[2020, July & September]
2020. The beginning of the pandemic which has changed the world as we knew it. More or less strict lockdown had been imposed almost everywhere on the globe, the state borders had been sealed, therefore travelling had become basically impossible. And I had such big plans for this year, from an exotic tour of the Anatolian plateau and the Caucasus, as far as the Caspian seashore, to a comprehensive one of the Balkan peninsula, starting in North-eastern Greece up to the Istria peninsula and the Slovenian Alps! All of them had vanished or at least indefinitely postponed and I’ve barely got to ride a mere 500 miles until the end of May.
My absolutely unexpected chance to travel somewhere during this darn year had suddenly appeared, though, someday in early June, while I’d been chatting online to my friend Madde in Sweden. I was speaking about a hypothetic bike I’d like to buy in order to replace my faithful, but hard worked Vulcan S, whose quite small displacement engine had been implacably approaching the 50,000 miles mark, my choice being a bigger Vulcan, but I couldn’t decide between its two versions: the wide front wheel Classic or the drag style handlebar Custom. And, out of nowhere, she sends me a link to a just 7,000 miles used Classic for sale at a Kawasaki dealership in Gothenburg, featuring – oh, well! – a drag style handlebar! It was really love at first sight, so, with her precious help, a couple of days later I actually buy the bike, then the seller delivers it at my other friend Carsten’s place in Bara, nearby Malmö, and all I have left to do is just fly to Sweden and ride it!
Furthermore, this unbelievable event inexorably led to the birth of the idea for probably my only chance to travel this year; while Sweden was being probably the only European country which haven’t had imposed a lockdown, when I’d get there to take my new bike, the three of us would set on a 3,000 miles long tour up to its northernmost point and back, then I’d find my way back home despite any travel restrictions – I wouldn’t get stuck up north after all!
The Adjustment to the Scandinavian way
I get to Malmö in early July I’ve got a whole week to spend by myself since the day I landed in Sweden until Madde’s and Carsten’s vacations will begin and we’ll be able to start our tour. Therefore, I set up my headquarters in Carsten’s attic and I’m going to take advantage of these days in order to check and prepare my bike for the road and also to get used with riding both amidst these incredibly calm people and in their harsh and unfriendly weather as well.
Gadding about in Skåne County. 600 miles
My first ride on the new bike is together with Madde on narrow and twisty backroads. The route conditions, with both flat straight lines and bends and various gradients up- and downhills, help me make a first impression about my new travel mate, the Vulcan 900: I feel it heavier and much less manoeuvrable than the former one, but also definitely more comfortable and smoother when cruising; its bigger displacement v-twin engine is pulling hard from low revs, although it needs some time to launch itself at higher speeds. It may take some time until I’ll properly get used to it, but I’m sure I’ll have a great time riding it eventually.
Our target for today is the Baltic Sea beach at Sandhammaren, which looks unexpectedly nice, with fine and soft sand and bursting with people spending their weekend in the bright and warm sun. On our way there we passed through an idyllic landscape of dense forests and green rolling meadows, populated with plenty of horses, cattle, hares and pheasants. I think I might enjoy the Scandinavian summer after all, as I already know I hate its winter, due to a frozen Christmas I’d spent here a few years ago! And I’m also a bit surprised by the Swedes, too, as I discover that some of them have their sense of humour, even if most of them don’t look like it: I buy a coffee from a kiosk nearby the beach’s parking lot and the very old lady taking the orders lectures me it’s not healthy for me to add sugar in it; she was joking, of course, but when I pretend to beg for at least one cube, she takes a two-pieces small bag, breaks it in half and gives me just one of them :)
The first group ride proper is a more challenging route which takes us to the rocky promontory of Smygehuk, Sweden’s southernmost point, and back via the town of Trelleborg, half of it in a steady sprinkle constantly spurred by a strong side wind. Unpleasant as it might be, this is a good occasion to test my new Pirelli rear tyre on wet tarmac and, disappointedly, the result isn’t quite encouraging, as it slides sideways twice while riding in a roundabout at a reasonably low speed. At least I’m satisfied with my new waterproof pants and that’s really good news, considering the weather that’s awaiting us during the upcoming trip.
Eventually, the prologue is over with two days of solo riding around the most of Skåne County. For the first one I choose a route alongside the Baltic Sea shore, which takes me eastwards from the sandy peninsula of Skanör-Falsterbo via the quite dull towns of Trelleborg and Ystad to the already known Sandhammaren, then northwards via the colourful small port of Simrishamn up to the old town of Åhus. I ride back taking the motorway to Malmö, which I take advantage of to test my bike’s 100 mph behaviour and the result is highly satisfying. The second day I go north, following the Öresund and Kattegat straits shores, to Landskrona – a Danish founded medieval town featuring a Vauban style red brick fortress, Helsingborg – an uninspiring wide boulevards crowded city, and the steep rocky peninsula separating the shallow Skälder and Laholm bays. Here I take a prolonged coffee break beside the old cannons which are guarding the tiny port in the fishing village of Torekov, before taking off on my return inland route through Båstad, Perstorp and Lund and getting back at Carsten’s place wet to the bone due to a fierce steady rain I’ve struggled with for the last 40 miles. Now I guess I’m ready for the great adventure up north beyond the Arctic Circle, to the land of reindeers and the midnight sun!
The Sandhammaren beach
Smygehamn, Sweden's southermost point
The Landskrona castle
Torekov
The cold Challenge of the North
The main idea that guided our upcoming route choice has been to ride to Sweden’s extreme north – up to the town of Kiruna, basically the furthest point we are able to reach – using the inland road which runs parallel to the Norwegian border, then come back south following the coastline motorway alongside the Gulf of Bothnia and the Baltic Sea proper. All the three of us have contributed to this project: I designed the rough draft, Madde added several points of interest along the way, then Carsten fine tuned it by chosing the best riding route options, at least for the parts where we had any. Sadly, both Norway and Finland had sealed their borders due to the pandemic, so my desire to reach the famous Nordkapp – Europe’s northernmost point – and Rovaniemi – Santa’s hometown :) – is still hanging for another occasion, maybe!
Touring the farthest boundaries of civilization. 380 miles
Since the last couple of days, the weather turned into what I’ve expected it to be, the bright sun and warm air which I’ve enjoyed on the beach being replaced by a steady strong wind and regular periods of torrential rain. The morning of our departure makes no exception to that, so we get to have our coffee and breakfast and prepare the luggage in no hurry, waiting for the rain to stop at least for a while.
