Day 12: Bruhagen to Trondheim (170 kms incl 155 by boat)

I crawled out of my tent, in a farmer's field just across the water from what someone had proudly informed me was the largest salmon-feed factory in the world, at 6.30 am to find it already hot. It was forecast to exceed 30 degrees today, which would have made it a hot day's cycling, if I'd done much of it. More of that in a minute. But, before I move on, when I was asking around in Bruhagen for a suitable spot to camp, a chap immediately quoted to me the Norwegian rule of "allemannsretten" -- "everyman's right" to camp, for a maximum of one night, on any uncultivated land more than 150 metres from the nearest dwelling. I had heard about this deeply-held right, enshrined in statute in 1957 but dating back to ancient times, a bit like Scotland's "right to roam" law. In Scotland it's generally been me quoting the "right to roam" rule, rather than people quoting it to me to tell me, "don't worry -- just go ahead". I told him I didn't want to annoy people and would always ask if there was someone to ask.

The EV1 heads up from Bruhagen to Kristiansund through the six kilometre long Atlanterhavstunnelen, or Atlantic Ocean Tunnel. One of the deepest undersea tunnels in the world, it is closed to cyclists, who are required to catch bus through it from a lonely park-and-ride site. I arrived there before 9.30 am, only to discover that, it being Sunday, the next bus wasn't for over three hours. With nothing for it but to sit and wait, I waited. After about half a hour a wheelchair-access taxi pulled up and disgorged two southbound cyclists. I hadn't thought of this! A quick chat with the driver bought me and Claud a £10 ride, and I must say, watching the road through the windscreen as it plunged to 820 feet below sea level, I was quite happy not to be cycling it. Even so, it was well gone 11 by the time we rolled into Kristiansund. Every May, the town hosts Europe's largest photographic exhibition -- Nordic Light -- and there is always an exhibition on at the permanent gallery, Nordic Light Fotohus. I quite wanted to visit the Fotohus, but, as in Alesund, I couldn't find a hostel bed. I didn't want to wild camp in a town, even one built, like Alesund, on a series of tiny interconnected islands, and I was also shy about subjecting my fellow humans to my presence at close quarters after four days' cycling in the heat without a shower. I then discovered there was an express boat leaving in half an hour for Trondheim, Norway's fourth largest city and more than 150 kms further up the EV1. I have some joker cards to play on this trip -- as a result of leaving a week late I need to cut the overall mileage from an estimated 1600 or so to some 1300 or I won't be home when I need to be. Also, for contingency reasons, I need be within reasonable reach of an international airport on Tuesday, and Trondheim has one. There were plenty of beds in Trondheim's excellent Romi Hostel, and I want to do a bit of sightseeing and culture, So I played a joker and caught the boat, speeding north 98 miles in 3hrs 40 mins, treating myself at the same time to one of the Norwegian ferry companies' standard offerings -- Scotch pancakes filled with buttercream (except I bet they don't call them Scotch).

Incidentally, the chap in Bruhagen who told me about allemannsretten was one of the few Norwegians I've seen actually using a bike to get around. He was going to see a friend when I caught him, and pushed his old machine up the hill beside me, explaining he didn't fancy riding. He told me that Norwegians always try to be approachable. He said, "We don't kill people, we Norwegians." Which makes it all the more puzzling that Scandinavia has produced a whole distinct genre of crime fiction -- Nordic Noir. I was ruminating on this on the express boat over my pancake when I overheard a chap who looked to me like he was channelling the Andrew Tate look, telling a visitor about his love of Black Metal Music. "My whole house is painted black inside, all the metal shiny black. It's like a vampire's cage," he told the puzzled Dutchman. I know nothing about music and won't make a fool of myself by pretending, but Norwegian Black Metal is a big thing here. When I was in Bergen looking at the Edvard Munch paintings, an entire exhibition on the history of Norwegian Black Metal was being set up in the city's largest gallery, next door. I can't square this circle. Maybe someone should ask Harry Hole.

Kristiansund Harbour shimmering in the heat. Left, express boat "o'hoi"-- as sailors say in these parts

• Btw, I can't get rid of the highlighting on the text above. Apologies.

• Also, there will be no Day 13 blog -- as I'm taking the day off to explore Trondheim, in line with my policy when I cycled to Istanbul, I won't be blogging on non-cycling days. (That's also why there is no Day 3 -- the Ven. and I were on the aeroplane).