Crispin’s Guide to Stirling Cycling -
Overseas
June 1999 – Norway
Wot I Did On My Holidays
Crispin Bennett
With Sarah announcing that she was going to Thailand with my sister for
two weeks, I was left looking for something to do for my summer holiday. This was a perfect chance to tour Norway on
a CTC-tour organised by Brian Curtis.
Although I am a very experienced tourist, I had never ridden an
organised tour.
It all started when we got
on the ferry at Newcastle. Seventeen
strangers, Brian-the-tour-leader and me.
It was nerve-wracking standing on the dock side, comparing my bike with
18 others while desperately trying to remember everyone’s name. As one chap said, everything that has ever
been advertised in the CTC mag was on a bike on that tour. That and everyone seemed to be called John,
unless they were called Peter.
After a 26hr ferry crossing
we arrived in Bergen in time to cycle 6 miles up a very steep hill to the
hostel for dinner. Then we cycled back
down and got on another ferry. This was
a real posh coastal steamer, a sort of floating hotel type thing. Confusion as to what the other knob was for
on the controls for the bathroom was solved when it was pointed out that the
floor could be heated !
At 7.30am the next morning
we rolled off the ferry at Maloy and headed as a group along an overcast
Nordfjord. We all got to try out our
lights in the many tunnels and climb our first big hill. Only a baby at 1000ft but a bit of a
challenge in the rain. It was then a
gloriously sweeping descent to the hostel at Hellesylt, where we were to spend
three nights.
The next day’s ride was a
classic. A gentle climb gave views of
Geiranger fjord and a long, gentle descent to morning coffee. A quick ferry ride led to a massive climb
and 30mph descents through tunnels as dark as infinity. The tunnels were terrifying, with the rumble
of the occasional passing car being amplified to a crescendo. Another ferry trip and lunch led to a 2000ft
climb and a breathtaking zig-zag descent of the Eagle road into Geiranger and
ice cream. I used half a roll of film
on the ferry back to Hellesylt.
More sunshine the next day
for a gentle 40-mile wander along Norangdalen to Leknes and back. The road passed within inches of plummeting
mountain sides, body swerving lakes to leave you unsure of where it would turn
next. Morning and afternoon coffee with
apple pie and ice cream at the Union hotel was another highlight, while lunch
was spent basking in the sun looking at the snow-capped hills. Clifford proved his mettle by eating two ice
creams that afternoon.
Norangdalen
Moving on from Helleyst
involved a 7.30am ferry trip back to Geiranger before we climbed 3000ft in 10
miles to the ski station and coffee.
This was one long climb, although photo-stops gave an opportunity for a breather.
This climb was made easier by the discovery of the fun that could be had by
telling the tandemists that their drag brake was dragging, and Clifford that
his hub dynamo was on, even if they weren’t.
Oh the joys of mind over matter.
The continous slog resulted
in everyone being strung out along the road, but it was hardly a hardship to
wait in the ski station at the top, sipping hot chocolate. The headwind that followed was a real
character builder: were we ever going to get to lunch? It was then a gentle climb on an unmade
road, with snow banked up on both sides, and a 3000ft descent past downhill
skiers. Thankfully, there was a chance
to stop to cool overheating rims and drink more coffee. This was a tough 70 miles and Rachel said
the climb was worse than childbirth, but we all agreed that it was one of the
best rides we had ever done ! The other
group had also had a cracking day, taking in a walking-route on their bikes and
bypassing the big climb. But where is
the fun in that ?!
The day after this we stayed
at a hostel that doubled up as a sweetie shop ! Clifford had his hair cut by
Cathy after we all persuaded him to wear his receding hairline with pride. After an overload of sugar and licourice we
were well prepared for a toughie including two big climbs. There was more snow to be cycled past, a
view that I can’t even start to describe it was so stunning, and then mile upon
mile of zigging curves and zagging hairpins to descend. Clitheroe John resorted to using his dynamo
as a drag brake. We rounded off this
85-miler with a sprint finish into Dragsvik.
The Vik tunnel
After a day spent pottering
along Sjornfjord, we moved on. Culture
vultures visited the stave church at Vik, while I was content merely to
photograph it from the outside.
Clifford discovered that his hub-dynamo really was on this time. The rest of us could not tell a lie and
immediately blamed Cathy. The Vik
mountain road is a classic, with 1500ft plus of climbing before disappearing
into a tunnel in the snow through the top of the mountain. David chose this point to lose his
chain. Four of us stopped to help and
soon wished we hadn’t as this tunnel was dark and refrigerated! A different weather system was in place on
the far side, with a strong wind also in residence.
It started to rain as I
began the descent, and the poor blighters at the back really got cold and
wet. It took almost two hours for
everyone to regroup at the lunchstop so that could we hurtle downhill for 20
miles in the pouring rain.
Waterfall at Tvinnerfoss
Voss was almost metropolitan to us country dudes: it had a choice of bars and stuff. Beer was still Ł4 a pint but hey-ho. We found a very trendy bar to hang out in, where the local skateboarders were prepared to ignore us. This time it was Gary’s turn for a haircut. A couple of days were pleasantly spent here, cycling round lakes, drinking coffee, climbing mountain roads to nowhere, eating cake, standing under waterfalls, eating ice cream, descending mountain roads from nowhere. You get the picture.
And then we had to cycle
back to Bergen. There was a choice of a
35-mile train-assisted route or the purist-route cycling all the way. As far as I could see, there was no
choice. 105 miles Brian said. He didn’t mention the heavy rain and 6000ft
of climbing. It was mid-morning when
the fun really started. Lunch was spent
sheltering under a wooden picnic canopy and then we climbed forever in pouring
rain. It was a relief to enter a tunnel
and get out of the rain for a few minutes before emerging, blinking, back into
the deluge.
My abiding memory is of
sweat running down the inside of my rain jacket. The descents were something else: blinding spray and side winds
with the brakes full on but having no effect at 40mph. A wing and a prayer got me round the
hairpins. During the afternoon, Brian
gave us the option of stopping for coffee.
There weren’t any dissenters.
After an eternity we got to the hostel (at the top of the very steep
hill I mentioned back on day one) only to discover that the sissies were
running a sweepstake on who’d be home first - Ian (64 years young and very
strong) won by a tyre although Linda was too busy trying to decide whether this
was her worst ever life-experience to race for the line (no kids yet !). Did I mention that it rained a lot that day
?
Then it was time to come home. A brilliant time was had by all.
© Crispin Bennett 1999
Photos from the 2004 tour to Norway – here