We start in what’s going to be the standard riding formation, Carsten leading the way on his blue BMW R1200RS, followed by me on the black Vulcan, then Madde on her green Kawasaki ER-6f, a strange combination of colours and bike styles :) This one is my first proper group ride and during these first days I’m struggling to adjust myself to a completely new routine. Maybe the biggest issues we’ll have to compromise about are the daily schedule and the average cruising speed. I’m used to start early in the morning and ride during the whole day, doing about 60 mph or even less, in order to see and feel every hill, forest or village I’m passing by and also briefly stop for each interesting spot on my route, thus making the road itself the main target of my trip, regardless of any intermediate or final destinations, which are just simple marks on the map for me. On the other hand, though, they usually ride fast forward at 90+ mph, a speed that doesn’t allow them to focus on anything else but riding, hopping from one place to another and taking their time for hours or even full days around several destinations along the route. Basically, in my opinion, that’s the main difference between travel and tourism and I reckon it won’t be too easy for us to find a middle way and restrain the frustration and discontentment which we’ll inherently feel about it during the following weeks.
Our first day route drives us constantly northeast, mainly on scenic backroads featuring lower and lower traffic as we get farther from Malmö, the distances between one village to another growing and the cultivated fields being gradually replaced by pine and birch forests. We pass by the towns of Lund, Höör, Hässleholm, Älmhult and Alvesta without stopping too often and in the afternoon we’re approaching the full-size city of Jönköping, where we plan to visit a local brewery and the nearby Husqvarna technical museum. Albeit it’s still early to call it a day, a steady sprinkle forces us to find some shelter in a gas station and start looking for the tonight’s accommodation. As hotels are obscenely expensive downtown, we choose an air-bnb homestay, which I won’t describe furthermore, as I’m trying to completely get it out of my mind and I’m surely never going to repeat that kind of experience. We spend the evening in the brewery’s pub, with burgers and tasty flavoured craft beers, then take a short walk on the Lake Vättern’s shore and leave the visit to the museum for tomorrow morning, as it’s already closed now and it is also conveniently situated right on our route northwards.
The Husqvarna Museum, situated in the little town of – oh, well! – Huskvarna :), gathers the elements of the famous company’s more than 100 years long history within the walls of an old production hall. While I knew it only as a motorcycles and garden equipment producer so far, I’m astonishingly wandering for almost two full hours among all kind of exhibits, from firearms, tools and cast-iron stoves to household equipment such as vacuum cleaners, sewing, cooking and washing machines and even tv-s – yes, Electrolux has formerly been a Husqvarna brand. Finally, although I’ve been sceptical about visiting this museum, this proved to be a time well spent!
Quite late, at about noon, we continue our route alongside the spectacular eastern shore of the enormous Lake Vättern, under an unexpected clear blue sky. Our next stop is at the Vadstena royal castle, where we have a coffee and take a short walk around the lakeside park, then we head for the town of Motala in a sudden but luckily short torrential rain. This one is a perfect example of the way Madde and Carsten are wasting their travel time in dull uninspiring places: first we spend a lot of time deciding about the right parking spot in a half empty lot :), then we go to a certain Motormuseum just to change our minds in front of its entrance and turn back out and in the end, we have a hard time deciding about which restaurant we’re going to have lunch in! The result of this stumbling around is that at four in the afternoon we’re a mere 60 miles away from the place where we slept last night!
Eventually we had our lunch in a terrace restaurant which offers us a nice view to the all sizes of boats navigating the Göta canal, the younger brother of the more known Caledonian canal, which links the Baltic Sea to the inland Vättern and Vänern lakes; continuing with the Trollhätte canal to the Skagerrak strait and the North Sea, together they create a 250 miles long waterway dubbed as Sweden’s Blue Ribbon, having played a significant commercial role before the apparition of railways. Back on the road again, we keep on following the great lake’s shore up to its northern tip, at Askersund, then we pass by the town of Karlskoga and at about seven in the evening we’re quite in the middle of nowhere, nearby a small township called Filipstad. Even if we’re already so far north that in these places there’s getting dark late after midnight, we feel tired and decide to stop for the night in a nice-looking campsite overlooking a lake surrounded by birch trees and loud screaming seagulls.
Hjälmseryd
The Husqvarna Museum
The Vadstena castle
Overwhelmed by the vastness of the boreal forest. 780 miles
After the first couple of days, we’ve still got about 1,000 miles more to go up to the apex of our tour, so it’s time to take advantage of the favourable weather forecast and do some serious riding today. Therefore, this morning I take the lead, trying to set a more balanced pace which should allow us make a significant progress on our route up north. The almost deserted road crosses an unbelievable landscape, cutting in miles long straight lines endless sparse pine forests covering a lunar looking soil, which is basically a vast gathering of huge round rocks. The low but constant uphill gradient takes us at an altitude of about 1,600 ft., where the temperature suddenly drops below my bearable limit and, of course, it soon starts raining; at first there’s just an annoying drizzle, but it gradually intensifies and threatens to soak us. Luckily, before that happens, we reach the township of Vansbro in the Dalarna County, where we find the shelter of a gas station and put on our rain gear. We continued to relentlessly ride for more than an hour in that cold steady rain and that dreadful experience has surely marked us, as on multiple similar occasions later on I’ve had heard Madde saying “It’s raining like Dalarna!” :)
Eventually, we get to Mora, one of the biggest towns in this sparsely populated area, set on the isthmus between two large lakes, Orsasjön and Silijan, park our bikes and take a walk to the pedestrian streets area, in search of the Systembolaget – the state-owned infamous alcohol shop which is the only source for beverages in Sweden – and the well-known knives local factory shop. After the shopping is done, while we take a break into a fancy coffeeshop the rain finally stops and we set off to the road with a recharged level of excitement. The tarmac is newly laid and flawless, so I increase my speed to somewhat more familiar to my riding partners, crossing more wild unpopulated areas through widespread pine forests. After about an hour of uninterrupted riding, I spot a roadside sign welcoming us to Jämtland County and – oh, yes! – the historical and cultural region of Lapland and we mark this moment by taking a short break under the burning sun, nearby a surging river’s rocky bed. Further on, after we pass by Sveg, the only hardly animated spot on this segment of our route, at about eight in the evening we stop for a late dinner into a cosy restaurant, hosted by a rustic wooden chalet on the Rätanssjön lake’s shore. It’s quite late, we are 250 miles closer to our destination and we feel really tired, so inherently we call it a day. Therefore, we afford the luxury of taking our time eating and even having a cold beer, then we ride 10 more miles on a gravel road to the half-forested top of a nearby hill, where we find the Kvarnsjö campsite, featuring a large traditional Sami tent, or a lavvu. We rent a two-bedrooms apartment in a large wooden chalet overlooking the green meadows and the blue eye of a small lake and we like it so much so that we unanimously decide we’re going to spend the next day here as well, although it’s not quite cheap.
