Day 29, Storsteiness to Storslett (86 kms)

It was raining when I went to sleep, and it was still raining when I woke up, wildcamped on a patch of field margin on a strip of land given over mainly to silage and haylage-making and free range sheep, overlooking a branch of the Ullsfjord; the Lyngen Alps were to the other side of me, but with cloud down to a few hundred feet I could see nothing of them. I could rarely see the sheep either -- but I could hear the musical notes of the bells they were chiming through the gloom.

I cycled round to the the ferry quay at Lyngseidet to catch the ferry across the Lyngenfjord -- the longest fjord in the region -- to Olderdalen. This was the last of a myriad of ferries that the Ven Claud and I have taken on this trip. While regarded by motorists as a bit of a nuisance, for cyclists in Norway the ferries are a great boon. Wild camping, there is nowhere to charge one's devices and even a 20 minute crossing allows one to add a few vital per cent from the vessel's sockets. Many of us got into the habit of always washing our previous day's socks in the hot water on board, and I often had a chance for a welcome wash myself. I shall miss the ferries as I head north now on my last few hundred kilometres to Nordkapp and I'll have to find another way to keep my phone, bike lights and laptop alive.

The heavy rain continued all day, and the only time I got out of it was while cycling up the mountain bypass road for the 4.5 km Sorkjostunnelen, which is closed to cyclists (fine by me). Once above the clouds, I was temporarily above the rain. I gave up the battle about 6.30 pm. pulling into a stopping point at picnic tables beside a small river in the Reisa National Park. The occasional brown bear is known to frequent the park, but most of them (I read) remain on its wilder eastern edge, next to the border with Finland, to which we are now very close. Readers will recall that when cycling to Istanbul last year, I was mildly and completely unnecessarily concerned about becoming supper for one of the huge predators. I trust that here, within earshot of the E6 highway, I shall be spared the role of tasty morsel, and a sandpiper sounding its repetitive note will lull me to sleep.

The Ven Claud's last ferry journey of the trip north is over -- the electric ferry Urestad docked at Olderdalen, just after we got off