Arctic Circle road trip - a blog
Discussion
Day 0 – Friday 7th Feb 2020
Wythall (England) – Folkestone (England)
189 miles / 3 hours 11 mins
Average 60mph / 30.4mpg
Diesel 87.13 litres / £135.84 (it wasn’t full when I started out)
I left work at 4pm… escaped really. It’s true that this trip has been on my mind of late but it hasn’t stopped me from focusing on work when I’ve needed to, however today… no, this afternoon has been marked by the passing of each hour… each meeting. I have been clock-watching this afternoon.
But only this afternoon. This morning was all about waiting for our former boss to come in for a goodbye. He left earlier in the year to care for a sick family member, and we were all looking forward to seeing him over lunch today to mark his official leaving, and to present him with a “cheerio” present – the result of a generous office whip-round. People liked him.
Anyway, at 4pm, I said my goodbyes and took off. I had to restrain myself from literally running to the car, which was already loaded, because my car was parked in front of my team and I wanted to maintain some decorum. I had started loading up the car at the weekend because… yes, why have I been lugging around unnecessary weight all week? I think it was because I feared leaving something behind or not having the time to do it all at the last minute. Chucking my two massive spare wheels and tyres in, lashing them to the D-rings, secreting my axe behind them, and sliding my snow shovel in front of them gave me a sense of purpose. Also, the car rides really nicely with a bit of weight in it.
I’ve been adding to the load all week. Bit by bit. Drip drip drip.
The car – 2011 Mercedes GL 350CDI. One of the most over engineered cars on the planet. One of the reasons I wanted to do this trip was because I’d seen Harry Metcalfe’s YouTube videos of him doing the same in a £4-grand 1969 Rolls Royce. And here I am, in something that’s 4WD, 265bhp, and has height adjustable suspension, diff lockers and all sorts of other clever stuff to ensure the terrain is no obstacle to your progress.
And it’s comfy, safe, and…
… total overkill really, but then I’m a bit paranoid about preparation.
Some of my other reasons for wanting to do a road trip include:
1. I haven’t really done a road trip for years. In fact, 20 years ago this year, I took my Caterham to Scandinavia and raced around the roads of Sweden and Finland in the company of 30 other similar cars. Our “host” Vinnie – an Englishman living in Finland at the time – arranged for us to have four circuits at our disposal, as well as mobile phones with local network coverage, so we could keep in touch with one another (in the days before UK mobile phone contracts extended into Europe), and other “sponsorship” in the form of crates of beer, and a local RedBull type of drink called Battery, all carried in a be-stickered LandRover 110 also lent to him for the trip.
He is a master of organisation, and I hoped he’d come with me this year in his truck (an X5 40D). He did agree to come at one point, and helped organise some of the route but he had to pull out because of numerous family issues. I nearly cancelled the whole trip at that point but I was ready to go… I was ready.
Incidentally, I met my wife on the Scandi2000 trip, and in the immediate years that followed, we went on further kit car road trips together – exploring Europe (just about all of it) at indecent speeds.
But then our children came along, and family road trips are impossible in a 2-seater car. Also, truth is, my wife had had enough of them anyway, and I wanted to focus on the children. So, I sold the Caterham (something I’ve never regretted – it’s something I’ve “done” and I’m happy to have done so), and moved onto more conventional holidays.
But I still dreamt of an epic road trip.
2. The GL is wasted if you don’t use it. I’m fortunate that I can afford to own and run one of these monster cars but only commuting in it seems wrong. Admittedly I didn’t buy it new, but even at half the original book price, it isn’t a cheap car. And it’s even less cheap when you consider the amount of money it needs throwing at it from time to time. But I love it. I inherited an ML off my wife previously – something I wasn’t actually that bothered about at the time she gave it to me, but it was something I really grew to love. Except… there was a GL in the Mercedes line-up which made my ML seem like a second-best option. And there’s that rear window arrangement on the ML which I never really liked the look of. It looked tacked-on, a styling cue that that horrible Ssangyong Rhodius has taken to the extreme.
When the ML’s turbo grew slightly problematic as it passed 120K miles, I decided I could afford to chop the car in for a GL, and I found a really highly spec’d one in Essex – not far from where we’d collected the ML 6 years previously. I did the deal, and revelled in the car but it needed many things sorting – including a new air suspension compressor, two rear mufflers, and other stuff.
Then again last year, when I had managed to encourage other people to join me in this ridiculous road trip, I decided to get a “max” service which included fluid changes in the engine, all three diffs, the coolant, a repair of the aircon, and blah blah blah which ended up costing another £2600 on top of the £400 wheel refurb cost and £650 for winter tyres.
I think I’m missing something else too but let’s leave it there.
Anyway, even as my touring buddies saw sense and dropped out, I rationalised that I will probably never be as ready for this trip as I am now… and when I say “I”, I mean the car of course. I am always ready for a road trip. Despite my wife’s gentle reluctance to let me go alone, I tweaked the route over Christmas, booked the time off, and then booked the hotels, insurance, recovery, and tunnel crossing.
And then, one morning, I came out to find the car sat at a weird angle. The air suspension was “down” at the back. As soon as I opened the door, and woke the car up, it reset itself.
It happened again, and a third time but it was weeks apart each time, so I reasoned the airbags weren’t leaking or it’d happen each and every time I switched it off. I put it down to the inconsistencies of Mercedes computing/electronics, and its early adoption in my model – mine being the first type of GL – the X164.
Anyway, the problem sorts itself out the moment I “wake” up the car, so I decided to chance it. I hope I don’t regret it.
3. And then there’s the original reason for wanting to do a Nordic road trip… Pistonheaders (as good a sample of the car enthusiast there is) say over and over that SUVs are rubbish. That they can’t manage snow (irony coming up – see below), or off-road situations, and I say that’s rubbish. It’s all about tyres. The ML was epic – towed my mother’s 26ft caravan as though it wasn’t there, and the ML “only” had 224bhp against the GL’s additional 40bhp (and a sizeable chunk more torque). The ML was on all terrain tyres. It didn’t so much as wheelspin on muddy grass, and was more surefooted in the snow of 2010 than my winter-tyred Subaru Legacy (I was a bit gutted about that – the ML was still my wife’s at that point).
The GL should be better still with the technology at its disposal, but because it came with the gigantic (and totally excellent) AMG braking kit, they outfitted it with completely overkill 21” wheels. And guess who makes AT tyres for 21” wheels? No-one..!!
But they do make winter tyres for 21”s. But (again) we just don’t get any snow in the UK – nothing appreciable since 2010 anyway. So if the snow won’t come to us, I’ll go to the snow..!!
Ironically, this year there might not actually be any snow, even at the Arctic Circle Visitor’s Centre, the highest point on my trip. The reason? Because idiots like me drive bigger engine cars, causing global warming, or something. Mine’s actually not too bad to be honest. I’ve achieved slightly over 30mpg on the way down through England, and that’s in a lot of start-stop traffic. I dunno, maybe I’ll stop off at Greta’s place in Sweden and ask her what she thinks.
Right now, I’m in a Holiday Inn Express in Folkestone. As soulless a place as any, but it’s clean, comfy, and it’s somewhere I can rest, type this up, and go to bed early enough to be ready for the early crossing I’ve booked myself. I’ve achieved slightly under 200 miles this afternoon/evening. I have about 500 to cover tomorrow.
Wythall (England) – Folkestone (England)
189 miles / 3 hours 11 mins
Average 60mph / 30.4mpg
Diesel 87.13 litres / £135.84 (it wasn’t full when I started out)
I left work at 4pm… escaped really. It’s true that this trip has been on my mind of late but it hasn’t stopped me from focusing on work when I’ve needed to, however today… no, this afternoon has been marked by the passing of each hour… each meeting. I have been clock-watching this afternoon.
But only this afternoon. This morning was all about waiting for our former boss to come in for a goodbye. He left earlier in the year to care for a sick family member, and we were all looking forward to seeing him over lunch today to mark his official leaving, and to present him with a “cheerio” present – the result of a generous office whip-round. People liked him.