The sky has been completely clear overnight (the night is merely a convention over here, as we are way past 60°N latitude and it’s dark outside for less than three hours, that’s about since one to four AM), so early in the morning its literally freezing outside, the temperature dropping below 0°C. Therefore, we loaf around inside until noon, when the sun finally warms the air and we are able to think about wandering in the neighbourhood for a bit. Thoroughly studying the map for a point of interest, I’ve discovered we’re quite close to the Fettjeåfallet waterfall, so that’s going to be our target for today; we ride for several miles to the now almost deserted ski resort of Klövsjö, then we take a gravel road leading to the starting point of a mountain trail which we’ll have to hike. At first, it looks like a leisure walk through the forest, but the trail gradually turns more difficult, climbing over rocks and tree ruts, especially on the last segment right before the impressive 200 ft. tall waterfall. Nevertheless, the view is definitely worth the effort and, furthermore, it feels good to put my mind and body to work for something else than riding.
Fresh and rested after a full-day’s break, we set off quite early in the morning, even if our target for today is just 130 miles far. The reason for our haste is probably one of the most interesting things we’re going to see during the whole tour and that is the Moose Garden in Orrviken, nearby the city of Östersund. They are offering just a couple of guided tours each day and we’ve got to get there in time for the first one. Therefore, I take the lead once again, speed up to about 80 mph to the point we have to turn left on a backroad which is following the Storsjön lake’s eastern shore, then aggressively overtake several slow-moving local cars and get to the farm’s parking lot just five minutes early! The Moose Garden is basically a private wildlife reservation, stretching over several hectares of both meadows and forest, where few moose adults and their cubs are living in relative freedom, on the apparently sole purpose of being admired by tourists, as they’re not part of an endangered species (the guide says that about 400,000 moose are living in Sweden only, while Norway and Finland have got even more of them). There are interesting things we learn about these furry giants, especially that a full-grown adult may be more than 6 feet high and 1,100 pounds heavy and it can do about 40 mph, making a biker wish he’d never meet one of them on the road! Otherwise, the ones we see here are extremely gentle, as surely they’re used to interacting with visitors, and are standing still for pictures and socializing, making the almost two hours we spend here be pleasant and relaxing. After all, this one has been a unique opportunity and it would be a pity if I’d missed it!
It’s already past noon when we’re leaving the farm, but we don’t have any reason to hurry anymore now, as we’ve got just 60 more miles to go up to Åre, Madde’s one of the most wanted points of interest along the route and our destination for today. Well, she’d like us to spend a couple of days there, while I’m not so happy with this idea and I’m secretly hoping we won’t find any reasons to do it :) Åre – one of the country’s busiest ski resorts during the winter season – is set by the foot of the eastern slope of the mountain range which forms Sweden’s natural border with Norway; in order to get there, we have to deviate about 60 miles from our main route northwards, then we’ll go back the same road, as there is no other option. In fact, probably due to the harsh terrain and the low density of human settlements, along more than half of the distance that Sweden’s territory stretches from south to north there are just two longitudinal roads: the E45, also known as Inlandvägen, the one we’re going north, and the E4, alongside the Baltic Sea shore, the one we’re going to turn back south. Aside from these two ones, anywhere you’d want to go you have to turn left or right on perpendicular backroads.
As I’m leading the way, I’m also responsible for choosing the route we’re going to take and I’ve spotted on Google Maps a shortcut to the main road to Åre, which is bypassing Öresund’s outskirts by crossing to the Storsjön lake’s western shore few miles north of Orrviken. Therefore, I’m heading that way in absolute confidence, only to end up into a pier, full of a multitude of private small boats! I guess the map played a trick on me and the hypothetic shortcut exists only during winter, when vehicles may cross the lake by following a track on the thick ice that’s usually covering the lake for four months time. That’s it, we’ve got no other option than continue towards Öresund and then turn left onto the E14, which will take us to our destination.
Somehow predictable, accommodation in Åre is strikingly expensive even in summer-time, so we have to settle for a couple of basic wooden cabins which we are lucky to find free in a riverside campsite, few miles away from the town. After we leave our luggage there, we ride first to the local chocolate factory’s shop, then to the centre, where we take a short walk on the several animated streets; we’re hungry, but the few restaurants here are either closed or full, so we have a bland kebab in a quite sleazy Arabic eatery, which deepens the disappointment we’ve already started to feel about this much praised resort. I don’t know, it may be different during the ski season, but now Åre looks quite depressing to me and seemingly to the others as well, therefore we unanimously decide that tomorrow morning we should continue our route up north!
It seems that, after almost a full week, we’ve succeeded in finding a reasonable compromise about our morning routine, as today the events are quite normally forgoing: waking up, having coffee and breakfast, packing luggage and loading it to the bikes are all happening until half past ten, when we’re already on the road and heading back to Öresund. Although today we aim to seriously advance northwards, we start our route with a short detour in the opposite direction, in order to visit the Tännforsen waterfall, which is Sweden’s biggest one and totally worth seeing it. I’m leading the way once again and doing about 60 mph on the very low traffic road which is heading towards the Norwegian border, when the Moose Garden guide’s warning comes true sooner than I expected: a huge adult moose suddenly comes out of the forest, crosses the road running in full speed and disappears on the other side! It all happened sufficiently far ahead so I’m not really in shock, but obviously I’ve been lucky this time and I promise myself I’ll pay more attention to the sides of the road from now on, especially while riding through forests, which means most of the time in this area.
After taking a short and easy hike to the waterfall, we ride back to Östersund, where we stop for a walk on the pedestrian streets downtown, up to the nice marina on the shore of the Storsjön lake. It’s already past two in the afternoon when we leave the city, heading north on the same now familiar Inlandvägen, where we’re riding almost alone through the endless boreal forest, among hundreds of blue lakes reflecting the relentless clouds up in the sky. The nice weather, albeit the temperature never goes over 15°C, and the flawless tarmac allow us to advance about 200 miles in a relaxed mood. We pass by the small towns of Strömsund, Dorotea and Vilhelmina, but when we get to Storuman an annoying drizzle cuts down our momentum; although it’s not late yet and I don’t feel tired at all, I start looking for a place to sleep tonight. Until I spot a redeeming campsite sign at the side of the road, the rain has already turned quite heavy, so we gladly stop at the Sandsjögården Holiday Resort. While having a late dinner inside its main building, we chat to the owner and find out that, due to the pandemic, most of their bookings had been called off, so we can rent an elegant large cabin with living-room, two bedrooms and private bathroom, offering an idyllic view to the nearby lake. By all means, the price for that one is truly shocking, but obviously we don’t have any other option but accept the offer. Moreover, after we unpack, take a shower and have a couple of cold beers on the cabin’s terrace, we feel really charmed by the place and its surroundings, so we decide to spend the next day here, too, despite the serious blow it provokes to our budget!
