Day One Oslo Airport to Brumunddal
Bike bags stored and all packed we pulled away for a 2 week tour of inner Norway. Immediately the state of Norwegian cycle paths became apparent because there were bike paths everywhere along the edges of the road protected by a verge.
A bridge had gone over the E6, causing a diversion through busier settlements, but no matter, the cycle paths led us through and into open countryside and into Eidsvoll where a supermarket with benches and a children’s play area provided a morning stop.
Along the edge of Mjosa we travelled utilising a railway path superseded by modern line that criss crossed the path. Lovely views to the hills across the lake to the left. Halfway along past the abandoned station the path turned to hard packed gravel that slowed us little.
At 105km this was the longest day of the holiday and with a late start time was ticking. So, 6 carried on whilst Sharon and I took the local stopping train up the valley complete with bike spaces and seat belts to secure the bike. ‘Don’t tell anyone’ smiled the conductor as he dismissed the bike charge which we spent instead trying to figure out the coffee from the vending machine.
Brumunddal arrived and with it its shopping centre, food and a bottle of wine. Now that has changed, 20 years ago you needed a mortgage for a glass of wine, today prices are equivalent to Europe.
Crossing the top of Furnesfjorden took us to Topcamp, part of a chain of campsites, where a kitchen waited, keycards to use the bathroom and a small field in the corner where we pitched our small tents. Into the evening thunder and lightning struck as we tried to fend off a Swedish lady who kept telling us to sleep under cover rather than our tents lest we were changed to charcoal like her prized horse at home.
Day 2 Brumunddal to Rustberg
An overcast day would take us through Lillehammer but first the challenges of national cycle route 7. It started with a steepish climbs through agricultural fields to descend back down to the lake and the pretty white steepled church at Ringsaker.
Into Moelv which for food initially looked unpromising until the Main Street that had a bakery/café with a fine selection of cakes.
National cycle routes are great as they avoid traffic and Norway is no different. We turned left and started a hard packed gravel section. Great for lack of traffic, but like Dartmoor had no flat bits as it veered up and down like the teeth on a saw. Deposited back on the highway we descended into Lillehammer where it’s glowering ski jump stood over the town.
Home to cafes, outdoor shops and bike shops there are also museums. The Olympic museum was my target, typically at the top of the town. Highlighting many of Norways Olympic successes, it majored in winter sports with medals and individual biographies of people who had competed over the years. Included in the ticket was the house museum, a speciality of Norway, various dwellings were accumulated from the area to be rebuilt and displayed with a few costumed actors for good measure. The Stave church from Lom was a highlight. Sold of in the mid 1850’s in bits, with the help of American donors it was reassembled here at the museum. The reason for the sale was it’s small size.
It was late now as I exited Lillehammer to be greeted by Siobhan to share the final stage, passing a massive tunnelling effort and ski lifts for the winter season. Camped for the night at another Topcamp we shared pitches close to families with infant children who didn’t know the meaning of sleep in a season where neither did the sun.
Day 3 Rustberg to Etne
The forecast was for heavy rain. We were due to head north and then wild camp on one of the more desolate areas of the holiday. As a result, a change of plan. Heading south and over the top to Dokka.
Along the east side of the river, over the bridge and onto the east side. Gloriously quiet it passed forests and farmland. However the Olympics were never far away as the Olympic bobsleigh run appeared complete with old 2 man bob, so who were we to refuse a photo opportunity?
The decision to head south and back to Lillehammer was indeed fortunate where Keith appeared to explain that Siobhan’s freewheel had broken necessitating a taxi ride into Lillehammer. There a patient mechanic shrugging his shoulders and saying that he had never seen a Campagnolo type managed to clean it out and get it going. Delayed by a few hours on a longish day, Keith noticed that he’d left his mobile where Siobhan was picked up, the taxi companies are doing well today.
