Day 5: Floro to Svelgen (60 kms)

After a late start -- almost noon -- to let the tent dry and attend to some small jobs on the bike, we made good progress running east on level tarmac alongside the fjord, before turning north on a road that would now rise steadily, and eventually, steeply up to 1300 feet.

Lunch saw me at the spectacular bridge over the next fjord, Nordalsfjord, before the start of what felt a punishing climb for an old man on an old bike loaded with 35 kilos of kit (Selim from Switzerland told me she was carrying 25 kilos, but smaller people have lighter clothes and I bet she hasn't got a water filter). Views were spectacular, and at Nordalsfjjord I made my latest breakthrough in cycletouring cuisine -- salted peanuts stirred into a small can of Heinz baked beans. Protein plus plus, and the salt on the peanuts returns the beans to the taste they used to have before the food police forced Heinz to tamper with the recipe.

Waterfall on the Nordalsfjord

My reward for reaching the summit of this section was something I had not been looking forward to -- the first of several long tunnels on my way to Nordkapp. My ride to Istanbul last year involved negotiating a number of tunnels, mainly in Serbia, but never much more than half a kilometre long. Earlier in the day I had pedalled through my first longer one -- about 1.3 kms -- but the 2.9 km Magnhildskartunnelen, listed as amber on the cycletourer.co.uk website (green is fine, reds are closed to cyclists) was my first big one. Thankfully, going north as I was, it was downhill all the way and I was out of it in minutes, but the surface was wet and could have been slippery and the sound of approaching traffic is alarming. You can't tell whether what you are hearing is coming up behind you, or round a corner in front of you, and a single car sounds like an aeroplane taking off. From there the descent continued to the next fjord, Nordgulen. I made slow progress today -- I'm clearly not yet as fit as when I tackled the Bulgarian highlands last year, but by the I'd already been cycling for 1300 miles. This time I'm straight into it. Pedalling east, the shore of Nordgulen below me behind crash barriers, I began a fruitless search for a wild camping spot. I wasted about 90 minutes, cycling slowly, stopping and climbing down to investigate something that looked promising, only to discover that the flat green sward it appeared as from the roadside was boulder strewn, or studded with tree stumps, or just marsh. Pulling into the small fjordhead industrial town of Svelgen I decided to ask the locals (in many small Norwegian towns touring cyclists can camp for one night on school sports pitches -- Norwegian schools, like ours in Scotland, are on holiday for the whole of July). An extremely helpful chap directed me to the perfect spot a couple of kilometres away -- a free wild swimming and picnic spot equipped by the council with a loo, running water, and even a free hot shower -- even sending the co-ordinates to my phone.

Camping at Svelgen

Diners would book weeks ahead to eat at a restaurant with a table like this one (pictured below) -- though perhaps might not appreciate the instant chicken noodles and sweaty cheese.

I'm conscious I have a dauntingly long way to go: A woman I met in Floro, a 76-year-old retired racing cyclist born, funnily enough, in Nordkapp, tells me that Norwegian children and taught in primary school that if Norway was turned upside down -- pivoted on it's southernmost point -- it would reach Rome.