballe and a Folding, including the fabulous sounding but sadly unvisited Folding Church. I wonder if it does...?

And a sales outlet called Conga Caravans. Isn't that a brilliantly descriptive collective noun for a group of caravans as they slowly but happily wend their way along the narrow roads of england, in an unbroken nose to tail line, getting in everyone's way way and completely oblivious to the annoyance they are causing because they're having so much fun... ;)

I'm liking Denmark!

And even better. We have discovered that we can afford food again! Real food that isn't just bad or stock cube risotto!!

Yes, thanks to our personal Denmark travel consultant we have found Netto and all the delicious comestibles therein.

So, under instruction, we have lunched on Rugbrod - a very serious thin-sliced dark ryebread - which we can confirm is indeed good with liver pate (with bacon in it, got to be danish!) and cheese. Cheese! I have cheese again! And not just any cheese, tasty cheese, it says so on the label! And simple treats such as oranges and onions. Fantastic!

So here we are, in a rest stop just outside of Ribe. No danish delicacies for dinner though as we still have a portion of our tinned norwegian fiskebolle to eat. It turned out not to be white fish in white sauce, more white fish dumpling things in brine, which was a bit unexpected. But still, they taste quite good with rice and the thai dipping sauce we found at the back of the cupboard. Since we haven't been buying new food to fill the spaces, we have been discovering all sorts of forgotten things brought from home :)

And we have a glass of port for afterwards. How very civilised :)

In fact, our only complaint about Denmark is that Will wanted to do a test run of his newly modified ecu project - I'll do a status update another time - for which he needed a nice flat bit of road and it was just too damn slopey! As I say, Denmark, it's not flat you know, it's certainly no Holland! Even the windmills don't have mice :)

Night x

So Long and Thanks for all the Fish

2010-08-12T12:09:00.002+01:00

Written 10th August

Norway has been unexpectedly and gloriously fabulous. For the most part anyway - we are drawing a veil over the desperate hours of sea sick, tea addiction cold turkey, not really Norway's fault per se :)

When the weather is fine, Norway is epic, beautiful and stunningly glorious although unfortunately when it is wet, it is epic, grey and stunningly expensive. Well, to be fair it is expensive all the time - sorry for banging on about it and thank you for sticking with me! - but in the fabulous sunny weather, you can forgive and forget that and simply inhale the place in in one long, deep, life affirming breath.

The three and a half weeks here have been some of the best of our entire trip, with all the things I love the most; fresh air, wide open spaces, vast expansive vistas, coastline, cliffs, sea, fine sandy beaches, mountains, lakes and glaciers, all rolled into one exhilarating package. And a near inaccesible cardinal point expedition - extreme in more ways than one! Although as I say, it wouldn't be fun if it were easy, everyone would be doing it!

In the Kystriksveien, Atlanterhavsveien and most especially the Trollstigan, Ornevegen and Sognefjellsvegen, Norway has simply the best driving roads in europe. And we should know, we have 22,500 miles of european roads under our wheels what with this trip and two recent midget adventures.

From something we read somewhere, the government are trying to actively promote Norway as a drivers' destination of choice with the creation of 11 designated tourist routes, of which the above five are part. What this will mean, apart from a shiny visitor centre at the top of the Trollstigan, I'm not sure but it is a good plan. Although sadly the only things that could be done for UK motorists would be the re-establishment of the UK-Norway ferries and a reduction in the price of fuel - both of which, I suspect, are somewhat out of scope. Which is a shame as we know several people with bikes and small sports cars - one of which is still in the making! - who would love it here. I wonder how many classic british sports cars you can fit in a container...

And we've ticked off that last niggling trip 'To-Do': catch enough fish to justify the purchase of the fishing rod - something I never anticipated would actually happen! - and cooked our own fresh caught fish on a drift wood fire by the light of the setting sun.

In fact, the only thing I really wanted to do here but haven't is a blue ice glacier walk - something I did many years ago in New Zealand on the Fox Glacier (or maybe it was the Franz Josef, can't remember) - but that just leaves something to come back for. And anyway, with all that equipment and safety stuff, I bet it wouldn't be nearly as fun as our glacier mountain tramp :)

But here we are though, sailing away. We've watched the Wizard of Oz in english, some farmyard based animated film in Norwegian and the magician and now the band are just beginning to strike up. Who needs a fancy cruiseliner??

See you again on the other side!

Award winning crinkly edges

2010-08-12T11:58:00.002+01:00

Written 11th August

And in my opinion, Slartybartfast deserves every accolade he got for them!

Somehow, yesterday was our last full day in Norway - how did that happen so quick?? - but we couldn't have asked for a better one.

After a nothing-y sort of day on Monday consisting of road, ferry and tunnels

- one of which was 24.5 km long though and someone has subsequently told us that it is the longest road tunnel in the world, or europe or some such thing. I don't know whether that's true or not but take it from me, it is considerably less exciting than it sounds, really it is - we wound up spending the night on a road to nowhere, halfway up the Naeroyfjorden in the miserable rain.

Oh there was a stave church in Kaupanger, which is apparently the biggest, with the greatest number of staves (22) and one of the oldest (c1150 AD), but the thing about a stave church is the massive staves - the towering tree-trunk columns which support the roof - and the intricate paintings and carvings, all of which are on the inside, on the far side of a Nkr45 entrance fee, so even that was less interesting than we hoped.

But against all the odds, yesterday more than made up for it.

The Naeroyfjorden, another UNESCO listed place, is billed as the narrowest, wildest and most famous of the branches of the Sognefjorden, which itself is the longest and deepest of Norway's fjords, stretching as it does 204km from the coast into the heart of the country.

And in the sunshine, it is another of those indescribably glorious places.

In picking a parking spot the previous night, we had done nothing more considered than driving to the farm at the very end of the road, turning round, pulling off the road at the first possible point and battening down the hatches against the driving rain.

It was only in the morning that we realised that we had inadvertently parked at the bottom of the Rimstigen path, a rocky track which set off at right angles to the road, seemingly straight up the steep fjord walls.

This old 'road' is apparently the only way the farmers used to have of getting from the bottom of the valley to their summer farms way up above, where they grew the hay required to keep their cattle fed over the winter. It was still regularly used up until the 1960s when it fell out of use and into disrepair.

But more recently it was rescued from rack and ruin by a team of himalayan sherpas, imported especially for the task, who built it back up again and it is now an apparently well publicised hiking trail.

The full trail is 17km across to a settlement on the other side of the crest, reaching a dizzying height of 1,300m above sea level and branching into a couple of hilltop trails along the ridge of the fjord walls. Well, we obviously had no hope of getting that far but as the view from the bottom had been ok but nothing spectacular, we decided give it a go 'just until we found a good view'. So we packed up our remaining hiking rations - a packet of rich tea biscuits - and headed on up.

A short way up we happened upon an australian couple on the three month trip to Europe and a happy couple of hundred metres were spent swapping travelling tales. They too were coming to the end of their Norway experience and were about to head to Zurich to meet some friends and see Switzerland, a bit of Italy and Croatia. And next year they will be back on an even more extended trip involving a series of house swaps in various places in euope including a greek island, northern italy, and france, whilst their respective occupants enjoy shorter breaks in Tasmania. Seems like quite a good way to do it.

They have just come off the Hertigerti - the full 11-day up and back trip - and although they said a lot of it was spectacular, as outdoorsy, hiking types, from the sound of it they felt just a little bit trapped. And if they went again, they wouldn't go any further north than Tromso apparently. So there you go.

But, fitter as I inevitably am, I am still not leaping up mountains in a single bound, so we stopped for a breather whilst they pressed on. But we did find some wild raspberry bushes to munch on - mmm mmm mmm, homemade jammy dodgers! maybe I won't get scurvy after all.

Onwards and upwards then, with the view getting ever more impressive - although the 390m altitude sign was a bit depressing, we had thought that we were at least half way! - and the path getting ever steeper. At one point, we could just see Jules, a tiny white spec sunning itself at the very bottom of the picture. Ahhh, there's my little van! :)

It was another one of those climbs where you're completely knackered but just can't help going just that little bit further, just up to that next rise, or round that next corner, just in case it got even better.

To be honest, I was secretly hoping to meet the australians on their way back down in the hope they would tell us that there was nothing more to see further up... :)

But we did get to a point just at the top of the tree line with a view in both directions and another opportunity to play with the photo stitcher. I am loving this! Even though it makes the fjord strangely curvy.

We eventually puffed our way up to the waterfall viewing point, which should have been achievement enough to constitute a suitable turning point

but I allowed myself to be seduced by by the idea of the top which appeared to be really, only just, that little bit further on....

And then Will wouldn't let me give up when it wasn't :(

And then we rounded a corner and there was the waterfall spilling over the edge, a 'look I made it here' book to write your name in and a signpost. Hurrah! But apparently only 750m!! Surely we went higher than that! Still a long way to the top then....

But this was quite fabulous enough for me.

And just when we'd agreed enough was definitely enough, we did meet the australians on their way back down again, and they did indeed confirm that the flat expanse we had reached the edge of was marshy and largely uninteresting so no point continuing anyway. Hurrah!

So we slipped and skidded our way back down again - stopping by the raspberries again of course - all the way back to fjord level and our patiently waiting little van.

Fjord Perfect, some might say :)

So here we are, our last morning in Norway, in Bergen, in the ferry queue.

From a walk this morning and our late night drive around town last night in an attempt to find the ferry - done deliberately at midnight when there was no traffic but still a complete nightmare, compounded by the fact that there are two ports in Bergen with no distinguishing labels on the road signs and confusingly the southbound ferries go from the northside port and the northbound ferries go from the southern port... - it seems very pleasant, especially round the old harbour area which is full of restaurants and pavement cafes. Just as a warning though, Bergen has a reputation for being wet, very wet. 275 days of rain a year wet in fact. Our Swiss van dwelling friend Meli wants to come to Bergen just because she has a waterproof jacket which claims to be 'Bergen Proof' and she wants to test this out :)

But fortunately no need for waterproofs for us as the sun shone (well peered blearily from behind its cliud blanket anyway) and I had just enough time for a very quick wander past the famous old Bryggen (harbour warehouse area from Hanseatic trading times)

and the fish market en route to the supermarket to spend our last kroner. How is it that, I have been whinging on and on incessently about how expensive things are but then found it really hard to spend Nkr 120 (c€15)?? Well it would have been easy if I had bought cheese at Nkr60 for 200g but I am now so conditioned against that sort of profligate behaviour (and recreational cheese) that it actually was a struggle to find enough things I could justify the purchase of in order to spend the cash. But all done and back to the van just in time for check in.