Coffee and buns consumed because Norwegians do an excellent patisserie we were fuelled up for the main course of the day, the climb. Some were armed with flashing back lights as the bike shop had darkly warned that this was hilly and motorists drove fast along this stretch. The aperitif was more of Norways fabulous cycling infrastructure because not even marked on the map was a wide cyclists bridge across Mjosa lake that led to an old road that parallel the E6, a legacy of the road building program. Flat by the lake it headed left before the right turn, uphill and a Dokka 46 sign. With this the bike shop were right, it was the climb that just kept on giving. 7% for 8km as we all hauled our way up in whatever fashion suited. As for the fast cars, they were more concerned with the sheep grazing on the edge and centre of the road.
Reaching a summit at 840 metres, it dropped 100 metres to climb to 840 again with an encore of 910 for good measure. The top marked by an information board fenced in and flat was the perfect wild camping spot, but we were on a mission descending towards Dokka through woodland. A 17km to go was greeted with torrential rain, a flattish section and a final descent that seemed to go on forever led into Dokka.
‘Sorry, the campsite is full’ smiled reception as Norwegian festival goers prepared for a musical event, so we convened to the local garage, ate fast grilled food and decided that plan A to head for the campsite at Etne that I had tentatively booked was the plan.
22 flat kilometres up the river valley saw us tucked into 2 cabins. ‘My name is Jos smiled the Dutch owner who had stayed late especially. Turns out he was now 67 and had moved here 17 years ago.
Day 4 Etne to Beitostolen
Cabins cleaned and breakfasted it was a 10km tarmac climb along the valley followed by a descent to the E road. Even though it was Sunday there was plenty of camper vans and cars on the road. We started with a long climb and then a descent to Aurdal where the pretty white church stood by the Fjord. The Bakeriet by the main road had the most amazing cinnamon buns and an even better cyclepath that took us all the way to Leira and then Fagernes.
The climb to Beitostolen was gradual with the snow covered Jotenheims gradually coming into view. As usual we had friendly advice from Norwegians in this case a 1976 diesel Mitsubishi driver who preferred his car to electric. A short diversion to Hegge stave church that was shut, before finally arriving at Beitostolen where we camped in a boggy area, made up for by amazingly clean bathrooms. Enchiladas and a glass of beer set us up for the next day.
Day 5 Beitostolen to Vaset
With the Jotenheim mountain range glowering down we left the boggiest campground ever and cycled out of Beitostolen accompanied by lots of hand cyclists. These glorious and long cycle paths have so many uses.
Heading left we were to follow the Mjolkevegan cycle path that is one of the most scenic in Norway, it was a shame though that no-one told the weather gods as the cloud was low. Descending past farmland we arrived at a barriered toll road that rose upwards towards the snow line. On gravel the gradients are often steeper so walking could be faster. Up and up, trying to guess how we were to get out of the valley. A left turn showed the way as a reasonably straight road soured into the distance climbing, look back and high snow covered peaks rose in the distance. ‘You’re smashing it’ chirped a voice, then another as a friendly group of holiday racing cyclists from the USA came past on bikes we could only dream about. At the top Laurinda was fed biscuits from their support van before a glorious vista and rapid descent took us took us to the valley below.
The cloud that had been chancing us finally caught up but Hore Stave church needed visiting. Built in the 12th century, the original church had been expanded and you could see the cuts in the ancient slow growing pine where the walls had been removed. A guide took us through all sorts of parts. The original tower was now the entrance structure. Two dragons entwined in the frontal original door and the alter was carved by a local in the 18th century.
Onwards past a disappointing coffee shop and to the garage by the road for lunch where 6 bikepacking Poles doing a ride to Flam were adjusting their bikes. This precluded the 600metre climb/walk up to a land of lakes and holiday cabins. Just after the summit a very welcome restaurant fed us after which in the rain we traversed the landscape, taking a walk at one stage as a section was frankly unreadable
Arriving at the campsite at 21:00 it had been a hard day. Showers and bed we thought avoiding the blackfly determined to feast on my legs.