As we’ve agreed the previous evening, today each of us is spending his time at will, so during the morning I loaf around on the deck and by the lake, then I try to check if my bike is still technically ok, as I’ve already ridden 1,500 miles since I’ve bought it and I still don’t know much about its reliability. After having a delicious reindeer steak for lunch and taking a short nap, I wake up in the afternoon with an unbearable itch in my feet :) I know myself better than imagine I’ll be able to stay put for the whole day, so I open the map in order to find a close by point of interest and I discover Gimegolts, a rocky canyon ending in a beautiful blue lake. It is about 30 miles away and I’ll also have to hike a short trail along its edge, just perfect to fill in the remaining hours of the day. While putting my riding gear on, I also talk Madde into coming over, and off we are. The winding road is cutting through the forest, unveiling small blue lakes behind almost each bend; for the last few miles the tarmac is turning into dirt and gravel, making our bikes a bit unstable, but we keep on going up to the point where the thick gravel layer almost prevents us from keeping them upright. We’re not too far from the trail though, so we leave the bikes on the side of the road and walk there and, after an unexpected difficult climb over rocks and roots, we get to the canyon. It is quite narrow and straight and its vertical walls are up to 100 ft. high; we follow its course for about 20 minutes, then we get to its end, where a covered rest place set on a rocky platform is offering a nice view over an intensely blue pool below. Half an hour later we’re back to our bikes, we briefly stop to the supermarket in the whole area’s only township to buy some beers, then we race each other a bit on the alluring twisties along our route to the campsite. In the evening, nature is offering us a spectacular show of a surreal purple sunset, projected over the scattered white clouds, then mirrored into the lake’s tranquil water. We quite can’t get enough of it, but at about midnight we reluctantly go to sleep, because tomorrow we’ve got business to do: we’re going to cross the Arctic Circle!
Kvarnsjö Camp
The Moose Garden
Åre
Sandsjögarden
Beyond the Arctic Circle. 800 miles
The weather has changed once again overnight, the morning sky welcoming us completely covered by threatening grey clouds. Maybe that’s the reason we are not so eager to leave for and, when we’re eventually doing it, we haven’t set a clear target for today. Kiruna is more than 300 miles away and it doesn’t seem likely to get there by tonight and, besides, we’ve been negotiating since yesterday evening whether to make a detour to Ritsem or not. That one is the terminus point of the road which goes to the Stora Sjöfallets National Park, deep into the mountains at the Norwegian border, featuring the Naturum Laponia Visitor Center as its main point of interest; the wild natural environment there would definitely be worth riding roughly 200 miles back and forth, on the other hand the bad weather forecast and the expensive accommodation are drawing us back. For now, Madde is all-in, I’m really in doubt and Carsten completely rejects the idea, so we’re not able to make a decision yet.
The first part of our route today is a re-run of yesterday’s short tour, for me and Madde at least, so we’re riding quite fast and, in a bit more than one hour’s time, we’re getting close to Arvidsjaur. Meanwhile, the temperature has dramatically dropped and one can feel the high humidity level in the air, so I really need a hot coffee break. Therefore, I don’t wait until we find a gas station, but I follow my instincts and turn left to a gravel road in the forest which shortly takes us to an unexpected nice place: a coffeeshop which also sells Sami traditional souvenirs, also hosting half a dozen of superb Husky dogs. Getting warm, buying some gifts for back home and taking some pictures with the dogs seem to brighten our spirit, as afterwards we’re continuing our route in a much-improved mood. Further on, the road is cutting through the pine and birch forests in long straight lines, flanked by clear blue lakes here and there. The sparse villages we pass by have Finnish resonance names and that’s a clear sign we’re right in the heart of Lappland. Sadly, the rain which has threatened us even since early in the morning starts throwing stray drops at us, then it falls gradually stronger and colder. It’s been an hour and a half since our last break and I feel like pulling over for another one, when the rain miraculously stops in a sudden and we get to a large meadow, near a parking lot featuring some information boards and a stone totem: that’s the mark for the Arctic Circle, 66°33’N latitude! Beyond this place we’re entering the endless summer-days Arctic region, so we have to linger here for a longer while, in order to take the pictures which would serve both as memories and proof :), as this is one of the most important landmarks of my travels.
It’s three in the afternoon when we get to Jokkmokk, one of the biggest towns in this area; we’d like to have lunch, but the absolutely weird working hours of the restaurants in Sweden prevent us from doing this, so we have to keep on riding. The road is winding uphill towards the ridges of some barren rocky hills, where the temperature drops even more and, worse, it starts raining again. I feel so dreadful that I barely notice we’re passing by Porjus, which is the starting point for the route heading towards Ritsem, the detour we’ve been debating about this morning, but, as the weather is definitely not fit for climbing at higher altitudes, far into the mountains, I speed up a bit instead, hoping we’ll get out of this rainy front at some point farther. However, this doesn’t happen, as the rain and wind become gradually stronger with every mile we advance, so that entering Gällivare comes as a salvation to me. There are no more than 13°C outside, although we’re in mid-July, I feel cold and miserable and I need more than half an hour to recover myself, with a sandwich and a hot coffee under the shelter of a gas station, but, even afterwards, I’m definitely in no condition to continue riding; it’s five o’clock now, the weather forecast for the evening is still pessimistic, therefore we agree to stop here for tonight. Luckily, we find a two-bedrooms cabin for rent in the local campsite, then we have dinner in a not-so-great Chinese restaurant downtown and we spend the rest of the day chatting over some whisky and beers in the warmth of our tiny living-room. The rain hasn’t stopped for a single minute all night long, so we have nothing to feel sorry for.
In the morning, we leave the Gällivare campsite quite late and in no hurry, as today we’ve got just about 80 miles to ride to Kiruna, our route’s apex and the base camp for the next three days. The weather doesn’t look too friendly and promising today either, but I guess that’s normal for this area so far north, so I have no other option than learn to deal with it. Surprisingly, the road to Sweden’s northernmost point and further on to Narvik, in Norway, features a busier than expected traffic and also several gravel segments bottlenecks, due to some ongoing roadworks. Therefore, it takes us about three full hours to get to Lapland’s largest town, where we accommodate ourselves in an unexpectedly elegant bungalow in the local campsite. As it’s already past noon until we’re ready to explore the town and its close surroundings a bit, we decide to go to the Jukkasjärvi ice hotel, which is one of the area’s main tourist attractions. Even it’s just a few miles away, a furious and cold torrential rain soaks us while riding there and, together with the shamelessly high entrance fee, it really cuts down our visiting desire and quickly sends us back to town, where, as there isn’t much to see considering its less than 100 years long history, we spend a couple of hours at The Bishop’s Arms, a crowded pub featuring tasty food and an endless list of beer brands. Later on, when it’s about midnight, we’re lucky to take advantage of the now completely clear sky, so me and Madde are walking to the top of the nearby hill to admire in an absolute silence the sun which is brightly shining above the horizon. This one is the fascinating Midnight Sun, one of the wonders I came here for in the first place!