So here we are. Leaving on a jetboat. Well, big fat ferry boat anyway. The start of the long trip home....

Something Missing

2010-08-08T21:25:00.002+01:00

Written 8th August

You know when you get that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that everything is just about perfect but you're just missing one thing. Well after the roads we've driven on over the last two days, it is clear, that thing is the Midget. And even I'm feeling it.

Don't get me wrong I love my little van and wouldn't replace it for the world, but just when we thought that Norway couldn't get any better, it suddenly did, and all that was needed was the midget as a little red cherry atop the glacial icing of the mountainous cake.

Yesterday dawned bright and clear (not that we saw dawn of course but you get the idea) as we set off the find the so-called Trollstigan (Troll's Path), route 63 between Andalsnes and Valldal.

And it was every bit as steep, switch-backy and fabulous as we had expected.

Heading southwards, the just-slightly-wider-than-single carriage way road clings to the side of the mountain, zig zagging ever upwards, alongside and then across the 180m drop of the Stigfossen waterfall.

The road at the top is currently a messy snarl of building work and unclear parking places where they are building a shiny new visitor centre but the viewing platform is already in place, a glass-fenced, grating-floored, vertigo-sufferers nightmare, suspended over the vertiginous drop. It's fabulous.

And packed full of people. The whole place reminded us enormously of Stelvio Pass in the very north of Italy - you remember, Top Gear's last top driving road before the Transfagarsan. Have I already told you about that? Forgive me if I have but I will again anyway.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/will-and-becky/2875729346/in/set-72157607405686380/

Like Trollstigan, going north to south over Stelvio takes you up the switchback side and then a fabulous coast down the wide sweeping curves of the far side. And like Stelvio, the top of Trollstigan is complete with tat shops and food stands, although sadly lacking in jolly austrians selling cheap(ish) bratwurst and sauerkraut - mmm that was delicious. At Stelvio, we sadly didn't get the weather we did here - and curiously there are more motorhomes at the top here than motorbikes, whole chapters of them at Stelvio - but in the Midge we powered up the road, nipping round the slower traffic on the bends with a roar of the engine - even those who were clearly intent on hogging the middle of the road deliberately couldn't stop us. Such fun! If you go to Stelvio, and you really should if you have either a motorbike or a small sports car, you also have to complete the set with Gavia, a slightly lower but less touristy and more wide open and desolate pass just to the south, on a tiny road between Bormio and Ponte di Legno. Just beautiful.

Anyway, it was not quite the 'powering up the hill' experience in Jules and I don't think Top Gear have been here - presumably the cost of petrol for the types of cars they would want to drive would be more than the license payer could bear! - but it was no less impressive.

And it just continued getting better! Down the otherside to Valldal,

a short ferry hop across the Nordalsfjorden to Eidsdal and back on route 63 to Geiranger, this time along the Ornevegen, the Eagle's Highway.

This road wends its way gently (ish)

back up from sea level

to the viewpoint at 680m

- where we stopped for a walk

and spent the night in a little pen of sleepily grazing motorhomes -

and then careens down into the Geirangerfjorden,

a startlingly deep and narrow gash in the landscape which is inscribed on the UNESCO list - we haven't been anywhere UNESCO for ages!

Like a rollercoaster, no sooner you're down

than you're headed back up again, with a fabulous view across the town to the fjord and the road you just wound your way down.

And then it's onwards

and still upwards

to the mirror-still lakes and endless reflection of the glacier which is higher still

and alongside the rushing turqoise torrent of meltwater

No mountain tramping today, lots of ground to cover, so onwards across the plateau to Lom and then along the Sognefjellsvegen, route 55 to Sogndal, which, against all expectations, was even better still.

Another gentle wind up through the valley to 1,400m where we found ourselves crossing a wide open landscape of simple epic proportions.

A full panorama stretching out before us, complete with barren granite mountain top, rolling blue glaciers and startlingly green hillocks scattered with crystal clear lakes, all under a vast expanse of cerulean sky. Glorious.

Will has found a new photo stitching tool so this might just give you an idea....

indescribably awesome.

And on and down - another switchback road - back to sea level where we are parked up on the shores of the Lustrafjorden with our fourth and final fresh fish supper.

The perfect end to a perfect day.

Plenty more fish in the sea!

2010-08-06T17:28:00.000+01:00

[pictures to follow]

Written 6th August

And there really are!!

Sadly, Fish Olav Tryggvason decided he liked the weed at the bottom of the bridge support more than life on the open road.

But he was swiftly replaced by his bigger brother, Fish Olav II, aka St Olav, who came to convert the little fishies from the futile worship of the seafisck god of water to the useful worship of the landfisck god of fire.... This is the food chain in action folks. Greedy big fish eats little fish, greedy land fish (aka me) eats big fish. Circle of life mate, innit. :)

Olav II had two happy converts almost immediately followed by a barren period where several little fishies took the first difficult step towards believing but then fell by the wayside (from several metres up!) shortly after the walking on water part when things got a bit hard - fish of today, just no commitment. But the Good News was clearly out there. Salvation from the murky depths and a swift ascension to bridge heaven was an path that many chose to take and ye verrily soon did our bag overfloweth with the bounty of the deep. Hurrah! And a properly serious ancient mariner standing next to us augmented out trawl with a few he didn't want - we don't know why he rejected them but never look a gift fish in the mouth.

By the time it started to spit with rain, St Olav had 13 disciples - not bad for a couple of hours preaching :)

So, cleaned, gutted and headless (the fish, not us), stocked up with bbq wood (Jules) and back on the road (all of us). Just got to hope it stops raining before teatime. :)

Finally: living the dream!

2010-08-06T17:26:00.003+01:00

Written 5th August

Fishie supper! Wohoo! But I'll get to that...

Unfortunately, our arrival in Trondheim was more nightmare than dream-like and did nothing to disabuse us of our conviction that we have had enough of cities. We didn't know anything about the place other than it has mediaeval origins, an old town and a tip off that there was an aire by the stadium and we went in with a general expectation that Norway's cities would be a motorhome friendly as Norway's countryside. And sadly we were proved wrong on both those last counts.

There was very little in the way of traffic but also very little in the way of useful signage and a lot in the way of traffic lights. All of which seemed conspired against us. And with Jules protesting at every enforced stop by cutting its engine, flashing all of its cross little red dashboard lights and refusing to go again - the van equivalent of of lying on the floor, kicking its legs in the air and throwing a purple screaming fit like you see with small children in supermarkets, except that with a van you can neither drag it across the floor nor walk away while it screams itself out - it was not much fun for all concerned.

And to make matters worse, Trondheim seemed destined to be the exception which proves our generally held rule that there is always free parking, you just have to be prepared to go far enough out of the centre to find it. We found the stadium eventually but the 'aire' was just the carpark which turned into pay parking by 8am the following morning and once we got out of the pay parking zone, all the streets were either 'no stopping' or 'residents only'. Rubbish. What are the mobile population of Norway supposed to do here?

Just as we were on the verge of giving up, we found an unmarked hilltop residential street where other people were parked on the road and stopped on the only flat bit we could find at the crest of the hill. Done. Thank god.

We did get a nice quiet, undisturbed night's sleep but in the morning we found Will had left the lights on so the battery was completely flat. Wouldn't have minded being disturbed to be told about that. Ridiculous countries where you have to have your lights on all the time.

Still, nothing we could do. Even if we had got it started then and there, it would still cost us to drive on the ring road out of the city and we know for sure there is nowhere else to park in town so best just left for now. And so we headed down the hill into town on our bikes.

And fortunately, after all that, it was very pleasant :) and Trondheim has the world's first (and only?) bicycle lift. So there you go.

Although it feels quite small and compact, Trondheim is actually Norway's third largest city and was its first capital city, having been chosen by the Viking King Olav Tryggvason when he sailed into the fjord in AD 997. He called it Nidaros (Town-by-the-Estuary-of-the-River-Nid, it's catchier in Norwegian!) and it was only in the late middle ages that it became Trondheim (Home-of-the-Tronder) a shortened form of its actual name The-Market-Town-in-Trondheimen. You have to admit, they had a way with names!

In its impressive Domkirke (cathedral), the city boasts the largest mediaeval building in Scandinavia and King Olav Haraldsson, aka St Olav, was buried there in 1030. It was he who ended the worship of the Nordic gods in Norway by converting the country to Christianity and since his burial there, the church has been not only the burial place of many Norwegian kings but also the country's coronation church and the repository of the crown jewels. And as St Olav's day is 29th July, we caught the last day of the St Olav's festival, which was all rather jolly.

The church has an impressive façade, covered in statues of saints and biblical figures, all of which have been painstakingly restored or recarved in the last 100 years.

St Olav is the one with the celebratory festival wreath.

As usual, we didn't pay to go in but did check out the gift shop and the post cards to see what we were missing. Which is when we saw this cheeky chappy, a stone mason who allegedly holds the last stone as, according to legend, if the cathedral is ever completed, the whole city will slide into the fjord - an excellent builders excuse if ever I heard one! Mind you though, with the amount of restoration work on going, I think the city is in no danger for a good while yet anyway :)

Well he looked quite jolly so we set out to find him. Which turned into a challenge of Where's Wally proportions. Eventually we gave up and asked in the gift shop where the woman gave me a series of directions which involved a certain number of steps in two directions from an unclear point somewhere over the otherside of the square and then looking at the parapet, counting flowers and he will appear... Hmmm the da vinci code was easier to follow than that!

On second asking, she came out - saying that she'd been asked before and obviously her instructions were not very good as none of the previous people had been able to find him either! - and led us to the right spot. Where we did finally see him, totally not where we expected, up on the tower through a hole. Quest over!

And then through the gate into the Archbishop's palace where we found the mediaeval fayre in celebration of the feast of St Olav

complete with mediaeval stone masons,

jesters

and stalls with mystic jewellery, glass stuff, woolly hats and socks and even ye olde toffee apples.

Excellent.

You have to pay to go into the museum and the crown jewels treasury But unexpectedly the military and resistance museum turned out to be free. So a happy hour or so was passed learning some of Norway's history: union with Denmark, peace treaties and wars with Sweden which led respectively to loss and regaining of land , cession by Denmark to Sweden, eventual peaceful independence in 1905, popular vote to be a monarchy but lack of royalty so appointment of a Danish prince, neutrality in WWI and Nazi occupation in 1940. Apparently the germans were in almost overnight in April 1940 and with all the major cities taken by surprise, it was only two months before the country capitulated. But lots of tales of resistance derring-do involving norwegian fishing boats and the like. The swift victory of the Nazis has left a lasting legacy in the founding of the home guard, a conscripted defence force ready to spring from their day jobs into action, which includes some 5,000 fishing boats which can all be armed and dangerous in defence of the high seas, should ever the need arise. So there you go.

