Day 1
Kirkenes - Tana Bru 135
Long day ahead. Up at 4:30, last minute packing and off to Gardemoen airport,standby ticket and a
Carl Lewis dash to the gate. We were lucky and got the first flight of the day at 8:00 am, and arrived
in Kirkenes after a couple of stop-overs at 10:30 am. After reassembling our bikes and taking the
first obligatory citynamesign picture we were on our way. Nice temperature and good to finally get
going. We started the day travelling in almost highland like scenery with a flat landscape with a lot
of birch trees. We biked past and along arms of the Varangerfjord like Neidenfjord, and had our
first meeting with the infamous north Norwegian mosquito. Huge monsters that were a hole lot
more aggresive than the once we ( as weaklings ) were used to from back south. Thanks to these
we ate our lunch standing up in the hallway at the local all in one shop in Neiden. From here we
travelled on along the Varangerfjord itself in a moonlike landscape, without trees and rocks
covering the hillsides down to the ocean. We had a chocolatebar in a windy restroom, past
Skipagurra and reached Tana Bru. Tana Bru consisted of a gas station, motel/camping site,
bank and a small shoppingcentre. We spent our first night in a small cabin with dinner consisting
of soup and pasta.

Day 2
Tana Bru - Valjok 128 km
We woke up a couple of hours after the alarm went off to another wet and grey day. We had
breakfast consisting of bread, tube cheese, cheap sausage slices and the first chocolate of the day.
Stock up on mosquito hats, which made it more of a challenge for our little friends but didn’t take
away there fighting spirit, and a fishing rod, which would give us the total of half a bowl of non
boneless fish soup for the entire trip. Well-invested money. We rode the whole day within a small
valley containing the Tana River, which is a very good but also very expensive salmon rich river, on
the other side of the river lies Finland. Passed by scattered houses, mostly cabins, and a few very
small villages. «Villages» the kind of which is made up of a road sign, then a couple of km, a few
houses, then 2 more km and a road sign pointing the other direction. The village had lapp names
ending like above in -jok , meaning place or city. We took a break and got supplies at an old style
merchant, the kind, which has everything you didn’t know you needed. Food, clothes,
officesupplies, medicine, tools and typically several sweepstakes machines. Later on we ran into
a couple of motorcyclists, the rest of the day we had the road to ourselves. We were not careful
enough with our food intake that day, and got to pay for that towards the end of the day. After our
late start we were aiming for 130 km for the day, but at 128 km we fall off our bikes at the side of
the road totally exhausted. We got pretty tired the other days as well, but not as drained as that
day. To end the day we set up camp inside the mosquito headquarter, which made the dinner and
evening toilet ritual into a fairly quick affair.

Day 3
Valjok - Gargoluobbal 140 km
Another day, another late start and more rain. We decided to eat a light breakfast and to try
and reach Karasjok as quickly as possible. It was a higher and denser forest around us than we
had been biking through the first two days, with more pine trees. Karasjok consisted of a citycenter,
a roundabout, and buildings along the roundabouts 4 arms. We had our break drinking hot
chocolate in the cafe, making a wet and cold body happy. In the cafe we saw the traditional
lapp costumes for the first time during our trip, but they were only worned by the old women.
We dug into a wholesome and well disserved lunch, tube cheese, yoghurt and caramel pudding,
against the wall of the local bank while getting road directions from a drunken man. In Karasjok we
also met fellow roadwarriors for the first time, actually several of them with different
nationalities. After having left the city we travelled upwards a few km to reach the Finnmarks
mountain plateau. And as long as you keep moving it is breathtaking. Flat mountain landscape
surrounds you in all directions, and the only buildings within miles are a couple of
hunting and fishing cabins. A joy for all the senses. We stopped for the day by a lake, and found
the best camping site we had for the whole trip. The canned dinner tasted excellent even if it were
spiced up with some mosquitoes, and after a few non successful attempts with the fishing rod it felt
great to retire within warm sleeping bags.