The mountain range stretching along the Scandinavian Peninsula all the way from the North to the Barents Sea and forming the natural border between Sweden and Norway rises to its highest altitude in the 6,925 ft. Kebnekaise summit, which is not far from Kiruna. In fact, the closest point which can be reached by car, or bike in our case, is the tiny Sami village of Nikkaluokta, where a popular hiking trail starts climbing towards the snowy ridges. The road there is narrow and bumpy, therefore we have to ride at low speed and this allows us to admire the lakes hidden in the birch forest, along the large valley which is separating the barren mountain feet. After we leave our bikes in the overcrowded parking lot at the end of the road, we start hiking the large trail going uphill, through dense forests and swampy meadows, where thousands of aggressive mosquitoes attack us from all sides. Luckily, we’ve got our rain cut for today while we’ve been riding here and now the sun shines brightly, causing us to sweat like during a true summer-day. In about one hour and a half we get to the Ladtjojaure lake, where a boat cruising service offers a few miles shortcut to the long but no very difficult trail. As the summit itself and the mountain lodges nearby are too far for us to go all the way there and back by tonight, we take a prolonged break at the lake’s shore, having a moose burger and laying in the sun onto a grassy clearing, before returning to our bikes and riding back to Kiruna.
Under normal circumstances, our route in the Arctic region wouldn’t have stopped here, but we’d continue just 450 miles more up to Nordkapp, Europe’s northernmost point, and maybe also make a detour to the fabulous Lofoten archipelago. However, Norway has currently sealed its borders due to the pandemic, so the farthest we can go is the Abisko National Park, which lays 60 miles north of Kiruna and a mere 10 miles from the border. On our way there, we have our first encounter with the reindeer: one of them is standing right in the middle of the road, surprisingly unbothered by the cars which are carefully passing by. At first, I don’t know how to handle this situation, then I follow the drivers’ example and ride really slow a few feet away from it. Later on, after I’d long have quit counting them, I’d learn to rev my engine a bit while being a safe distance away, in order to drive it away from the road, as it would be more dangerous to scare the animal and make it react wildly when I’d be right next to it.
The road to Abisko is winding in large bends through the arctic tundra, unveiling stunning views of the snowy mountain ridges being reflected in the clear and still surface of the Torneträsk lake. We leave our bikes in the visitor centre’s parking lot and hike alongside a small canyon to the lake’s shore, where we lay in the gentle sun for a while. I’m aware that right here there’s the end of my road up north, so I write down the coordinates, 68°21’N latitude, the northernmost point on Earth I’ve ever been to! Even I’ve still got many other interesting places to see on my way back to Malmö, I cannot help feeling a little sad, as tomorrow I’ll start my terribly long way home.
Jokkmokk, the Arctic Circle
Kiruna, the midnight sun
Kebnekaise
Abisko
Turning back to civilization. 740 miles
It seems I’m not the only one eager to hit the road again, as everything’s going incredibly smooth this morning; packing luggage and loading it on the bikes, having breakfast and checking out of the campsite are happening in less than two hours, without any adjournment, so at ten sharp we’re leaving Kiruna and head back towards Gällivare. The traffic is once again quite busy with heavy trucks from the mining companies in this area, but, as we turn left towards the seashore, we’re once again almost alone on the road, except from an odd car we’re easily overtaking and the impassive reindeer blocking our way here and there. Aside from a short break we make right in the middle of nowhere, in the place where we’re crossing the Arctic Circle backwards, the monotonous landscape of the endless boreal forest spur me on steadily twisting the throttle, therefore, at about half past three in the afternoon, I spot the calm blue sea at a few miles ahead. We’ve reached the small town of Töre, which is the Gulf of Bothnia’s northernmost tip, and here we turn right on the E4 highway heading south towards Stockholm and, further on, all the way to the Öresund Strait.
From this point on, it’s Carsten’s turn to lead the way once again, and we’re riding even faster than before up to Luleå, where we park our bikes at the seafront promenade and take a walk to the centre in search of a place to have dinner in. It’s already six o’clock when we get back to our bikes, so we ride no more than 30 miles out of town, up to the tip of a forested long and narrow peninsula, at the Borgaruddens Camping, which is set on an enormous meadow right next to the sea and it’s full of campers and caravans. Luckily, it also has several simple and reasonably priced wooden cabins and we resolutely rent one of these, as overnight it’s still too cold for us to sleep inside our tents. The late evening brings us a spectacular sunset in surreal colours and the funny show made by a flock of wild geese, who are filling the air with their hoarse honks and covering the grass in a carpet of their white droppings!
Even we’re still far away from the end of the route, heading home seems to have cut down our enthusiasm, as this morning we’re not hurrying to leave the camping at all. We continue southwards on the E4, which is so boring and overcrowded that, once we get to Skellefteå, we unanimously decide to liven our ride by making a detour inland, on some parallel backroads. That’s been a good idea, as Carsten’s GPS leads us on free twisty roads, through the dense boreal forest and by nice-looking small towns. We have lunch at the sole diner in Bastuträsk, among locals who stare curiously at us, as they obviously don’t get to see many tourists coming this way. Two hours later we take a break at the Vindelälvens Naturcentrum, a quiet and restful place with flawlessly mowed lawn and white pebbles alleys, laying on the bank of a river which flows angrily in foamy rapids. The only drawback of this idyllic ride is an excessively long segment of roadworks somewhere nearby Vännäs, where the tarmac has been completely removed and replaced by a thick layer of gravel, which makes our back wheels sway out of control and forces us to slow down to merely 20 mph.
We merge the E4 again long after seven o’clock, close to Nordmaling, and we stop for the night at the Ava Camping, which is conveniently set between the road and the seashore. Over here, the cold rainy weather which has hindered me so much during the previous week is no more than a bad memory, so we don’t even ask for any free cabins, but we set our tents right next to the narrow sandy beach, just a few feet away from the calm sea. Tonight, it looks like my snoring will sound in unison with the waves’ endless murmur :)
As Madde’s and Carsten’s vacation is soon to be over, this morning before we leave, we make some plans for the following days. We agree to ride the next 400 miles to Stockholm in two days, also making some backroads detours along the route as we did yesterday, visit Sweden’s capital city for a full day afterwards, then we’ll split: Carsten will take the motorway straight home, in order to handle some household related business he’s got, while Madde and me will continue riding along the Baltic Sea shore for two or three days more and also maybe stay for one day at the beach nearby the Öland island, if the weather will be favourable for that.
