Day 24 Austvagoya Island to Hinnoya Island (120 kms)

After a night's wildcamp quite close to the busy E10 highway on Austvagoya, the largest of the Lofotens, it was time to head for the ferry at Fiskebol to head north to the lesser-known, but also very beautiful, Vesteralen archipelago. After 30 minutes on the road, the chain inexplicably slipped from the jockey wheel of The Ven Claud's rear mech., ending up in a caffle completely outside the jockey wheel guide housing. I cannot work out how it is even possible for this to have occurred, let alone why it did. Twenty minutes by the roadside with an allen key put it straight, and I just hope it stays. On our way again, I urged Claud forward, whispering in his ear, as we were now racing to catch the ferry. A kilometre away I saw the tell-tale stream of cars approaching that showed it had docked and I thought we were too late -- but we just made it before they lowered the bow visor. Filthy from the repair, I raced up the companion way past the car drivers to get to the loo before them so I had a chance to clean up during the 20 minute crossing. Entering the gents', however, I tripped over the raised threshold they have on ships and slid headlong, fortunately still wearing my yellow cycle helmet, into the first open cubicle. I have to say I do understand why people were looking aghast at this strange oily figure who had just rudely rushed past them and was now lying half-in and half-out of the ship's lavatory door. I cleaned up quite a bit, but needn't have bothered as immediately on leaving the ferry I found a kind young Polish cycling couple helping a young German woman whose gears had failed just as she left the ferry. We worked out her gear cable had snapped at the shifter, but neither I nor the Polish guy had seen a shifter like it before. With the assistance of YouTube, a call by me to my friend Phil, who is a qualified bike mechanic not just a connoisseur of Norwegian foodstuffs, a little hinderance from me, and our combined nous (99 per cent Polish nous to be honest) the Polish guy managed to replace it and get all her gears back. I must say I was very pleased because she is clearly one of those cyclists with a very good sense of direction. Leaving the largish town of Leknes two days earlier, I had got hopelessly lost in a building site, to the point where I had to carry Claud down some scaffolding steps (this kind of thing happens to me a lot, for some reason). Emerging from this unlikely place, I suddenly saw her cycle past. "Is that the way?" I shouted, and on receiving a reply in the affirmative, pedalled off in her wake.

The Ven. and I were therefore a little later than intended leaving Meibu on tiny Hadseloya Island, but with the road almost flat and a following wind we made excellent time. Rain set in steadily and got heavier as we approached the town of Sortland, and once out of its suburbs and onto Hinnoya Island I found a camp spot just over the impressive bridge that links the two islands.

A soggy start to the night

I wished I'd lingered longer on the Lofotens (to channel Fred Astaire or someone) as I was conscious that I was cycling through when I should be stopping, climbing hills, and truly appreciating this extraordinary place, which certainly deserves another visit, with hiking boots rather than bike.