We had a bit of a wander, down to the quay,

through the wooden buildings of the old town

and up to the fortress for the view,

where we found the bicycle lift, a curious contraption whereby we think you keep your bike on the road and rest your foot on a block which slides up a rail on the pavement thereby propelling you and your bike up along with it.

But no one was using it so we can't be sure.

Oh, and we saw this, a 4WD off-road motorhome. The picture doesn't do justice to the foot clearance between the tyres and the wheel arches - it looked like the love-child of a motorhome and a monster truck! I don't know how they have any crockery left if they actually use it for its proper purpose. Although presumably in reality it is just the Chelsea tractor of motorhomes, just used for transporting the little darlings on motorways... ;)

And we rounded off our day with some St Olav's day festive Dixieland jazz outside one of the hotels, gazing wistfully at the glasses of wine being held aloft in the adjacent pavement café.

But we can't spend all afternoon sitting around on kerbs watching jazz, we've got a van to start. So back up the hill we went.

Now, as I said, we're parked at the crest of a hill. Easy you say, one little push, roll downhill, jump start, job done, Robert is your mother's brother.

Yes well, I didn't tell you about the speed bump we're hard up against. After surveying the backwards downhill option - afterall, we've done that before - Will decided that forwards was still the best plan. So, with the ancillaries hooked up to the leisure battery, we set about hauling it over the speed bump with the ratchet straps (their first outing on the trip so far, we've used everything else except the fire extinguishers, of which we have four... Well you can't be too prepared!), using a conveniently sited telegraph pole as a pulley. Which, thanks to the miracle that is physics, was rather easier than expected! And yes, I did help, not just take pictures. And with the extra kick start from rolling down the speedbump, we were soon well away once more. Crisis averted. Back on the road. Hurrah!

Our next tourist touch point was the Atlantic Ocean Road (which is curiously on the coast of the Norwegian Sea) on Averoya, described as the place where the highway meets the sea and voted Norway's Engineering Feat of the 20th century.

I'm not sure what that says about the rest of Norway's engineering prowess over the last 100 years but as a road its pretty nice.

Snaking across a series of small islands in a sinuous succession of bridges, the road seems at some points as if it will dip its toes in the water before bouncing back up skywards again.

We stopped midway for a picture

and found a purpose-built fishing gantry running alongside the road, crowded with fisherpeople all of whom had bulging, flapping carrier bags. Just while we were watching, another five were reeled in. Well, if we can't catch a fish here we might as well just give up and go home!

So, back to the van to get our two halves of rod - the reel bit no longer being attached to the stick bit - and our makeshift weight/lure made out of bits of bike spoke. Well its a bit shiny and wiggly and fish are renowned for being a bit stupid and having short memories, they won't remember that every other fish they have ever eaten didn't look like this...

Will they?

Hmm, maybe we weren't giving the fish enough credit. Whilst everyone around us was merrily hoiking fish after fish out of the water - including this six pound monster - pretty much as soon as their fishie lure went in, ours remained, shunned by the fishie connoisseurs of the deep. Will did catch something huge... But sadly it was the bridge, and even that got away in the end... humph

When the small child on one side of us distainfully landed his fifth or sixth fish and the couple next to us, who told us it was their first ever go hooked a big fish out each within minutes of turning up, we decided enough was enough and slunk off back to the van to eat our fish free pasta dinner and watch the sunset. I think i'll stick to Wii Fishing in future, I'm far better at that...

But in the morning, the sun was still shining and hope abounded anew. Having watched everyone else, we had decided that there was nothing wrong with our technique - broken rod notwithstanding - so in the true manner of bad workmen, we blamed our tools. Clearly our bike spoke lure was just not lunch-like enough.

So we tried again, with a bolt and some tinfoil. Surely this will fool some fish into dining...

But no. If it started out looking fish-like to us, it clearly didn't to any actual fish - or if it did, it was some kind of sick fish with dementia who couldn't swim. And after a few trawls through the water, the tinfoil unravelled itself so it was just bolt-like. So, again despite merry fisherpeople surrounding us, we were once more destined to be fishless and whilst it was pleasant enough on the bridge in the sun, it was somewhat spoilt by the exercise in futility so we gave up. Time to be back on the road, even if, what with petrol and ferries, we are once more bouncing off the bottom of this week's budget.

But just a mile or so down the road, there was a co-op. Which not only sold the bread we went in for, but also proper fishie lures. For much, much less than we expected they would cost. Well this changes everything. Lets try again!

So. Back to the bridge. With Fish Olav (as in Tryggvason) who has sailed in to claim this estuary as his own!

Will went off to set himself up whilst I stayed behind just long enough to slice some bread for lunch joking "just try not to catch anything before I get there...!"

Well, he clearly didn't try hard enough as there was already a fish on the end of his line by the time I had sliced six bits of bread and walked on the the gantry!

Woohoo!

The next one soon followed, plus some which got away and so it continued! Even I caught some! Although mine were a bit stupid as, whereas all three of Will's were caught through trying to actually eat Olav, the way you are meant to catch fish, mine just impaled random bits of themselves on my hook. The first one was caught by his tail - although he got away in a bag/edge of bridge/unfortunate relative positioning thereof/lucky wriggle incident - the second by a gill and the third just through his side. Silly fishies.

After an hour we decided five fish were enough for dinner - feeling particularly smug as you can imagine as there were definitely some better equipped looking people who went away empty handed! Although I think I somewhat spolt the cool professional fishing image with the undignified sqeals of excitement - and set about wondering how to cook our little shoal.

As you may remember, the original fishing rod dream back in portugal was catching fish and cooking them on a drift wood fire on a beach in the setting sun. Well, substitute beach for rocky shoreside layby and we're pretty much there!

Will had spotted an old pallet washed up on the rocks the previous evening so we set about retrieving it - well you have to do your bit for keeping norway's coastline clean! - and made short work of dismantling it using his enormous screwdriver, his enormous AJ, the big pliars and a surprisingly resiliant tiny freebie penknife we got from my dad. Excellent.

I would like to be able to say that I got on with fish prep, but it turns out I am a bit squeamish. I quite like fish (although obviously with preference and given a choice I will have a big lump of cow any day) but i'm not a big fan of those fishies which come with eyes rather than fingers if you get my meaning... so he did that too. He is a good husband. :)

So here we are. Accompanied by Fishies Edvard, Harald, Hakon, Petter and Knut and tarragon.

I don't know about feeding the five thousand but five fishes and half a loaf is miracle enough for us! :)

Sea: check.

Sunset: check.

Red sliver of moon just rising over the horizon: check.

Driftwood bbq: check. Fresh fish caught with our own fair hands wrapped in tin foil with salt and tarragon: check.

As the Cat would say: "I'm gonna eat you little fishie. I'm gonna eat you little fishie. I'm gonna eat you little fishie cos I like eating fish!

Mmm mmm mmmmmmmm

Highway to Heaven ending at Hell...

2010-08-02T17:57:00.002+01:00

[a few pix to follow]

Written 2nd August

... quite literally! well Will's idea of Hell anyway. You'll see... :)

As I have said before, the RV17 - aka The Kystriksveien (The Coastal Route) - stretches from Steinkjer to Bodo and calls itself the most beautiful journey in the world. I don't know about that - well, there's a lot of world I haven't been to yet! - but of the other coast roads we have driven and which might also try to lay claim to this crown it certainly wins hands down. Even in the rain. Neither the Pacific Coast Highway 1 from San Francisco to San Diego nor the Amalfi coast really deserve to be mentioned in the same breath and the only other road which come close is the Ring of Kerry/Dingle Peninsula in western ireland but that journey had the distinct advantage of being experienced in the midget, with the roof down and in bright and beautiful sunshine. And as fun and beautiful as it was, it in no way compares to the epic-ness of the northern RV17.

flickr.com/photos/will-and-becky/sets/72157619581879628/

The little road wiggles its way down the coast, clinging to the bottoms of sheer cliffs, meandering up and over hills, across epic bridges

disappearing into long dark tunnels and abruptly falling off the edges and on to ferries. Sadly, after our stunning glacier day, we really didn't get the weather for it - I am getting the impression that coastal norway is quite a wet place.

One of the tourist leaflets even goes so far as to say "...the weather is changeable and we cannot promise fine weather all through the summer. On the contrary, part of the charm of a visit to Helgeland is seeing it in all kinds of weather. We recommend you bring a warm sweater and rainwear" well you have to applaud their honesty!

But as I say, even in the rain it is epic enough, just not very photogenic. And you do get a bit stuck in a never ending caravan of well, caravans

We finally crossed back out of the arctic circle on one of the boats - it has taken much longer to get down than it did to go up! - and after a further two boats we even got good weather for a detour to Torghatten, the famous mountain with a hole through the middle.

Legend has it that it was the Horseman Mountain's arrow which pierced the rock. Whilst out on his horse one day he saw the Seven Sisters and the Maiden of Leka bathing in the sea near the island of Landego. He was so struck by the beauty of the Maiden that he resolved to carry her off to be his bride. He duly sped south on his horse, his long cloak streaming out behind him. The Sisters saw him coming and ran, before throwing themselves to the ground near Alstahaug. The Maiden fled further south whilst the Horseman strung an arrow to his bow to stop her. But the King of the Somma Mountains saw what was about to happen and threw his hat in the way. It landed at Torgar and the arrow passed right through it but missed the Maiden. It looked like she was saved but just at that moment, dawn broke and the first rays of the sun turned them all to stone.

Dramatic stuff!

The holey mountain is pretty epic too. Measuring 166m long, 75m high and 28m wide

it cuts straight through from coast to sea

with fabulous views on each side.

Awesome.

And on again.

The southern end is not so dramatic, more a pleasantly undulating drive through green pastures and past mirror still fjords but all in all still pretty lovely.

And so we pottered on, and eventually onto the E6 where, in an attempt to avoid the toll road to Trondheim, we ended up in Hell. The shopping centre. No really. Hell Kjopesenter, that's its name.

