Vigeland to Lake Byglandsfjorden – 175 kms

Lattitude: 58

We had a surprisingly great night’s sleep at a scenic carpark right off the main road. Today, we’re heading to the southernmost tip of mainland Norway.

It was another glorious, sunny day as we wound our way along narrow roads skirting fjords and charming boathouses. I don’t know why, but everything here feels ultra-saturated. It’s like seeing the world through an iPhone with the filters cranked up. The colours are incredibly vivid, almost surreal. Maybe it’s to do with how far north we are, but it’s probably just my imagination.

We reached the southern tip of mainland Norway and set off on a steep hike up to the lighthouse. As we climbed, the salty air grew stronger, and my lungs grew tighter. I must do more exercise! At the top, the lighthouse stood tall against the brilliant blue sky, offering endless views over the North Sea. The original lighthouse was powered by a coal fire, and we had the chance to explore the nearby caves where the coal was stored. They were dark, cool, and moody, still with a hint of coal smell. It was a fascinating glimpse into the past and added a unique layer to our visit.

Afterwards, we spent some time plotting our next move, keen to head north, but eager to avoid the major cities. Finding a route through Norway without driving through long tunnels is trickier than you’d think. But the upside? We get to drive through some wonderfully wiggly backroads with stunning scenery at every turn.

We stopped at a small museum, where a lovely local woman gave us some brilliant tips for road-tripping north. I’d been torn about skipping the major tourist hotspots like the Lofoten Islands. Part of me didn’t want to miss out, even though crowded places aren’t really my thing. Thankfully, she confirmed what I’d suspected: they’re beautiful, but seriously overrun, and there are plenty of less touristy spots that are just as stunning, if not more so. Most of them were already on my radar, but it was reassuring to have that insider validation.

We continued our journey north, searching for a camping spot for the night. We found a little spot which seemed perfect. It was a bit of a tight and bumpy squeeze, but Mike wrangled Bertie in, balancing us nicely on a rock overlooking a lake. But when we stepped out of the van we were swarmed upon by ants. And they weren’t little ants either, these were big brown man eating things! We needed to leave! Now! Lake view or not, we weren’t about to become part of the ant smorgasbord.

The next trick was to reverse out of the tight spot. I tried to help but as per standard, Mike ignored all my arm waving, yelling, etc. and then he almost got stuck in a groove, wheels spinning, kicking up grit and ants. A moment of fear crossed my mind of getting stuck here and being eaten alive. But, the professional driver he is, with the help of our adventure van, Bertie, they both made it out. It might not have worked out so well if it was wet.

A short way up the road we found a better spot to camp for the night, also overlooking a lake and under some pine trees. And no ants! We sat on the rocks at the edge of the lake, enjoying the quiet, the breeze, and the simple feeling of having nowhere else to be. So far, it’s just us here, no other vans, a stunning view and a few flying bugs which we weren’t sure were bitey or not. It feels like our own private slice of Norway.

The days are getting longer with the sun now setting at 10pm. I’m going to start putting the lattitude at the top of the blog. We are currently at 58 degrees. The arctic is at 66 and we hope to go as far north as 71 degrees. Hamilton sits at 38 degrees.

It was one of those gorgeous blue-sky days, and the four-hour ferry crossing was smooth as…until we docked.

No sooner had we rolled off the ferry than my worst fear happened: tunnels. Boom. Boom. Boom. Three in a row, not even time to catch my breath. And not your average tunnels, either. This was an underground maze, with forks and offshoots going god knows where. Mike missed our exit, and suddenly we were hopelessly lost in Norway’s underground. 

Eventually, we resurfaced and pulled into a shopping centre so I could calm my rattled nerves. We also picked up a Norwegian road atlas, because sometimes you just need to see the entire battlefield.

Mr Google kept trying to herd us onto the highways so I did my zoomie trick where I zoom in on the map and follow the wiggliest lines I can find. That led us to the coast, and oh wow, what a detour it turned out to be.