Day 6 Vaset to Gol
What’s that yellow orb in the sky? We need to worship it. Yes, finally the sun was out as folks frantically tried to dry anything that wasn’t nailed to the trees. Away via the Joker supermarket for the longest and hardest climb of the day on smooth gravel heading for lots of holiday huts that the Norwegians love so much.
At the top it flattened for a glorious ride with snow clad mountains in the distance, shades of green all around and the odd lake thrown in for good measure. The track was busy with cyclists including the group we had seen the day before. ‘They are just doing 54km today’ there driver told me as they whizzed past not once but twice as they did circuits.
A well-placed café by a lake at halfway gave Sharon an opportunity to sample the waffles after which we continued along cycle path passing numerous huts and families enjoying their 2 weeks in their summer residence.
The path varied from fabulous hard packed gravel to a few shorter sections where it went down to a grassy track with small boulders under wheel.
To our left you could see a valley deep below and it was into this for the final long decent on tarmac. Round the edge of Gol and into the campground where we pitched to the sound of road and railway. The river could be swum entertaining a few hardier soles. For dinner we communally cooked sweet and sour vegetables tucked around a picnic table.
Day 7 Gol to Degali
It looked easy and started that way. Along the main road utilising the cycle paths and the occasional off road section. The trouble was that the game maker from the Hunger Games was in charge today. I’d found the GPX routes online at the official website, the trouble was today that they didn’t necessarily agree with the signage that was always correct. So when the first divergence occurred, I had to wait for the last to reassure. The paths themselves were super quiet, well compacted gravel, however sections along rocky paths were thrown in. The group got separated, so thank goodness for what’s app as we picked our way south of the river, parallel to the single track railway.
We regrouped in AI for coffee and a spar shop. It seemed sensible to stick closely as a group now exiting the town on fresh tarmac to the main road. ‘Where do we go?’ I asked a local lady on a bicycle. ‘Along the south side of the lake’ was the reply ‘it’s lovely’ Meeting the tractor pulling tyres should have been a warning because off road motorbikes had chewed it up so badly that it had be regraded. This means flaking up the surface and allowing cars to compact it again. The trouble was we were the first along it resulting in ploughing through fine gravel sinking up to the rims. To make matters worse you couldn’t even see the lake due to the trees. ‘I apologise’ smiled the lady would had bravely completed this section as well. ‘It’s lovely normally’
From that moment on, we decided to stick to the road, after all our impression of Norwegian drivers was invariably good and so it turned out as they patiently waited behind on bends and brows in the road. A climb and a descent past the pretty church in Hallingdal and the inevitable Kiwi led to quite a brutal 2km climb. Norwegian roads have a happy habit of telling you the grade and distance of the climb. 6% is reasonably relaxed, 7% grit your teeth, 8% for some is on foot, 9% well that’s the gravel roads.
We descended into Gol and headed for the petrol station, always a source of fast calories be this mars bars, burgers or things that are fried. Suitably refreshed it was through Geilo and the final 24km to Degali and yes you guessed it that would be an upward direction. As we crawled our way to the top, Keith at the front, I passed Siobhan staring at her bike in a siding, ‘It just popped and stopped’ she said. I looked at horror at her rack, the back left attachment had torn a piece from the frame and the strut had gone inwards through a gap to lie against her disc brake, had that happened at speed, it would have been awful.
It was clear that luggage carriage wasn’t going to be possible. On the firs5 attempt we flagged down a passing car and the very kind lad6 agreed to drop Siobhan’s luggage at the Joker store in Degali. For good measure she took mine as well and disappeared into the distance. Well this is great, suddenly an 8% climb felt like downhill as I chased a racing cyclist uphill spurred on by the thought that I had left my wallet and phone in my luggage hopefully on its way. Up the hill, down the hill along the flat and a 4km, 7% climb took me to Degali and there in the store, placed in a shopping trolley was all our luggage, gotta love this country.
Sharon came and collected the panniers, I strapped the rack and tent to mine to camp at the site in the woods 1km distant. The manager in an original VW camper van collected our dues and we fell to sleep trying to avoid the plague of black flies so loved in Scotland.