The first part of our route today we ride on the E4 for about 20 miles, up to the town of Örnköldsvik – oh, my God, what an impossible name to spell :) Here we turn inlands once again, on a winding road constantly going uphill, beyond countless lakes and steep cliffs, up to Hällbymagasinet, an enormous reservoir featuring a forested island in its middle, which we cross on a dike which is built just a few inches above the water level, so that the road looks to float on the lake. The only notable town on the route is Junsele, where we stop for lunch, also in a no-frills diner the same as the one yesterday. In the afternoon, with me leading the way again, we’re heading back to the seashore following the Ängermanälven river course up to the town of Sollefteå, then we turn right on a road towards Östersund. That name sounds familiar, oh yes!, we’ve got there after riding for five days on our way up north, and this makes me aware of the long distance we’ve still got to go back to Malmö. 25 miles farther we take the Indalsälven river’s steep sloped narrow valley along its course downstream to the sea and the city of Sundsvall. Meanwhile, we have to endure a short round of cold rain, but I’m not overly worried as I can see the clear sky ahead of us, so I just speed up in order to get out sooner from below this angry cloud. Eventually, at about five o’clock we enter Sundsvall’s outskirts and we take a short break to decide what we’re going to do next; after a surprisingly short debate :), we agree to take a short walk and have a coffee in the city centre, then find a place to sleep somewhere about 20 miles farther.
The low traffic street heading downtown passes through a tranquil area, with sparse groups of houses and large meadows between them. However, I’m riding quite slow, I think I’m doing 35 mph at most, as the speed limit over here is just 25. In a certain moment, I spot a couple pushing a twin babies stroller who are going to cross the street at about 50 yards ahead of me. I slow down being ready to stop, even there’s no pedestrian crossing sign or pavement marking, but the woman sees me coming and stops herself, so I relax and keep going on. I barely twist the throttle when the man, who didn’t turn his head in my direction even for a single moment, suddenly pushes the stroller across the kerb, right in front of me! Being less than 10 yards away, I squeeze the brakes with all my strength and, in a blink of an eye, bang! I’m down, my helmet scrapes the tarmac and the bike slides beneath me and stops inches close to the stroller! In a moment, Madde and Carsten, who were riding behind me, a couple who were passing by on another bike and the ones who had caused my crash gather around me and hurry picking me and my bike up. The bike isn’t damaged at all, except for a small scratch on the crash bar, but I feel an almost unbearable pain in my left upper body. Meanwhile, as somebody has already called the emergency number, an ambulance and a police car are promptly coming over, but both their reactions are quite a bad joke. The paramedics briefly palpate my back and measure my pulse and blood pressure and the cops take some photos of the crash scene, write down the names and phone numbers of the ones involved into it, then they tell me to ride on carefully and take off! That’s unbelievable!
[The reason I’m so shocked about their reaction for is that back home, in a similar situation, the standard procedures would have compelled the paramedics to take me to the closest hospital for full medical investigations and the police to open an official file and thoroughly investigate all the circumstances and repercussions of the accident. Albeit, this is Sweden and they seem to handle this kind of event in a loosely different way.]
Considering my condition, a sharp pain in my ribs preventing me from doing the slightest move, it’s clear we cannot continue our route, at least for the moment. Therefore, Carsten leads us at low speed to a nearby campsite, about 10 miles out of the city; the Allstaforens Camping, which is set in a dense forest on a foamy river’s bank, provides us with an elegant wooden cabin featuring two bedrooms, a living room and a spectacular view terrace. That’s ok for the moment, maybe after a night’s rest I’ll feel better and tomorrow morning we’ll decide about what we’ll be doing next.
Overnight I discovered I couldn’t lay down on the bed, so I had to spend the night sitting upright on the coach and sleeping in short rounds, as the pain kept waking me up every time I moved. In the morning I take a hot shower and a short walk by the riverside to strenghten myself up, but the conclusion is deceiving: I’m still in no condition to ride. We have to stay here for one more day, which doesn’t sound too bad for the others either, as the surrounding landscape is really enchanting and the weather keeps changing rapidly, with periods of bright sunshine and short rounds of intense rain in between. I spend the rest of the day moving only from the couch to the terrace and backwards, while Madde and Carsten take a short ride to a nearby supermarket to buy some steaks and fish, which I barbecue for us in the evening. Sadly, during the night I’m sleeping sitting upright once again and I’ll be still doing this for more than a month from now on, as I’ll subsequently notice!
Luleå
Borgarudens Camping
Ava Camping
The long forced march back. 620 miles
Even there’s no notable difference in the way I feel this morning compared to the previous day, I have to man up and ride today, as we cannot indefinitely extend our stay here. The plans we made two days ago had surely shattered given my physical condition, so we’re going to take the motorway straight all the way back to Carsten’s place, which is about 600 miles away, and we hope we’ll be able to get there by tomorrow evening. Therefore, I struggle to dress up in my riding gear, especially bending to put the boots on is a real pain in the … ribs, but I need Carsten’s help to pick up my heavy bag and put it on the bike, then off we go. It’s difficult for me to start, change gears and stop, as every move causes the same sharp ache to my left body side, but I can ride quite ok at a constant speed; I feel like I’m stuffed, I even laugh inside my helmet thinking I quite resemble the Cid – the hero of the famous Spanish medieval poem, who, even already dead, had been dressed up in his armour and propped up his horse by his comrades, in order to frighten their enemies! :)
About the route today there’s not much to say, as we’re riding the same dull E4, which south of the town of Gävle becomes a proper motorway, doing constantly 75 mph and taking short brakes every other hour. Eventually, we get close to Stockholm at about six in the afternoon and we stop for tonight at a reasonably priced hotel in its southern suburbs. After another torturous night sleep for me, in the morning we continue our ride home on the motorway, which first follows the seashore for about 50 miles, then turns inland in the direction of the twin cities of Norrköping and Linköping. Over here the landscape has totally changed to an endless bland plain, where we have to face a steady strong side wind which makes us fill chilly, though the sun is brightly shining upon the cloudless sky. Shortly after midday we pass once again by the Vättern lake and Jönköping, but in the opposite direction this time, and a torrential rain bursts out of the sudden, in about the same place where it had caught us two weeks ago! We’re getting soaked in no time, therefore we stop for a prolonged break in a rest place featuring a restaurant and a motel, somewhere close to Skillingaryd. They both look quite shabby, but the way I feel right now – wet, tired and tormented by the constant pain in my ribs – makes me want to stay here for the night. However, considering it’s just five in the afternoon and we’re only 150 miles away from Malmö, Madde persuades me to keep going, particularly as the rain had meanwhile stopped.
An hour and a half later, after we pass by Ljungby and some low-speed roadworks segments, we enter the Skåne County, the first sign our route is about to end, and then, when we get close to Helsingborg and I spot the deep blue waters of the Öresund Strait in the distance, I’m beside myself with joy! It seems Carsten also can’t wait to get home sooner, as he speeds up to 80+ mph and, eventually, at about eight thirty in the evening we park our bikes inside his garage. That’s it, the adventure is finally over!
