Moose, cranks, and coffee savers
If you want to help 125 street children in Malabon, there are many ways to raise funds: bake sales, raffles, marathons… or cycling 4,000 kilometers across half of Europe. Surprise, surprise—I chose the latter. And so, at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, I got back in the saddle.
Saturday – rain, red houses, and mosquito alert
When the alarm clock rang: rain. Louis started 20 minutes before me, and I followed in full rain gear. An hour later, I met him again, his leg still a problem. He was standing at the side of the road. My advice: keep going, in low gear! Because stopping makes everything worse.
The route became lonely. No towns, just forests, hills, and endless asphalt. Falun, known for its mines, red houses, and winter sports competitions, was the only place of note.
Then it continued uphill. For the first time, my rear derailleur acted up when shifting to the large chainring – not dramatic, but annoying. At least it wasn’t raining anymore. After more than 260 kilometers, I reached the Skålsjögården Timber Lodge, where I treated myself to a small cabin (and a large schnitzel).
There I learned about the Swedish mosquito mentality: one quick step into the grass and your legs become an all-you-can-eat buffet. Left the door open for a moment? Welcome to the flying insect hotel. After half an hour of small game hunting, peace and quiet returned. Luckily for us, I had a sleep mask with me, because the nights were hardly dark anymore.
Sunday, August 3 – Fog, moose, and an empty app shelf
The day started off nicely: no rain, little traffic, lots of forest. But soon fog rolled in – perfect “moose weather.” And sure enough, a moose crossed my path. Unfortunately, it disappeared into the forest faster than I could pull out my phone. Missed the photo, but kept the memory.
The route: fantastic. Traffic: hardly any. Landscape: like something out of a Scandinavian fairy tale book – only with more inclines. In a supermarket, I met Christoph from France, a product developer at Hoka, formerly at Salomon. Actually a mountain runner, now cycling across Sweden. We took plenty of time for a late breakfast.
In Sundsvall, the sun finally broke through, so it was time to use sunscreen for the first time. I had barely finished shopping for food when my front tire gave out: a flat. It was a blessing in disguise – I was right next to a gas station. The tubeless tire sealed itself, and I was on my way again.
Our accommodation for the evening: a whole house to myself – my favorite so far. It’s just a shame I couldn’t invite a moose to join me for dinner.
Monday, August 4 – Rain, crank chaos, and coffee hospitality
Rain from the start. And then: gear problems. No more large chainring. At first I thought it was the cable pull, then I thought of the problem from the previous month, then the nasty truth: the left crank arm had come loose. Apparently since Verona. That also explains the mysterious cracking since the start and my knee problems. Well, somehow I got everything fixed again and continued on my way.
In the next town, I just wanted to use the restroom. The supermarket: unwelcoming. The pizzeria: closed for the day. The solution: a workshop for forestry machines. Jan Ove, the owner, not only helped me change the battery in my power meter, but also invited me in for coffee and cake. We chatted for 45 minutes about God, the world, and why people do crazy things like ride the Northcape 4000.
After that: construction site deluxe – mud, gravel, potholes. The crank arm loosened again, this time requiring the longer Allen key. Hopefully it will hold until the North Cape…
In the evening, I reached Lycksele. It was good that I had gone shopping shortly before nine – restaurants here close at 9 p.m.
Tuesday, August 5 – Cinnamon rolls, apocalyptic rain, and a reunion
Breakfast in Lycksele was excellent – important, because the weather decided to make things exciting again. First a tailwind, then a light rain shower, then: the apocalypse.
I happened to be standing outside a supermarket when the rain started. The store could have been anywhere in the Australian outback – except without fresh bread. Instead, it had knives, bush hats, rubber boots, and cinnamon buns. I bought the latter. On my way out, I ran into Philipp again, and we rode together for a while until the next downpour came.
The rain caught me at the highest point of the route. Before I could put on my rain gear, I was already completely soaked. My waterproof (!) headphones gave up the ghost. The descent froze me to the bone.
Shortly before Boden, someone suddenly stood on the bike path and waved: my old friend Jenny with Erik! She had waited there especially for me, even though she lives about 50 km away from the route.
We chatted, took photos, and I rode on to my destination for the day, feeling motivated. It was one of the most moving and beautiful moments of the 4,000 km!
The accommodation in Boden: a little strange, shared bathroom, shared shower – but breakfast like in a luxury hotel. You can’t have everything.
