Fredrikstad to Bodo

Slartibartfast as his best….

By Jon Newey - retired Architect, Blood Bike rider, Adventure traveller - with Tigger - Triumph Tiger 800 XRX

It is raining. A lot. I dally in Fredrikstad hoping the rain will stop, but eventually there’s no choice: I’ve got to get going. I’m wearing all my waterproof layers and I’m battling against a steamed-up visor as Tigger and I set off, heading back towards Oslo. We reach the Oslo ring-road mid-morning. The traffic is slow. There are roadworks. There’s an empty lane to my right marked ‘7.5T’. This isn’t a bus lane so I’m not allowed to use it. It is a lane for big trucks, intended to ease the flow of goods vehicles in and out of the city. My big Givi panniers prevent me from filtering through the traffic in the narrowed lanes so we crawl forward in the drizzle. Before long, though, we’re on route 4 heading north out of Oslo. The road rises slowly up into the hills until we reach Brandbu and from there we follow the 34 past Randsfjord. The scenery is probably spectacular up here but most of it is hiding behind mist, low clouds, and a foggy visor.

I stop at a picnic layby to eat lunch but the rain keeps falling so I don’t linger. The 34 becomes the 33 as we head into Dokka. We’re amongst forests and cliffs and fjords now. We join the 51 at Leira and head east towards Hemsedal, our target for tonight. Again, the scenery is spectacular, probably….

Towards the end of the afternoon we arrive at Hemsedal campsite. I’m cold and wet. I really don’t fancy camping in this weather. I check to see if they have a cabin available. Come and look says Jens, the campsite owner. He shows me to a wooden hut where the heating is already on. No discussion needed, that’s where

I’m spending the night! There’s a fridge and a stove and a bed. I have emergency food supplies in my panniers (freeze-dried carbonara). There are solar powered showers on the site with plenty of hot water. No-one else is camping here tonight!

I set to drying my kit, downloading videos from my cameras and uploading files to Dropbox. In the process I discover that the microphone inside my helmet stopped working several hours ago. Water in the works! I strip out all the cables and connectors and sling them on a radiator. After a while the mic comes back to life. Phew. I have a spare one, but it isn’t as good as this one so I’m glad it was an easy fix.

By the next morning the weather has changed for the better. As I step out of the cabin I can actually see the mountains and cliffs surrounding the valley. They were invisible yesterday. Jens asks where I plan to go today and we have a brief discussion over some maps about the best routes to take. I decide to give the ‘Panorama-veg’ a try. Tigger is packed, my kit is all dry, so off we go.

Just beyond Hemsedal we pick up the first signs to Panorama-veg. We turn onto a narrow winding tarmac road which takes us up onto a plateau with great views down into the next fjord. Hurrah! I can actually see the scenery today! Suddenly the tarmac fades away and we’re riding on a wet,

hard, gravelly surface. It’s not too technical and not too steep, simple compared to the stuff we were doing in Iceland. Round a bend we stop at a barrier. Aha! The Panorama-veg is a pay-to-play experience. Bing. Fifty-five Norwegian Kroner goes off my Revolut card, the barrier lifts and we soldier on. What a spectacular route! Some parts get a bit steeper now and then, some parts a bit narrower. There are trees and lakes and warnings of reindeer (although I don’t encounter any). After a couple of hours we come to a second barrier and we’re back onto tarmac. Game over.

From here today’s route just becomes jaw-droppingly amazing. We pick up route 51 which takes us up and over the Bitihorn pass. Unbelievable! Is this Norway’s highest tarmac road? I think it might be.  We stop at a waterfall, Billingfoss, for a quick drink and a sketch, and press on. We zig-zag down into Lom and then pick up the road to Geiranger. The Geiranger road is even more amazing than the 51. It rises and falls, twists and turns. There’s snow in the verges. There’s not a breath of wind to ripple the mirror-glass surfaces of the fjords. And as if that wasn’t enough we’re soon approaching Geiranger fjord itself. It’s one of Norway’s most spectacular of the spectacular. Slartibartfast at his absolute best! A worthy award winner….