Norway’s southern fjords are absolutely stunning. Clear blue water and red timber houses perched at the water’s edge were just what I expected from Norway. It’s picture postcard, chocolate box and every other cliché you can imagine.  We couldn’t stop grinning at the sheer beauty of it!

But we should give some credit to France, Belgium, Holland, and Denmark. Their flat landscapes set up Norway to wow us as soon as we got off the ferry. It was like we’d been transported into another land (we literally had).

The afternoon was spent driving along narrow winding roads, every turn another beautiful scene. I found two really decent free camping spots, but Mike was loving the drive so much he didn’t want to stop. The weather and scenery was too nice.

We continued on but couldn’t find any decent camping spots. Thankfully, with the long evenings (it doesn’t get dark until around 10 p.m.), we had time on our side. Eventually, we found a free spot in a rest area just off the main road. Even their rest stops are ridiculously picturesque. We’re overlooking a pond, with picnic tables, chairs, and even toilets. Just a bit of traffic noise, but it didn’t bother us at all.

Today we woke up, buzzing with excitement to explore Denmark. First stop:  Ribe. It’s not just Denmark’s oldest town, but one of the oldest in all of Scandinavia. We wandered around the cobbled streets marvelling at the different architecture and wonky chocolate ripple buildings. We were keen to sample some authentic Danish cuisine for lunch, but neither of us could make a decision so we gave up and returned  to the van for a salad wrap.

We drove to the next town, Esbjerg, but couldn’t find a parking spot so we left in a huff. But just outside the city, Denmark redeemed itself with Man Meets the Sea: four enormous, ghostly white statues sitting on a dune, gazing out over the North Sea. They were very cool.

Today, we tried really hard to be tourists, but we just weren’t feeling it. I don’t want to sound mean, but driving across Denmark has been a bit like road tripping across the Hauraki Plains, with a few windmills and old buildings thrown in for variety. The cow shit smells the same.

But this trip was never about Denmark. Norway has been calling us from the start, and now, we’re finally ready to answer.

Tomorrow we catch a ferry to Norway!

Today, we’re going to Denmark!

After a peaceful night’s sleep in a carpark in Holland, we hit the road around 10 a.m., feeling refreshed and ready for a new country.

We’ve decided to experiment with our navigation. Google Maps wanted to send us to Denmark via the busy city of Hamburg. No thanks! Keen to avoid the chaos, we zoomed in on the map and spotted a small ferry crossing the River Elbe. It looked like a much less stressful option, so we took a chance.

The Elbe is a mighty river, stretching over 1,000 kilometres all the way to the Czech Republic. As we crossed, we dodged three container ships making their way out of Hamburg. It was a little tense (not really), but we made it safely to the other side and carried on our way.

We stuck to our plan of avoiding motorways and eventually crossed the border into Denmark, arriving in the town of Tønder. It was quiet, eerily so. As we wandered the cobbled streets, I wondered if the whole town was taking an afternoon nap.

We found a large gravel parking lot to sleep in, but I wasn’t feeling The Vibe. That’s my personal radar for picking good overnight spots. It wasn’t a bad vibe, just not The Vibe. Hard to explain, but it’s a feeling I’ve learned to trust.

We were both pretty tired, so we cooked some dinner and mulled it over. I found another parking spot just eight minutes away, so we decided to go and check it out. And I’m so glad we did.

It turned out to be a dedicated free camping area for campervans, complete with a grassy patch and even toilets! Now this was The Vibe.

Later, we took a stroll through the town. It’s basically one long cobblestoned street lined with trees. But these are not your average trees. They had been carefully manicured into what looked like furry green fingers reaching for the sky. The cottages were straight out of a fairytale: old, quaint, with thatched-roofs and wonky bricks. It looked different from any street I’d seen in Europe, and that made me happy.

That, and the toilet. The toilet made me happy too.