Day 4
Gargoluobbal - Alta 130 km
We woke up to a smiling sun and blue skies. And after bringing down our dried clothes from the
trees, it was time for a morning swim. A cold, quick morning swim, the only one of
the trip (see photographic evidence). We continued among the deserted highland landscape until
we reached an intersection. Here we met the road from Kautokeino to Alta, which was a bigger and
busier road than the one we came in on. The touristbuses passed us at a higher frequency. We biked
along a hillside, going up and down, until we reached Masi. Here we saw a roadsign describing a cafe,
and started to fantasize about freshly baked waffles. But the dream got shot to pieces, it was closed
because of rebuilding, and instead we had to settle for another lunch in a ditch by the road.
Almost as good.
We reached the end of the highland plateau, and were going to begin our descent towards Alta. The
descent was spectacular. The road and lake snaked their way side by side downwards inside a steep
and narrow valley (the picture of this doesn’t do the place justice). We stopped a couple of times
and tried our luck we the fishing rod. There were rings in the water and dreams of salmon for supper,
but no fish on the hook.
We spent the night in a small cabin a few km outside Alta, after waiting in line for 15 min on one
couple who was trying to get the bus schedule for the next weekend. Annoying. After a shower and
supper without any salmon it was time for bed, but unfortunately also time for fever.

Day 5
Alta - Sørstraumen 132 km
I woke up with fever and drained of energy. We thought of staying on for another day, but
decided to push on as far as my body would allow us. Which meant that Knut Morten would not
get any help in front that day and probably the next few days. We left Alta who showed herself
from her best side, with glittering sunlight and beautiful mountains as a picturesque background.
We passed by some Viking runes that we probably should have paid to see, but instead we
admired them from a safe distance on the highway. The building that contains them can almost be
seen in the picture.
We biked along fjordarms of the Altafjord for the first part of the day, and ran into several
«gangs» of middle-aged Swedish and German daytrip bicyclists who greeted us and smiled
knowing they were sleeping in a hotel room that night and not in a small uncomfortable tent. We
passed by lapps with their souvenir stands by the side of the road, small villages, which didn’t
measure up to; they’re marking on the map and some suspicious locals. Charming small, twisting and
«green» roads which some places looked like they were carved into the mountainside.
We ate our lunch, tomato soup with sausage and pasta, sitting on some rocks on the shore.
Here we also experienced one of the absolute highlights of our trip; I (not Knut Morten) caught the
only fish we got for whole 3 weeks. A gigantic one on 200-300 grams. The fish got cleaned and
were used in that evenings serving of half a portion of not boneless fish soup. Delicious.
After lunch one of the toughest hills of our trip had to be conquered. It wasn’t too high looking
strictly at the meter value, only about 700 meters, but it gave us a continuing and hard climb for
7-8 km. We then had to put on more clothes for the following descent, which brought us right back
where we started (at 0 m). And after I had been tricked to just go a little further, with candy like
day long we reached our average with 130 km.
a little kid, all We spent the night in our tent, next to a Dutch couple that must have negotiated a
peace treaty with the flying little devils. We had to settle for a beautiful view of the fjord
through the mosquito netting in the tent.

.