Day 8 Degali to Veggli
Siobhan’s bus south went twice a day, so by 09:30, I had transported her panniers to the joker, returned packed and with everyone lose waited to wave her off. Sure enough the big yellow electric bus opened its luggage door to swallow the bike and luggage taking her to Veggli for the night. For the rest of us, it was pedal power, but not before trying to construct dinner from a small store. Simon as ever came to the rescue, stripped of tuna the previous night, we bought tomato paste, onions, mushrooms, spices and pasta just in case, with a sprinkling of herbs from various panniers that should suffice.
Of course, the day started with the only big climb of the day to top out at a posher café, more campervans and a view along the valley. Route 5 took us left along a quieter and we expect a gravel road, but we’d had enough of that preferring to stay on the main road, the distance would be the same, just a lot easier. We were rewarded by a very long downhill into the valley that descended by a number of hairpins, even at the bottom it continued to slope downwards. I’d said at the start that food stops would be scarce/non-existent but that was the back road, here was choice, so Sharon and I availed ourselves of a coffee and bun at a small local store. Of course, with the two of us together progress may be slow especially if things appeared and they did.
First stop Uvdal stave church, or so we thought. On the right was a magnificent and large stave church. On closer inspection it was built in the 19th century in the style of… it was also closed. Next door though lay what looked like a gift shop. Within was a local lady who was selling various versions of knitwear in a room next to 8 looms where the ladies met every Monday night to create their wares. She just accepted cash bemoaning the fact that everyone paid by card these days, but they would also take euros. The result, a moose covered toilet roll holder for Sharon and yes, she had the cash.
4km later a sign pointed left, Uvdal stave church 1km, it was tempting but uphill. I started, Sharon followed not at convinced it was worth the effort. Eventually the church appeared above us, it looked kinda small, but we were here now. What we had tripped over was an amazing place, a stave church with a guide and the Norwegian favourite, yes a smattering of houses moved from the area.
The stave church was 12th century, the outer door flimsy as this was merely the first entrance as here you left all your weapons. Guarded by an original door lay the decorations, a mass of flowers, colours and scenes from the bible, painted by 3 travelling artists in the 16th century of unknown names. The Adam and Eve scene was particularly striking. Apparent the better and grander the paintings the better it looked for the priest. I asked if the population was bigger in years gone by, the answer was no, just 120, so government support was thought to have been needed. The guide was informative and as usual for Norwegians her English was excellent.
We explored the other 15 or so buildings, learning that most farms had a malting house to make beer, so these were the single small windowed building dotted all over the place. We saw axes and reconstructed rooms, paintings, gaps in the floor and rickety steps that English attractions had taken all the fun away from and fenced off.
We left after 2 hours and not yet at Rustberg which What App told us, everyone else was now leaving. So over coffee we decided the bus was the only way. The driver watched suspiciously as we crammed 2 bikes underneath but with front row seats, we admired the latter half of the ride from a different perspective.
At Veggli we got off, thanked the driver profusely and reloaded the bikes, but what’s this? From another stave church near Rustberg to here you could pedal carts along the disused railway, one that we would follow the next day, so we had a go as after all why not.
Our day ended meeting Siobhan at a huge supermarket, loading up the beers to take back to the campsite 8km away. She’d been busy rustling up a fire pit, cordoning off an area of the site and preparing for our arrival at what was an idyllic site by the river where we shared a meal and Siobhan fried sausages on the open fire.
Day 9 Veggli to Hoksund
Holman camping had been a delight. ‘Watch out for the road’ warned the owner meaning the main road. One of the joys of cycling in Norway is that new roads are built to parallel the old roads leaving these very quiet and although they may be a little lumpier are wonderful to cycle.
