Week 28 - It was one heck of a party (Norwegian biker hospitality)

Leaving the high of Nordkapp I started to head south. The guidebook says when you're that far north you have to visit the Lofoton Islands which are famed for their dramatic scenery of high, snow covered, jagged crags with dramatic fjords and tiny villages jammed in between them. I could see the praise is justified- but maybe I should have started with "When I could see" for unfortunately literally as I turned onto the islands the weather broke. For the two days I was there it was in equal parts snowing, raining and sunny (but still freezing).

The journey south has continued with the same weather pattern but in between the showers I've seen some wonderful scenery (and also when going over the high passes I've seen virtually nothing as thick sleet has blown continuously - always glad to get down safely from those, especially as the back tyre now has a lot less tread left than I like).

Throughout Norway you can legally wild camp, within reason, any where you like. So for a mixture of budget control and the fact I simply like it, that's what I've been doing, and have had some wonderful spots, usually alongside a deserted fjord all to myself.

The view from the site above - and all to myself

But there can be a downside (I was warm enough through the night but packing up was tough)

By the end of the week I'd made it about halfway down Norway and I visited Alesun in theory to have a look at the Art Nouveau buildings of the town centre. It didn't quite work out that way. As I arrived in town I found a local bikers day was happening. I was enthusiastically adopted by the crowd, interviewed by the local paper and generally had great fun.

An advantage of instant fame - pretty girls want to talk to you (thank you Lina for making my day)

Then I was invited to a party. Let's say it was a long night - we started with the pre-party, moved onto the party proper, and when that finished moved back for the after- party. Norwegian biker generousity was extreme. All night I had beers thrust into my hands (often faster than I could drink them) by complete strangers and lots of wonderful conversations. Fortunately my tent was pitched just outside the clubhouse door so the stagger home at 5:30 in the morning was mercifully short. No traveling that day.

Headstones Motorcycle Club - scene of most of the hospitality (and whose membership is an exceptionally friendly group).

George - whose invitation started the downward spiral of the evening.