Chasing the Pandemic on the Way back Home
Back when I had figured on the entire trip, I planned to rest for a couple of days at Carsten’s place nearby Malmö once the great loop north would be over, then head back home across Europe, on a route depending on the current pandemic travel restrictions. Unfortunately, my physical condition due to the crash in Sundsvall had forced me to postpone bringing the bike home for the moment I’d feel fit to travel for about 1,300 miles by myself. Therefore, I left the bike safely parked in Carsten’s garage and flied to Bucharest, where I had some full medical investigation done and found out I’ve had three broken ribs and a twisted ankle! Those took about two and a half months to heal, so in mid September I’m back to Sweden, ready to start the last part of my trip.
Back in the saddle again. 75 miles
I’m back in Sweden on another Friday – that’s the flights schedule, I’m not doing this on purpose :) – and I’m spending the weekend together with Madde and Carsten, chatting for hours over some beers on the terrace, doing some quick shopping in Malmö and paying a visit to my most favourite restaurant here, the delicious Laziza Lebanese one.
Although there’s already full autumn here up north, the weather is still nice, so we’re also taking a leisurely short tour around the city, which is the most appropriate way for me to try riding again, as I haven’t been mounting a bike anymore ever since I left home almost three months ago. We’re riding on some low traffic backroads in the area, having two long breaks in order to visit a BMW, KTM and Triumph dealership somewhere nearby Löddeköpinge and also take a short walk on Lomma’s pier, before heading back to Bara. I have to admit I’ve been a little nervous about the way I’d cope with the bike again, especially in the wake of my upcoming long trip alone, but I’ve passed the test with flying colours, so I’m good to go now!
By all means, travelling throughout Europe isn’t more hassle-free now than it has been during the summer either, so I’m not going to take any unnecessary risks of being turned back at certain border crossings. Consequently, I choose to go back home on the shortest and most direct possible route, which I’ve been constantly checking online for the previous weeks: I’ll cross the Baltic Sea by ferry to Poland – travel restrictions free, then I’ll transit through Slovakia – max eight hours permitted – and Hungary – on certain mandatory transit routes – to the Romanian border crossing nearby the city of Oradea; I’ll take the overnight ferry from Ystad to Świnoujście, then I’ll have to ride home for about 1,200 miles, which I think I’ll be able to do in less than three days time. Therefore, strongly committed to this plan, on Sunday evening I say goodbye to Madde and Carsten and confidently set off for the first 30 miles to Ystad. The sun is setting early during this time of the year in Sweden, so it’s dark, cold and foggy outside, but the short distance I have to ride doesn’t come up with any unforeseen events, so I get to the ferry terminal without any problem. The guy at the check-in booth sends me directly to the front of the line of cars and trucks waiting to embark, then I quickly get my cabin and relax on the deck with cheap Polish beer. That’s been a good start for my trip!
Hopping over Eastern Europe’s borders. 920 miles
Cruelly early in the morning, that’s even before six, the ferry docks in the port of Świnoujście, a small town located right in Poland’s north-western corner. The crew hurries me off the ship and into the darkness and cold outside, so, with no bar or coffeeshop open at this hour, I’ve got nothing else to do than start riding south, parallel to the German border towards the city of Szczecin.
Although I’ve been initially thinking of stopping at the first gas station, to warm up, have some breakfast and wait for the daylight, I’m tormented by the worry that I may not be able to get close to the Slovak border by tonight, so I just clench my jaw and keep on riding. However, this soon proves not to be a bright idea, as the air is bitterly freezing and I’m also cutting through dense fog here and there, around forests and water courses. After more than an hour and a half of riding quite blindly through milky fields and large forests, I feel my fingers have frozen inside my winter gloves, so I stop for a hot coffee at a gas station. While I’m recovering in the warmth inside, I take out my phone to check the map for the upcoming route, but surprisingly the app doesn’t work. What the hell?! I see I’ve got a message, I open it and I’m hit by the bad news: my service provider notifies me that I’ve added up an additional cost to my current bill – which no way I can explain, as I’ve got unlimited services to my account, so they restricted my roaming and internet access in order to protect me from paying a bigger sum! Come on, are they mad?! Without internet access I’ve got no map and I won’t be able to find and book hotels either! I’ve got to sort this out, but how should I do this without roaming services as well? Luckily, all I can still use my phone for is calling the customer service, so I try this, even it’s still early and I doubt anybody would answer. To my surprise, a young lady does, I explain her my problem and she comes out with a stunning response: that’s their standard procedure and, in order to unlock my services, I have to send them a hand-written and signed request!!! OK, I get over the impossibility of sending any messages, as she’d open a five minutes internet window for me, but how am I going to write anything, as I’m currently riding a motorcycle amidst an endless forest in the middle of nowhere?! I search my pockets and stumble upon the sheet of paper I’ve used for printing my ferry booking, which luckily I didn’t throw away, then I ask the gas station’s cashier for a pen, which isn’t easier either, as he doesn’t speak any foreign language and Polish is really impossible to me; next, I write the request on the back of the paper, I take a photo of it and e-mail it to the company. Surprisingly again, the girl keeps her promise and five more minutes later I’ve got all my services working again! Thank God, I’ve got away with it this time, but I can’t wait for giving them a real hard time for this one, as soon as I’ll get home.
As I’m getting closer to Szczecin, the traffic gradually increases and it’s still cold as hell outside. I take another hot coffee break in order to brace myself for one more hour or so of riding, then I bypass the city on its southern ring road and continue towards Gorzow – Zielona Gora – Lubin. In this area the landscape has changed, raising from the vast Baltic forested plain to an ocean of cultivated gently rolling hills, giving me a hint that I’m slowly approaching the imposing Tatra mountain range, which forms Poland’s natural border with Slovakia. The traffic on this road segment is quite low, the highway is a flawless four-laner, so I’m comfortably doing 80+ mph and thoroughly advancing on my long route today, especially that the sun has finally succeeded in warming the air to a more bearable degree. Nearby the town of Legnica, I turn left onto the A4 motorway connecting the big industrial cities in southern Poland to Germany and the traffic immediately becomes a crazy mess; thousands of cars and big trucks are crawling in both directions in endless lines and I have to slow down at less than 60 mph. I ride this way for about 250 miles, past the city of Wroclaw and the huge conurbation around Katowice and, finally, at about five in the afternoon, I get to gain some speed once again, after I pass by Krakow. Eventually, it’s now time for another break, in order to decide about the route I’m going to take to Slovakia and, consequently, the place where I’ll be sleeping tonight.