Billingfoss waterfall

And guess what? My hotel for tonight sits at the top of the fjord with views right down into it. Outstanding. There are no views from my room, though, obviously. My room’s the cheapo one round the back that looks out at the car park. But that’s OK. That’s where Tigger is parked! I eat reindeer stew for dinner (sorry Rudolph) and spend the evening reading my book in the panoramic lounge before scuttling away to my back-of-the-building garret to sleep. Norway’s scenery is going to have to go some to be better than what I’ve seen today.

There’s a good buffet breakfast. While packing Tigger I notice two Swiss-registered Harleys in the car park. They belong to Maurice and Patrick who are riding to Nordkapp from Geneva, both two-up. They say they’ve been on the road one week to get this far and they have two more weeks of riding to get to Nordkapp and back to Geneva. Wow. That’s some daily mileage! At least double what Tigger and I generally manage…

From the hotel the road instantly drops into a series of vertiginous hairpins. There are viewing points and tour buses, though not too many of those this early in the day. The road descends to the waterside and then starts to wind its way back upwards, zig-zagging like crazy to gain altitude up the opposite sidewall of the fjord. Like yesterday there’s no wind so the water in the fjord is like a mirror. We drop down into the next fjord and arrive at a small ferry terminal. Maurice and Patrick are already there so we chat a while as the small ferry takes us across to the other bank. Then we’re back into the harpins as we rise over the next pass.

By lunch time Tigger and I have arrived on Norway’s west coast at the port town of Alesund. There’s a free motorcycle parking area on the quayside so I slide Tigger into it, cover him with his cloak, and set off to explore the town. The interesting thing about this town is the architecture. Originally it was a typical Norwegian town with buildings all made out of wood, but a catastrophic fire in 1904 destroyed it completely. In the years that followed the town was rebuilt in masonry buildings, all designed in the Jugendstil style, Norway’s version of Art Nouveau. The Tourist Information Centre gives me a map with suggested walking routes so I wander through the streets looking at the buildings as I go. I stop for a sketch. The painting’s nearly complete when a young man in a delivery van parks it right in front of me, blocking my view. He spots me, realises what I’m doing, and with a cheery wave he moves the van a few metres further up the road. Perfect. That’s Norwegian good manners for you. I try to imagine the typical white-van-man in the UK doing that…

Jugendstil in Alesund

Today is Monday so the supermarkets are open again. I call in to buy crispbreads, cheese, and bananas to do lunches for the next few days. I also buy hairspray, not for controlling my helmet-hair, but to use as fixative on my sketches. It usually works a treat and I forgot to bring any with me.

Tigger’s still where I left him so we’re soon on the road again heading for Molde. I have some friends there to see later today. We ride past more fjords and mountains and I admit that I’m already getting fjord blindness. Oh look, there’s another spectacular fjord. And another, and another… To reach Molde we have the second ferry crossing of the day. I start to wonder if I should be paying for these. No-one has asked me to pay for a ticket. I consult the internet and discover that although motorbikes are toll-free

on toll roads that’s not the case for ferries. I doubt that they would ever be able to catch me with a fine, but I decide to do things properly and I pass the time on board by registering Tigger’s numberplate onto the ‘Ferrypay’ payment system. It will automatically detect Tigger’s numberplate and will automatically deduct the payment from my card without me noticing. A bit like pickpocketing, but legal, and with the added fun of a ferry ride.

The ferry is very quiet. It’s electric. The crossing takes twenty minutes. On the other side of the fjord Tigger and I ride through the centre of Molde and turn up-hill to find the car park at Molde’s hostel. I’ve got a single room booked. Perfect. Breakfast is included, there’s good wifi, and there are free waffles at tea-time. It’s walking distance to the centre of Molde where tonight I am meeting a friend, Torbjorn, and his family. I haven’t seen Torbjorn for almost ten years. It’s good to catch up with them all. They give me lots of hints and tips about places to see and roads to ride along. As I stroll back towards the hostel I snap a picture of the view across the fjord from Molde town centre. There’s a stunning panorama of mountain peaks stretching right across the horizon. Apparently there are 222 of them. People have tried to climb all of them in a single year but no-one has managed to do that….. yet.

