Day 34 updated, Nordkapp Tunnel to Nordkapp (47 kms... + 30 kms back!)

It took the Ven Claud over four hours to complete this last 50-ish km – I'm sure the old machine would have done it much faster without me. I had been assuming the final day would be a bit of a doddle --- far from it. The 4.4 km Honningsvag Tunnel, the last tunnel on the journey, presented no problems at all for a cyclist, but after a brief stop for supplies at a supermarket on the outskirts of Honningsvag, what turned out to be a real battle with the wind got underway. Walter from Bonn had warned me about this yesterday, but I was quite unprepared for the ferocity of it, especially as down in Honningsvag there was just a gentle breeze. Several times we were almost blown off the road. Once, when I had stopped because of the wind, Claud was almost blown out of my hands. Two huge hills also lay between us and our final destination -- there's over 700 metres of climb between Honningsvag and Nordkapp at 71°10′21″ north -- but in the end we made it.

Having read that anyone who arrives by bike gets free entrance to the Nordkapp Hall (toilets, coffee, gift shop, exhibitions, film show of the Northern Lights) I cycled up to the box office to claim our prize, only to be told it used to be free for cyclists .. but not any longe, so 350 Norwegian krone (about £30) please. I thought that was a bit of a swizz. My guesstimate is that about a dozen cyclists a day make it up to this point, compared with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people arriving by car, motorcycle, motorhome (the Norwegians do love their motorhomes) and coaches by the score, so the motive can hardly have been profit. I suspect they got fed up with us monopolising the charging sockets, washing in the disabled toilets, pilfering sugar cubes, and generally spending very little money. Therefore I'm very grateful to the motorcyclist who'd bought a 24-hour ticket and gave it to me when he didn't need it any longer. Outside, I took photos and selfies, a couple of people were kind enough to take photos for me, using my phone, but it's a rubbish old thing so none of them were brilliant. Some people took photos of us (the Ven Claud and I) using words like "inspiration". This is better than "adventure before dementia" as someone once put it, but the idea that I should be an inspiration to anyone I find absurd. On the other hand, if someone reads this blog and feels encouraged to try something themselves, or saw me and Claud en route and thought 'if that ancient ensemble can do it, surely I can?', then I'll be delighted.

Nordkapp is the most northerly point in Europe accessible by wheel. Just across the bay, behind Claud and I in this photo, is another promontory, Knivskjelodden, that reaches nearly 1500 metres further north still – but can only be reached by scrambling over boulders

Emerging from the hall later after monopolising a charging socket etc., I was delighted to see David from Germany had just arrived. This was the David who took my photo swimming, offered to help when I broke a brake cable, put my socks in his laundry etc., and was generally a cheery, friendly face popping up again and again. When he used the word "inspiration" I said I thought we were all an inspiration to each other. What I meant to say was that he, with his kindness, decency and cheer, had inspired me.

The ride down from Nordkapp was quicker -- only one big hill in the way this time, and slightly less wind. Even so, I was surprised to see, when I stopped for a break, a Finnish woman wild-swimming in what must have been a jolly cold mountain tarn. I was quite late arriving back in Honningsvag, where I wild camped in Norway for one last time -- unless you count sleeping at the airport -- on the outskirts of town, overlooking the bay.

David, me and the Ven Claud at Nordkapp (left), the long and windy road (centre) and the old bike and I at the monument

Waking up on that last morning, I saw the Hurtigruten steamer arriving on her regular route south, and vowed that one day I'd return and sail on her up the coast for a day or two. I found I'd camped just beside a regular jogging/walking route for the townspeople of Honningsvag, and even for some cruise ship passengers taking a constitutional. George, from New Zealand, stopped to compliment me on my "home with a million dollar view". Eric, Honningsvag's retired doctor, stopped to say, "Welcome to our tropical island in the Arctic." It's all true, Norway is stunning, Arctic Norway in particular is incredible. And it did feel almost Mediterranean many times. Who'd believe I'd be woken by the heat in my tent at 6.00 am at 71 degrees north? Altogether, the old bike and I had cycled 2421 kms and travelled another 450 by boat.

So I packed up, collected some fridge-wrapper (to fly Claud in) from the Honningsvag electrical shop, whose proprietor so kindly left his paying customers to take me to his warehouse and fish some out, and then Claud and I took the bus back down to Alta Lufthavn, dodging reindeer.

I'd love to come back to this country, with its friendly, open people, to a land where, at least in the parts where I've been, it's quite safe to leave a loaded bike unlocked outside a supermarket, even to leave your phone in the holder on the handlebars if you want. The absence of even a hint of crime or aggression is quite striking. I thank Norway for a lesson in it. I'm sure it's not all perfect, but almost. In fact, I'm going to re-read the Norwegian chapter of Michael Booth's "The Almost Nearly Perfect People" that we (Dunning Book Club, meets regularly in the Dunning Hotel) read last year.

My "home with the million dollar view" -- my almost nearly perfect final wildcamp, by the limpid waters of Honningswag bay