Leaving the campsite, we took the main route 40 for a kilometre. Turning right opposite the railway bridge we started on the parallel minor road with tractors and the occasional car for company. After 3 miles we passed another Stave Church, this one locked but a beautiful painting of two men bearing grapes. The rest of the road to Kongsberg was an absolute delight. Undulating in places, passing fields and through woodland, hardly any traffic, a real joy. The woodlands looked natural, a floor canopy of yellow flowers and pine trees at irregular places rather than the lines that we have in the UK.
At one point a kiosk appeared. 2 old Volvos and a bicycle decorated the environs. Inside a mannequin stared out at the road and a freezer once full off ice cream sat unfilled in the wooden shed. From 1952 to the mid 1970’s it had functioned but now a roadside museum, where you could even get into one of the cars.
Kongsberg was the meeting point and also the place that Siobhan had arrived at on the coach with her damaged bike. Set to catch a train or bus, we would see her again in Oslo. The Intersport shop did a trade in brake pads for Keith, witness to the downhills and gravel of the past 12 days.
The climb out of Kongsberg was a touch brutal. We were now on route 4, a new cycle route as it wound round the housing estates to finish on a frankly un Norwegian road that roller coaster end and twisted through the trees. A descent to a lake and yet another cycle path before a last climb up and over a zig zag climb led to a Hoksund and a huge campsite. It was hot, very hot, it was Friday night and this was close to Oslo, so space was at a premium ending up in the centre of a field surrounded by camper vans, however the facilities were excellent and the best kitchen yet.
Day 10 Hoksund to Kana
The sun continued to shine as we set out from Hoksund. Route 4 seemed a better choice o the north of Drammenselva an extension of the Fjord. Wonderful bike paths as usual, well signed throughout and flat riding, taking us along the valley. Arriving at Drammen, a welcome coffee and cake stop with excellent coffee but stale cinnamon buns. Over the bridge following the coastal road along route 319 with hills on the right and Drammensfjorden on the left. With temperatures approaching 30 degrees there were a lot of Norwegians sunning themselves along the shoreside whilst the views and general quietness of the road was amazing, thoroughly recommended.
Arriving at the ferry terminal, we stocked up with food at one of Norways many supermarkets. These seem to be everywhere, always well stocked with anything you could want including a big green grocery section. The ferry ride was shorter than the time to load, an all electric affair on a roll on, roll off affair and even better it was free.
The climb out of Klokkarstua was the hardest of the day, quite long and steep in places that led to a wedding party, where the bride and groom left in an old sports car. A busier road and yet another Kiwi supermarket led to a fast ride south with a tail wind. Doing 30 mph on a loaded bike felt really fast at times.
We ended with the 2km road to Knatvoldstranda camping where we were greeted with enthusiasm by the manger who was expecting the cycle tourists. Flat, grassy, right by the sea, picnic tables, what more could you wish for. In the sunshine some of us took a dip in the sea that was crystal clear. Underneath your feet small fish swam and crabs scuttled about, yes it almost felt like a holiday.
Day 11 Kana to Oslo
Our last days cycling would almost complete the circle. Setting out from the sea, the only way was up. Back along the track to head right and along the coastal road. It sounds idyllic and in regards the views it was, large marinas, small islands and yachts in full sail on the fjord. However, it was pretty brutal in regards the climbing as it was either up or down. No sooner had you descended, the road climbed again to between 60 and 120 metres, it was hard work.
We were though entertained by a shopkeeper who seemingly told us a million things without taking breath. We should wear high viz and have flags pointing into the road as motorbikes did 120kmh and knocked old people into the air as they exited their cabins. Sweden was cheaper than Norway, Denmark than Sweden and Germany than Denmark, he was Swedish and shopped monthly there. The shop he ran had no staff, just 60 cameras. If you stole anything a person in Bangladesh noticed, you’d be traced and had a week to pay, if not your bank account was frozen.
At 16:30 we entered the outskirts of Oslo. We followed route 1 to the centre. Along quiet lanes, cycle paths and around building works we went, it was a brilliant way to get to the centre. A final climb to the campsite and the end of the day at a campsite overlooking the city.