Along the coast to Varangerbotn
The day began slowly. We were late to rise, and I promptly broke a couple of raw eggs in my pack. The shells are thinner than we’re used to here. We spent a while cleaning up and boiling the rest of them before hitting the road at 12:20 PM.
We soon rode out of the grenseområdet (local border traffic area), within which Russian citizens who live near the border can travel regularly with a permit, for non-business purposes. It seems like a neat program, designed to minimize friction for locals who want to keep family or community connections across an important imaginary line.
The wind at our backs
The country here is still winter-brown, with rare patches of green moss and small enclaves of red, white, and mustard-colored homes and cabins (hytter). It is beautiful, but very stark this time of year.
The country along the E6 from Bugøyfjord to Grassbakken is especially stark and especially beautiful, with small communities dotting the coastline at the bottom of every inlet. Behind them are snow, water, stone, brown grass, and black and white birch.
We are enjoying the ride in comfort, thanks to the steady tailwind we’ve had from Kirkenes. The prevailing wind across most of Finnmark blows Southwest off the Berents sea, making the area one of the coldest in Norway, but greatly easing the rough passage from couch potato to road warrior.
Of local interest
Along the roadside, we regularly see trailhead signage. Simple signs, small trails, but it’s lovely to see so much access.
We’ve been unable to figure out exactly what Perletur is, but it seems like some a Finnmark-regional initiative to get people outside? Please drop me a line if you can explain.
Late in the day, we stopped at the childhood home of Isak Saba, the first member of the Sami parliament here, and an important cultural and historical figure.
My photograph fails to do justice to the remoteness of the cabin, set alone on a bluff above the sea. There are a few scattered houses and barns in the area now, but all of much newer construction. Looking at homes like this in their native habitat, if you will, gives a strikingly clearer picture of the place and the life than any museum exhibit could. Cold, in the winter, with hard work always, but warm by the hearth.
The rough side of the wind
Stopping for lunch here, it is time to wear all the layers. The viewpoint overlooks and roadside rest stops here are frequent, but seem always to be sited on the most rugged and windswept bit of rock available. The same wind that helps you up the hill blows steadily through your clothing while you cut cucumber (agurk) and cheese (ost) for your crispbread lunch.
We ate lunch today on a brilliantly windy bluff, looking out over the first salmon farm of the trip, and backed by one of the trailheads leading into Brannsletta regional park. We met a young husky puppy, two cute kids who couldn’t figure out the gibberish we were speaking, and their patient mom, and then we went on our way.
The bathrooms at all of these roadside stops (and there are many of them) all seem to be built simply from wood. They’re simple, clean, stocked, always open, and pop up every 20-30 miles. Overall, a great improvement over the American experience.
Eventually we reached Varangerbotn quite tired. We went shopping and I bought a bunch of liquorice, because where else can you get so many varieties of this stuff?
Everybody in Norway can wheelie
Outside the store, we made friends with a whole gang of the local kids, all on bicycles, sessioning a little bank and stair set, and being a bunch of weird kids.
Impressed after watching them ride for a few minutes, we asked if all Norwegians can wheelie.
“Yes, of course. Can’t you?”
They drifted off after chatting for a while, and we got our things packed up to go. As we headed up the hill on the way out of town, though, they were waiting for us. They whole crew shouted and waved, then popped epic wheelies and rode them away down the hill toward town. Our greatest military heroes deserve such a salute.
Evening time
We camped for the night in a funny little hollow on an unpromising hill.
Set above the lake just north of Varangerbotn, the land was just below snow line and marshy from the thaw. The ground was covered in last summer’s explosive crowberries, and shrubby birch everywhere else. Heidi found us a lovely flat pocket, though, we filled up our water filter, and dropped off for a quiet night.
The lake is still mostly frozen, and the water at the margins cold and clear. There’s so much water here. It’s wonderful.
Old Friends
- crowberry, and lots of other plants similar to those in Healy, AK
- reindeer - but today, there are lots of them and they don’t have collars on
New Friends
- Varangerbotn’s awesome bike crew
- Salty liquorice, which is made with a weird salt (ammonium chloride) that doesn’t really taste salty, but does make things weirdly good