Anyway, at 4pm, I said my goodbyes and took off. I had to restrain myself from literally running to the car, which was already loaded, because my car was parked in front of my team and I wanted to maintain some decorum. I had started loading up the car at the weekend because… yes, why have I been lugging around unnecessary weight all week? I think it was because I feared leaving something behind or not having the time to do it all at the last minute. Chucking my two massive spare wheels and tyres in, lashing them to the D-rings, secreting my axe behind them, and sliding my snow shovel in front of them gave me a sense of purpose. Also, the car rides really nicely with a bit of weight in it.
I’ve been adding to the load all week. Bit by bit. Drip drip drip.
The car – 2011 Mercedes GL 350CDI. One of the most over engineered cars on the planet. One of the reasons I wanted to do this trip was because I’d seen Harry Metcalfe’s YouTube videos of him doing the same in a £4-grand 1969 Rolls Royce. And here I am, in something that’s 4WD, 265bhp, and has height adjustable suspension, diff lockers and all sorts of other clever stuff to ensure the terrain is no obstacle to your progress.
And it’s comfy, safe, and…
… total overkill really, but then I’m a bit paranoid about preparation.
Some of my other reasons for wanting to do a road trip include:
1. I haven’t really done a road trip for years. In fact, 20 years ago this year, I took my Caterham to Scandinavia and raced around the roads of Sweden and Finland in the company of 30 other similar cars. Our “host” Vinnie – an Englishman living in Finland at the time – arranged for us to have four circuits at our disposal, as well as mobile phones with local network coverage, so we could keep in touch with one another (in the days before UK mobile phone contracts extended into Europe), and other “sponsorship” in the form of crates of beer, and a local RedBull type of drink called Battery, all carried in a be-stickered LandRover 110 also lent to him for the trip.
He is a master of organisation, and I hoped he’d come with me this year in his truck (an X5 40D). He did agree to come at one point, and helped organise some of the route but he had to pull out because of numerous family issues. I nearly cancelled the whole trip at that point but I was ready to go… I was ready.
Incidentally, I met my wife on the Scandi2000 trip, and in the immediate years that followed, we went on further kit car road trips together – exploring Europe (just about all of it) at indecent speeds.
But then our children came along, and family road trips are impossible in a 2-seater car. Also, truth is, my wife had had enough of them anyway, and I wanted to focus on the children. So, I sold the Caterham (something I’ve never regretted – it’s something I’ve “done” and I’m happy to have done so), and moved onto more conventional holidays.
But I still dreamt of an epic road trip.
2. The GL is wasted if you don’t use it. I’m fortunate that I can afford to own and run one of these monster cars but only commuting in it seems wrong. Admittedly I didn’t buy it new, but even at half the original book price, it isn’t a cheap car. And it’s even less cheap when you consider the amount of money it needs throwing at it from time to time. But I love it. I inherited an ML off my wife previously – something I wasn’t actually that bothered about at the time she gave it to me, but it was something I really grew to love. Except… there was a GL in the Mercedes line-up which made my ML seem like a second-best option. And there’s that rear window arrangement on the ML which I never really liked the look of. It looked tacked-on, a styling cue that that horrible Ssangyong Rhodius has taken to the extreme.
When the ML’s turbo grew slightly problematic as it passed 120K miles, I decided I could afford to chop the car in for a GL, and I found a really highly spec’d one in Essex – not far from where we’d collected the ML 6 years previously. I did the deal, and revelled in the car but it needed many things sorting – including a new air suspension compressor, two rear mufflers, and other stuff.
Then again last year, when I had managed to encourage other people to join me in this ridiculous road trip, I decided to get a “max” service which included fluid changes in the engine, all three diffs, the coolant, a repair of the aircon, and blah blah blah which ended up costing another £2600 on top of the £400 wheel refurb cost and £650 for winter tyres.
I think I’m missing something else too but let’s leave it there.
Anyway, even as my touring buddies saw sense and dropped out, I rationalised that I will probably never be as ready for this trip as I am now… and when I say “I”, I mean the car of course. I am always ready for a road trip. Despite my wife’s gentle reluctance to let me go alone, I tweaked the route over Christmas, booked the time off, and then booked the hotels, insurance, recovery, and tunnel crossing.
And then, one morning, I came out to find the car sat at a weird angle. The air suspension was “down” at the back. As soon as I opened the door, and woke the car up, it reset itself.
It happened again, and a third time but it was weeks apart each time, so I reasoned the airbags weren’t leaking or it’d happen each and every time I switched it off. I put it down to the inconsistencies of Mercedes computing/electronics, and its early adoption in my model – mine being the first type of GL – the X164.
Anyway, the problem sorts itself out the moment I “wake” up the car, so I decided to chance it. I hope I don’t regret it.
3. And then there’s the original reason for wanting to do a Nordic road trip… Pistonheaders (as good a sample of the car enthusiast there is) say over and over that SUVs are rubbish. That they can’t manage snow (irony coming up – see below), or off-road situations, and I say that’s rubbish. It’s all about tyres. The ML was epic – towed my mother’s 26ft caravan as though it wasn’t there, and the ML “only” had 224bhp against the GL’s additional 40bhp (and a sizeable chunk more torque). The ML was on all terrain tyres. It didn’t so much as wheelspin on muddy grass, and was more surefooted in the snow of 2010 than my winter-tyred Subaru Legacy (I was a bit gutted about that – the ML was still my wife’s at that point).
The GL should be better still with the technology at its disposal, but because it came with the gigantic (and totally excellent) AMG braking kit, they outfitted it with completely overkill 21” wheels. And guess who makes AT tyres for 21” wheels? No-one..!!
But they do make winter tyres for 21”s. But (again) we just don’t get any snow in the UK – nothing appreciable since 2010 anyway. So if the snow won’t come to us, I’ll go to the snow..!!
Ironically, this year there might not actually be any snow, even at the Arctic Circle Visitor’s Centre, the highest point on my trip. The reason? Because idiots like me drive bigger engine cars, causing global warming, or something. Mine’s actually not too bad to be honest. I’ve achieved slightly over 30mpg on the way down through England, and that’s in a lot of start-stop traffic. I dunno, maybe I’ll stop off at Greta’s place in Sweden and ask her what she thinks.
Right now, I’m in a Holiday Inn Express in Folkestone. As soulless a place as any, but it’s clean, comfy, and it’s somewhere I can rest, type this up, and go to bed early enough to be ready for the early crossing I’ve booked myself. I’ve achieved slightly under 200 miles this afternoon/evening. I have about 500 to cover tomorrow.
Edited by Watchman on Sunday 23 February 18:34
Day 1 – Saturday 8th Feb 2020
Folkestone (England) – Osnabruck (Germany) – Hamburg (Germany)
500 miles (exactly – I have a picture to prove it) / 7 hours 42 mins
Average 65mph / 29 mpg
I woke before my alarm – I’m clearly anxious. I always am when I know I must get to somewhere on time. The Eurotunnel won’t wait for anyone, you know. I just can’t relax about stuff like this and yet I love it at the same time.
Breakfast was a tad boring. Technically it had some components of an English breaky but they certainly couldn’t call it a “full” English (I haven’t checked if they do). As I said yesterday, the bedroom was clean, and the bed comfy but the proximity to the motorway from Dover led to loads and loads of trucks storming past at one and half hour intervals throughout the night – I guess that was the frequency of ferries docking.
I did sleep though. And I’ve not suffered for any lack of sleep, which likely means I’ll sleep well tonight.
Anyway, France, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany – they all flashed by at a gallop. Not sure what the craic is with service station toilets in Netherlands – there’s a barrier system in place and I wasn’t desperate enough to care to find out how one passes through, so after turning away from two service stations, I found a quiet rest stop with an open-to-anyone loo instead. The benefits of being a man, I guess.
At some point, the roads got faster. I am not sure which of the German autobahns are derestricted but the locals seemed to know, so I kept pace with them. In fact, at one point I tried to see how fast my barge would go and I was still a way off the speed of the most committed of the drivers (very, very many of them). Their lane discipline is truly excellent, and no-one gets upset when people pull into gaps. They expect the unexpected, and their roads are all the easier because of it. No fragile egos at play.