It seems that Hell is quite well equipped with everything you need; supermarket, chemist, gym, diy/hardware store, even Hell Sollstudio where you can voluntarily subject yourself to a light roasting - although there's no midnight sun here :)

Its not open on sundays though - even the devil gets a day off it seems :)

With time to kill before we can drive in to Trondheim for free, we popped in for a wander. And of course ended up in the tools shop - although they've got the measure of people like Will, I'm sure that sign is pronounced 'Work Toy' ;)

They did have a very cool industrial mosquito ridding thing on display though - like a big outdoor hoover which somehow sucks them out of the air! Apparently the mosquito population of your garden will fall by three quarters after just four weeks! Don't they die out after that time anyway though???

We have also given in and finally gone food shopping.

Up to this point we have been managing very well on our Baltic States' supplies, supplemented by just bread, milk and yoghurt - no more expensive oranges since Nordkapp! oh, and, in a moment of tea-withdrawal-induced weakness, bacon. Mmmm bacon. Forget ambrosia, a bacon sandwich with ketchup (actual Heinz too as we found a couple of sachets left from a UK McD's trip sometime last year in the bottom of a box!) truly, truly, is the food of the gods...

But we are finally running out of the basics (although the bulgarian catering sized jars of pesto and sun dried tomatoes are still good for several more meals) and are resorting to increasingly desperate measures to ensure we stay in budget. The tuna risotto was a bit of a low point (rice, cooked, tuna, stirred in, done.) but yesterday's OXO chicken stock cube risotto (yep, you guessed it) was much more promising. Yes, sadly, with onions costing a euro each last time we looked and having run out of eggs, even special rice is getting less and less special... ;)

Before you start feling too sorry for us (and I know i'm going on a lot) this is, of course, strictly all self imposed abstemiousness. The budget is supposed to be just a guideline to keep spending under control, but I do also find myself in the fruit section seriously wondering if I will truly appreciate one, one-euro orange more than the 2kg of oranges I could by for the same price in Spain and being unable to justify it.

And, as I have said before, if this were easy and we had loads of money, it would just be dull. right??

Although, that being said, I am beginning to worry about scurvy and dream about steak (and somewhat bizarrely, marmite. but not together! That would be weird. There are those who would say that marmite is the ideal van dwellers food - compact, tasty, doesn't go off, a little goes a long way etc - and I would be the first to agree. But sadly Will would be the first to disagree and as marmite would only be tolerated under extreme duress and only if accompanied in the cupboard by an equal amount of peanut butter, which simply I cannot stand, marmiteless I am destined to be until I once more have a kitchen with enough cupboards that I can hide some somewhere...)

Anyway, I digress (as usual). Food shopping, just in case you're still with me and waiting for me to get to some kind of point. We've done alright this time. Our ten euros got us 1kg muesli, 1l milk, a dozen eggs, 3 packets of rich tea-u-like biscuits, 1kg pasta, one tin of something which may or may not be some sort of white fish in white sauce (it was half the price of a tin of what may or may not have been brown meat in brown sauce - how wrong can it go??) and a whole kilo of frozen whole prawns. Maybe we should have tried this shopping thing before now, somewhere which wasn't the northern-most supermarket in mainland europe. And ok, so we haven't quite cracked the fruit and vegetables thing but putting some protein back in the diet can only been a good thing :)

So here we are, in the carpark, killing time (can you tell...)

Oh, but we have discovered that, provided the outside temperature is reasonable, our little fridge can make ice cubes in only two hours! Not, as you might imagine, that we have been enjoying a little pre-prandial G&T - I am too scared by the price of beer to even look at the T, let alone the G! - no, Will is trying to calibrate the output of the temperature sensor he wants to use with Adam's ecu board. The problem is, the equations he has for the fuel injector drivers use degrees kelvin and, of course (obviously!), the temperature sensor is a variable resistor which puts out a voltage. So he needs to know what the conversion from voltage to kelvin is. But, the sensor apparently doesn't produce a linear conversion (in any easily equationable way) so even though he can reliably get voltages for 0 and 100°C (using ice cubes and the kettle which we do have available) he can't just extrapolate the rest. And we don't have a thermometer. So he is currently boiling the sensor in a pan of water which started as near ice and timing it so he can make an estimated look up table of voltage to temperature based on the graph and the time taken to heat the water the measurable 100 degrees. No really, he isn't missing his garage at all, I mean, where would the challenge be... ;)

Right, anyway, enough of the witter. Hell has wifi and the roads are now free so time to check in and then check out. Trondheim here we come!

Committed

2010-08-02T11:33:00.001+01:00

Written 1st August

So here's a thing. We're coming home! Well obviously we were always going to have to do that at some point, but now we actually have tickets booked. Scary

But's not for a little while yet. So we all have some time to come to terms with the idea :)

What with all our adventures in distant and different lands, out in the wild open countryside and fresh air, I have been struggling to work up much enthusiasm for beyond Bergen - well western europe just seems a bit close to home and too crowded with a lot of cities and big roads for which I'm just not in the mood right now. It might also be that we don't have an lp or any recommendations yet and I'm sure its all very nice but, oh I don't know, its just where I am right now. And Will is really missing his garage.

Anyway, with this in mind, a little while ago we looked at the atlas and the lp and saw that we could get from Bergen to Scotland, our eventual destination, by way of a ferry to the Faroes and then the Shetlands. Well how cool would that be?!

Failing that, we could at least go to Newcastle which is closer than anywhere else.

But after lots of promising starts and false trails, an internet search dashed our hopes. Even a gauntlet thrown down to facebook for people with more internet time than us resulted in nothing - but thanks anyway to Ganesh, Shelley, James and Laura for being willing to take up the challenge!

Inexplicably, it seems that every ferry which ever existed between the UK and Scandinavia has been cancelled. In 2007! So both our 2009 atlas and 2009 LP and a lot of the internet are out of date.

The only ferries that now go to the Faroes do so en route between Denmark and Iceland and no longer call at Bergen or Lerwick - not very helpful - and you can only get to the Shetlands from Aberdeen or somewhere near Wick, both of which necessitate already being in Scotland. And the Newcastle option has been cancelled from every Norwegian port. Rubbish! What are poor van dwellers meant to do! Or even proper motorhomers who want a scandinavian adventure but who only have a limited time!

There is one ferry from Esjberg in Denmark to Harwich but that's not very near Scotland and the ferry company obviously don't want their fancy boat littered with itinerant poor people sprawled on their nice lounge furniture as they make you book a cabin. Even with our shocking fuel economy we worked out it would be cheaper to drive all the way to Calais, via Germany, Holland, Belgium and a little bit of France, get to Dover on a boat and then drive to Harwich, assuming we actually wanted to go there, which we don't. Crazy

We had a last ditch plan of turning up at the Bergen port master's door to see if any boats were going to Scotland and trying to stow ourselves away on one - which would have been a much better story anyway! - but pretty much it was looking like a long drive down Scandinavia then a long drive back up Britain - how dull.

But, thanks to Jude, we have a new plan! It is, as Ganesh has already pointed out to us through the miracle that is Facebook, somewhat counter-intuitive, if you look at a map. But it's the cheapest there is and gets us to our desired destination. So win on both criteria that count then! After all 'looking like a sensible plan' has never been a deciding factor since we started this venture... ;) (although admittedly it is why we didn't think of this route by ourselves)

So, new plan is: ferry from Bergen (Norway) to Hirtshals (Denmark), drive (Denmark, Germany, Holland) to Zeebrugge (Belgium) and then ferry to Rosyth (Scotland). Obvious really...

So, all we need to do, is get the c1,200km between where we are now (at the time of writing, if not posting, on the RV17 somewhere between Kilbogham and Tjotta) to Bergen by 11th August and then the c1,200 km from Hirtshals to Zeebrugge by 18th August.... So much for taking it slowly :)

Pictures!

2010-07-31T09:24:00.000+01:00

if you're up for it, at long last every post has pictures, all the way back the Lithuania!

Obviously I think they're all great or I wouldn't have put them up there ( ;) !) but facebook found the idea of me as a Latvia, gun-toting rebel freedom fighter to be particularly disturbing... :)

enjoy!

Mountain adventures

2010-07-30T18:51:00.000+01:00

Written 29th July

With blue skies, bright sunshine and, most importantly, a couple of cups of tea inside you, Norway is stunning. It's like taking a deep breath and feeling your lungs fill, your chest expand and your ribcage open. The daylight, landscape and possibilities are endless. Simply exhilarating.

And we have had the best 24 hours.

First stop, the Saltsraumen, the world's largest maelstrom. A 3km long, 150m wide sliver of a strait , through which 400 million cubic metres of water are forced four times a day at speeds of up to 20 knots. Apparently, with an incoming tide at the correct equinox, season and relative position of the sun and the moon it is colossal. But even with an outgoing tide on a random wednesday evening in July, it is pretty spectacular.

The water rushes under the dead centre of the bridge, as fast as a mill race but flatter than a mill pond - this would be the olympic sprint version of pooh sticks, but it would have to be a photo finish by the time you caught up, several kilometres downstream!

- whilst at the edges the sea is churning and rolling with spontaneous foaming eddies

and momentary whirlpools appearing and disappearing

like the whole sea is being boiled in a giant saucepan.

And then the jet boat came out to play and show off..
.

It's awesome. In a way which is completely not captured in a photo of course :)

As lots of people seemed to be fishing, Will even took his newly mended rod down to the edge, but with the weights gone - substituted with bike spoke caps - the float broken - substituted for a bit of cork - and the reel not very firmly glued back on the rod, it was doomed for disaster. When, after a few goes, the cork floated off merrily into the maelstrom and the weed caught the hook and caused the reel to snap off again, it was clearly time to admit defeat. Ironically, the float, the lack of which has put a final end to all attempts, was originally the easiest bit to replace. But a while ago, and believing we had an inexhaustible supply, we stopped saving corks as we figured there was no need - well, we had a float but nowhere to fish, every possible engine airleak which could be plugged with a cork seemd to be holding firm and where in the world would we ever stop drinking wine?? - bother.

We hunted round the van in vain for things that might float but the only alternative floating things we could think of were witches and, inexplicably, we're carrying even fewer of them than corks. They would probably be a bit tricky to cast anyway....

Ho hum. Back on the road. And wow, what a road.

Setting off late in the evening as we were, we weren't expecting much from this bit of the RV17, one of Norway's most famous coastal highways and apparently 'the World's most beautiful journey' (according to the tourist brochure, but they may be a teensy bit biased...)

but, it started well with mountains wreathed in wispy clouds

and, on popping out of the umpteenth tunnel, we found ourselves down on the coast

and bathed light of the setting sun, peeping out between the horizon and the low lying clouds,

casting its pink hued rays across the cliffs.