Holland to Bad Bederkesa, Germany

It was another fast-tracking day in our quest for the midnight sun. Holland flew by in a haze of flat farmland and windmills. The highlight was cruising over a ridiculously long dyke that stretches across the top of the Netherlands. The Dutch built it to stop the North Sea from flooding the land. 

It’s called the Alphabet dyke (or Afsluitdijk in dutch) and it’s 32 kms long! It closed off the BackwardsAlphabet (Zuiderzee in dutch), and over time, the salty sea turned into a freshwater lake, now known as the IJsselmeer. It’s how the Netherlands keeps the sea under control. We cycled this exact route a few years ago, but it was much slower and sweatier.

Out on the lake, rows upon rows of windmills rose from the water like a futuristic forest. Stretching into the distance, these sleek white turbines turned in the wind. Was it sight pollution? Was that even a thing? I wasn’t sure, but at least the cows weren’t complaining. (No-one cares about the fish!)

Today, there were no major disasters, no surprise detours and Bertie’s mirror stayed in place. But we did eat a lot of junk food. Chocolate, chippies, and some sweet sour things which made me feel sick. I’ll start my diet tomorrow.

We’ve now crossed into Germany and are parked up in another glamorous carpark. This one’s charging us 6 euros for the night, but it’s in a lovely spot, close to a peaceful canal that looks like it belongs on a postcard.

For dinner we had the obligatory schnitzel and chips. Was it only two days ago I decided to go vegetarian? Like I said, diet starts tomorrow. (It’s more of a mantra than a plan at this point.)

After dinner, we walked alongside the canal. Houseboats lined the banks, their windows open to the warm air, with bicycles leaning against their sides and people sipping wine on the decks. The water glistened, mirroring the soft glow of the late afternoon sun.  A heron stood in the shallows, still and watchful, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting fish. The path beneath our feet crunched with each step and put me in a reflective state.

I reminisced about our cycling trip three years ago. Back then, we swore we’d never travel Europe by campervan. Cycle touring was our thing. But to reach Norway and chase the midnight sun, the sheer number of steep climbs and bike-unfriendly tunnels makes it impossible to do in just 90 days (and probably outside of our skill level.)

As much as we loved the simplicity of life on two wheels:  Pack up tent, hop on bike, cycle, pitch tent, cook dinner on ground, repeat; there’s a different kind of freedom that comes with campervan travel. You can pull over anywhere for a cup of tea, take an afternoon nap, and carry refrigerated food. And at the end of the day, there’s real comfort in having a bed off the ground, shelter from the weather, and a house that moves when you do.

Walking beside the quiet canal, I realised you don’t have to be immersed in nature all day to enjoy it. It was just nice to stretch the legs and feel the excitement of being somewhere new.

We found a seat and sat, listening to the silence. Not the absence of sound, but the presence of stillness. It wrapped around us like a welcome hug, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant boom boom of a party on the other side of the river. After 3 days of driving on manic motorways, it was nice to just sit and be.

If all goes well tomorrow, we might make it to Denmark!

Todays mission: Fix Berties mirror

We had a great night sleep in the carpark in Belgium but we woke up to freezing! Well, not quite, but it was pretty cold. Our first stop was a Mercedes dealership just outside Ghent… only to find out they don’t deal with vans or stock the parts we needed. Luckily, the kind receptionist called their city branch and confirmed they had what we were after.

A quick detour into Ghent, and Bertie was soon the proud owner of a shiny new side mirror. The best part? Fitting it was a easy. A quick pop-in job and Bertie was as good as new, ready to hit the road again. 

But no road trip goes completely to plan. Not long after we left, a warning light flicked on the dash. Time for another detour, this time to Antwerp and another Mercedes dealership. And, you guessed it, they didn’t handle vans either. The nearest van specialist was 30 minutes away… in the wrong direction. Strangely enough, when Mike restarted the van, the warning had vanished. Mysterious, but we weren’t complaining.