At work, earlier in the week, I picked up my phone with the intention to send a message to a chap I knew from my Se7ening days, who lives in a town on my route. I got distracted by an issue at work before I sent him a message, but I was still holding my phone a couple of minutes later when, in one of those weird moments of fate, my phone pinged with a question from him asking if I’d have time to meet with him. Serendipity...!!
I definitely did have time but not a lot – I thought about an hour – and he proposed a nice coffee bar with good parking in Osnabruck, his home-town. I was definitely up for a chat about Se7ens.
Unfortunately, I experienced mobile phone “data” issues after I left France today, and only as I pulled into the coffee bar car park did I realise why – my phone had determined to switch off roaming because I was outside of the UK. OK, it’s a feature but it would have been nice to be asked. This may have led to my not being GPS-trackable by the groups of people who are interested in my progress, and my friend had not received my messages explaining that I would be earlier than expected (those autobahns allow for such great progress).
Fortunately, he was gracious-enough to juggle a couple of things and met me there about 20 mins after my arrival, and we chatted for a lot more than the original hour I had expected. I think it was over three hours in the end. We have so much in common, from our choice of music, we’re both drummers, Se7ens (obviously), politics (small “p”), and our families. It’s amazing that after conversing on forums for over 20 years, today was the first time we had actually met in person. I look forward to the next time, and hope it can be longer.
I had to get going though. I had another 250 miles to drive to my next hotel, north of Hamburg. As I left, it started to get dark very quickly, and my concentration doubled, tripled, and… you know. My vision became quite tunnel-like, as I focused on the road further and further ahead, and I gradually increased my speed as I became familiar with the environment.
And then… I could see the road ahead some two miles – perfectly straight. No cars in any of the three lanes, so I moved to the furthest right lane and nailed it. I wanted to see just what this car can do. I mean, it’s as far from a sportscar you can get and still call it a car, but the OM642 diesel engine is quite incredible. IT’s one of those bits of engineering that are so competent, they’re actually boring. I see that as high praise although I expect others might require me to explain a bit more.
My speed crept up, bit by bit, and at one point I saw 136mph on the Google maps directions on my phone but then I stopped trying to glance at that screen because something was coming up fast behind me. I eased off, down to a little over 120, and a dark-coloured Lambo roared past me in the outside lane, so fast that I felt the air pressure wave inside my tank-like car. He was doing around 100mph more than me. I was doing 120-ish but it felt as though I was sitting in my car stationary, by the side of the road.
Is there a word for it? WHOOMP kind of fits.
I wondered at the legality of it - does derestricted mean land speed record attempts? Could you fire a Chiron down one of those roads? I tried to calculate the momentum of such a car, at such a speed, and wondered how it compared to my own car, a fair bit heavier but so, so much slower.
Anyway, the idea behind the trip is to have one highlight of every day. Today I had planned to enjoy the autobahns but the highlight was definitely making a new old friend. I don’t have many friends but I do cherish them all.
Folkestone (England) – Osnabruck (Germany) – Hamburg (Germany)
500 miles (exactly – I have a picture to prove it) / 7 hours 42 mins
Average 65mph / 29 mpg
I woke before my alarm – I’m clearly anxious. I always am when I know I must get to somewhere on time. The Eurotunnel won’t wait for anyone, you know. I just can’t relax about stuff like this and yet I love it at the same time.
Breakfast was a tad boring. Technically it had some components of an English breaky but they certainly couldn’t call it a “full” English (I haven’t checked if they do). As I said yesterday, the bedroom was clean, and the bed comfy but the proximity to the motorway from Dover led to loads and loads of trucks storming past at one and half hour intervals throughout the night – I guess that was the frequency of ferries docking.
I did sleep though. And I’ve not suffered for any lack of sleep, which likely means I’ll sleep well tonight.
Anyway, France, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany – they all flashed by at a gallop. Not sure what the craic is with service station toilets in Netherlands – there’s a barrier system in place and I wasn’t desperate enough to care to find out how one passes through, so after turning away from two service stations, I found a quiet rest stop with an open-to-anyone loo instead. The benefits of being a man, I guess.
At some point, the roads got faster. I am not sure which of the German autobahns are derestricted but the locals seemed to know, so I kept pace with them. In fact, at one point I tried to see how fast my barge would go and I was still a way off the speed of the most committed of the drivers (very, very many of them). Their lane discipline is truly excellent, and no-one gets upset when people pull into gaps. They expect the unexpected, and their roads are all the easier because of it. No fragile egos at play.
At work, earlier in the week, I picked up my phone with the intention to send a message to a chap I knew from my Se7ening days, who lives in a town on my route. I got distracted by an issue at work before I sent him a message, but I was still holding my phone a couple of minutes later when, in one of those weird moments of fate, my phone pinged with a question from him asking if I’d have time to meet with him. Serendipity...!!
I definitely did have time but not a lot – I thought about an hour – and he proposed a nice coffee bar with good parking in Osnabruck, his home-town. I was definitely up for a chat about Se7ens.
Unfortunately, I experienced mobile phone “data” issues after I left France today, and only as I pulled into the coffee bar car park did I realise why – my phone had determined to switch off roaming because I was outside of the UK. OK, it’s a feature but it would have been nice to be asked. This may have led to my not being GPS-trackable by the groups of people who are interested in my progress, and my friend had not received my messages explaining that I would be earlier than expected (those autobahns allow for such great progress).
Fortunately, he was gracious-enough to juggle a couple of things and met me there about 20 mins after my arrival, and we chatted for a lot more than the original hour I had expected. I think it was over three hours in the end. We have so much in common, from our choice of music, we’re both drummers, Se7ens (obviously), politics (small “p”), and our families. It’s amazing that after conversing on forums for over 20 years, today was the first time we had actually met in person. I look forward to the next time, and hope it can be longer.
I had to get going though. I had another 250 miles to drive to my next hotel, north of Hamburg. As I left, it started to get dark very quickly, and my concentration doubled, tripled, and… you know. My vision became quite tunnel-like, as I focused on the road further and further ahead, and I gradually increased my speed as I became familiar with the environment.
And then… I could see the road ahead some two miles – perfectly straight. No cars in any of the three lanes, so I moved to the furthest right lane and nailed it. I wanted to see just what this car can do. I mean, it’s as far from a sportscar you can get and still call it a car, but the OM642 diesel engine is quite incredible. IT’s one of those bits of engineering that are so competent, they’re actually boring. I see that as high praise although I expect others might require me to explain a bit more.
My speed crept up, bit by bit, and at one point I saw 136mph on the Google maps directions on my phone but then I stopped trying to glance at that screen because something was coming up fast behind me. I eased off, down to a little over 120, and a dark-coloured Lambo roared past me in the outside lane, so fast that I felt the air pressure wave inside my tank-like car. He was doing around 100mph more than me. I was doing 120-ish but it felt as though I was sitting in my car stationary, by the side of the road.
Is there a word for it? WHOOMP kind of fits.
I wondered at the legality of it - does derestricted mean land speed record attempts? Could you fire a Chiron down one of those roads? I tried to calculate the momentum of such a car, at such a speed, and wondered how it compared to my own car, a fair bit heavier but so, so much slower.
Anyway, the idea behind the trip is to have one highlight of every day. Today I had planned to enjoy the autobahns but the highlight was definitely making a new old friend. I don’t have many friends but I do cherish them all.
Edited by Watchman on Monday 10th February 19:55
Day 2 – Sunday 9th Feb 2020
Hamburg (Germany) – Munkedal (Sweden)
565 miles / 8 hours 54 mins
Average 64mph / 30.7mpg
Diesel 88.66 litres / €111.62 / £94.93 (right at the beginning of the day)
Diesel 77.84 litres / SEK1239.99 / £99.88 (near to the end of the day)
Despite having paid for breakfast, I awoke with no appetite for it. It’s that nervous energy – an almost overwhelming need to just get going.