Day 6 and 7
Sørstraumen -( Tromsø - Finnsnes) - Andenes 228 km
Long day ahead. We were going to try and reach the ferry from Tromsø at 1:30 that night
The first leg was from Sørstraumen to a surprisingly large place, Storeslett. And after a pizza
lunch we had to hurry, it was time to catch some ferries. There were two small ferries between
Tromsø, and us and we had to reach curtain departure to be able to get to There before 1:30.
After some disagreement between the road signs and our bike computer we reach the first ferry with
only a few minutes to spare. We manage to get the weekends football scores and half an hour sleeps
in yoga positions during the crossing.
The second leg from Lyngseidet to Svendsby is short, but naturewise breathtaking. A green ocean
and overcast, with the mountains green on one side and grey on the other reaching up
piercing the sky. Creating an almost trollike mood. The second ferry crossing is somewhat
shorter than the first and pass by without any sleep.
The next part from Breivikeidet to Fagernes seem very deserted, and even though there are a few
houses along the road we see little light in the windows and even fewer people. We pass straight
through the middle of the island. On the other side of the island it is time for some energy restoring,
Pringles, apples and tube cheese, before the last leg towards Tromsø is biked in heavy rainfall. We
have time for a quick Tromsø by night sightseeing before be bike onboard the Hurtigruta ferry.
A shower and some dry clothes later we eat the second pizza of the day served with the worst
service I have ever experienced. But tired and hungry everything tastes good. We got 2-3 hours of
sleep before the ship reaches Finnsnes, and it is time for us to get of. We had planned to put up our
tent and squeeze a few more hours sleep before the night were officially over, but could not find a
camping site. So we ended up going further and further until there practically were no more night left.
Instead we decided to push on to reach Gryllefjord and rent a cabin and sleep all day.
We travel across the island Senja, which has quite a variety of landscapes packed into relatively few
square miles. Dense forest, mountain highland and rough coastline all in one. Especially the last part
along the coastline is beautiful. Here the road clings on to the mountainside, before it goes up and
over the last top and reach Gryllefjord. We unfortunately had a little trouble seeing the beauty of it,
being dead tired and spending the last hour with punishing rainfall.
In Gryllefjord we had a much needed changing of socks, and had some deliciously tasting bake
goods at the local food store. Gryllefjord also had their share and a little more of the countries
sweepstake millionaires. The diplomas hang side by side on the wall in the before mentioned food
store. Then we took our fourth ferry, a whale safari without any whales but with a whole bunch of
foreign speaking tourists, from Gryllefjord to Andenes. But even though there were no whales the
crossings were not without any entertainment. It came by curtsey of an American man who insisted
on telling strangers in a loud voice how much money he made. After reaching Andenes we checked
into a youth hostel and got the family room, with cable TV and a Japanese roommate. The rest
of the day was spent with our legs up in front of the TV.

Day 8
Andenes - Fiskebøl 146 km
After one quite and nice day in Andenes, we started the next day as usual a little late. This time in
glorious sunshine. Our first stop was an old university friend of mine living in Åse. From Andenes to
Åse the road was without any climbs, and with the wind coming from behind for the first time it
didn’t take long. Then almost exactly as we reached the city sign, there was a small accident. I
would like to say I was not to blame, but then I would be lying, in causing Knut Morten to kiss the
pavement in more than 30 km/h. He injured his thumb, knee and his bike. It led to cleaning of the
wound, taping, blueberry pie and ice cream in Åse. But continuing movement of the legs (knees) on
the bike everyday is not ideal healing conditions, so the wound kept leaking for the rest of the trip.
The bike must also have gotten a bigger knock than we first thought, because from that day on it
suffered breaking of several spokes almost daily. Annoying and costly.
We pushed on across several bridges before having our lunch in the entrance of a food store on
Sortland island. We continued across more bridges and more flat landscape, Andøya island had a
fairly large farming community, passing Stokkmarknes and reaching Melbu. Here we took yet
another ferry, which brought us over to Lofoten islands to a small place called Fiskebøl. Fiskebøl
were made up of a quay and a shed, at least that was all we could see went we got of the ferry. We
biked a few hundred meters before we found a nice camping site and called it a day.