The rest of the day was a fast-paced sprint up the motorways, bypassing Belgium’s and Holland’s major cities – Antwerp, The Hague and Amsterdam.

Since freedom camping is banned in the Netherlands, we pulled into a campground north of Amsterdam. It’s not cheap at €27 a night, but the showers and toilets are super-flash, and it seems like a peaceful place to rest up.

Right now, it feels like we’re racing through Europe, but with limited time and many miles to cover, we’re skipping over the countries we’ve explored before. Things will slow down once we reach Denmark.

The day did not start well.

As I mentioned in the last blog, today’s “big adventure” would probably not be the ferry to France. Turns out, I was spot on. The real challenge was driving to Dover.  The question wasn’t when we’d make the ferry. It was if.

On a good day, the drive to Dover takes 3.5 hours. Our ferry check-in time was at 3pm. Mike, ever the optimist, suggested leaving at 10am. I, ever the contingency planner, said no later than 9. Sensible, or so I thought…

We got up at 7am, feeling super excited and fully prepared. That’s when Mike noticed Problem #1: the rear tyre pressure was down. Apparently, he’d seen bubbles on the valve the day before when we were faffing about washing Bertie and checking his tyre pressures. Probably should have dealt with that then. 

I could feel a minor panic brewing deep in my subconciousness. Not quite anxiety, but definitely potential. The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy came to the rescue. Don’t Panic, and… something about fish. Details were hazy but the message was clear. I was thankful we had options. If we couldn’t get the wheel fixed today, there would always be another ferry!

A quick call to a local tyre shop quickly stomped on our impending doom and thankfully they squeezed us in straight away. Sure enough it was a dodgy valve. Thirty minutes later, 20 pounds lighter, and we were back on the road by 9:30am. Contingency intact.

Then came Problem #2:  The M25 carpark was full. Because of course it was. There had been an accident and they had closed it off causing mayhem. Google decided to help with a scenic detour right through London’s Ultra Low Emission Zone. Two immediate problems with this:

1.  I didn’t want to go anywhere near London traffic.
2.  Bertie is many things, but a “low-emissions” van he is not!

In my panic to avoid London, I tweaked Google’s settings to avoid tolls and motorways. That was a mistake. A big mistake.

Next thing we knew, we were zigzagging through every back road, country lane, and goat track in southern England. Bertie was getting far too intimate with the hedgerows.

Then Problem #3 happened. Somewhere along the way, one of the sneaky bushes stole our side mirror. It was super-stealth about it too as we didn’t even notice until much later. How on earth was Mike going to handle driving a massive van on the wrong side of the road without a side mirror? But this was a problem for future me.  Right now, I just wanted to escape this maze from hell!

Eventually, the roads widened just enough to unclench, and for a glorious moment, it felt like we were back on actual roads. Almost. But then Mike missed a crucial turning. I told him to take the next one. We pulled over to regroup. Mike wanted to stay with the traffic flow. Google disagreed. In my frustration, I exited the navigation and tried to re-route. Rookie mistake. We were in a data dead spot, and now we had NO navigation.

With no signal, I had to navigate the old-fashioned way: zooming in on offline maps, squinting at the tiny roads, and hoping for the best. Meanwhile, our 2-hour buffer had been chewed up at an alarming rate and we only a 25 minute contingency left!

Eventually, we stumbled back into signal territory. Google found its bearings, but we’d lost precious time. To make matters worse, I realised I’d forgotten to uncheck the “avoid highways” setting. Things were starting to make sense now.

Once that was fixed, it was plain sailing down the M20 to Dover. But by then, Bertie was short one mirror, we were short on nerves, and our “relaxing” drive had turned into the Great Dover Dash.

At least we made it. Just.

The ferry from Dover to Dunkirk was nearly empty. Just a handful of cycle tourists, a couple of vans, and a few trucks. The crossing was smooth and uneventful, and we arrived around 7:30pm.