I don’t know what it was, whether it was the distance I needed to cover, the not knowing how to pay at the toll booths at the Oresund bridge (I hate not knowing things), or just that I didn’t sleep very well – the bed and pillows weren’t to my liking. I guess everyone has a favourite pillow?
Anyway, I forced myself to have a coffee and an orange juice, then I paid and left. My first stop was only a couple of miles away – a petrol station where, as well as a tank of diesel, I bought a sandwich for later in case I did become hungry (I did – eventually), and a tub of fruit because I was aware I’d not had anything “proper” since leaving work on Friday. My wife would not have been pleased (she likes us all to eat healthily).
And water… I always make sure there’s water in the car. No juice, fizzy pop, or anything else. Water, because it’s not only a drink… you can wash things with it. When you’re nowhere near to home, sometimes the need arises. Usually it’s my headlights. I have headlight washers but occasionally the road grime becomes almost embedded and needs a wipe with water and a cloth.
Anyway, I re-joined the same motorway that had brought me into this little town north of Hamburg, and settled into a medium pace – about 85mph. It was still dark so I needed to regain my awareness before hoofing it properly. As I found my rhythm, I let the speed creep up but I wasn’t confident to let loose the diesel horses because I didn’t know whether this was a restricted or derestricted motorway.
Someone passed me at warp 4 which cleared up any doubts I had, and then I noticed Google Maps showed my speed but not the road speed limit next to it, as I had seen before. I guessed that was because there really was no limit. So, as dawn broke, I went for a land speed record. FYI – 138mph on the phone’s GPS. 146 on the car’s speedo (not too much of a difference). There was a little left – it might have touched a genuine 140 – but I was conscious of just how much of a car this thing is, how heavy and entirely not suitable for this type of fun, so with the experiment over, I set the cruise for 90mph where I seem to get a reasonable mix of economy and speed.
Germany gave way to Denmark and I left unlimited autobahns behind. At 120kph (85mph), Denmark seemed to crawl a bit but I was excited to get to the Oresund bridge which was supposed to be today’s highlight.
What I didn’t appreciate (didn’t do my homework well enough), was that the Oresund bridge, from this direction, was in fact the third quite spectacular bridge. The first one was short but rose quickly over a narrow stretch of sea called the Little Belt. The next bridge was incredible – two separate spans over the Great Belt. The first was a rigid piece, and the second a conventional suspension bridge but the piers through which the cables ran were so high that my brain actually went a bit funny trying to rationalise it, and I had to force myself to stop looking at it so that I could concentrate on keeping the car within its lane, in the increasingly-strong winds (I guess the same storm that the UK has).
In fact, those piers shielded the car from the gale to such a degree that the sudden absence of wind, as I passed them by, sent my car veering off to the right. The wind was so constant, I’d not really appreciated just how much I was compensating for it with the steering wheel.
Adjacent to a pier, I would correct the steering, and immediately as I passed the pier, the wind resumed, knocking the car to the left. I wondered whether the locals would be looking at me all odd, but I watched a chap behind me having a far worse time of it than me. I actually wondered how many people had ended up in the drink over the years. Probably none, or they would have shut the bridge, or installed some shielding, but still…
At the end of that bridge was a toll booth. I’d asked forum members what the best approach was for being a lone person in a RHD car at EU toll booths, even though I already knew the answer. I guess I was looking for confirmation that it would be OK to get out, run around the car, and stand to pay. There was really no other way I’d manage – the car is simply too wide for me to lean over, and just getting to the passenger side window would have taken me far longer than getting out. Fortunately, the nice forum chaps all said it was OK (as well as offering some alternatives for the future – like a prepaid radio widget that allows you to pass without stopping), so armed with that confidence, and having looked at pictures on google about which lane to look for to make credit card payments, I arrived at a booth, stopped, got out, and presented my card to the automatic machine (no humans – that was a bit of a shock as I’d hoped a human might have compensated for anything else I got wrong).
The machine refused my card. I tried again with the same rejection. Fortunately, no-one was queuing up behind me – the forum guys all said the locals (the occasional ones without the radio widget), would all spot my UK plates and avoid queuing up behind me. So, I wasn’t stressed but I had got out of the car without a coat and it was very cold. Very. I pressed the “Help me, I am a useless foreigner” button, and a man said he’d send his colleague to help. She turned up a minute later and advised me to drive the car further towards the booth before the card machine would “wake up” and accept my offering.
Well, there you go. I did that – I pulled forwards – and the machine lit up all blue and pretty, and accepted my card without me having to type in a PIN, and without offering me a receipt. I guess I’ll find out how much that cost when I log onto my bank account, along with the conversion for the diesel.
Sometime later I arrived at the Oresund bridge. This was the bridge I had wanted to see. It starts off as a tunnel which goes under about 1/3rd of the Oresund strait, rising up out of the ground on a man-made island, where you then drive over the bridge part.
I’d managed to sort out of my GoPros to take video of the second bridge (having been too surprised to have the GoPro ready for the first one) but upon entering the tunnel, I clicked something on the camera which made the camera’s lights flash in a manner not consistent with the previous attempt. The bloody things take all sort of different pictures, and I think I had cycled it on to taking a constant burst of still photos, so frantically (in the tunnel), I unmounted the GoPro from the dash mount I’d stuck on especially for this trip, reset it to the format I wanted, and remounted it just as the tunnel ended. I’ll check out the footage tomorrow night – tonight’s Hotel doesn’t have WiFi (broken, receptionist says).
Anyway, the tunnel was a tunnel – basically nothing to see that you’ve not seen before, so I’m not bothered having lost that opportunity, but the bridge… the bridge… yeah, the bridge is an amazing feat of engineering but honestly, having passed over the previous bridge, wasn’t as spectacular as I’d imagined. It’s another of those incredible engineering feats that work so well, they’re almost boring. OK, that’s too strong, but you know what I mean.
Actually, from the air, the whole thing is spectacular. Photos I’ve called-up on my PC to show people where I was going, are incredible. The bridge is incredible. The road desk just isn’t the best place to see it.
It was in every way, bigger and longer than the Severn bridge, of course. And I was over the sea for a loooong time but by now the wind was really buffeting the vehicles, so I remained focussed on the road ahead and missed any opportunity there might have been to gawk at the sea to the right of me.
Maybe it’ll be less dangerous on my way back.
And I’ll have the camera sorted.
Malmo (where the bridge ends) smells funny, so I was grateful I knew how to make my card payment properly this time, and almost looked like a pro. I then got back in the car and swore because of the cold, meaning I’ll have to edit the end off my video to make it a PG15 (I have children who probably know what a sweary person I can be, but I really try not to bring that home with me).
From here, the drive north was a bit of a chore if I’m honest. The weather got worse and worse, until I could drive no faster than 80 without the car aquaplaning. Although some other people seemed to manage a bit faster. They probably don’t have 295 width tyres.
Gothenburg was horrible. The roads are a mess – lots of unfinished construction, concrete lane constrictions, and unclear lane changes that confused even Google Maps, forcing me back on myself for 2 miles before I learned to ignore the confusion coming from “her” and just went with any signpost to Oslo. I was right to ignore her directions but I wasn’t the only one struggling – I am 90% certain the two cars to my right merged into each other (I heard it and saw one car swerve away from the other almost into the concrete barrier to its right) but I couldn’t hang back to see because it was like a race track to get out of the city in such awful weather. Tight lanes, heavy rain lots of traffic. I’m confident and I have a big vehicle but I didn’t like that.
Later, with fewer than 20 miles to go, the E4 was closed ahead with NO diversion signs (in any language – a yellow arrow looks the same in all languages). So, having again being turned back on myself for 4 miles, I worked it out myself and found a 10-15 mile diversion which worked but soured the end of the day.
Actually, no the Hotel soured the end of the day. It’s the type where you have a reception tucked away somewhere, and little “lodges” out the back serving as rooms. I mean, the rooms are OK (it’s cheap) but not having HOTEL RECEPTION signposted anywhere amongst the other various buildings displaying Burger King, some petrol station name, a bar and a restaurant… walking around them in the now full-on storm, to find which building represented the Hotel wasn’t fun.
