To Egenes Campground

A pretty good night of sleep. The tent was a bit damp, so I packed the rest of my gear up and then asked the proprietor if I could lay the tent in a sunbeam, then ride into town for coffee and wrap up the tent when I came back.

She told me that all of the bakeries would be closed because it’s Sunday, but then immediately offered to share some of her coffee with me. I dithered for a while and finally accepted.

She called over to her husband, and he led me into their house and to a fancy coffee maker almost exactly like the one I had at home. Their two kids were playing in the living room amongst a pile of toys, and he introduced me to them in Norwegian, pronouncing my name and asking them to say it back. I felt very welcomed. The coffee was good, and just enough for me to dissolve the remaining quarter of my chocolate bar.

I laid the tent in a sunbeam, and as I was standing around fiddling with my bike and sipping the coffee, the older of the two kids came around the corner. She was chasing one of the family dogs, who was soaking wet, having just jumped into the river – which it wasn’t supposed to do – and the child was pursuing it and waving a large towel.

The dog came right up to me and laid down on my feet as if I was going to defend it from the dreaded towel, but the child walked right up. She introduced the dog to me in English:

“This is Ulfr.  He is our dog.  That other dog is not our dog.”

She pointed back around the hedge just in time for a large, fluffy, black haired dog to come galloping around it.  This one ran up to Ulfr while the child was vigorously scrubbing him with a towel, and the two briefly touched noses.

“This is neighbors dog, and he hates Ulfr,” declared the child.

After only a few more seconds of scrubbing, Ulfr jumped up, and he and the other dog went running around the yard in a way that I can only describe as “frolicking.”  They obviously got along fine.  The child gave up trying to dry Ulfr and ran back around the hedge.

With the morning entertainment concluded, and the tent nicely dried in the sunbeam, I packed things all the way up and headed for the base of the big hill where I would be spending the first two hours of riding.

As I labored up the next hill, I noticed a ratchety scraping sound coming from my front wheel. A brief inspection showed me that one of the pins holding my brake pads in place was bent and sliding against the disc. I had a set of spare pads in my kit, and it was time to use them.

I stripped the bags off the bike and went through the pad replacement routine. My first roadside repair of the trip! Unfortunately I set the chain against my leg when I was flipping the bike around, and my sweats got a massive grease stain. Damn! I’d been so careful before…

Oh boy, another tunnel bypass road only available to cyclists! So apocalyptic…

I do love lingering in quiet forests and seeing how the sun makes everything glow!

The Eurovelo merged with the main road, then split to the right and ran down a rough gravel path, avoiding a decommissioned underpass that had been overgrown and blocked by debris.

The bureaucrat responsible for surveying this part of the route had done a terrible job, because even though the path went by a scenic pond and looked reasonable from the air, it was lumpy, sprayed with potholes, and pitched up and down a lot of steep hills. Worst of all, it had been stomped for many years by horses, creating a washboard texture that I couldn’t manage any faster than about 5 miles per hour. I had to clamp the brakes on every downhill.

I missed the campground and had to backtrack half a mile on those dang gravel roads. I swore that the next day I would avoid them and use the highway, no matter what the Eurovelo route said.

The reception area was deserted, but the door to the showers was unlocked. There were coin meters on the wall but they were busted, so the owners had bypassed them and put a sign up saying “Showers are free!” Nice. I took a long shower and did a bit of sink laundry. I did my best to get the grease out of my sweatpants but it was pretty well set. Since it was directly from the chain it was loaded with microscopic bits of steel.

I rode up around the back of the lodge, to the camping area at the peak of the hill. It was deserted. Since I had my pick of spots, I chose one with some nice wind protection.

After I set things up I had fun with the little handheld drone.

I called up my Mom and had a chat. It was early afternoon where she was, and she’d just finished making a pot roast and a strawberry pie.

“I’d ask you to save me some, but it wouldn’t keep that long!” I said.

“Well you can’t have pie, but I’m sure you’re eating a lot of fresh fish in Norway, right?”

“Not a lot. I’m on the coast but it’s not like Iceland, where you could eat something that just came off the dock a few hours ago. I’ve had some fish and chips though.”

“Huh,” she said. “If you can’t find any fresh fish, you should buy some tinned fish for the road!”

“I’ll stock up, the next time I find a store.”

“When I was living with my sister, she went out and bought some tinned fish. She said ‘fish is good for you, let’s get some!’  I’m pretty sure the tin is still in her cupboard, because she never opened it while I was there. She’s like that: She’ll get stuff to eat because it’s healthy for her, even if it tastes bad. I’m the opposite. I get stuff that tastes good, and if it’s good for me that’s a lucky coincidence.”

I laughed. “So that’s where I get it from.”

Night seemed to fall all at once, since the valley was surrounded by high hills. The temperature dropped alarmingly as I snuggled into the sleeping bag for another episode of Escaflowne.