Reindeer and Ramen

I tend to get anxious before trips. Doesn’t much matter where I plan to go— the next state or the next continent— I get increasingly energetic. Some may say “hyperactive.”

600 TransAlp out of the barn after winter storage. Almost sorted. Hope for a shake-down ride tomorrow and then off to Tallinn via Latvia and the seaside the next day. 

Not sure what’s going on around here but it’s been HOT with occassional tropical rain. Yet in the Arctic they’re having forest fires. Could President Trump be planning sugar plantations for the Sammi to prove the positive benefits of global warming?

A week of sorting things out by riding around the Lithuanian countryside helped me discvover a few “issues” with the TransAlp that took days of head-banging and trial and error to sort out. In the end, it turned out to be a “high-speed fuel starvation” problem. It’s source eluded us and all local motorcycle mechanics appeared to be on vacation or away to some idyllic lakeside cottage for the several days.

Tying all that camping gear to the back of a 600 cc bike was a challenge without my well-used Rokstraps from home. But after a hardy breakfast of scrambled eggs and salami, black Lithuanian bread, lingonberry jam with milky white farm cheese, and some smoked meat that was identified to be “wild bore and some other stuff,” I was off.

Estonia has far too many beautiful blondes. And most of them have tattoos. Now that I have that out of the way, let me also tell you that Tallinn is an enchanting medieval city with an old town that exceeds even Vilnius in its breadth and lively activity.

Helsinki treated me to a wonderful sauna. I stayed in Janne’s AirBnB, which was about the cheapest place in town. Being a bachelor who designed his own remodel of a little suburban house, he had a huge dark-tiled room with a 2-person jacuzzi, side-by-side dual showers, and an “instant on” Finnish sauna. The doors to everything were smoked glass— including the toilet.. Remember, he’s a bachelor. The downside was that nothing in the kitchen made any sense. A typical drawer might have one sauce pan, a spatula, a length of nylon rope, and a video game controller.

From Rovaniemi, Finland there are basically two routes north, the eastern that skirts the Russian border and enters Norway near Karasjok and the western road, the E-8, which follows the river marking much of the Swedish border. This is a road originally used by sleds in winter to connect southern Baltic Finland with the Ocean at Tromso, Norway. During the war, Germany constructed an all-season motor road and this is still the backbone of Finish transport.

It is quite obvious the Norwegians were not thinking of motor travel when they decided to build their fishing villages on the bumpy, vertical side of the Scandinavian peninsula. If there isn’t a big rock in your way then it’s a river, fjord or bay. The Norwegians don’t take a drive in the mountains. They take a drive THROUGH them..

I’ve learned a lot about Vikings and about codfish in the last few days. But that’s what the Lofoten Islands are all about. That and mountains meeting beaches, laced together with winding narrow roads that wander through small settlements of commerical fishing families, quaint villages, and tidy fields of feed grass. There are also a lot of sheep wandering around the roads unsupervised.

Why would anyone want to spend 6 weeks moving at 60 mph through rain? Why would skiers want to go out in the cold and get snow down their necks? Or hunters get up at 4:00 AM to trudge through the woods in November? The weather might just be part of the experience. With the right gear, it does not feel miserable. It’s just the weather. To be honest, it sucks when you have to stop. Or fold up your wet tent.  Or heat up your ramen soup over a backpacking stove. And in western Norway, rain and wind are part of the summer. “You should visit in February,” I was told more than once.

The twists and turns coming down out of the Trollstigen 1st-gear 180-degree hairpins were like skiing. A series of challenging but often fast curves down into a huge gorge filled with water. This was the Geiranger Fjord. At the bottom there was a fork in the road and one led onto a ferry about to close its gate. Remembering the advice of one old codger who said never pass up a chance to see where a ferry will take you, I pulled onto the deck and handed over my credit card. Thirty minutes later, I was on the other side of the fjord climbing an equally challenging road out.

Gee, it’s drizzling again. Day 20 since leaving Kaunas and I’ve gotten to putting on my rain gear before even loading the bike.

Like usual, the weather teased me with outbursts of sunshine, wet roads and blue skies to remind me I was getting a break— it had rained BEFORE I passed through, and sudden windy horizontal rain. I marveled that Norwegian fisherman work out here in January when the commercial fishing season starts. Someone even told me most of the workers on the fishing boats came every winter from Lithuania. I’ll pass on that.

Stay off of the E-6. It’s terrible! I heard this repeatedly from the motorcycle touring community and did my best to avoid this dreaded “main road” down the center of Norway. I took it only when there was no reasonable alternative. In the far north above the Arctic Circle, it’s the only way to hug the coast. And if you want to get into a city the size of Oslo with any efficiency, an expressway is the ticket.

From the ferry terminal in Fredrikshavn, Denmark to Hamburg in northern Germany is about 500 km or not quite 350 miles. In Norway, this is a long day’s ride. Speed limits are moderate, gas stops occur every 2 hours or so, nature calls—often on a different schedule than the gas tank, and coffee breaks are always the road trip priority of the old and slow. Once into continental Europe, and eventually the German autobahn, the issue arises that you have to watch your mirrors for the overtaking Audi, BMW, or Mercedes cars going at well over 100 mph.

I had never heard of a German monastic beer. So I was intrigued when my cousin in Berlin offered me a very tasty and crisp cherry beer brewed by an “abbey brewery.” Belgium, yes. But Germany?

Everything you need to know about driving in Poland is summarized on a large sign just as you cross the border. Memorize it. Ignorance of the law is no excuse. Speed limits change with the configuration of the road, the presence of buildings, the time of day, and the type of vehicle you’re operating. Trucks are allowed 50 kph (about 31 mph) while cars can cruise at 140 kph (87 mph). Watch your mirrors!

There are things motorcycle travelers want to know about a journey that I did not sprinkle into this journal. I should have kept better notes but I will try to fill in some details.