Then came the final challenge of the day: finding somewhere to sleep.

We had no plan, no destination other than heading north, and a vague idea that heading towards Ghent in Belgium might be smart, since there are a couple of Mercedes dealerships there. Hopefully one of them has a mirror for poor, lopsided Bertie.

I managed to find a carpark in Belgium for us the sleep in for the night. Not glamorous, but we’re tucked in now, hoping nobody knocks on the window at 2am.

Tomorrow? Your guess is as good as mine!

Poole, UK

It’s organisation day! But first, emergency repairs: Bertie’s having a mid-life crisis – his air-con has packed up and I’m not doing another van trip in a sauna!

We took him to the local Mercedes dealer and they had a look. Turns out he had no gas! They tried to re-gas him and failed. More diagnostics are needed. They won’t have time to fix him before we go away, so we decided to leave it until we get back. We’re heading north. How hot can it get?

Other than that, the day was spent sorting our van. We took some stuff back to storage, picked up some more stuff and bought more stuff. What stuff? I have no idea!

Then it was time to wash Bertie. This was a bigger deal than it should have been. First there was a queue, so we decided to check the air in our tyres. But it cost £1 just to find out. Outrageous! We didn’t even know how much air we needed. So, back in the car wash queue we went, grumbling about being charged for something that’s literally everywhere. Then it was our turn to wash. 

We chose the ten minute option thinking this would be heaps of time. There were three different hoses. The black hose for fresh water, the blue hose for soapy water, and the hose for the brush. Straight forward enough, except they’d all got tangled up in a mess by the last person. Why hadn’t we thought to check that beforehand? The clock and our money ticked by as we desperately tried to untangle them.

In an attempt to make up for lost time, we tag-teamed it: Mike wielded the squirty hose, I chased after him with the brush. But when it was time to use the soap, it just trickled out like an old man having a pee. By the time we’d dribbled soap all over the van, we were down to our last minute. We need to rinse, NOW! I grabbed the black hose and started spraying like a maniac, but only soapy water came out. Shit! We’re not gonna make it! God help us if we have to pay more money! And then everything went quiet. The frantic hustle gave way to an unsettling silence. The stupid machine had left us with a half-clean and soapy Bertie.

I sent Mike into the shop to complain and he came back with a lady, a refund, and a queue of annoyed people waiting to wash their cars. So, Bertie is partially clean. That will have to do.

I think we are now all ready for our big adventure which starts tomorrow! Driving on the M25 to Dover! (Oh, and we’re catching a ferry too, if we can get out of the M25 car park.)

Bournemouth to Poole

Today we picked up our van, Bertie! First challenge: me in the driver’s seat. What could possibly go wrong?

Mike’s daughter, Mich had been looking after Bertie while we were away. She’d taken him for little adventures,  just around the block to stretch his wheels. But just before we arrived, he went on a big adventure. Bertie went to a festival! He’s been living his best van-life without us!

Mike was only insured to drive our rental car, which meant I had to drive Bertie. I’d never driven him before, and he’s very big. And manual. The last time I drove a manual was in a different lifetime, on a different continent, in a car that was much smaller and far less judgmental.

It took a few moments to find reverse. The little guideline that usually sits on the gear stick had fallen off. I found it in the ashtray. Reverse was to the left and down. I did this, but the van kept creeping forward. With a massive big fence in front of me, I didn’t have much room for error. So I called on the “expert” for help. Turns out, Bertie has a secret handshake: to get reverse, you have to lift a hidden collar thingy before moving the gear stick. 

Next I had to manoeuvre this beast out of the car spot. It’s weird not having a rearview mirror. How do I know there’s nothing behind me? The side mirrors worked fine. I had to call in the “expert” again to make sure I didn’t hit anything. He walks up, laughs, and points to the dash. ‘You’ve got a reversing camera!’
That would’ve been handy five minutes ago. Little did I know, the reversing camera has a personality all of its own. But more on that later.