Finding out the WiFi was broken just iced the cake.
Anyway, I have fewer miles to go tomorrow but I’ll likely be in the seat for 11 hours, so I’m going to bed stupidly early, to give me a head start in the morning. Breakfast is at 7:30am here but that’s too late for me. I need to be gone at least 30 mins before that.
Highlights – the bridges, of course. And my car which is quite honestly epic.
Lowlights – apart from the weather, Gothenburg, the weather, road works, the weather, the Hotel, and the weather, people who install blue-tint headlights require killing with fire. They hurt my eyes to look at them and offer no better visibility for the owner.
Hamburg (Germany) – Munkedal (Sweden)
565 miles / 8 hours 54 mins
Average 64mph / 30.7mpg
Diesel 88.66 litres / €111.62 / £94.93 (right at the beginning of the day)
Diesel 77.84 litres / SEK1239.99 / £99.88 (near to the end of the day)
Despite having paid for breakfast, I awoke with no appetite for it. It’s that nervous energy – an almost overwhelming need to just get going.
I don’t know what it was, whether it was the distance I needed to cover, the not knowing how to pay at the toll booths at the Oresund bridge (I hate not knowing things), or just that I didn’t sleep very well – the bed and pillows weren’t to my liking. I guess everyone has a favourite pillow?
Anyway, I forced myself to have a coffee and an orange juice, then I paid and left. My first stop was only a couple of miles away – a petrol station where, as well as a tank of diesel, I bought a sandwich for later in case I did become hungry (I did – eventually), and a tub of fruit because I was aware I’d not had anything “proper” since leaving work on Friday. My wife would not have been pleased (she likes us all to eat healthily).
And water… I always make sure there’s water in the car. No juice, fizzy pop, or anything else. Water, because it’s not only a drink… you can wash things with it. When you’re nowhere near to home, sometimes the need arises. Usually it’s my headlights. I have headlight washers but occasionally the road grime becomes almost embedded and needs a wipe with water and a cloth.
Anyway, I re-joined the same motorway that had brought me into this little town north of Hamburg, and settled into a medium pace – about 85mph. It was still dark so I needed to regain my awareness before hoofing it properly. As I found my rhythm, I let the speed creep up but I wasn’t confident to let loose the diesel horses because I didn’t know whether this was a restricted or derestricted motorway.
Someone passed me at warp 4 which cleared up any doubts I had, and then I noticed Google Maps showed my speed but not the road speed limit next to it, as I had seen before. I guessed that was because there really was no limit. So, as dawn broke, I went for a land speed record. FYI – 138mph on the phone’s GPS. 146 on the car’s speedo (not too much of a difference). There was a little left – it might have touched a genuine 140 – but I was conscious of just how much of a car this thing is, how heavy and entirely not suitable for this type of fun, so with the experiment over, I set the cruise for 90mph where I seem to get a reasonable mix of economy and speed.
Germany gave way to Denmark and I left unlimited autobahns behind. At 120kph (85mph), Denmark seemed to crawl a bit but I was excited to get to the Oresund bridge which was supposed to be today’s highlight.
What I didn’t appreciate (didn’t do my homework well enough), was that the Oresund bridge, from this direction, was in fact the third quite spectacular bridge. The first one was short but rose quickly over a narrow stretch of sea called the Little Belt. The next bridge was incredible – two separate spans over the Great Belt. The first was a rigid piece, and the second a conventional suspension bridge but the piers through which the cables ran were so high that my brain actually went a bit funny trying to rationalise it, and I had to force myself to stop looking at it so that I could concentrate on keeping the car within its lane, in the increasingly-strong winds (I guess the same storm that the UK has).
In fact, those piers shielded the car from the gale to such a degree that the sudden absence of wind, as I passed them by, sent my car veering off to the right. The wind was so constant, I’d not really appreciated just how much I was compensating for it with the steering wheel.
Adjacent to a pier, I would correct the steering, and immediately as I passed the pier, the wind resumed, knocking the car to the left. I wondered whether the locals would be looking at me all odd, but I watched a chap behind me having a far worse time of it than me. I actually wondered how many people had ended up in the drink over the years. Probably none, or they would have shut the bridge, or installed some shielding, but still…
At the end of that bridge was a toll booth. I’d asked forum members what the best approach was for being a lone person in a RHD car at EU toll booths, even though I already knew the answer. I guess I was looking for confirmation that it would be OK to get out, run around the car, and stand to pay. There was really no other way I’d manage – the car is simply too wide for me to lean over, and just getting to the passenger side window would have taken me far longer than getting out. Fortunately, the nice forum chaps all said it was OK (as well as offering some alternatives for the future – like a prepaid radio widget that allows you to pass without stopping), so armed with that confidence, and having looked at pictures on google about which lane to look for to make credit card payments, I arrived at a booth, stopped, got out, and presented my card to the automatic machine (no humans – that was a bit of a shock as I’d hoped a human might have compensated for anything else I got wrong).
The machine refused my card. I tried again with the same rejection. Fortunately, no-one was queuing up behind me – the forum guys all said the locals (the occasional ones without the radio widget), would all spot my UK plates and avoid queuing up behind me. So, I wasn’t stressed but I had got out of the car without a coat and it was very cold. Very. I pressed the “Help me, I am a useless foreigner” button, and a man said he’d send his colleague to help. She turned up a minute later and advised me to drive the car further towards the booth before the card machine would “wake up” and accept my offering.
Well, there you go. I did that – I pulled forwards – and the machine lit up all blue and pretty, and accepted my card without me having to type in a PIN, and without offering me a receipt. I guess I’ll find out how much that cost when I log onto my bank account, along with the conversion for the diesel.
Sometime later I arrived at the Oresund bridge. This was the bridge I had wanted to see. It starts off as a tunnel which goes under about 1/3rd of the Oresund strait, rising up out of the ground on a man-made island, where you then drive over the bridge part.
I’d managed to sort out of my GoPros to take video of the second bridge (having been too surprised to have the GoPro ready for the first one) but upon entering the tunnel, I clicked something on the camera which made the camera’s lights flash in a manner not consistent with the previous attempt. The bloody things take all sort of different pictures, and I think I had cycled it on to taking a constant burst of still photos, so frantically (in the tunnel), I unmounted the GoPro from the dash mount I’d stuck on especially for this trip, reset it to the format I wanted, and remounted it just as the tunnel ended. I’ll check out the footage tomorrow night – tonight’s Hotel doesn’t have WiFi (broken, receptionist says).
Anyway, the tunnel was a tunnel – basically nothing to see that you’ve not seen before, so I’m not bothered having lost that opportunity, but the bridge… the bridge… yeah, the bridge is an amazing feat of engineering but honestly, having passed over the previous bridge, wasn’t as spectacular as I’d imagined. It’s another of those incredible engineering feats that work so well, they’re almost boring. OK, that’s too strong, but you know what I mean.
Actually, from the air, the whole thing is spectacular. Photos I’ve called-up on my PC to show people where I was going, are incredible. The bridge is incredible. The road desk just isn’t the best place to see it.
It was in every way, bigger and longer than the Severn bridge, of course. And I was over the sea for a loooong time but by now the wind was really buffeting the vehicles, so I remained focussed on the road ahead and missed any opportunity there might have been to gawk at the sea to the right of me.
Maybe it’ll be less dangerous on my way back.
And I’ll have the camera sorted.
Malmo (where the bridge ends) smells funny, so I was grateful I knew how to make my card payment properly this time, and almost looked like a pro. I then got back in the car and swore because of the cold, meaning I’ll have to edit the end off my video to make it a PG15 (I have children who probably know what a sweary person I can be, but I really try not to bring that home with me).
From here, the drive north was a bit of a chore if I’m honest. The weather got worse and worse, until I could drive no faster than 80 without the car aquaplaning. Although some other people seemed to manage a bit faster. They probably don’t have 295 width tyres.