Day 9 and 10
Fiskebøl- (Moskenes - Bodø) - Fauske (Rødås) 230km
Doing Lofoten in 24 hours
I wake up due to the heat, which inside the tent is reaching volcanic proportions, and
mixed with Knuts sulphur like body odour it makes for every man for himself as I desperately
rip open the tent door. The survival instinct had yet again saved me from the jaws of death.
On sore limbs from the fall the day before I stumble across the road and lie down and wait
for my knight in shining armour to show his face. I lie there for a few minutes, nothing happens,
the man can sleep through an air raid, so I have to pull out the big guns. I open the tent door
and let the mosquito do the dirty work. A few seconds later he dives out of the tent,
screaming like hell, he hates bugs and insects. After spending 3 hours breaking camp and
playing hide and seek with our small flying friends, we find our selves on our bikes ready to
roll on. My leg hurts and the bike has lost some of its stability because of the crash. But the
feeling of pain is quickly diluted by a nature, which is raw, picturesque and everything the
tourist info promises. It is overwhelming and all my premonitions of Lofoton comes true,
positively. Svolvær: Three things is on the menu, these are changing spokes, eating and
checking out the world famous Svolvær goat. Knut has seen this rock formation, which sits on
top of a mountain, once before and manages with preach like persuasion to talk me into looking
up at it. The sight was pitiful. The bike got fixed with what looked like an experienced hand,
something that turned out to be a big illusion, and a source of irritation and diminished life
expectancy. After walking around in Svolvær for a few hours I got the feeling the locals had
been corrupted be years of expanding tourism. The genuine local traditions and customs seemed
forgotten, and it felt like a city you can find everywhere else in the world. A city destroyed be
American foreign policy and German tourists trying desperately to put 50 year old identities to rest.
The people surprised me; they hurried past us in convertibles and yachts. Lofoten is Norway’s
new place for the hip, young and newly rich. You were measured by your mobile and your lipstick,
just like one experiences in Norway’s Cosmo political centre. Lofoten was a good example of the
collision of nature and culture. The people had not been touched by the awesome nature which
surrounded them, but seem to exploit it by trying to sell as much of it as possible in a cheap and
quick fashion. This part of the trip was a meeting with spectacular nature while trying to steer away
from the cultural sellouts.It became a long day, a lot of biking and a lot of nature. We rode past one
gem after the other, without really thinking of their mythological place in the north Norwegian
consciousness. Places like Reine and Henningsvær. After 7 hours of bike time we reached
Moskenes a city near the tip of Lofoten island. This was the ferry port which connected Lofoten
with the mainland. To our big surprise there were an extra ferry leaving that night at 0300. We
decided to make use of it rather than putting up camp near Moskenes , but ran into some problems.
We had only money enough for one ticket and the local mini bank was empty. After some
negotiation we agreed to a deal where we paid for one ticket then and the other when we arrived
at the bigger city of Bodø. So after arriving in Bodø Knut Morten went to find a bank machine while
Knut was held as collateral. In Bodø I called my grandmother. She lives in a village called Rødås 75
km east of Bodø. Now we were only hours from being pampered. Grandmothers do what
grandmothers are supposed to. From the very first minute we were fed an anti supermodel diet, and
gained back some of the bodyfat we had lost so far on our trip. We had reached the halfway point
of our trip, and decided to stay for a couple of days. Good days with a lot of food and soft beds.
Our beaten bodies slowly regain their strength and the will to continue got stronger proportionally
with our calorie intake.