Fantastic

Our destination was a glacier, recommended to us by the aperitif-sharing french van dwellers we had met on our first night in Norway, although as it had taken him three goes to find the right wiggle on the map and the instructions were a bit vague - 'the little road on the right after the first tunnel but before the second' on a road full of tunnels - we weren't holding out much hope...

But we found a road, between two tunnels and set off, gamely ignoring the signs which said 'Warning. Construction Road. May be liable to closure at anytime without prior notification' (in english, my norweigan isn't that good!). I mean, what could possibly go wrong??

Had I been giving those same instructions, I would not have stopped at the 'little road between two tunnels' part. I would have gone on the include the 3km of steeply uphill, twisting, unlit, pitchblack, semi-abandoned tunnel - honestly, the road was disintegrating on one side, no lights at all, I really expected we would just find a dead end, blank wall at the end where they'd got bored of digging and be faced with the prospect of reversing all the way back down. So much so that when we did see the light at the far end, it gave me such a shock I thought it was the proverbial train steaming towards us at full tilt... And then, further uphill, there was the unexpected fork in the road with a 50:50 chance of getting it wrong... I don't know, maybe we were on a different road entirely... but we did find a glacier. Where the road came to an abrupt stop in a cliff of boulders that formed a dam, a scramble to the top of which resulted, finally, in the desired glacier view, blue ice glinting and pink topped in the last dying rays of the sun. Hurrah!

And so today, bright and early in the afternoon, we left Jules basking in the sun and went off in search of it.

Scrambling over the strange and stripey rocks, scored and scarred by the inexorable relentless march of the glacier, untold millenia ago.

We headed out round the lake,

right on the edge of the milky turquoise depths.

Scrambling over the shattered splinters of rock, hopping from boulder to boulder over meltwater streams - although the term 'hopping' implies a merry jaunt, bouncing from rock to rock with gay abandon. Well it was for Will, for me it was a bit more nerve racking than that at times to be honest. More a confidence-boosting-pep-talk-turning-to-impatience from 'mountain goat Will' followed by a petrifying, eyes closed, blind leap of faith from one wet, slippery rock to another, with all the elegance and grace of a baby elephant. But I only got one foot wet and banged my leg once so not so bad really...

- skirting the bottom of waterfalls, down and up the 6ft sheer vertical walls of a snow filled crevasse (across the rocky bit at the bottom, we do know enough not to go walking just on snow over unknown depths) and up and over the scrubby headland.

Where, after a couple of hours, we found ourselves still only about half way to the headland corner which we thought would afford us the best view,

and absolutely no hope of getting to the actual blue face of the glacier.

So we decided to head back. But not to make it too easy for ourselves, we thought we'd try up and over for the return.

It didn't look to far away but it was one of those frustrating climbs where the top beckons, tantalisingly close with the promise of spectactular views if you just make it that little bit further up, only to dash your enthusiasm at every ridge with just a little bit more of the same ahead.

But we made it up to the snowline and were rewarded with fabulous views of the lake and over the hills and far away.

On top of the world!

So far so good, heading on then. Skirting the snow line, we crossed the barren moonscape,

scrambling over the loose boulders, round the lakes

and over the streams

and freeclimbing up bits of sheer rock wall with barely enough places to wedge your fingers and toes. Exciting stuff.

It all looked doomed to failure about halfway back when we found ourselves faced with a shallowish, plateau swept by sheets of icy water,

fed by a wall of snow at one end

and culminating in increasingly narrow, rushing torrents sweeping over the sheer drop of the edge of the world at the other. Hmmm not good.

But after several scouting trips up and down the side of the river we found a shallowish slope, far enough away from the edge to be safe and which, although water covered, was not too deep or slippery to paddle across so we could at least get to the middle. Excellent. Now what though...

Hmmm.

But fortunately some further searching found a narrowing of the torrent such that we could cross the remaining deep rivulet by dint of chucking rocks into it until there were enough stepping stones to leap between. Woohoo

A couple more meltwater rivers crossed in the same way by tactical rearrangement of available rocks, a scramble up and down some more rocky ridges, and a cliffside descent, clinging by fingertips to the side, following the strata in the rocks led back down to the shore. Where it was a simple up and down the dam and back to our patiently waiting little van.

Wicked. What fun!

Time for a spot of dinner then once more back on the road in the pink light of the late evening,

accompanied by the setting sun

heading ferry-wards.

What a perfect day. This is definitely more like it!

Ups and downs

2010-07-28T12:47:00.002+01:00

Written 27th July

Of course it was all fine and Jules heroically made it all the way to town without so much as a single hiccup - we even got up to 70mph in one tunnel, although i'm not sure you're supposed to be able to go faster with the engine switched off than with it on... :) - clever little van. Bit of an anticlimax really, I was all psyched up for a hitchhiking adventure, and it would have made for much more interesting reading than the trouble free motoring saga you're getting at the moment :)

We did manage to fit 55l of petrol into a notionally 50l tank though, so maybe the hitchhiker karma was swinging in our favour... :)

And whilst at the petrol station, we met our first classic vee-dub, other than a very few we have passed on the road over the months, and some more Swiss van dwellers! A 1971 batyleship grey bus from Zurich carrying Andy, Dina and their little boy Juli (i think). They are in the middle of a nine-week trip and will make it as far north as Tromso before heading slowly for home again.

Apparently they hadn't set out to be vee-dub owners - had even bought a different van for a previous trip - until one day Andy passed a garage with a classic sitting outside it. That one was already sold but as luck would have it, on seeing the same van on the forecourt that very morning, a guy had come in looking to sell his which he had owned from new, and the rest is history. And a very fine little van it is too, although somewhat more heavily laden than Jules :)

Separated from the mainland by the Vestfjorden, the Lofoten islands rise from the sea as a sheer jagged wall, carved by ancient glaciers. The main town, Svolvaer was very pleasant in the afternoon sun but no supermarkets open on a sunday so in true Ready, Steady, Cook style, we have a new addition to the van dwellers cookbook made from 'things we had in our cupboard', sundried tomato flatbread - flour, water, sundried tomatoes, fried in the oil from the tomatoes jar - yummy! We'll be trying that again.

A bit of a walk for the view

and an unexpected view of norweigan summer transport

before back on the road where we unexpectedly found a beach, just at the turn for Henningsvaer, the next of our planned fishing village stops.

Fine white sand, crystal clear blue water with the sun dancing and sparkling off the gentle ripples - too good to pass up on this unexpectedly hot day. So we stopped. And sat on the beach. Perfect :) and it was even warm enough for a paddle... well, actually, I think 'crystal clear blue' equated to 'glacial melt water' and it was more that my feet were too numb to feel the true temperature rather than warm per se... no swimming in this body of water :)

Mindful of the petrol situation, the following morning, we set of on our bikes again in the pleasant sunshine, along the twisty coast road.

Built on a series of small islands connected by bridges and dubbed, a little enthusiastically, the 'Venice of the North', Henningsvaer is a pretty enough little town,

with its typical Rorbus - red-painted fisherman's huts on stilts and wooden houses. Today it is full of teashops and artists but also one of the few remaining working fishing villages on the islands as apparently many of the older villages were just too small and lacking in a proper harbour to accommodate the change from small rowing boats which could be dragged on shore to the larger powered boats of today which need proper morring. And it was quite pleasant for a bit of a wander and a peek into the various galleries and craft shops, including actual glass blowing - its fascinating to watch.

But the clouds came down again :( so the epic landscape through which the road winds and sweeps was just lacking that extra sparkle.

A night in Eggum, a recommended midnight sun watching spot where we were hoping for a nice sunset at least, resulted in some pretty harbour and beach pictures

but no sun and even worse - although not strictly Eggum's fault - we found we had run out of gas :( all the baltic state's rice in the world won't help you save money if you can't cook it! So bread and tomato olive oil for dinner and bread and honey for desert, although 'honey art' to make it more interesting - a recent lunch theme as well - who says you shouldn't play with your food... :)

But in the morning, even worse, no tea. We had been doing really well on the tea front. Back home it was five cups a day and serious withdrawal symptoms without. However, having run out in Ile de Re, for most of western france, we were tealess and the enforced cold turkey seemed to have cured the addiction such that, at a rate of one per day (shared) the 160 teabags my mother smuggled out of the UK at New Year looked set to last us all the way home. But then we had our unexpected trip home which bumped up both my body's expected caffein levels and the teabag stock so we have been back up to a whole two cups a day and today, in the absence of tea for a whole two hours since I woke up, I found I had a tea craving and a headache :( not good, especially as coffee is so expensive we can't get our fix another way...

So bread and water (again) it is. Luckily, yesterday at the beach, we found a tap which we believe was drinking water - well at the very worst it came straight from a nearby lake labelled drinking water - so we're not going thirsty but a combination of lack-of-tea-headache and the weather has sadly spoilt this end of the Lofoten islands where we were hoping for beautiful views of pretty fishing villages nestling at the foot of epic vertical cliffs. Still, it could be worse, I could be at work like the rest of you...

We found the villages, Vikten - and some more glassblowing,

apparently the first workshop in northern Norway, completely different style of stuff than the one in Henningsvaer but still fascinating and beautiful stuff -

and then back on the road, to Hamnoy, Reine and A (pronounced, according to our german biker friends as, 'Uh', like they got there and went, 'uh, I guess this is as far as we can go then misery, misery' but which from a bit of Norweigan poetry I found in a guide book, may translate as 'Oh!' as in 'Oh! What a beautiful morning!''

Eitherway, the villages were pretty but not really terribly photogenic in the damp grey light and by the time we got to 'Uh', which is now mostly a living museum to the fishing trade, it was properly bucketing down. And no prospect of tea to cheer us up :(

we wandered for a bit anyway, saw the typical houses

and learnt some fascinating things about fishing though. The Islands' biggest (and probably only) export is stockfish - dried cod - known in the rest of Europe as bacalau or some variation thereof. Their biggest markets are Spain, Italy and Portugal - so all the fish we ate with my parents back at New Year, because it is a Portuguese specialty is not actually Portuguese at all, just the cooking and eating of it, it most likely came from here! - and in April something ridiculous like half the island is covered by some hundreds of thousands of tonnes of fish hanging out to dry on the racks like so many toothy, tortured wraiths. Did you know that the weight of the fish is reduced by 80% during the drying process and the resultant stockfish ready for export is 80% protein? Well now you do!