Breakfast the next morning is muesli and boiled eggs. I’ve only seen three other people in the hostel while I’ve been here. It will be much busier next week, I’m told, because that will be the start of Molde’s famous jazz festival. It is one of the biggest and longest-running jazz events in Europe. I would love to stay for that, but my 90-day Schengen-Area limit is on my mind so I feel the need to keep moving forward. Like a shark. With Tiger stripes. A Tiger shark. Today’s ride is a special one. We’re heading for Trondheim but on the way we’ll be taking the Atlanterhavs Vegen, Norway’s Atlantic Road. You’ve probably seen photos of the steep curving bridges that look like crazy ski-jumps. Yup, that road.

So from Molde we track south round a headland to the small fishing town of Bud. That’s where the Atlantic Road starts. It is narrow lumpy tarmac and there’s a gusting cross-wind, so it’s similar to the Wild Atlant

ic Way in Ireland. I dodge in and out of a gaggle of campervans and the road swoops in and out of inlets and bays. Eventually we reach the famous section where that series of vertiginous bridges connects a group of small islands. They are fun to ride.

From there we come to a couple of long undersea tunnels taking us in and out of Kristiansund. And then there’s another short ferry crossing. On this crossing I chat to the French guy in the camper van behind me. He’s a digital nomad, working his way through a 14-month tour of Europe from Istanbul to Nordkapp. He says he uses a virtual background on his Teams meetings which makes him look like he’s in his home office back in Nantes but his wife ruins the illusion from time to time by shouting things like ‘Oh look, there’s a dolphin…’.

From the ferry we come onto a wide fast road which leads us into Trondheim. I’ve got two nights booked in the Remi Hostel here. The weather is warm and sunny now, the hostel is newly built, and there’s a locked underground garage for Tigger. Happy days. In reception I meet Ingrid. She’s a tall young Swiss lass, carrying a helmet and wearing biker gear. That’s her GS800 parked outside, she says. The bike is called Doffi. It turns out that Ingrid and I are going to be roomies for a night. She tells me she’s an apprentice joiner back in Switzerland but has quit her job to go travelling. She’s in her second week of her first solo motorbike tour. We have plenty to chat about so we wander into town to find some food (Mexican – the choices in Norway tend to be a bit limited….). She tells me she comes from a family of bikers and has grown up going on camping trips riding in the sidecar of her Dad’s Goldwing, so although it’s her first solo tour she knows exactly what she’s doing and is having the time of her life doing it.

The following morning is warm and sunny again. In the early light I stroll along to the supermarket to buy something for breakfast. There are deer wandering in the streets. Ingrid is moving on today, planning to wild-camp somewhere a few hours further north. We exchange Whatsapp details and I tell her that if she gets into any bother she should get in touch. Then again, maybe she’ll be the one helping me when I get stuck! Next I have a Zoom call to the office, my monthly contact with the world of work back home.  That done I sit for a while planning the next stages of my route. I book into a campsite in Mosjoen, an Abnb in Bodo, a hotel in Narvik and a Bunk-a-biker in Tromso.

With the admin all out of the way I decide to set out on foot to explore Trondheim. Before I get out of the hostel, though, I’m accosted by Max, a French cyclist, similar in age to me, who is keen to have someone with whom to play ping-pong. Little does he know that ping-pong is the only sport I’ve ever won a trophy for (Division 10 champion in the Mansfield league 1994…My claim to fame) He soon regrets asking! Royaume-Uni 1, La France 0. Ha!

Trondheim old-town is very pleasant in the sunshine. I stroll through streets of timbered houses, docks, wharves and bridges. On a whim I stop at a barber shop to get a much-needed haircut. The barber is Syrian. Before long he’s become my life-long friend. He gifts me a copy of the Quran as I leave. I’m not sure how or when I’ll read it, or how I will carry it on Tigger but it is very kind of him to offer it and I am too polite to refuse.

Trondheim’s main attraction is its big, gothic, stone-built cathedral. It is very unusual for Norway, where all the churches I’ve seen so far are small and built from timber. Apparently there’s evidence that the same stonemasons worked on cathedrals in Lincoln, Southwell, York and Kirkwall, suggesting a shared community of craftsmen across the North Sea.