Day 11
Fauske(Rødås) - Mo i Rana 190 km
After finishing off a breakfast large enough to feed a grown family (mom, dad, grandpa,
mother- in- law, John, Jill , little Jack and Lassie), it was time to say goodbye to Knut-
Mortens grandmother. She gave us a solid lunchbox and wished us good luck. The
next night we would be back in our sleeping bags, no more white sheets. With yet
again new spokes we start the day in good spirit. The first part of the day we biked
undramatically along the Skjerstadsfjord, continued past Rognan and entered the
Saltdalen valley. Here we experienced the worst-case scenario, the thing that just
must not happen on a trip like this. One of our bikecomputers decided to quit. It
started to rain, but we hardly noticed it, the thought of biking all the way to the next city
without getting the km counted on the odometer is overshadowing everything else. After
a few minutes of idiotlike attempting to fix the problem the inevitable happened we
( Knut Morten) made the damage worse. It was Saturday afternoon so were not able to
do anything about it before Monday.The climb up Saltfjellet mountain begins. When one
is southbound this climb is a little like a chinese ricefield or a stairway, it is arranged into
steps. The whole way the road is followed closely by the Saltdals river and a dense
vegetation, which makes the climb a beautiful one. We pass by foodstands, lookoutpoints
and touristbuses before we reach the top. Here we eat our lunch in a cabin placed there
incase the road across the mountain is snowed in. It is cold this day as well, but fortunately
not that cold. We finish off a delicious bacon omelette which Knut Mortens grandmother made,
but a let down in our water refill plan leaves us relatively thirsty. So after having squeezed the
last drop out of our water bottles, we continue on like beduines towards the oasis. This takes the
form of a public toilet at the Polarcircle touristcenter. The center is filled with tourists who are
willing to pay several national budgets for a dry cake and a rubber troll, as long as it is part of the
«genuine» Norwegian experience. After taking the obligatory picture by the polarcircle monument at
ca 700 meters and looking at yet another war memorial, we put on some more warm clothes for the
on coming descent. This passed by undramatically and we found ourselves inside the
Dunderlandsdalen valley together with the river Rana. It started to get pretty late, and we looked for
a place to put up our tent. A whole day had passed without a breaking a single spoke, but we sang
of victory too soon. At the risk of sounding to dramatic and fictitious, it happened practically on the
last hill of the day. Clip! The sound was unmistakable and one we had come to be all to familiar with.
But this time fortunately only one spoke had broken, which meant that the bike still kept most of its
balance. We biked on a little less cheerful, until we stopped for the day a few km outside Mo i Rana.
Here we «cleared» a campsite in an overgrown field, before we settled in for another night as Julia
Roberts in Sleeping with the enemy. A quick dinner and some concerned thought of having put up
our tent on private land, before we said good night to our small flying friends and zipped up.

Day 12
Mo i Rana - Mosjøen 100 km
With only one spoke broken from the day before we decided to try our luck and keep going.
After a few km it was time for breakfast, which we ate in blistering sunshine at Statiol gas station
in Mo, i Rana. Freshly baked bread and yoghurt, life was good.
After having left Mo i Rana we continued alongside the Ranafjord past Finnfjordseid and Bjerka
until we arrived at Korgen. We passed below a railwaybridge and saw a roadsign reading 0 - 9 km
9 %. This can’t be correct, according to the map we are only supposed to climb up to about 550
meters.Looking back it was a 9 % increase all the way up the mountain, but it was a long continuing
climb.After a few hundred meters I painfully had to admit that as usual Knut Morten said thank you
for the company and disappeared up the hillside. I would like to be able to blame it on difference of
weight on our bikes, but must bitterly face the fact that the difference was in the legmuscle. Half way
up the mountain Knut Morten suddenly came walking back towards me pretty pissed off. A little
further up the hill laid the reason thrown down by the side of the road. Three more spokes had
broken, and the rearwheel looked like a wornout bellydancer. I suggested that he hitchhiked to
Mosjøen, but this was promptly turned down. He didn’t want to get any free km, but to use the bike
all the time as long as we travelled on dry land. I tried to tell him that if it had been my wheel I would
have hitchhiked, but he didn’t believe me. The backbreaks got disconnected to prevent it from
running against the wheel, and then it was back in the saddle again. It must have been like riding a
horse the way the seat moved up and down because of the tilting of the rearwheel. We reached the
top and had a fantastic view of the Elsfjord while eating chocolates and biscuits. The following
descent was oddly enough of almost the same length as the climb we just had put behind us. Then
we bike on through flat landscapes, passing villages, cabins and camping sites before the road dived
sharply down to Mosjøen. We decided to stop early that day, so we could fix the bike and the
bikecomputer the next day before we continued. We biked through the citycenter which was bigger
than we expected, threw down an icecream with chocolate topping and put our tent up at a camping
site south of town. Unusually for us we had stopped early enough for there still to be something to
watch on the TV. We watched the footballresult together with some annoying people from
Kristiansand. My team lost. After putting up the tent it was time to hit the showers. They were of the
type you had to pay for to get warm water. 10 kr for a few minutes. I chose the wrong one and got
4 minutes for my money, while Knut Mortens timer was broken which meant that he had unlimited
supply of the warm water. I heard the water still running and joyful singing when I closed the door to
the bathroom. The lucky bastard. For dinner we had pasta and ham, which didn’t taste as good as
it used to, after earlier having tasted some deliciously spiced fish made by a sweet Pakistanian
woman.