And when we came back to the van, we met yet more Swiss van-dwellers - is there actually anyone left in Switzerland? Has anyone checked? They all seem to be on the road!. Well to be strictly honest, they are actually motorhomers, having originally wanted to be van dwellers but having decided that, as two very strong characters, they might stand a better chance of coming home still talking to each other after their year away if they went for something bigger :) even after our assurances that Jules is bigger on the inside than it appears by looking in through the window - especially when it's tidy which it isn't particularly right now - I think they were still convinced they made the right choice, me? I still believe this is the only way to travel! :)

They are right at the beginning of their trip having spent a month getting this far through Sweden and Norway - where they are currently accompanied for three weeks by some friends who are just on holiday - and are planning on heading north, then down through Finland and across to the Baltics from there - pretty much our trip in reverse - so they have so much to look forward to! We spent some time swapping travelling tales and things we enjoyed before it was just too cold to stand around outside anymore so we bid them farewell and headed for the ferry.

So here we are, 9pm, near the front of the the ferry queue, having been here for three hours as there wasn't enough space on the previous ferry. Its a shame to be leaving so soon and suddenly but the weather forecast is not good for the next two days, it is so wet and miserable that it is actually nearly dark for the first time in what feels like a month, we have bread and tomato olive oil for dinner again whilst sat within smelling distance of a café serving fish and chips for a mere €22 per portion - i'm sorry but no fish and chips in the world can be that good and even in my weakened, miserable, bread eating state I can't bring myself to give in to that! - and I am so in need of a cup of tea. Even if we found someone who would boil us a kettle, which i'm sure someone would (we didn't think to ask the swiss until we were driving away) we haven't got any milk so it wouldn't be the same but honestly, I am seriously considering chewing a tea bag for the caffein - its pretty desperate...

pathetic isn't it

But we know there is gas in the town on the other side of the water so it will all be better in just a few short hours.... Won't it??

Edit:

I can confirm it is better but only after being much, much worse. The boat was late, the sea was rough so I spent two of the three hours in a semi comatose state of seasickness - what a waste of expensive fish and chips that would have neen but at least it made me forget about the tea withdrawal though, there's always an upside! - and it was getting light again by the time we got into Bodo on the otherside. But, we have gas, and milk! Hurrah for 24h Shell petrol stations!

We have slept well, the sun is amost shining and I am on my second cup of delicious tea. Mmmmm tea, sweet, sweet tea....

Toodle pip!

Taking it easy

2010-07-27T13:04:00.002+01:00

Written 25th July

We have decided, given the cost of petrol, that the only sensible way of getting out of Norway without needing to remortgage our house within a month in order to fill the tank, is to take it slowly. But honestly, we couldn't be in a better or nicer place for it.

Norway has to be the most little van friendly country we have so far visited. Even more so than France, if that could ever be imagined possible. Although the french would obviously disagree, partly because wine and cheese are so expensive and partly 'vive la france!'. Certainly the ratio motorhomes:cars is way higher here than anywhere else (except perhaps the Algarve in january) and we have seen a complete range from little Jules sized vans (although mostly modern ones) to the big coach sized 'dualies' (dual rear-axled house-on-wheels). The roads are wide with just the right amount of bends and twists to make them interesting, the scenery - when the sun is shining and the sky is blue - is stunning and, like Sweden and Finland, Norway offers 'a freedom of the land' which basically means that you can park up or pitch up pretty much anywhere in a van or a tent, provided you follow some simple guidelines like not being too close to houses or property, not staying more than one night, and ensuring you do not leave any trace of your stay. But to make this even easier, everywhere along the way there are clearly labelled off-road laybys complete with bins, picnic benches and more often than not, toilets. Perfect.

And we've met some great people!

And some sunshine! Even better :)

We even picked up our Nordkapp hitchhiker again, who had suffered the storms at actual Nordkapp whilst we were hiking in the freezing fog to not Nordkapp and, despite our day of sleeping and a further day of slow driving, had made the same southwards progress as we had. Hitching, it seems, is not for people on a deadline :)

But we only took him 100kms or so along the side of the fjords before a van dwellers detour to Jokelfjord for a view of the Oksfjordjokelen Glacier 0 apparently the only one in europe which calves into the sea, so there you go! And glacier view we found.

We considered the 8km hike to the foot of the glacier, and the 8km hike return and, taking account of the time (mid afternoon), the weather (beautiful sunshine), hiking rations available (none) and general will to do it (also none, especially given our recent hiking experience) decided to go the following day. And instead spent a happy afternoon on the beach and playing tantrix.

Will even had another go at fishing - well, given the price of food here, even a tiddler would probably cover the cost of the rod! - but time and tide (or something) were against him so no fish supper this time - although there was one that got away which was thiiiisssss* big. And the rod has subsequently been discovered to have got broken sometime in the last few days so no fishie dinner ever :( And in the morning we awoke to the sound of rain pattering on the roof and a digger digging a trench right across the entrance to the carpark - perfect excuse for a lie in then instead of a 16km hike! :)

Of course if this had been britain, we would have been stuck there for probably days whilst cones were shuffled about, diggers driven up and down, men leant on shovels and surveyed progress and the whole site abandoned for tea breaks, especially given the rain, but this lot were in, dug, pipe laid, hole filled and out by the time we had got up and had breakfast - very efficient. Or we are just quite lazy about breakfast...

So back on the road - not so pretty in the rain - and trundling on.

After a night on the edge of a fjord, the next day started promisingly, with sun-topped, snow-capped mountains but soon settled in to more of the same, grey, wet and full of lovely sweeping corners with lovely sweeping views which would have been picture perfect in the sunshine. Oh well, there is a lot of Norway still to go, this can't be the only nice bit.

We decided we had got as far as we wanted to on the petrol we had, pulled off the road with a view of the Ofotfjorden and found ourselves nose to nose with a british motorhome. What are the chances of that?!

And so we met Ted and Mavis - not their real names, as usual after several hours of chatting we didn't get that far, but as I can absolutely guarantee they won't read this, Ted and Mavis they will be between you and I.

Most people, when we say we've been on the road for nine months, are either surprised, impressed, disbelieving or jealous. They don't say "nine months? not bad, try 22 years..." yep, apparently Ted came home from work - he was a teacher - one day in 1988 and said to Mavis "there must be more to life than this?" and within six months they had sold up, bought an early watercooled T3, waved goodbye to the kids and headed off into the sunset. And they haven't looked back since. Not bad :) They went all over europe in their little van - including lots of eastern europe (after the iron curtain but before mass westernisation) turkey, even iceland - but recently decided they needed a bit more space - well they are getting old, as their kids apparently keep telling them! - so traded it in 18 months ago for a big peugeot house-on-wheels and have regretted it ever since. I can understand that! Despite buying from new, it seems they don't really want it - they live in it as they did the VW, without using the shower, toilet, oven, water tanks or any of the 'home from home amenities' most people say they can't live without and which mean they will always be motorhomers not van dwellers - and they've had no end of trouble with the thing what with one thing and another. When we met them they were waiting for the AA for the second time that day as the battery was flat when they tried to start it in the morning and despite a jump start, was flat again after a single day's driving. And this after only 15 months of ownership and 8,000 miles. Not good. "nineteen years in the VW without a single problem, nothing but trouble in this." It is apparently going back after this trip but they can't decide what they actually want. Apparently sliding doors or rear opening doors are not the thing - didn't get to the bottom of why - which rules out newer veedubs and all the transit conversions and then everything else is like what they now have and don't like... Hmm. I'm sure they will find something though.

Being van dwellers for such a long time also means that most modern technology has passed them by so they didn't get our plans for solar panels and other modifications . "Computers? Wouldn't know where to put the coal" "internet, don't get the point. I could book a ferry 20 years ago over the phone or at the desk no problem. Now if the computer's down you can't do anything. Call that progress?" and they only have a mobile because unaccountably (to them) their kids want to know where they are and so they bought it and pay the top ups (admittedly useful for calling the AA though). But, all in all, life seems pretty fine and dandy - there's room for 6,000 teabags and 6kilos of cheddar in there so they don't run out of home comforts even on long trips! - and it seems they'll just keep on trucking. Now there's a thought for the future...

The AA did turn up - well the Norwegian version, NAF, not, we all agreed, a very inspiring name ;) - got them started and off they trundled unhopefully in search of a new battery late on a Friday night. Which, unexpectedly, they found, as they told us when they rolled back up the following morning just as we were thinking about tea, in order to fill their three 5l waterbottles from the spring, before heading on their way. Jolly good.

We would wish them well, but as I say, they'll never read this. :)

After some delicious al fresco muesli to take advantage of the unexpected and welcome sunshine, and a nice chat with some french motorhomers in scandinavia on a diving trip - lovely wrecks in the Baltic apparently but no fish, not a single one, so they're here to try their luck in the Norwegian sea instead - we set off once more in search of the Lofoten Islands. And just for the good luck karma, picked up some more hitchhikers - two students from the Czech Republic who have two weeks to travel the island. Although, as it turns out, this was not such a good plan.

It being saturday, end of budget week and with Nkr 34 left in the pot (about a fiver), we had worked out that we had just enough petrol in the tank to get to the town on the island, but had decided we would only go part way and then stop so as to put off the evil petrol buying moment to next week, when notionally we have money again. And all would have been fine, had the road stayed flat and not become a series of steep hills which poor Jules puffed and wheezed up having been forced to carry the extra baggage of two, albeit fairly small, Czechs and their massive backpacks - poor little van, it really does need the fuelling sorting out and then properly tuning. We did get to where we had planned to stop and kicked the hitchhikers out where we had told them we would (nicely mind, they're only young bless 'em) but with the needle off the bottom of the gauge and 51kms to go before the town, things were not looking good.

Still, nothing we could do about then and there so we decided to have a cup of tea and to worry about it another time - well everything's better with a cuppa - before leaving Jules for a well earned rest in a clifftop carpark,

and setting off on our bikes for a change, down the Raftsundert to the mouth of the Trollfjorden.

And jolly nice it was too. A small, steepsided fjord, the Trollfjorden is apparently one of the 'sights' of the Lofoten Islands. Countless boat companies run trips there and even the Hurtigruten coastal steamer pulls in there its way up and down from Bergen to the North.

