I could have
kissed her. No, she wasn’t a a Norwegian blonde goddess – hey I can dream – but
a rather matronly lady behind the reception desk of Tømmerneset Camping in
Innhavet.
The reason for my amorous urges – well, she'd apologised and said “Sorry, but I though you would like a shower
and toilet in your cabin and put you in there!” and I was wetter than I can
ever remember being. You know that bit I said about not getting wet if you are
moving, well that obviously only applies to English rain – Norwegian rain, like
a lot of these foreign types, doesn't play by the rules. But, I digress, more of that later….
I was going to
start my blog today The weather is
crap….. but then I thought about it and you know what, the weather IS crap,
and has been all day. Apart from a very few breaks it has bucketed it down,
turning to sleet at one point.
I set off in
the rain and I’ve told you how I feel about that so forgive me any grouses.
There were a
couple of German bikers in the cabin next to me and they were standing smoking
as I left. Now, I never like pulling away fully loaded in front of other
bikers, makes me nervous. That’s when I’ll drop it or stall or something but it
has to be done so you take a deep breath and look as though you know what you’re
doing – a bit like breathing in when you walk past a woman sunbathing on the beach
– oh we do that you know ladies, why go to the gym twice a week if you can hold
your breath for 30 seconds!
And, I nearly pulled it off, put on my helmet,
strode manfully to the bike, gave a macho wave goodbye and set off. Stopped
suddenly several yards into my journey as I realised that it wasn’t that foggy,
I’d just left my glasses on the patio table when I put my helmet on. So had to
go skulking back – bummer!
A few miles
after leaving my nice warm dry cabin I came across some road works and because
the roads are so narrow and bendy they don’t use traffic lights but have men
with little ping pong type bats at each end. This morning the guys doing that
duty were totally enclosed in yellow PVC or whatever it is nowadays, with big
woolly hats and thick gloves. I waved thanks to one poor chap and I could see
from his response that he was wishing he was still back in bed with Agnetha and
wondering why that English prat in tights is out in this for fun.
To be fair, I
wouldn’t have got all that wet if I had kept moving but the trouble is I stop
too much to take photos or read plaques and then those pernicious drops of
Norwegian rain do their worst.
My first call
was at a place called Mosjøen – have you noticed I’ve found the ø symbol on my
computer, who says you’re too old to learn -
as I’d read it had a lovely old town with 19th century houses. Well, it did but they perhaps
didn’t seem so lovely with water overflowing from their 19th Century
guttering – just look at this scene, shows you what it was like.
And look at
that sculpture – as usual I have no idea what it was for but judging by the way
these two gorgeous kids are dressed I don’t think today’s weather was a novelty
in Mosjøen, they are sou’westers not sun hats!
The houses don’t
really look much in photos but in reality are impressive – all wood.
I called in for
petrol and got talking to an old guy – probably my age – who asked where I came
from. When I said Yorkshire he said “I have a Holy Hour a day”. Oh dear I
thought, why do I find them but instead of telling me I didn’t deserve to have
escaped from that town with the short name I visited yesterday he
said that he watched “Heartbeat” every day without fail – apparently it’s on Norwegian
telly every day!
As with Route
66, the path of The Arctic Highway is constantly changing as engineering developments
allow more bridges and tunnels and, again as with Route 66, I want to follow
the old route as much as possible so forgoing the luxury of a nice warm dry tunnel
through the Korgfjellet mountains I
followed the old route over the top. It was an amazing drive although cold and
kind of scary although I admit I do look a bit smug.
At the top was a stark reminder of the grim history of the road
much of which was built by the Germans in World War 2 as a supply road when they
invaded Norway. The labour was provided by prisoners of war and the monument remembers
the 550 Yugoslavian prisoners of war who died building this particular stretch.
We may have heard of the Burmese Railway but how many of us have heard of this
road. I’m sorry that some of the photos taken today are blurred – blame that
rain again.
The route was
supposed to provide panoramic views but views, panoramic or otherwise were in
short supply today.
But then I dropped
down to the valley again and a real treat – I saw my first reindeer!
After that
excitement I went on to a place called Mo-I-Rana.I wanted to see a couple of
things here.
The first was
the old church which had in its grounds the graves of 8 Scots Guards. The
German invasion of Norway on 9 April 1940 was sudden and widespread and despite
Allied intervention, the entire country was under German occupation by early
June. Mo I Rana was apparently protected the 1st Battalion, Scots Guards from 4
May 1940 and held until the Germans entered it on 18 May.
There are no war grave cemeteries in Norway and
all soldiers killed, including these, were buried in civilian cemeteries. The
youngest was 19!
Alongside the
graves is communal tomb of unknown Russian prisoners of war- who presumably
died whilst being forced to work on the road.
The second
thing I wanted to see was a statue by Antony Gormley entitled “Man of the Sea” which
apparently stand in the water and “gazes determinedly down the fjord”. But by
now I was well and truly wet and I couldn’t be bothered. Talk
about milking an idea – I’d rather go back to Salford and see scores of ‘em.
So I set off
north towards the Arctic Circle – oh I know I’ve been going there ever since I left the UK but now it was now in smelling distance. Wasn’t where I thought though
and at one point I thought perhaps I’d crossed it without noticing, the road
just seemed to go on and on without any sign of it. And I was getting wetter
and wetter so when I came across an original café from 1939, when this bit of road
was opened and a signed said Midday Buffet – in Norwegian – even though it was
3 o’clock the temptation to stop was too great.
So glad I did, had an hour in
the dry getting on the outside of meatballs, potatoes, fish, chips, mushy peas –
yes honest and - pudding and all the coffee I could drink. Had to apologise for
leaving the floor sopping wet though.
The lady behind the counter must have got fed up of answering the question
because when I asked how far the Arctic Circle was she produced a mileage chart
she’d written out on a card from under the counter – 18 kilometres!
 |
| The Arctic Circle Centre |
Found it – and my
little froggy friend – no a real one, the Frenchman with the overloaded bike –
caught up with him again at the Centre so we could take the obligatory pictures
of each other. I’d heard the centre was commercialised but it wasn’t that bad.
Of course they sold souvenirs, why wouldn’t they and perhaps two reindeers are
coming home to two little girls I know.
The circle was
marked by elaborate sculptures and more basic stone markers BUT I’VE CROSSED IT
so another dream realised!
 |
| Froggy on the Arctic Circle |
Again there were monuments to the Yugoslav and Soviet Prisoners of War who died on this road.
So chuffed to
bits I rode on to my destination for the night and that’s where I came in –
took the cabin allocated in error with very good grace, parked the bike under cover and spent at least 10 minutes
under a hot shower.
Life is good again…….