Trondheim cathedral

Back at the hostel there’s football on the TV, The England Women’s team against their Dutch counterparts. Angleterre 4, Nederlands 0. Ha, again!

Sleeping is becoming difficult. There’s no night-time in this region at this time of year. It is forever day-time. No-one seems to use black-out blinds. I tend to cover my eyes with my neck-warmer and I try to hide under the duvet or the pillow, but it is only partially successful. As a result I’m up early. Tigger is out of his underground garage, packed and ready to go by 08:00. Max wants a ping-pong rematch, but I’m keen to get on the road.

We’ve got a relatively easy ride today. It will be around 400km, all on the E6 main road. That’s the road that goes the full length of Norway from Fredrikstad to Alta. Some days you just have to do the miles rather than the smiles…. I’m expecting a boring day of dual carriageway, but it turns out the E6 isn’t like that, at least not the part that goes north from Trondheim. Mostly it is single-carriageway and it winds itself up and down the valleys, flanked by lakes and trees and mountain peaks all the way. It’s a great road to ride. Or it would be if it wasn’t for the road-works. I get the impression that in Norway they try to do as much road construction as they can in the short summer month(s), while most Norwegians are on holiday somewhere else! So progress is a stop-start affair. It’s still spectacular, though, no question about that.

We pass more lakes, more peaks, more valleys, and yes, more roadworks.

By 16:00 we’ve arrived at the campsite I’ve booked in Mosjoen, the tent’s pitched and I’m relaxing in the sunshine. I think I’ve pitched it in the wrong place but it doesn’t seem to matter as long as no-one drives over me in the night. There’s a café for dinner (Pizza – the choices in Norway tend to be a bit limited….). I’m tired and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I always sleep better in my tent than anywhere more comfortable. Some bizarre form of masochism I guess.

Next stop Bodo. It has rained in the night so my tent is still damp as I pack everything away. We’re on the road by 08:30. Like yesterday this is mainly a simple ride north along the E6, but the E6 doesn’t pull its punches. There are more lakes, forests and snowy peaks than you can shake a stick at. After a couple of hours I

suddenly spot the Arctic Motorcycle Museum on my right and I pull into the car park. It is a tiny one-room building but it is crammed with fascinating memorabilia. There’s an old BSA with skis attached. There’s a war-time BMW with an axe embedded in the petrol tank. There are stacks of related bits and pieces all beautifully displayed. Well worth stopping for. A great example of why I don’t like to plan my days with twelve hours of non-stop riding!

The weather keeps me guessing. Sun, wind, cloud, rain, sun. Another hour further north we cross the Arctic Circle, or the ‘Polar Circle’ as they call it in Norway. There’s a visitor centre which provides the essential photo-op. We press on.

Early afternoon sees us turning off the E6 onto the 812 in the hope of finding something a bit more squiggly for the final hour’s ride into Bodo. The 812 certainly keeps up it’s part of that bargain. In addition to the lakes and peaks and forests there are more of the ski-jump-style bridges linking islands and inlets. Just mind-blowing!

Arriving in Bodo I’m ready to flop onto a hotel bed. However, at the B&B I’ve booked, ‘The Panorama’, the owner, Monika, greets me at the door. She’s very apologetic but she’s made a mistake with my booking. Other guests have asked if they can stay an extra night and she’s agreed to that before realising that I’ve already booked the room. Ooops. To fix it she has booked me into a different hotel, a posher one nearer the centre of town. That’s fine by me. The new hotel doesn’t have Monika’s panoramic view (I get a great view of the car park as usual…) but it includes breakfast. I’m happy with that. At reception I have to self-identify as Monika but no-one asks any questions and I’m soon settled in.

What a week it’s been. How I’m ever going to turn all this into useful videos for Youtube I simply can’t imagine. But hey, that’s a problem for another day. For now all I need is for ‘Maps.me’ to show me where the nearest restaurants are!

Tigger miles in 2023 = 8,024

Tigger miles in 2024 = 6,259

Tigger miles in 2025 so far = 5,198 (=8,318 km)

#jofsworldtour #tiger800 #motovlog #oslo #trondheim #norway