Day 13

Mosjøen - Harran 180 km

After getting new spokes, a new bikecomputer and one more chocolate covered icecream we said

goodbye to Mosjøen. While the spokes got changed we had the time to walk around in the city,

visiting the old part of the city by Sjøgata. Got supplies, pasta and blister band aid to sore achilles

heels. I had been biking to long with wet feet, and the achilles heels paid the prize.

The day turned out to be fairly long and boring. To begin with the road was moving upwards, and

we soon got the feeling of being high up. But in reality we were never higher than a couple of

hundred meters above sea level. We continued past the salmonpalace Laksfors, with its waterfall and

salmonrich waters. A little expensive for us, but not for some tourist. There were spoken several

different languages along the shoreline. Then we travelled along the Sveningsdal river until we reached

Majavatn, which was largely marked as a village on the map. We started to fire up our cooking gear

on the steps of a local shop, but when it started to rain we decided to move indoors and buy dinner in

the cafe. It had a stuffed bear and a pretty cabin design, perfect surroundings in which to eat well

tasting gamestew. The only drawback was the portions being to small to cover the energy

requirements after half a day on the bike, so we had to fill up on chocolate and biscuits.

After watching children’s tv and taking a quick walk down memory lane from when Knut Morten

camped here as a child, it was time to get back on Old Faithful. We wanted to get some more km

done before we stopped for the day. A few km later we officially said goodbye to northern Norway

when we passed underneath the aurora borealis inspired Nordlandsporten arch. We expected to

hear the traditional Trøndelag footballsuppoter songs and see some Trøndelags moustaches, but

were disappointed. We were now biking along within the Namdalen valley, and had our next break

at Namskogens cabin and amusement park. A modern and large complex laying all by itself in the

middle of the forrest. It is difficult to image it attracting to many tourists being so far from any larger

cities. For us it was a place that offered a toilet break and some more biscuits.

We continued on to Harran, which we reached at 23:30, before we finally got off bikes that day.

Here we found a great little camping site in the village’s small park. A flat and even lawn, and

picnictables with a roof. We tried to stay incognito and hide away in a corner of the park, but

didn’t succeed. A couple of watchful eyes had spotted us from behind some curtains. Feared for

a moment the local sheriff and a angry lynchmob, but saw neither.

Day 18
Oppdal - Ringebu 183 km
This turned out to be the fastest leg of our trip. I have to be allowed to brag a little here, because
I am quite proud to say the this day we averaged more than 30 km/h (admittedly with some extra
help the last 10 km in the form of my cousins fresh legs). We were to cross the highest point of the
trip that day at Hjerkin about 1000 meters above sea level. The sun was shining, and it was
probably the best weather we had for the entire three weeks. After breaking our very private camp,
we biked the few hundred meters to downtown Oppdal. New spokes were to be bought, and the
most important meal of the day to be eaten. As usual a familysized breakfast, with a little
more than the minimum energy requirement. But one burns quite a bit spending a whole day in the
saddle. After having left Oppdal the road soon started climbing. In the beginning not too steeply.
We passed a lonely lappcamp, which could only have looked authentic to the most gullible tourist.
But they probably still were able to sell their souvenirs, even though they were not all made in
Norway.
It started to get steeper after a while, and as with boys in general it got competitive. We had biked
this part the year before, and were firmly committed to go faster this time. If it meant that we sadly
had to miss some cultural treasures or natural wonders that was a prize we were willing to pay.
Finally we reached the top out of breath, with a fast beating pulse and stiff legs. Took a well
disserved break by the stone monument which marked the roads highest point, before we
continued across the Dovrefjell mountain plateau. We were now in the heart of trollcountry. We
had biked past several trolls so far on our trip, because every village with any self-respect had a
huge piece of something standing next to the local motel. Undeniably a well working touristmagnet,
and here on Dovrefjell lay the headquarter namely Dovregubbens Hall. After having passed this the
road dived steeply down towards Dombås. Dombås was full of people, and we had an icecream
break here. Dombås is also the home of the world famous Dovregubbens rike trollpark, with enough
trolls for most people. A few km after having left Dombås we entered the northern part of the
Gudbrandsdalen valley. The part from Dovre and almost until Otta, did not play second violin to any
of the valleys we had biked through further north. The valley was narrow and deep, and there
weren't much space to spare after the road, river and railway each had taken their part. After
Otta came Sjoa, Kvam and Vinstra before we met my cousin in Hundorp. He had come to meet us
from Ringebu, and stayed in front of our trio on the way back. We put up our tent in their
garden and were spoiled rotten, eating all the strawberries we wanted from my uncles
strawberryfield.

