Lakselv Loafing
Sometimes, on a trip like this, you just need a day or two to catch up.
It’s been a whirlwind of arrival, in-country travel, bicycle issues, and the extra slow getting-to-know-you phase of traveling in a new country with a new language, and we’re ready for a break. We had run a bit low on food, nearly out of fuel, and long since out of fresh clothes by the time we got to Lakselv, and we were hungry.
The produce section here is funny. There are always cucumbers (agurker), and they are always wrapped in plastic. So are most vegetables. The cabbages, though, are bare and beautiful, and the rutabagas are as big as the cabbages!
Laundry’s a thing
We started by checking into perhaps the weirdest hotel I’ve stayed in. (The Verdde is a three-story establishment with a restaurant. It’s been remodeled upfront, but the rooms are about 50 years old. It is often left unstaffed for hours at a time.)
They don’t do laundry, and there’s no laundromat in town, so everything went into the bathtub and we got creative with drying it all. The midnight sun, stiff breeze, and heated bathroom floor all helped tremendously. The cranky old radiator, not so much. One good-natured cleaning lady had a good laugh when she came to empty the trash and found us relaxing in our spider’s web.
Pizzaaahhhh and Finnebif
Meal one after 300 miles of riding? “One large pizza, please!” The veggie pie at the Lakselv Restaurant is like nothing I’ve ever seen before, covered with onions, peppers, mushrooms, green olives, and pineapple (ananas, på norsk). It tasted great, and disappeared much more quickly than we expected.
We had a chance to try finnbif here, too - it’s a regional specialty stew, made with thin-shaved slices of reindeer, mushrooms, and often has brunost in the sauce. Served over potetmos, it’s a wonderful thing. I asked for the recipe - if I’m lucky and the chef is willing to share, maybe I’ll make it for you some time.
Some things I haven’t been hungry enough to try.
New rainy-coat
On the day of our ill-fated attempt to ride to Mehamn, the wind pushed enough rain through my (very fancy) rain coat’s front zip to soak my shirts through. When I tried to unzip it an hour later, it wouldn’t play ball - after 6 or so years of light duty in the dessicated lands, the zipper’s toast.
You’ve got to respect the Norwegian’s tribute to the cod fish that kept them alive for so long.
So I got a new rain coat! Despite everyone’s warnings about how expensive everything is in Norway, I landed a beautiful, soft, sturdy, 3-layer, pit-zips, sweet-hooded, all-the-pockets-having rain jacket for $120, tax included. Admittedly, it’s child-size, but the grownup ones are only $30 more. Maybe the most impressive bit is how easy it is to buy a very nice coat for a kid here. It’s been years since I worked in outdoor retail, but the gear in the children’s section was always decidedly lower quality. This sucker wouldn’t win a fight with my old Alpha SV, but it wouldn’t go down in the first round either.
Things we did not buy
You basically can’t walk into a grocery store in Nord Norge without finding a wall of yarn. Heidi is positively basking in the possibilities. Perhaps because the demand is so much stronger, the deals are real. We looked off a whole bin of superwash merino at $4 a skein, because we’re already packing too much yarn along.
Similarly, any good-sized grocery here has a whole section of lightweight merino wool undies, shirts and long johns. The amount of stinky I would not be right now if I spent the day in wool instead of this plastic tee shirt would blow your mind. Add in the whole “plastic is amazing but terrible” thing, and set the price to half what you’d pay in the US, and it’s hard not to replace our whole small wardrobe. If only they had the right sizes!
I also sat in a $1200 chair. I don’t know - it was pretty comfy, I guess.
Hotel California
Our hotel stay was quirky but fun, and ended on a definite high note. Our bicycles were stored in a locked, staff-only hallway while we weren’t using them. And there were no staff in the building when it was time for us to leave.
Rather than call the phone number on the sign at the front desk and make the manager drive to town early (like a normal person would), I decided to take the initiative. People are tremendously lazy and I am one of them, so I know a few things about how studiously we avoid making an effort. After trying just a few likely lockbox combinations, I had the key in hand. We grabbed our bikes, replaced the key, locked the lockbox, and headed on our way.
Stabbursdalen Natural History Museum Thing
With full bellies, dry clothing, a fresh batch of groceries in the bear can, and the theme song from Hackers in my head, we rode north out of town, headed eventually to Alta. Our first stop was ten mellow miles from Lakselv at Stabbursdalen NP. The visitor’s center doubles as a small museum, and we spent a couple hours over lunch looking at the exhibits and bothering the helpful staff. There was a bit of nature, a bit of history, and a bit of local culture.
A stuffed local squirrel on a pine tree trunk
Porsanger Kommune, the county-sized municipality we’re in right now, is something of a center for both Sami and Kven cultures. The larger Sami communities and seat of government are south of us, but our hotel flies Norwegian, Sami, and Kven flags at the same height.
A traditional Sami earthen hut
We learned that King Crabs, both common and economically important in the area, are an introduced species. They’re also voracious, and at least somewhat ecologically destructive. Bummer - I hear they’re delicious.
The coolest thing about the museum, for better or worse, was actually the rich collection of free booklets on wildlife and foraging produced by the national mushroom society. Packed into racks in entrance hall, they answered many of the questions we’ve been coming up with as we poke through the bushes on the sides of the road.
“Who’s that bird?” “Are those funny-looking nettles?!?” “What mushrooms fruit here?”
They also seem to have great introductory material for kiddos. Very, very cool. I’d love to track them down somewhere along the way and go on a foray or something.
A shortcut
H is so great. When I say, “hey, do you want to take this gravel road? It might save us a hundred meters of riding,” she grins and says sure. Not because she thinks it will save us any effort, but just to see how it goes. This is almost certainly not in line with her approach to life, but she seems to understand that it is in my nature to do things just to see what happens, and she’s willing to entertain the occasional unnecessary shortcut.
The shorcut was just as spicy as one might expect. We had a blast, and managed to get both bikes up with no accidents or injuries. The normal road into the park came just a few meters after our steep snow step, perfect, smooth, gravel the whole way.
Stabbursdalen National Park
And finally there’s the park.
We live here now, at least for tonight, and it’s lovely. Everything is exploding to green life here, with leaves on trees and grass on the ground. The pine forest (because we’re really in it, now) is remarkable. The trunks are golden, the bark is smoother and softer than the ponderosa we’re used to, and your hands are still clean of resin after you go up the tree inspecting birds’ nests.
The parking area is as usual pristine, and provides both grills and the coal to fire them. The area just outside the park is an internationally recognized bird sanctuary, and the interior hosts many different species as well. Just a kilometer or so down the trail, you meet the river. It’s a productive atlantic salmon run, the season opens at midnight, and we’re the only people staying at this hut on the water.
The cabin is free (gratis), and mostly free (libre) too. It’s always open, anyone can stay whenever they like, and is treated something like common property of the people in the area. It’s owned by Finnmark (the region in which it is located), is supplied with wood and propane for winter visitors, and is kept clean by the people who use it. There are seven posted rules, the most prominent of which is “Use this cabin with common sense”. And people do, it seems.
The river’s in flood, the birds are all madly in love, and I’m deeply happy to be here on this trip.
Spring signs
Though the high country around the waterfall is still grey and brown, young leaves are growing thick on the birches here at sea level.
New friends
- a white-tailed eagle (if I remember that correctly)
- so many other birds
- a stuffed storfugl (literally, “big bird”). I want to see one of these so badly!
