Day 10 Sovik to Malmefjorden (88 kms)

A superb day's cycling -- warm, dry, gentle breeze -- and not much more to be said than that! The first 17 kms took me down to the ferry landing at Brattvag on the north side of the island I camped on last night -- in fact I overshot by 3 kms due to being distracted by a hardware shop (one of my weaknesses) and had to double back to the turn. I arrived in time for a wash in the disabled loo at the ferry station (that's the secret to keeping clean while wild camping) and to charge my various devices. It was already half past twelve by the time the ferry pulled in, and I had my lunch on board (bread and olives I bought at the CoOp, a rather paltry meal I have to say) while the somewhat ancient vessel made its slow way across the short stretch of sound to the island of Dyna, where the EV 1 continues along delightful country lanes with verges dressed in harebell, thrift, bird's foot trefoil and lupins -- spring flowers in many parts of Britain, summer's glory here. Crossing a bridge to the next island in a string of four cycled today, I rolled into the main village of Midsund to find preparations for the summer festival there this weekend well underway. I was arrested by the delicious smell of chicken kebabs on a barbecue set up to raise money for refugees, and felt it only right to have a second lunch immediately.

My route continued along quiet roads, busier roads, and cycle tracks around the west side of the next island, Otroya, passing in one village a memorial to the 75 local men lost to the sea between 1703 and 1960. Given what a dangerous business deep-sea fishing was, and still is, I am surprised it wasn't more. Still the memorial, outside the local white-painted wooden church -- they are called "stave churches" in Norway -- was a sobering sight.

Further on, at a place called Hestadholen after another ferry link, I came across the smallest stave church I've yet seen (they always seem to be locked, which is a shame, because there are many travellers who would want to pause for a moment inside):-

The tiny "stave" church at  Hestadholen. I've left the wheelie bin in for perspective

A final burst took me down to the next fjord, where after asking around to check it would be OK, I found myself again camped by the water's edge, with the supper on, and a view across the fjord to a set of peaks in the distance that look to me just like the Ring of Steall in Glen Nevis, and itching to be walked one day perhaps...

Cooking supper