Next, I had to try to keep up with Mike on the way to drop off the rental car. For anyone that knows Mike, put him in a car in England and he instantly drives like a maniac. (He calls it rally driving).

Surprisingly, Bertie was a dream to drive. The real challenge wasn’t the gears. It was squeezing his chunky frame into England’s idea of “lanes”. 

As for changing gears? Turns out, muscle memory is a thing. Just like riding a bike. A very large,  intimidating bike with a house strapped to it.

I made it to europcar, incident free. No curbs were harmed. I even managed to vlog a bit while driving, because why not raise the difficulty level? Clearly, I’m now a professional van driver.

There is one small problem with the van. His air-conditioning isn’t working. Apparently, functioning air-con is just too much to ask from our campervans. First Rodger, then Poppy, now Bertie! But I managed to get an appointment tomorrow at the Mercedes dealership. Not cheap, but it beats sitting in a mobile oven. 

I’m guessing our readers might be confused at this point. In the previous blogs we were preparing for the arctic and extreme cold, and now we’re worried about the air-con not working. Well, it’s just the way things work in Europe. 

The rest of the day was a blur of “just a few errands” that somehow swallowed the entire afternoon.

First stop: the storage unit, where we played a fun game of Find Our Stuff. We loaded up, drove to the campground just outside Poole, feeling quite accomplished… until we realised we’d forgotten the camping chairs. You know, those minor luxuries like somewhere to sit. So, back to storage we went for round two. By the time we returned, we were absolutely wiped out. And to top it off, we had the kids coming over for dinner.

The kids arrived around 4:30pm and we had a nice evening catching up. Mike cooked some Chinese pork burgers but we completely forgot Jessie’s now a vegetarian. Oops. Thankfully, the food truck on-site came to the rescue. Mac and cheese chips for Jessie. Crisis averted. 

After they left, all we wanted to do was fall into bed. Tiny problem. There was stuff all over it. We’d basically regurgitated our storage unit into our tiny living space. Then I had a revelation. The cab area … totally empty!. Within minutes, we’d relocated our crap heap onto the front seats. Problem solved. Out of sight, out of mind. Sleep restored.

Tomorrow, we attempt “organisation.” Wish us luck.

My advice for today is… Don’t go shopping for “essentials” when jet-lagged! You’ve been warned!

The day went something like this. After washing the plane gunk off our clothes, we went out for Sunday lunch. I bet you’re thinking cosy English pub, nice roast dinner, pint of a warm beer. But no, we’re in Westborne, and upmarket part of Bournemouth, so a fancy cafe it was. Mike had a mountain of avocado and bacon on sourdough. I had a halloumi burger. Both were really good.

Then we visited our favourite store. Decathlon! We went in for “a couple of things” and came out with half the Arctic wardrobe section. Thermals, hiking trousers, fleeces, and a bunch of other “essentials”… all in preparation for our sunny summer holiday. 

Tonight we played games with the kids. I lost. Then I challenged Mike to chess. I won!

This is what jet lag chess looks like:
Me: “Why didn’t you take my queen?”
Mike: “Oh, damn, I didn’t see that.”
Me: I immediately move a random piece that is NOT my queen.
Mike: takes queen.
Both of us laugh, because clearly, our brains are still somewhere over Malaysia. Which brings me to my next thing.

Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I wrote a little poem:

Jet lag jet lag you’re such a prick

You make me feel a little thick

While everyone else is fast asleep 

I’m laying here counting sheep

My body arrived but my brain stayed home

Now I’m feeling all alone 

I’m wide awake and want to play

But it’s dark outside and not yet day

This poem’s lame, it’s hard to rhyme

Jet lag does it every time

It turns my mind to a pile of shite

Hope my brain is on the next flight

Tomorrow we pick up Bertie!