Gothenburg was horrible. The roads are a mess – lots of unfinished construction, concrete lane constrictions, and unclear lane changes that confused even Google Maps, forcing me back on myself for 2 miles before I learned to ignore the confusion coming from “her” and just went with any signpost to Oslo. I was right to ignore her directions but I wasn’t the only one struggling – I am 90% certain the two cars to my right merged into each other (I heard it and saw one car swerve away from the other almost into the concrete barrier to its right) but I couldn’t hang back to see because it was like a race track to get out of the city in such awful weather. Tight lanes, heavy rain lots of traffic. I’m confident and I have a big vehicle but I didn’t like that.
Later, with fewer than 20 miles to go, the E4 was closed ahead with NO diversion signs (in any language – a yellow arrow looks the same in all languages). So, having again being turned back on myself for 4 miles, I worked it out myself and found a 10-15 mile diversion which worked but soured the end of the day.
Actually, no the Hotel soured the end of the day. It’s the type where you have a reception tucked away somewhere, and little “lodges” out the back serving as rooms. I mean, the rooms are OK (it’s cheap) but not having HOTEL RECEPTION signposted anywhere amongst the other various buildings displaying Burger King, some petrol station name, a bar and a restaurant… walking around them in the now full-on storm, to find which building represented the Hotel wasn’t fun.
Finding out the WiFi was broken just iced the cake.
Anyway, I have fewer miles to go tomorrow but I’ll likely be in the seat for 11 hours, so I’m going to bed stupidly early, to give me a head start in the morning. Breakfast is at 7:30am here but that’s too late for me. I need to be gone at least 30 mins before that.
Highlights – the bridges, of course. And my car which is quite honestly epic.
Lowlights – apart from the weather, Gothenburg, the weather, road works, the weather, the Hotel, and the weather, people who install blue-tint headlights require killing with fire. They hurt my eyes to look at them and offer no better visibility for the owner.
Edited by Watchman on Wednesday 19th February 19:43
Day 3 – Monday 10th Feb 2020
Munkedal (Sweden) – Molde (Norway)
428 miles / 8 hours 46 mins
Average 49mph / 34.2mpg
Diesel 66.63 litres / NOK855.16 / £71.95
Oh man, today was the day.
I woke early – the bed and room were comfy in the Swedish Hotel, despite being a bit of an oddity (rooms out back). There was nothing I wanted to do while I stayed there last night because that would have meant going outside in that storm, so I went to bed early and had a great night’s sleep.
But once awake I couldn’t just lie there. I was semi-conscious of today requiring a long drive, so I checked Google maps again and found it wasn’t actually that bad. In fact, the distance was considerably less than yesterday but the time predicted to be longer. I guessed Norway’s speed limits were lower, and I guessed the motorways would run out around Lillehammer. I was right on both counts – although the motorway didn’t even reach Lillehammer. Well, not yet. They’re building an extension to the motorway now – miles and miles of roadworks which slowed me down a bit but not like in the UK where you come to a stop every ¼ mile. No – I kept going – just at about 30mph. For miles. And miles.
Anyway, back in my Swedish Hotel bed, once I had started to focus on my phone, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, I got up, showered and dressed. Breakfast wasn’t until 7:30am at this Hotel, and I was ready to hit the road at 6:45am, so I forwent (it’s a real word – I checked) breakfast. Again. I dunno, maybe it was a poor choice to book breakfast at these Hotels. I’m clearly anxious when I get up – I just want to get going.
Ah, except tomorrow will be different. I need the sun to be fully up and daylight to bathe the Atlantic Ocean road before I get there, for maximum photography… but that’s tomorrow.
This morning, however, I was again in the car in the dark, trying not to look like I was driving too much faster than the few business people who were out and about at that time. I probably fooled no-one but no-one flashed me, so I think they are quite relaxed about things. And I make a special effort to not barnstorm past them. I remember “waking up” people when I overtook them in the Caterham, and despite being a full ¼ mile away by the time they had collected their senses, they would still flash and express their discontent. Some might say I should just forget about other road users but I always think about what might happen if I were involved in an accident, and “witnesses” would describe the lunatic that flew past them earlier.
I don’t want to give that impression. And I don’t want to give people a bad day. I’m polite normally, so I try to extend that to the way I drive around others. You could easily look like a right bully in a giant SUV like mine, but that’s not the impression I want to give.
Sweden “ended” really quickly, and daylight had hardly taken hold when I was directed towards Norway’s customs at the border. People in front were let through but my odd registration plate caused the lady manning (woman-ing?) the post to signal me to stop. She wanted my “id” – and as we Brits don’t have any, I handed over my passport. Then she advised me to pull beyond the booth and over to the right, where she questioned me about the nature of my visit, and where I was staying. She hadn’t heard of Molde (she was quite young), and didn’t really understand why I was driving through the country alone. But after a cursory check through the boot (two massive spare wheels, a snow shovel, a sleeping bag, a pillow, a socket set, clothes and a laptop), she gave me back my passport and let me go.
I wondered what sort of contraband was common-enough to be smuggled from Sweden to Norway that gave the Norwegians cause to even have a border-control these days.
Come to think of it, there was a customs booth between Germany and Denmark, but no-one even looked-up as we crawled respectfully through their border.
So, quicker than I was prepared for, I was in Norway – the 8th country of my trip (if you include my starting point). The roads were good – dual carriageway motorways – although the speed limits lower than before. There were a couple of 120kph places but mostly 110kph.
The motorways ceased south of Lillehammer, as described above, and it was a little slow going for a while but I was distracted by the inclusion of snow each side of the road. As I moved further north west, more and more snow was piled-up at the sides of the road, although the roads themselves were mostly dry (not just cleared of snow – actually dry). I idly wondered if the Norwegians had heating elements under their roads.
A little further on, and there was snow between the wheels of the car, with (again) virtually dry patches where my wheels fell.
Then, I stopped for diesel and a large sausage. Well, you have to, don’t you?
After the hotdog, I got going again, rounded a few corners, and I was suddenly presented with mountainous rock formations that were a scale beyond the norm. I felt like a toy on a child’s playboard – something akin to what model railway enthusiasts make up for maximum effect – big rocky formations with snow on any surface that could support it. That “maximum effect” was in front of me, and to both sides. In fact, as I drove towards the snow-kissed rocks that projected out of the ground, I felt as though I wasn’t getting any closer to them for the longest time. It was like driving towards the sun – it never moves, does it? These leviathans didn’t either. And like the bridges yesterday, I had to force myself to focus on the road, but I felt I was losing the battle for concentration, so I stopped often – wherever there was somewhere I could pull over.
I’d get out, take a couple of pics of the car with the mountains in the background, then I’d just watch them growing while I breathed in the almost unbelievably clean crisp cold air.
I had been driving alongside huge bodies of water for most of the day but I became aware that I was driving around the end of a lake/fjord (I couldn’t see the other end to tell if it was enclosed or not). The road was flat, smooth, and I was leaning on the tyres through this wonderful 180-degree bend. As I straightened out, now on other shore, I could see the mountains I had been right next to previously, much more clearly. And they were epically huge. Grey, black rocks, with a dusting of icing sugar all over them. The water between us was as flat as ice but this time it was not ice – just calm, flat water. It looked like someone’s drink.
The road followed the shore for some miles, then went inland a little, and back towards the shore again, always weaving and wending. As I noted before, the truck is as far from a Caterham as you can get, but you can still enjoy the rhythm of braking, turning-in, accelerating out of the corner – all at a more leisurely pace than in the Caterham but with a sense of inevitability that this monster of a car provides. It communicates a feeling that there is nothing that could stand between you and your journey’s end. This car will get you anywhere you want to go, in any conditions, over any terrain (Land Rover owners need not challenge this).
Suddenly, Mrs Google spoke-up again, advising me to turn off to the left where I was presented with a queue of cars clearly intent on boarding a ferry. I had a moment of panic because I had thought I’d planned for no ferries but this ferry one was actually in sight, on its way towards the dock. I’d be waiting merely “minutes” so I decided to go with it. It was undoubtedly the quickest route to the Hotel, and the daylight was fading, so I boarded 4th (I think).
As I sat in my car on this open ferry, my brother called me (amazing signal everywhere in Europe, and only using my own billing plan – I hope this continues when we leave the EU). He is tracking me with GPS (Live 360 – if anyone is interested – great app), and wondered if I had driven into the sea.