As I’ve said before, Slovakia allows a maximum transit time of eight hours only, so I have to stop for tonight while I’ll be still in Poland, then choose the shortest possible route to the Hungarian border. Fortunately, the Vysoke Tatry / High Tatras mountain base area is a pulsating tourist heaven, with multiple hotels and pensions in basically each town or larger village, therefore I’ve got plenty of options to choose from. As I really don’t need something fancy for just one night stop, I book a room at a cheap roadside motel in Rytro, a village located close to the Slovak border, and head on in the direction of Nowy Sacz following a narrow and crowded backroad. Once I get to the right address, I can recognize the building in the online photos, but there’s no motel sign or a reception either and also nobody to ask about it. I don’t understand, as I really don’t think somebody would bother to make a scam for 15 euros only, but I’m too tired after more than thirteen hours of riding to investigate further, therefore I book another room at a pension just a few miles away, in the village of Piwniczna-Zdroj – a real spelling trap! This one conveniently has also a restaurant and it’s located right on the border, so tomorrow morning I’ll be in pole position for the next stage of my route. It’s not easy for me to communicate with the old guy who is attending both the reception and the diner, as he’s not speaking any foreign language, but eventually I succeed in getting a decent room and a tasty late dinner, especially that piwo – the Polish word for beer – is part of my linguistic knowledge since a very long time ago :) The only unknown variable still remains tomorrow’s border crossing, as I haven’t been able to find online any information regarding the current open checkpoints, and the short walk I take to the bridge across the Poprad river doesn’t help either, because it’s too dark to see if there’s any barrier or police booth on the Slovak side. That’s it, I better go to sleep now and leave the worries for a new day.
Piwniczna Zdroj
I wake up early in the morning and, as there’s no breakfast available here, at eight sharp I’m already in the saddle. I ride carefully across the bridge, prepared to stop for the border control, but to my surprise there isn’t any! I’ve simply entered Slovakia without any fuss, like in the old good days before the pandemic. According to the rules I’ve read on the official transit website, I should check in at the closest police station, but considering I’ll ride the mere 100 miles to the Hungarian border in less than two hours, I decide to skip that and mind my own business. The first part of the route, to the town of Stara Lubovna and further on towards Prešov, I ride quite slow over green rolling hills and into a thick milky fog, which keeps on dampening my helmet’s visor. Once I’m getting closer to the big city of Košice, the landscape gradually lowers in anticipation of the vast Hungarian plain, the weather becomes milder, with the sun shily burning through the mist, and I’m vigorously taking the motorway, in order to gain as many miles as possible before noon. I tangentially pass by the city without stopping there, as I’ve already visited it twice in the previous years, then I continue on the almost deserted road heading to the Tornyosnemeti border crossing, where I get to at about ten thirty in the morning. Slovakia is over, Hungary is next!
About 100 yards after I pass by the border sign, a police car is blocking the road and two officers pull me over. The check over is simple and short: they take photos of my passport and the bike’s license number, inquire about my destination and give me a map which figures the mandatory transit routes and the allowed rest stops along them; in less than five minutes I’m free to go on! For the next 40 miles, up to the city of Miskolc, I ride on the narrow and bumpy old national road, together with way too many trucks and slow-moving cars, therefore it takes me almost a full hour to get to the motorway, but once I’m on it, everything goes smoothly and hassle-free. I stop for only one break within this 120 mile segment of my route and, at about two in the afternoon, I reach the Romanian border nearby the city of Oradea. Here the control is briefly over as well and few minutes later I stop in a shopping area’s parking lot, to take out my hoodie and winter gloves, as late September comes with 30°C in Romania, and figure out about tonight’s destination.
I’ve initially been thinking of stopping for tonight here, in Oradea, but considering it’s still early and I’ve got at least four daylight hours left, I set off towards Cluj-Napoca, planning to ride as far as I can. The national road is crowded like hell in both directions, the slow-moving trucks and coaches forcing me to do less than 50 mph, with the incoming traffic leaving me scarce opportunities to overtake them. Eventually, with lots of patience and persistence, I succeed in making my way forward to the top of the line, right in time for climbing the hairpins to the Ciucea pass, which is actually the gate to the province of Transylvania. [The pass is also known by its German name Königssteig, due to the fact that the road which crosses it has been built under the reign of the Habsburg Emperor Joseph II, about 240 years ago]. From here on, the road stretches clear ahead of me and I’m able to speed up a bit – I’m fully grateful to several incoming drivers who have warned me by flashing their headlights, just in time to avoid the insidiously positioned police speed trap, right at the end of a long straight stretch of road which tempted me to vigorously twist the throttle. The pulsating traffic compels me to stop only for a brief break in the village of Gilău, then I take the A3 motorway bypassing the city of Cluj-Napoca, before turning south on the A10 in the direction of Alba Iulia. The long shadows created by the flaming orange sunset signal me that it will get dark soon, so it’s time to look for a good place to sleep tonight and I find it 20 miles away, in the town of Blaj. I’m feeling tired, so the evening is quite short – I have a restful dinner on the terrace, then I fall sound asleep; the 1,000 miles I’ve ridden during the last two days have surely left their mark!
My last day on the road it’s going to be a calm and relaxed one, as I’ve got just about 200 miles left up to my place. Therefore, first I have a tranquil breakfast, then I’m getting ready to leave the pension later than I usually do, waiting for the sun to warm up a bit the cold morning air. Last year, also riding home from Oradea, I’ve had a terrible experience fighting the extra busy traffic on the main transit roads, so this time I decide to take as many backroads as I can on my way home. My first intermediate destination is the town of Mediaş, where I get to on a bumpy but totally free road alongside the wide Târnava Mare valley, then I turn south, through dense oak forests and over mild green hills, towards Agnita and further on to Făgăraş. I ride quite slow and carefully, due to the road’s poor condition and its numerous roadworks segments, but this is also a fortunate opportunity to admire Transylvania’s idyllic landscape and its medieval villages, each of them gathered around thick-walled fortified churches – the valuable heritage of the Saxon communities. After a mandatory snack-and-coffee break, I merge the national road heading to the city of Braşov and joyfully ride its wide high-speed turns going up and down the Perşani Mountains’ soft slopes, then I leave it in favour of another spectacular backroad, which is first crossing the Bârsa flatland, then it steeply climbs the Pârâul Rece / Cold Spring pass to descend on the southern slopes of the Carpathians into the province of Wallachia. The last 80 miles to Bucharest are basically my back yard, so I ride them at full gallop in “auto-pilot” mode and at about three in the afternoon I’m finally home!
In the evening there’s time for a bit of reflection: I’ve ended well an epic road trip which I’ve started in late June, during which I rode 5,000 miles and travelled another 3,000 by plane and ferry, I almost reached the continent’s opposite end, into the Arctic region, I’ve been dangerously close to moose and reindeer, I’ve experienced all the four seasons in three weeks time and in the end I crossed a disturbed and self-isolated Europe in a mad chase. Getting over the hard or just unpleasant moments, it’s been something novel and interesting and also a good replacement for my unaccomplished initial plans, which I hope I’ll be able to fulfil during the next back to normal year.
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