Day 19
Ringebu - Minnesund 175 km
Second to last day. We had originally planned to bike the rest of the way home when we woke up
that day, but a short break at Minnesund took a little longer time than we thought. After having
broke camp and unsuccessfully tried to wake up my cousin, we biked to the nearest gas station
and bought some bread. And after having filled up on freshly baked bread and tubecheese we
continued down through Gudbrandsdalen. We passed Fåvang, Tretten and several camping sites
before reaching Lillehammer. Here we stopped for dinner. We fired up our cooking gear on a
bench in the middle of town, and prepared some delicious soup and pasta. And even thought it
started to rain the streets were filled with French and German tourists. Our outdoor cooking show
gave a mixed response. Some people thought it was a fun input from a couple of crazy Norwegians
(Germans), while others turned the head in disgust (Frenchmen). We continued with rain and wind
along the eastside of the lake Mjøsa past Moelv to Brumunddal. And after a filling hot dog and
some geniuslike navigation we moved in on Hamar, Hedemark county’s capital. We biked straight
through Hamar without stopping, except once to ask for directions. Next was Stange, and the road
from here to Minnesund on bike can warmly be recommended. The bikepath signs turned us off
the new highway, and onto smaller and less busy roads. From Vikselv to Minnesund one also had
a beautiful view of Mjøsa. We reached Minnesund way past midnight, but not before the bikepath
we had travelled on mysteriously disappeared in thin air. This was the case one too many times
during our trip. The bikepath signs were many places standing safely and showing directions, but
in reality they weren't much worth. Either they pointed towards the highway, or they pointed to a
bikepath which only lasted for a few hundred meters before it disappeared. After reaching
Minnesund we decided to take a short break at the Statiol gas station.
We were both cold and tired, so we opened our sleeping bags, only wanting to rest for a few
minutes and warm our bodies. Of course we fell asleep and didn't wake up until hours later.
We woke up to daylight and had to write day 20 in our travelogue. But as with our first
sleepover at a gas station we had gotten the morning paper for free, this time without
the complimentary coffee. Spending the night at a gas station was starting to become our
speciality, and can be warmly recommended. Dry and safe and with the suite comes free
morning paper and possibly coffee.

Day 20
Minnesund - Home (Oslo) 50 km
After politely having been chased away from our Hotel Plaza, we started on the final km of our
trip. As most travellers we felt a little sad that it was about to end. Not that we were returning
from a yearlong expedition, but we had been away long enough to get used to some routines
travelling by bike. Our next trip was thankfully not too far off in the future.The day took us past
Eidsvoll Verk and Gardemoen, after which we took a long not planned detour before reaching
Kløfta. Then it was the shortest route the rest of the way, home to a shower, bed and resting of
sore limbs.It was definitely worth it, every beautiful km, and we hope this may be an inspiration to
the thousands and thousands of readers of our site.