The crossing was only 10-15 minutes, so I replied to a few Facebook posts, and watched the land creep closer. Then we disembarked.
Between the ferry and the Hotel was another incredible bridge – small, but it climbed at a rate you think is only portrayed by some clever distance-compression photography. This one climbed. Then we were only on the ground again for what seemed like a minute before we entered a tunnel – one with a descent warning. I kid you not. A tunnel with a descent warning..!! We literally fell into this tunnel as it dove under the next body of water, so quickly that I had to “pop” my ears near to the bottom.
Mrs Google directed me to my Hotel, which was at the end of a really nice-looking shopping street, which in turn was after a marina where hundreds of small sailing boats were moored. I suspect this is a rather affluent place but it was now dark, so I couldn’t make out the scale of the place. Feels small but a large passenger ferry was docked at the end of the street. I’ll find out in the morning, I guess.
There was a space big enough to park the truck, right next to the entrance. The chap on reception was very polite, and I could tell I’d chosen tonight’s stay really, really well. I have no idea how easy it would be to get here (other than the method I’ve chosen) but if you ever fancy a weekend away (and are prepared to research options for getting here), then I’d recommend it. The Thon Hotel, Moldefjord.
As it stands, I’ll spend no longer here than it takes to sleep and eat breakfast – something I’m now a little sour about.
So, tomorrow – the Atlantic Ocean road. Hope it will be worth it.
Munkedal (Sweden) – Molde (Norway)
428 miles / 8 hours 46 mins
Average 49mph / 34.2mpg
Diesel 66.63 litres / NOK855.16 / £71.95
Oh man, today was the day.
I woke early – the bed and room were comfy in the Swedish Hotel, despite being a bit of an oddity (rooms out back). There was nothing I wanted to do while I stayed there last night because that would have meant going outside in that storm, so I went to bed early and had a great night’s sleep.
But once awake I couldn’t just lie there. I was semi-conscious of today requiring a long drive, so I checked Google maps again and found it wasn’t actually that bad. In fact, the distance was considerably less than yesterday but the time predicted to be longer. I guessed Norway’s speed limits were lower, and I guessed the motorways would run out around Lillehammer. I was right on both counts – although the motorway didn’t even reach Lillehammer. Well, not yet. They’re building an extension to the motorway now – miles and miles of roadworks which slowed me down a bit but not like in the UK where you come to a stop every ¼ mile. No – I kept going – just at about 30mph. For miles. And miles.
Anyway, back in my Swedish Hotel bed, once I had started to focus on my phone, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, I got up, showered and dressed. Breakfast wasn’t until 7:30am at this Hotel, and I was ready to hit the road at 6:45am, so I forwent (it’s a real word – I checked) breakfast. Again. I dunno, maybe it was a poor choice to book breakfast at these Hotels. I’m clearly anxious when I get up – I just want to get going.
Ah, except tomorrow will be different. I need the sun to be fully up and daylight to bathe the Atlantic Ocean road before I get there, for maximum photography… but that’s tomorrow.
This morning, however, I was again in the car in the dark, trying not to look like I was driving too much faster than the few business people who were out and about at that time. I probably fooled no-one but no-one flashed me, so I think they are quite relaxed about things. And I make a special effort to not barnstorm past them. I remember “waking up” people when I overtook them in the Caterham, and despite being a full ¼ mile away by the time they had collected their senses, they would still flash and express their discontent. Some might say I should just forget about other road users but I always think about what might happen if I were involved in an accident, and “witnesses” would describe the lunatic that flew past them earlier.
I don’t want to give that impression. And I don’t want to give people a bad day. I’m polite normally, so I try to extend that to the way I drive around others. You could easily look like a right bully in a giant SUV like mine, but that’s not the impression I want to give.
Sweden “ended” really quickly, and daylight had hardly taken hold when I was directed towards Norway’s customs at the border. People in front were let through but my odd registration plate caused the lady manning (woman-ing?) the post to signal me to stop. She wanted my “id” – and as we Brits don’t have any, I handed over my passport. Then she advised me to pull beyond the booth and over to the right, where she questioned me about the nature of my visit, and where I was staying. She hadn’t heard of Molde (she was quite young), and didn’t really understand why I was driving through the country alone. But after a cursory check through the boot (two massive spare wheels, a snow shovel, a sleeping bag, a pillow, a socket set, clothes and a laptop), she gave me back my passport and let me go.
I wondered what sort of contraband was common-enough to be smuggled from Sweden to Norway that gave the Norwegians cause to even have a border-control these days.
Come to think of it, there was a customs booth between Germany and Denmark, but no-one even looked-up as we crawled respectfully through their border.
So, quicker than I was prepared for, I was in Norway – the 8th country of my trip (if you include my starting point). The roads were good – dual carriageway motorways – although the speed limits lower than before. There were a couple of 120kph places but mostly 110kph.
The motorways ceased south of Lillehammer, as described above, and it was a little slow going for a while but I was distracted by the inclusion of snow each side of the road. As I moved further north west, more and more snow was piled-up at the sides of the road, although the roads themselves were mostly dry (not just cleared of snow – actually dry). I idly wondered if the Norwegians had heating elements under their roads.
A little further on, and there was snow between the wheels of the car, with (again) virtually dry patches where my wheels fell.
Then, I stopped for diesel and a large sausage. Well, you have to, don’t you?
After the hotdog, I got going again, rounded a few corners, and I was suddenly presented with mountainous rock formations that were a scale beyond the norm. I felt like a toy on a child’s playboard – something akin to what model railway enthusiasts make up for maximum effect – big rocky formations with snow on any surface that could support it. That “maximum effect” was in front of me, and to both sides. In fact, as I drove towards the snow-kissed rocks that projected out of the ground, I felt as though I wasn’t getting any closer to them for the longest time. It was like driving towards the sun – it never moves, does it? These leviathans didn’t either. And like the bridges yesterday, I had to force myself to focus on the road, but I felt I was losing the battle for concentration, so I stopped often – wherever there was somewhere I could pull over.
I’d get out, take a couple of pics of the car with the mountains in the background, then I’d just watch them growing while I breathed in the almost unbelievably clean crisp cold air.
I had been driving alongside huge bodies of water for most of the day but I became aware that I was driving around the end of a lake/fjord (I couldn’t see the other end to tell if it was enclosed or not). The road was flat, smooth, and I was leaning on the tyres through this wonderful 180-degree bend. As I straightened out, now on other shore, I could see the mountains I had been right next to previously, much more clearly. And they were epically huge. Grey, black rocks, with a dusting of icing sugar all over them. The water between us was as flat as ice but this time it was not ice – just calm, flat water. It looked like someone’s drink.
The road followed the shore for some miles, then went inland a little, and back towards the shore again, always weaving and wending. As I noted before, the truck is as far from a Caterham as you can get, but you can still enjoy the rhythm of braking, turning-in, accelerating out of the corner – all at a more leisurely pace than in the Caterham but with a sense of inevitability that this monster of a car provides. It communicates a feeling that there is nothing that could stand between you and your journey’s end. This car will get you anywhere you want to go, in any conditions, over any terrain (Land Rover owners need not challenge this).
Suddenly, Mrs Google spoke-up again, advising me to turn off to the left where I was presented with a queue of cars clearly intent on boarding a ferry. I had a moment of panic because I had thought I’d planned for no ferries but this ferry one was actually in sight, on its way towards the dock. I’d be waiting merely “minutes” so I decided to go with it. It was undoubtedly the quickest route to the Hotel, and the daylight was fading, so I boarded 4th (I think).
As I sat in my car on this open ferry, my brother called me (amazing signal everywhere in Europe, and only using my own billing plan – I hope this continues when we leave the EU). He is tracking me with GPS (Live 360 – if anyone is interested – great app), and wondered if I had driven into the sea.
The crossing was only 10-15 minutes, so I replied to a few Facebook posts, and watched the land creep closer. Then we disembarked.
