Wednesday, August 6, 2025 Continuous rain, Big Macs, and Swiss lifesaving
There is a saying: “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.”
On this day, I thought to myself several times: “Okay, whoever said that has never cycled 270 kilometers in continuous Nordic rain.”
The morning started off innocently enough. There was a supermarket next to my accommodation in Boden – my chance to stock up for the upcoming stage to Rovaniemi, Finland. 271 kilometers, tailwind in prospect, and above all: the last checkpoint before the North Cape. Sounds like a predictable day… or so I thought.
After about 50 kilometers, the rain started. At first, it was just a gentle drizzle that suggested, “Oh, it’ll stop soon.” No. It didn’t. A little later, I met Philipp again – we already knew each other from previous stages – and we rode together to the border crossing into Finland.
Last stop in Sweden: Övertorneå. An ICA supermarket, where we both stumbled in like two soaked otters. An hour and a half break, during which we tried to regain some body heat. After that, it was clear: a tailwind would help, so we would push on to Rovaniemi and then shop again.
Arrival in Finland: roads similar to those in Sweden, landscape the same – only the place names were now more difficult to pronounce. There wasn’t much choice in terms of food.
It was late, so we settled for McDonald’s. But let’s be honest: a Big Mac tastes twice as good when you’ve just cycled 250 kilometers.
I quickly found my hostel in Rovaniemi – at least from the outside. Inside, there was a plot twist: I closed the door, and suddenly it was locked… from the inside. The reason: if the key is on the outside and you close the door, you lock yourself in. Sounds strange, but it’s apparently a thing in Finland. After persistent knocking and shouting, a Swiss roommate finally freed me. After that: a hot shower, dry clothes, and the certainty that nothing else could go wrong today.
Thursday, August 7, 2025 – Of Santa Clauses, wet shoes, and the wrong coffee 280 km from Rovaniemi to Ivalo
The day began at the guesthouse with a breakfast I put together myself – like MacGyver, only without the explosions. The destination was the fourth checkpoint: the Santa Claus Center outside Rovaniemi. Yes, really – Santa Claus in August. A photo, a fridge magnet, and on we went.
No sooner had I set off than it started drizzling again. Shoes on, rain jacket over, and the Finland look in complete. The landscape: trees. Trees on the left. Trees on the right. Sometimes… more trees. Compared to Sweden, there are a few more people, but it’s still so lonely that you’re happy when a moose fly stops by.
In a supermarket, I met the Swiss guy again, with whom I had already cycled a bit before Berlin. And immediately the images of Bibi came back to my mind. We shared sandwiches, yogurt – and a “coffee” that turned out to be condensed milk. Fun fact: it tastes as bad as it sounds.
In the evening in Ivalo, we had pizza, half inside, half outside, because the restaurant had obviously never heard of “room for two.” Philip arrived at the pizzeria just a few minutes after me, but was only allowed to order “to go.” So we shared two pizzas, one in the pizzeria and the other outside. Then we quickly did some shopping and headed to the hostel—not the “pearl of Lapland,” but at least it was dry. In the end, it was a day that began in gray, continued in gray, and ended with a brief window of sunshine.
Friday, August 8, 2025 – Finland bids farewell with sunshine, Norway with hills Approx. 260 km, from Ivalo to Lakselv
The day started with sunshine – and bad moods. Motivation was still in bed, but after 30 km we came across a gas station with coffee, and things started to look up. At least until the front tire had its own opinion about continuing the journey. First we had to “boot” the compressor at the gas station (which felt like it took as long as filing a tax return), then change the tube, then set off with a meager 3 bar, because the compressor wasn’t compressing.
Eventually, we came to a second gas station with a compressor that was more powerful. From then on, things got better – the landscape wasn’t exciting, but it was solid. Finland bid us farewell with rolling terrain and lots of reindeer.
Once we entered Norway, the landscape changed abruptly—fewer reindeer, more “Eifel vibes.” Up and down, up and down. In Lakselv, I realized that I was only 20 km away from the accommodation I had booked the night before. Way too early! So, I went to the supermarket again to stock up on supplies (there really isn’t anything else around here for a long time) and went to bed at 8 p.m.
Alarm clock? 1 a.m. Reason: to enjoy the sunrise at 2:25 a.m. It never gets dark here anyway, no matter how late it is.
Saturday, August 9, 2025 – To the North Cape and back 160 km to the finish line
Early start. Light tailwind, 160 km to the North Cape. The North Cape Tunnel is a test of courage on a bike: 9% downhill, three kilometers flat, 9% uphill – all in the cold, darkness, and feeling like you’re stuck in a damp tin can 220 meters below sea level.
Then a few more tunnels, followed by two tough passes that Garmin probably wanted to remove from the elevation profile – surprise! Shortly after 9 a.m., I was standing at the North Cape, in 34th place or so, I have no idea. The main thing was the breakfast buffet. Bacon, eggs, yogurt, everything that couldn’t run away.
The organizer arrived around 11 a.m., there was the stamp, photos, interview – and then back into the headwind. Met a few familiar faces, organized boxes for the bike (wind and large boxes are a bad combination when cycling, by the way), booked the ferry to Tomsø and a taxi for the morning to the harbor. Change of plan: instead of cycling back (the crank was loose again), I took the ferry. My body said “thank you.”
Sunday, August 10, 2025 – traveling with a cardboard box
On Sunday morning at 5 a.m., we continued: taxi to the port, because lugging a bike box several kilometers through the city was not a heroic feat, even for ultracyclists.
The Hurtigruten ferry docked punctually at 6 a.m. – plenty of space on board, sun on the deck, snacks from the previous day in my luggage. With a longer shore leave in Hammerfest, the almost 18-hour crossing was almost comfortable.
In Tromsø, it was back to reality: rain. And a heavy cardboard box. Fortunately, a young couple from my neighboring town (!) – they had also cycled to the North Cape – helped me first, and later Nigel from New Zealand, who was actually just waiting for his bus, but carried the box the last 500 meters to the hotel for me.
Monday was spent in Tromsø itself: walking, visiting the Polar Museum, enjoying the fresh air. I also bought some tape to stabilize the now rather battered bike box. On Tuesday morning, I finally made my way to the airport. Small, nice, uncomplicated – and in the early afternoon, I landed in Düsseldorf with only a slight delay.
Three weeks, just over 4,000 kilometers, countless raindrops, lots of pizzas, several boxes, new friends, a North Cape tunnel to forget – and a heart full of impressions: that’s perhaps the best way to sum up my participation in NorthCape 4000.
The route led through endless forests, past curious reindeer, over hills that were more like small mountains, and finally to the northernmost point of Europe. There, at the North Cape, not only bacon, eggs, and coffee awaited me, but above all that incredible feeling: I did it!
But the real goal was not at kilometer 4023 (the official distance).
It was – and still is – the 125 street children in Malabon (Philippines) who, with our support, are given the chance of an education, a roof over their heads, and a future. Every kilometer cycled, every wet shoe, and every night spent cycling should send a message about this.
The journey home by Hurtigruten ship and plane was almost “comfortable,” even if a wet bike box in Tromsø deserved its own mini adventure movie. Now, back in Aachen, the bike is repaired, the equipment is washed – and my head is full of ideas for the next project.
One thing is certain:
The journey does not end at the North Cape. It continues—until each of these children has a better future.
👉 If you want to be part of this journey: Support the 125 children of Malabon. Every contribution counts—and turns beads of sweat into hope.