We couldn't see much from our roadside vantage point on the far side of the water

but we did see the Hurtigerti

and it was a nice afternoon's outing and I get to feel very smug about a 20kms cycle ride

- ok, ok, that's not much to be proud of I know but its better than nothing, especially since the quest for inevitable fitness I set out on nine months ago seems to have stalled somewhat a long way back -

and when we got back, we found we had visitors! Andreas and Wolfgang (ok, again, names failed me, Andreas is definitely right as he gave us his email address but I am going to call his friend Wolfgang, as he was very blond and blue eyed and german looking, and hope he isn't offended...), two german biker students from Aachen on a roadtrip. As well as being an electronic engineering student, Andreas is also a vee-dub owner - a 1972 fire bus no less, although we all agreed, 'rapid response' was not really the word, more 'see what you can do with your garden hose and a bucket, we'll be along when we can' ;) - and on seeing Jules as they crossed the bridge they couldn't resist coming for a closer look.

well, someone interested in vee-dubs and electronics (the second we've met on this trip including Kiri, there must be a subset of tinkering vee-dub owners, other than the flowery hippy type that is more usually expected!) is not to be let go lightly so whilst Will and Andreas went over every inch of the engine, the old 'project' (which I realise you've never seen, this it what it looks like these days), and Adam's fancy board with Will's new add-ons (you really can't tell which bits have been done on the road and which bits by a 'properman'... ;) ) Wolfgang and I had a nice chat as the sun gradually sank behind the hills. Eventually we waved them on their way and, as it was quite chilly by this point, set about building a lovely warming fire in the handy firepit in front of the van, using the pallet someone had kindly left lying around. Mmmm toasty.

And just as the fire was dying away and we were thinking of heading indoors to bed, up roared another biker who joined us to warm his hands and scout for a good spot for his tent. And so we met Jean-Claude (again, not his real name but think of the Muscles from Brussels but with biker leathers, a handlebar moustache and twenty years of drinking beer added on...). He is the other end of the travelling extreme having left Belgium early last week and since travelled to Nordkapp by way of Germany, Poland, the Baltics and Finland. That's over 4,000 miles in a week!! On a bike!! I asked him why he had chosen to go that way and he said that he'd not been to those countries before and is always keen to see new places so why not? - well there's no answer to that really but travelling at that speed I don't know how much you see, there's definitely something to be said for having a top speed of c45mph :) He too had a pretty wet and cold Nordkapp experience a day or so after us - which makes me feel better for deciding to get on with it and not to try hanging around and hoping it would get better - and he also told us tales of an epic road trip he did several years ago by bike from canada all the way down to the tip of south america - sounded amazing including the trip along the Amazon, except for the wandering off round the lake to go fishing and nearly not finding his way back to the canoe before it got dark story, that sounded a bit scary and not so fun. People are so interesting though :)

All in all, not a bad little spot to stop, albeit that the choice was sort of forced on us...

And so here we are, sunday morning, 50km to go, no petrol as far as the gauge is concerned and no idea how far we'll get. Still, the sun is shining, its a fine day for an unexpected stop, should it happen, the scenery is glorious -provided, of course, that we don't drift to a halt in a tunnel - and we know people pick up hitchhikers. What can possibly go wrong...

Tune in next time to see if we make it....

* thiiiisssss, in this instance being about three inches :)

I'm going out. I may be some time...

2010-07-22T16:15:00.002+01:00

Written 20th July

Ok, alright, we're not polar explorers but after that expedition, I think we at least deserve our Arctic explorers badge.

Yep, we made it, all the way to 71°11'6.5''N, the northernmost-point-of-europe-which-is-accessible-without-going-on-a-boat-or-a-plane! Yes, I do have to be that specific. As we all now know, the french geographical institute have decreed Spitsbergen to be the northernmost point of Europe but that is an island way up on the 78th parallel. But, Mageroya, where Nordkapp is, is also an island so, technically, Cape Kinnarodden, round the corner, although less north, is actually the northernmost point of mainland europe. As was pointed out to me by a very keen (and considerably fitter) Lithuanian I met at Rainbow. Nordkapp is only tourist north, real hardcore cardinal pointers think that is cheating. He was just on his way back from there and showed me his pictures, including the 2-day, 20km hike each way over rocky terrain from the nearest road... Yeah, I'm not sure we're kitted out for that - otherwise obviously we would... No really...

So 'tourist north' it is. But even so, we're not going to make it that easy for ourselves as you will see...

Pretty much as soon as we left our midnight sun layby, the cloud came down and it started to rain.

And it stayed raining. All the way up the fjord,

through the Nordkapp toll tunnel - a shocking €18 for Will and Jules and a further €6 for me!! if i'd have known i'd have hidden in the back! -

and into Honningsvag, the island's main town and a pretty grim and desolate place it is on a wet sunday afternoon where everything is shut except a burger bar proudly advertising its great prices - only Nkr 79 (TEN EUROS!!!) for a cheeseburger! Bargain or what... No. we didn't.

But we saw more reindeer, or is this an elk? Don't actually know the difference...

It looked a bit miserable for a trip to the north and we had decided to leave it a day and head to the fishing village of Gjesvaet on the west of the island which John and Sandy said was quite pretty and nice, when we stopped for a wet looking hitchhiker - now that we know some actual hitchhikers, Magda & Michael, Stu & Emma, we are trying to stop whenever we see someone in a good-karma-building way - who was trying to go to Nordkapp. So we changed our minds and headed that way with him on board.

But not all the way. Oh no. The sheer cliffs of Nordkapp are the famous place, but at 71°10'21''N they are not the northernmost point. And it costs about Nkr200 (€25!!) each to get in. Well we're not paying €50 to go to not-the-northernmost-point-of-europe-which-is-accessible-without-going-on-a-boat-or-a-plane! No the actual northernmost point is Cape Knivskjelodden which is reached by leaving your car in a free carpark 7km short of Nordkapp and walking 9km over the plateau. That's more like it.

But honestly, you do have to really want to go (or have foolishly spent six months telling the whole internet that you're going to go) as it is properly hard going. As Will says, it's grim up north, and as we are as north as north can be, it is about as grim as it gets...

It was cloudy and still raining when we got to the carpark so we settled in for a cuppa and a couple of games of tantrix whilst watching some very wet hikers appear over the near horizon and hoping for some hitchhiker karma to kick in for midnight sun at the northernmost point - afterall, last time we picked up hitchhikers we didn't end up where we planned to be, but we did end up in the right place at the right time, so maybe this would be the same... - and sure enough, by about 7pm, the rain had stopped, the sky had cleared and it was looking hopeful. So we cooked up some pasta to take with us, donned our arctic exploring gear (from top to bottom. Me: woolly hat, scarf, 1st fleece, 2nd fleece, zip up top, t-shirt, gloves, jeans, tracksuit bottoms, thin socks, thick socks, trainers. Will: waterproof cap with fluffy ear flaps, scarf, overcoat, fleece, garage boilersuit, long sleeve top, gloves, trousers, thick socks, boots. Looking good!), packed up the rations (water, box of pasta, one orange and half a bar of french chocolate found at the back of the cupboard from our hot-chocolate making days, some 9 months and 20 countries ago) and by 8pm we were finally ready to set off.

It wasn't too bad on the way out, fairly boggy but flat enough, the way easily marked by an abundance of cairns and even a bit hot in all my explorer gear. So far so good then.

Feeling a bit sorry for all those bedraggled people we had seen on the return earlier - they should have waited!

and a view of Nordkapp too

The cloud was settling in behind us as we descended to the beach,

with the cliffs of Nordkapp resplendent across the waters and topped by cloud... What price easy tourist north now! It even looked light in the sky as if the sun might make an appearance...

The last couple of kilometres were a bit tougher, 30% slope consisting of patchy bog and slippery rock but we made it,

right to the marker and the book (apparently, if we were to take this reference number to the tourist office, we would have the privilege of buying a certificate to prove we got here! Again, no, we didn't)

and then on a bit and scramble down the rocks to as North as North can be 71°11'6.5''N

(ok it says 8'' on the sign but that would having involved getting my feet wet and I'm not that desperate to prove something!) it is very bleak at the end of the world.

Did it! Quite exciting really, despite the bleakness. Our quest for the cardinal points of europe is complete! And by this point, expensive Nordkapp was completely invisible in the cloud... Not that I am in any way smug about this...

Being 11ish by now, we were just looking for somewhere sheltered to eat our pasta when we unexpectedly came across a lone Romanian hiker who had hitched all the way up from college in Lillehammer and pitched up here with his tent to spend the night - just to say he had. We had a nice chat - even he said that the people in Romania are horrible and untrustworthy and we were lucky to get through the country without having all our stuff stolen. Well with ambassadors like that, its no wonder everyone has such a bad opinion of the place! -

and then left him to go back to his tent whilst we happily tucked into the northernmost-pasta-in-europe-which-is-accessible-without-going-on-a-boat-or-plane (ok, you get the idea by now)

and watched a cruiseliner drift out of the fog like some kind of ghost ship before heading off north in search, no doubt, of some midnight sun so as to keep the paying punters happy.

By 11:40pm, it was pretty clear that the sun was not going to put even his fluffy scarf on, let alone his hat, so we set off southwards once more.

Which is when it got really terrible.

Firstly the wind picked up, straight into our faces, to the point where it was hard to stay upright, let alone walk, and with every step back across the slopey, slippery rock you risked being blown off balance and ending up with one foot ankle deep in a bog or skidding out from under you and down the rocks.

It wasn't so bad at the beach, but the climb back up to the top was pretty horrendous - again straight into the wind - and at the top the cloud settled down like a freezing blanket for the entire rest of the way back. At one point, I was 'resting' by turning round and leaning back into the wind as it was nearly strong enough to take my weight... Nearly blind from the iced up glasses and streaming eyes, we could barely put one foot in front of the other, let alone see that far and what had been an obvious path between plentiful cairns with clear opportunities to avoid the really boggy bits became a seemingly endless, bent-double trudge through the mud, the squelchy footprints in the bog and the vague ghostly shadows of the cairns being all their was to keep us on track (and no, the GPS just tells you where you are, not where you've been and only gives a direction when you're actually moving so we couldn't even follow that back or even really use it as a compass - even assuming that we knew where we had started from....).

But hey, at least we didn't have to worry about it getting dark...

There were a few moments when we thought we must be nearly there by now, only to have our hopes dashed by passing a forgotten landmark we then recalled as having seen a fair way into the outward journey, and several more moments of near panic when we couldn't see the path or the next cairn and were scared of heading out in completely the wrong direction,

when suddenly, like the white cliffs of Dover looming out of the fog in front of a weary rowboat crossing the channel, a phalanx of white motorhomes appeared like a ghostly mirage in front of us, with Jules nestled amongst them. Thank god for that. And we didn't have to eat each other to survive.

