Norway by Motorcycle
Channeling my inner Viking to take on mountains, fjords, and a lot of cold rain
Erik, the manager at Harley Bergen, looked me up and down with disdain. “Is that all the gear you brought? '' he said in crisp English with a light sprinkling of a Scandinavian accent. My fashion forward Motorcycle jacket clearly wasn’t up to the conditions. “Come on” he said with a chuckle, “we’ll get you sorted in the back”
Just a few hours earlier I’d landed in Norway after taking the 7am from Helsinki. Looking out the window on approach, I wanted to ask the stewardess if I could hitch a flight back. Rain poured in the dreary gray mourning. Temperatures floated in the low 50s. To my palm frawn Miami Beach composition, this was arctic indeed.
The weather wasn’t my only reason for concern. The day before my buddy Bart got busted by the Norwegian fuzz. He was going 90 km/h in a 60 and the local cops didn’t take kindly to his speeding. Maybe it also didn’t help that he had an illegal racing exhaust and American plates. They issued him a 1,200 euro ticket, banned him from driving in Norway, and told him to get to the first ferry out of the country.
Obviously he headed in the opposite direction, deeper into Norway. I couldn’t wimp out because of some rain when he was risking jail time so I got in a cab and headed to the Harley dealership.
So why did we come to Norway in the first place? It’s cold, rainy, and has speed limits that’ll put your grandma behind bars. Two answers, epic scenery and super smoothing roads. Norway is the ultimate tease of motorcycle touring. Perfect on paper, but there is a lot to overcome.
I began riding alone, and the beauty of Norway was apparent. I snaked along Fjords as dramatic rain fueled waterfalls crashed down into the water. Little towns with characteristic red houses dotted the landscape and white fishing boats bobbed. The rain made it more charming, and with the Erik recommended gear I might as well have been inside a late model Lexus.
Midway through the day I took my first ferry, this was an experience in and of itself. Crossing the Fjord I got a sense of how truly dramatic the landscape was. It felt like I was transported to Middle Earth, I could imagine Frodo on the barge beside me.
Good traveling companions have a sense of humor, great ones have insider information, but the best are one thing, reliable. We’d made a plan to meet at an obscure mountain town called Hovden at a specific time on motorcycles, and we both managed to make it. This ski town was desolate in Summer, forest and rock strewn craters abound. The hotel was what you would expect, dark wood and somber cool tones. To our dismay after a long cold journey we discovered it lacked a sauna.
Sitting around a fire we drank beer and plotted our route. We had google maps to go on as well as a few blog posts. The plan took us through the mountains, down the Fjords and back along the coast.
We felt confident when we set off the next day but weren’t prepared for how narrow the roads became. Sheep trotted into our path and RVs pulled over at hairpin corners to let us by. Doing our best to adhere to the artificially low speed limit it was slow going.
The Harley Panamerica I rented, while not my favorite bike, was suited to this sort of job. The engine was powerful but not aggressive, it didn’t encourage you to go fast. With an upright riding position and a soft saddle it was built for miles. It could have used more street focused tires in this slippery rain, but I understood its purpose as a dual sport motorcycle.
Some aspects of the Harley, however, got on my nerves. The built in electronics and navigation system kept turning off and at one point the keyless starter refused to engage. Bits of the bike felt poorly made and I never really trusted the kickstand. The worst part however, were the looks. What inspired Harley to use that stupid rectangular headlight instead of a classic round one!
We pressed the speed a bit and passed cars. A few swerved to try and run us off the road. Apparently passing was just as forbidden as speeding. Our risks paid off and we finally got some of the epic roads to ourselves just as the sun came out.
Starting downward into the Fjord of Lysebotn we were excited for one of the most famous roads in Norway. This road has been compared to a condescended Stelvio Pass, the route through the Alps made famous in the 1969 Italian Job’s opening scene. Like most of the trip it was cloudy, but the snaking road peaked through, showing an almost vertical drop down. Leaving the lunar landscape we started our descent towards the narrow Fjord.
While you can really race in Italy, we took our time down this gravel strewn path. Linking turn after tern we admired the view while not slipping on the asphalt. It got more lush as we went down and we found several lookout points. Rock walls shot down with pouring waterfalls on every side. At the bottom you got a sense of the sheer scale. Gazing up, I understood why we were there.
The rain was returning so we decided to head for Stavanger.
This was not an obvious choice. In Oslo, a local biker told Bart to avoid this port town which serves as the home base for the Oil industry. He said it was bleak and industrial. Fate forced our hand. Because we hadn’t pre-booked the ferry from Lysebotn we had to back track up the famed mountain pass (not the worst thing in the world) and take the road to Stavanger.
It turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip.
While Stavanger was clearly industrial, that only meant the tourists were kept away. We found a center with charming cobbled streets and traditional wood framed buildings set alongside a working port. There were restaurants and bars with a spirit that couldn’t be kept down by the rain.
Walking around we decided to try our luck at Re-Naa, a two star Michelin restaurant considered one of the best in Scandinavia. Unfortunately for us the staff takes a three week break in the summer. We did run into a manager minding the restaurant. She was incredibly friendly and recommended a wine bar on the other side of town, going so far as to call the manager to fit us in at the already busy spot.
Hermetikken Vinbar sits atop a hill across from the harbor. Located In the back of an old government building that’s now a Museum, it’s not the sort of place you happen to run into. The interior was full on Scandinavian minimalism and we took a seat by the window.
Our server was also the owner, and the trainer of the Norwegian national wine tasting team. We ordered the set menu with Wine pairing. The food was light and fresh highlighting local producers including cabbage grown in their garden and fish from area fishermen. For wine we went with a new world pairing, and made our way through some particular interesting South African reds. Happy, a bit drunk, we walked back home just ahead of the rain.
The next morning it was extra hard prying myself from the grips of the fluffy Norwegian duvet. It was the last day and I wasn’t ready to wake up or end the trip.
Heading on the well traveled E39, the scenery was stunning. Hoping from Island to island along the Atlantic ocean we saw distant waves and fish farms. This road is connected by big industrial sized ferries and the voyage was as much a part of the fun as the motorcycle ride. The cold crisp air felt great as the sun poked through. Eventually we made it back to Bergen.
At this point I was in a rush. My girlfriend was joining us for the last night and I had to drop the bike off. After three days and almost six hundred miles I got lost for the first time. For thirty minutes I circled a shopping center trying to find the Harley dealer. Once again Erik was a champ, and waited an extra fifteen minutes after closing for me to return the bike. I hopped in a cab and headed to Bergen.
Bergen is a tourist town but its medieval charms shows through the knickknack shops. Like much of the trip, eating was a focus. We had a couple gin and tonics and made our way to another tasting menu. The restaurant turned out to be a bit of a joke. The portions were so small I craved a pizza slice after.
Flying out the next morning back to Finland I thought about the trip. It was the perfect getaway with a totally different landscape from the rest of Scandinavia. The people were friendly and the food was by and large excellent. While the cold and rain proved to be a test, I tried to focus on how refreshing it was to have a break from the Miami heat.
I also said a small prayer for Bart as he continued the journey up Norway on his own.