Between the ferry and the Hotel was another incredible bridge – small, but it climbed at a rate you think is only portrayed by some clever distance-compression photography. This one climbed. Then we were only on the ground again for what seemed like a minute before we entered a tunnel – one with a descent warning. I kid you not. A tunnel with a descent warning..!! We literally fell into this tunnel as it dove under the next body of water, so quickly that I had to “pop” my ears near to the bottom.
Mrs Google directed me to my Hotel, which was at the end of a really nice-looking shopping street, which in turn was after a marina where hundreds of small sailing boats were moored. I suspect this is a rather affluent place but it was now dark, so I couldn’t make out the scale of the place. Feels small but a large passenger ferry was docked at the end of the street. I’ll find out in the morning, I guess.
There was a space big enough to park the truck, right next to the entrance. The chap on reception was very polite, and I could tell I’d chosen tonight’s stay really, really well. I have no idea how easy it would be to get here (other than the method I’ve chosen) but if you ever fancy a weekend away (and are prepared to research options for getting here), then I’d recommend it. The Thon Hotel, Moldefjord.
As it stands, I’ll spend no longer here than it takes to sleep and eat breakfast – something I’m now a little sour about.
So, tomorrow – the Atlantic Ocean road. Hope it will be worth it.
Edited by Watchman on Wednesday 19th February 19:42
vikingaero said:
TWO spare tyres. You sir, are a nerd. I salute you! 
That reminds me to order another alloy...
I am but in my defence I actually have a spare "set" of alloys, and I run with winter tyres all year. When my previous set were worn but serviceable, I swapped to the other set, saving the best two for this trip.That reminds me to order another alloy...
And "two" because they're directional. And I have space... for everything I own (just about).
I don't know if you've passed through the toll section but you might need to register for a toll payment for
Gothenburg.
I registered for a trip I made in 2015 but don't remember if they actually took any payment from me.
Nice write up BTW ,I went across the Arctic circle that year ,but in summer ,in Finland.
Winter tyres not required....
Gothenburg.
I registered for a trip I made in 2015 but don't remember if they actually took any payment from me.
Nice write up BTW ,I went across the Arctic circle that year ,but in summer ,in Finland.
Winter tyres not required....
Pericoloso said:
I don't know if you've passed through the toll section but you might need to register for a toll payment for
Gothenburg.
I registered for a trip I made in 2015 but don't remember if they actually took any payment from me.
Nice write up BTW ,I went across the Arctic circle that year ,but in summer ,in Finland.
Winter tyres not required....
Gothenburg is two hotels behind me. I didnt/haven't booked anything in regard to tolls - I'll pay when confronted by a booth.Gothenburg.
I registered for a trip I made in 2015 but don't remember if they actually took any payment from me.
Nice write up BTW ,I went across the Arctic circle that year ,but in summer ,in Finland.
Winter tyres not required....
If I were to do this regularly, I'd arrange something but I'll not likely do this trip again. The next trip is shaping up to be one to the Darwaza gas crater, through Russia and then down into Turkmenistan but that won't be for 2-3 years.
Excellent write up, really enjoying this.
Your second day brief mention of looking for toilets reminded me of one road trip going up through Germany towards Denmark. Got into a horrendous jam for the Elbe tunnel near Hamburg. Needed a pee so left on a likely looking road only to find myself into dockland area. Started following the satnav back to the route which led me some strange journey through some very hard looking brutal housing estates, then onwards what felt to be towards the city centre. Now really needed a pee.
Now heading out of Hamburg, picking up signs for the autobahn, stopped to check map for service area, really really needing a pee. Not far, onto the autobahn, just a few miles, still managed to Vmax it. Into car park, stop, into building, really really really NEED a fizzing pee!!!!!
Barrier! Feck, don't have the right coin, feck feck feck feck! Back teeth floating now.
Join queue in shop, buy some random stuff, give a note, thankfully get right coin in change. Reckon if hadn't got that would have pissed in the till.
Finally aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Take a break, late lunch. Another visit to the facilities. Walk out to car, football coaches in, fans just lined up on edge of car park watering the verges. Appeared to be quite normal procedure. Maybe not.
Memo made to self, stop before the Elbe tunnel in future.
Your second day brief mention of looking for toilets reminded me of one road trip going up through Germany towards Denmark. Got into a horrendous jam for the Elbe tunnel near Hamburg. Needed a pee so left on a likely looking road only to find myself into dockland area. Started following the satnav back to the route which led me some strange journey through some very hard looking brutal housing estates, then onwards what felt to be towards the city centre. Now really needed a pee.
Now heading out of Hamburg, picking up signs for the autobahn, stopped to check map for service area, really really needing a pee. Not far, onto the autobahn, just a few miles, still managed to Vmax it. Into car park, stop, into building, really really really NEED a fizzing pee!!!!!
Barrier! Feck, don't have the right coin, feck feck feck feck! Back teeth floating now.
Join queue in shop, buy some random stuff, give a note, thankfully get right coin in change. Reckon if hadn't got that would have pissed in the till.
Finally aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Take a break, late lunch. Another visit to the facilities. Walk out to car, football coaches in, fans just lined up on edge of car park watering the verges. Appeared to be quite normal procedure. Maybe not.
Memo made to self, stop before the Elbe tunnel in future.
Watchman said:
Sweden “ended” really quickly, and daylight had hardly taken hold when I was directed towards Norway’s customs at the border. People in front were let through but my odd registration plate caused the lady manning (woman-ing?) the post to signal me to stop. She wanted my “id” – and as we Brits don’t have any, I handed over my passport. Then she advised me to pull beyond the booth and over to the right, where she questioned me about the nature of my visit, and where I was staying. She hadn’t heard of Molde (she was quite young), and didn’t really understand why I was driving through the country alone. But after a cursory check through the boot (two massive spare wheels, a snow shovel, a sleeping bag, a pillow, a socket set, clothes and a laptop), she gave me back my passport and let me go.
I wondered what sort of contraband was common-enough to be smuggled from Sweden to Norway that gave the Norwegians cause to even have a border-control these days.
That's an Odd border is that one, i remember 20 years ago driving to Oslo in an LDV and similar thing happening. I wondered what sort of contraband was common-enough to be smuggled from Sweden to Norway that gave the Norwegians cause to even have a border-control these days.
Van was completely empty bar a spare wheel in teh back (as i was going to move a mate back from Oslo to London), they gave the van a full search with the comment "A van matching our description had been reported smuggling contraband!" .... what, a RHD British Leyland LDV with "Kennings Van Hire, Kings Cross" down the side, get many of them do you???
Great trip! cheers for sharing
XJSJohn said:
Watchman said:
Sweden “ended” really quickly, and daylight had hardly taken hold when I was directed towards Norway’s customs at the border. People in front were let through but my odd registration plate caused the lady manning (woman-ing?) the post to signal me to stop. She wanted my “id” – and as we Brits don’t have any, I handed over my passport. Then she advised me to pull beyond the booth and over to the right, where she questioned me about the nature of my visit, and where I was staying. She hadn’t heard of Molde (she was quite young), and didn’t really understand why I was driving through the country alone. But after a cursory check through the boot (two massive spare wheels, a snow shovel, a sleeping bag, a pillow, a socket set, clothes and a laptop), she gave me back my passport and let me go.
I wondered what sort of contraband was common-enough to be smuggled from Sweden to Norway that gave the Norwegians cause to even have a border-control these days.
That's an Odd border is that one, i remember 20 years ago driving to Oslo in an LDV and similar thing happening. I wondered what sort of contraband was common-enough to be smuggled from Sweden to Norway that gave the Norwegians cause to even have a border-control these days.
Van was completely empty bar a spare wheel in teh back (as i was going to move a mate back from Oslo to London), they gave the van a full search with the comment "A van matching our description had been reported smuggling contraband!" .... what, a RHD British Leyland LDV with "Kennings Van Hire, Kings Cross" down the side, get many of them do you???
Great trip! cheers for sharing
Speaking of that bridge and crossing when it's a bit breezy, can recall cruising across at 100kph, and looking out of the window to see a gliding seagull was gradually overtaking me.
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