Pretty bloody miserable in all honesty but then as I always say, if this were easy, everyone would do it, and then there would be tat shops, and carpark charges and impecunious van dwellers would not be there...

Even with the comparative shelter of cliff-like neighbours, poor Jules was pitching and tossing in the wind like a boat on the high seas but not enough to compete with the physical and mental exhaustion of the hike and we slept for 12 hours straight, awakening at 3pm the following afternoon to find ourselves alone in the fog bound carpark - I guess none of our overnight company decided to brave the trip.

Although the weather lifted by the time we left, we didn't get very far yesterday, just as far as Gjesvaet, which was pretty but nothing special, although with significantly better weather - in fact it looked quite clear all round, to the point where I suggested we might go again for another try at midnight sun at the northernmost point but for some reason, Will wasn't having any of it... - and we stopped high on the hill above the village, hoping for some midnight sun pictures.

Which looked promising at 10pm, and for a while after

but by 11 all hopes were well and truly dashed. Oh well, bed time.

Back on the road today, back through expensive toll tunnel - oh yes, they charge you to leave too - and our first Norwegian supermarket experience - a mind boggling, wallet emptying €10 for 1l milk, 500ml yoghurt, a loaf of bread and four oranges and an utterly depressing €85 for a tank of petrol! - how on earth do people afford to live here! It is bitterly cold - I know, I know, what else did I expect, it is the arctic circle after all and it's not Burgos!, but seriously, we haven't been this cold since Florence! - but I have my spanish fluffy boots on so at least my feet are snuggly warm! Definitely time to be heading south.

Fjords here we come!

EDIT: here is some interesting info about Nordkapp courtesy of Will's friend Ben!

Done my homework - so you are at the most Northern point of Europe originally known as Kjelvik, however the Germans destroyed the village in
1944 and it took up its new name of Nordkapp (North Cape) in 1950. The coats of arms was officially approved in 1973 which is symbolic of the sea, cliff
& golden sky. I feel educated, but in an interesting way!
(c) Ben Northing

Land of the midnight sun

2010-07-19T16:33:00.003+01:00

Written 18th July

Oh wow. Just wow! I don't know why sun at midnight should be any more exciting or beautiful than any normal sunset but it so is.

After a six-episode House Season Five marathon - OMG best series ever!! Thank you so much Mr Toaster! - to keep us awake the sun crept round the headland and peeked out from the clouds just on midnight.

And it came properly out in time for 'real midnight' - ie not dayght saving time - an hour later

and we were able to follow the reindeer trcks along the beack for the view,

leaving Jules to bask in the unexpected glow.

Stunning.

And this morning, we met some new fellow travellers - Tara and Tyler from Minnesota, also heading north, who spent last year cycling from scotland to romania (!?!?), spent the winter in tunisia and who are now driving through russia to mongolia where they will pick up their bikes again and cycle to Kuala Lumpa. See, we are actually perfectly normal!

North pole here we come!

Finnish-ed!

2010-07-19T16:32:00.003+01:00

Written 17th july

And Norweigish-ed and a little bit Swedish-ed :)

A little scandinavian, arctic circle tour yesterday, our last day in Finland.

We woke up in our finnish layby to find ourselves under attack from squadron after squadron of small bitey things - not as vicious or hungry as the ones at hippy central thankfully but irritating nonetheless - not sure where or how they were getting in but everytime we swatted one out of the air, two more locked on to the same trajectory. A kiwi rasta hippy (honestly!) we met said the best thing to do about mozzies was sleep naked outdoors for two days and just let them bite. You feel shit for two days then they leave you alone. If you're not that hardcore, a week of daytime biting, you feel shit-ish for a week then no more. Hmmm not sure about that. And the best way to stop bites itching is to sting yourself all over with nettles, go in a hot sauna and then jump in a cold lake... Yes well I can see why after that you might find the bites less irritating... We just spayed some fly killer around and moved on - so our windscreen became a mozzie accident black spot - literally :)

And on into sweden as it happened, to try and find cheaper petrol. Which we did although a bit confused to find the shop shut, until we remembered the time difference.... But they opened up for us anyway which was very nice of them.

And we saw some swedish reindeer!

Obviously vastly different from the finnish ones...

The best finnish reindeer are sadly unphotographed due to woeful inattention of behalf of chief photographer and flat refusal by chief photographer's chauffeur to turn round and go back for a creature which has probably run off already...

Big antlered stag silhouetted in middle of road ahead

Even bigger antlered stag which suddenly appeared out of nowhere to side of van and nearly became road kill - although I think it would have done more damage to Jules to be quite honest

And, bestest of all

A little light coloured one with a pink nose, all alone by the side of the road. Clearly he wasn't allowed to join in all the reindeer games :( but we loved him, unlike all those shallow other reindeer... ;)

And back into finland. down south it was all endless flat landscape, traversed by long straight roads, flanked by either tall forests or lakes or both, with occasional glimpses of deep red, grey-blue or olive green wooden houses with white window frames through the trees (unaccountably unphotographed). Here, it is endless flat landscape and long straight roads flanked by short scrubby trees and the occasional lake and glimpses of deep red, grey-blue or olive green wooden houses with white window frames through the trees . But still quite dull. Livened slightly by the unexpected sight of a roller skier - on superlong ski-like roller blades - gliding along the road like on crosscountry skis.

And into norway,

long straight roads flanked by short scrubby trees and the occasional lake with glimpses of deep red, grey-blue or olive green wooden houses with white window frames through the trees but this time with hills!

Oh the excitement ;)

Oh, but not before we were seduced into a roadside tat shop by a sign promising coffee and a donut for 50 eurocents. Surely this cannot be?? We haven't had coffee since riga as it's too expensive. But it was true! And turned out to be a great loss leader as we came out with coffee, donut, knife sharpening block and a tin of braised reindeer for dinner (we decided against the grizzly, wolf or elk) - well you have to (and don't you go shouting poor ickle rudolph at me).

We stopped briefly in Kautokeino, a Sami (the indiginous nomadic lapland people) town and a break in the silversmith's, a fabulous aladdins cave of a shopbuilt to resemble drifting snow,

which showcases traditional Sami things,

handemade silver jewelry, and other crafty things.

And onwards once more towards Karasjok - seat of the Sami parliament - where we decided to stop en route for the night in a pleasant carpark by a rushing river. There were two other vans already there and I was just saying how funny it would be if one of them was english, when we got close enough to see that, against all the odds, it was!

And he had a fire going in the thoughtfully provided fire pit - excellent.

And so we met John and Sandy. Two ex-RAF, retired british motohomers who have been on the road since february. And they're from colchester - practically neighbours! They didn't even really know they wanted to come to Norway until Sandy chanced upon a book of aires with fabulous pictures at a recent caravan club meet and with that on board, somehow their tyre tracks wended northwards from france through germany, to denmark and beyond, right to Nordkapp and the easternmost point of Norway, right on the russian border where Sandy was telling us, she saw beluga whales surfacing against a backdrop of the midnight sun, their spouts glistening like diamonds in th light - sounds simply amazing.

They're on an open-ended trip with a probable return in september as they've just had a text from their son in colchester saying he has bought a concrete boat with a hole in it for a pound on ebay. It's currently in dry dock in portsmouth and he'd like John to give him a hand fixing it up, if that's ok please dad.

A concrete boat?? Sounds a very unlikely thing to me! John and Sandy have no idea either - hopefully they will send us a picture when they eventually see it...

They had the fire and the bbq going and had their dinner ready just as we arrived - yummy looking pork chop, potato wedges and salad - and then we used the fire and the bbq to cook our reindeer stew (with added carrots) and mash.

Mmm mmm mmm 'licious

Just as we were ready to eat, the heavens opened but being british we just got our brollies out and carried on enjoying the great outdoors... well, until we finished our dinner and a french van-dweller came over and asked if we had any paper with which they could get the fire in the hut started,

at which point we decamped indoors taking our burning logs with us and a very convivial international evening ensued with me managing to anslate between the two in my once more rusty french when language failed.

The french, whom I will call Celine and Thierry as we didn't get their actual names, pulled out two bottles of aperitif - ricard and gentiane - and a bottle of wine which they offered round the group, and Sandy produced a plate of cheese and biscuits. Sadly, impoverished vandwellers don't have much to bring to the party - we finished our last wine weeks ago and the port - which would have been perfect - months ago and are even running out of beer already. On that subject though, I had forgotten (or never knew) that Norway is not in the EU and apparently has really strict customs controls about importing and exporting alcohol. Apparently the limit is 1l of spirits or 2l of wine (but not both) and Sandy and John met some motorhomers who had had more than this in their van (not sure how much but you would stock up if you had the space, especially if you have recently come from france!) and had to pay a fine, and had it confiscated! Bit harsh!

And whilst the fire crackled merrily away, John and Thierry spent an hour rustling through their maps and circling places on our atlas - many of which match the places already suggested by Brian, our yorkshire friend from all those months ago back in Ronda - as well as the good roads to use and some suggestions about ferries too - brilliant!

I have to confess to having had a bit of a mental block about norway as regards guidebook reading, I don't know why. I had got as far as Nordkapp but trying to read any further in the lp just kept giving me a headache, especially trying to find places on the map - but now I have a route sorted and its much easier now! And i'm really excited!

Celine and Thierry had just bid us adieu and bon voyage and headed off the bed when a finnish motorhome pulled up and disgorged two adults and four kids - no idea where they all slept! Maybe they didn't, it being gone midnight by this point - who joined us round the fire to heat their frankfurters on sticks in the flames and then offered coffee round. Excellent. They spoke almost no english, we speak absolutely no finnish but having grandkids of his own, John did a smashing job of keeping the kids in fits of giggles and got to play with their fluffy reindeer and jack in the box toys so it was smiles all round before they headed off into the white night. By this point we were half expecting a a belgian van to pull up and offer us after dinner mints, but sadly not to be... :)

More chat, recommendations and coffee in the morning and then we bid them farewell. Them south down the swedish coast, us inexorably northward bound.

We had hoped for a tour round the sami parliament building - with its main assembly room built in the shape of a traditional teepee - but had forgotten it was saturday so sadly closed so again not to be :(

So, northwards once more. V v excited now! On the theme of traditional-means-of-winter-conveyance-in-the-summertime, in a recent town, we saw a husky pulling a woman along who was standing on the back of a trolley thing. We have found our first fjord - the Porsangenfjorden - and our first norweigan reindeer - although as they are on the beach, they might be santa's reindeer on their holidays! We have just crossed the 70th parallel and we are finally on the same map page as Nordkapp!!

Hurrah!