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Bicycle touring in 2021

The plan was to cycle from Stockholm to Austria in summer 2021. Unfortunately, this plan did not materialize.

As some might know, my love for bicycle touring has gotten really strong since my retirement in 2018. A few weeks after moving from Graz to Stockholm in December 2018 I started buying touring equipment for a bicycle tour to North Cape. I started this tour in early summer 2019, and quickly was forced to overcome all my anxieties like sleeping alone in a tent in the forest, cooking food on a little gas stove, or camping with freezing temperatures and sometimes even with snow.

After having successfully completed this tour I proudly told many of my friends in Austria about my recent adventures. Funnily, some of them, with a shrug of their shoulders, just smiled and did not seem to see a big deal in bicycling to North Cape. I soon found out why: Apparently due to their lack of geographical knowledge, they assumed that the North Cape was just a couple of hundred kilometers north of Stockholm. Not a big deal, they thought; everyone can do this from Stockholm. But what about bicycling from Graz to Stockholm? Even when I told them, that the distance from Graz to Stockholm was about the same as from Stockholm to North Cape, they seemed to stay unimpressed about my North-Cape tales.

Based on this impression, I started thinking of bicycling from Stockholm to Graz in the summer of 2020. However, this plan did not materialize, as life for all of us developed very differently due to the pandemic. I was forced to change my plans and enjoyed bicycling for several weeks within the Swedish borders. At the same time, my desire to bicycle back to my old home in Austria stayed vividly; it got even stronger, it seemed.

With all the equipment for bicycle touring in my possession, and with having gotten two shots of Covid vaccination, I started my tour to Austria by end of June 2021. My girlfriend also got hooked to bicycle touring in the previous summer. Thus, she happily joined me for a couple of weeks.

The first leg: Stockholm to Gothenburg

The first leg of the tour led from Stockholm to Gothenburg. We did not take the shortest route, but rather followed the Göta kanal from Mem all the way to its end in Sjötorp on lake Vänern. We started by taking the local train from Stockholm to Gnesta to avoid some not so pleasant city bicycling. From Gnesta we toured to Nyköping, then over Bråviken all the way to Mem, the starting point of the Göta kanal.

The Göta kanal was built over 200 years ago. With its length of 190 kilometers and its 58 locks it opens a water way between the Baltic Sea in the east of Sweden and Lake Vänern. From Lake Vänern, boats can use the river named Göta Älv all the way to Gothenburg, from where one can sail through Skagerrak to the North Sea.

Bicycling along the Göta kanal was a pleasant experience. The weather was excellent and the sights were fantastic: all the boats on the canal and everywhere happy people in holiday mood. With all the bends of the canal and the trees along its banks one cannot avoid to get happy.

See a short film here: Bicycling from Stockholm to Gothenburg, Sweden (Part 1)

Here is a link to part 2 of the video of this trip.

When we reached Motala on lake Vättern, we had to choose whether to wait for the ferry boat or to bicycle around the lake. Since waiting would have taken as much time es going around, we chose to cycle. This brought us first to Askersund on the north of Lake Vättern. From there we cycled through Tiveden, the wild area between the two big lakes Vättern and Vänern. With its 5500 square kilometers, Lake Vänern is the second largest natural lake of Europe; it is ten times as large as Bodensee (between Germany, Switzerland and Austria), for instance.

Our route led us south of Lake Vänern through the lovely towns of Mariestad, Lidköping, and Vänersborg. From there we only had to follow the Göta Älv all the way to Gothenburg. The length of this first leg of my bicycle touring in 2021 was 770 kilometers.

Before continuing my trip towards Austria, we took the train back to Stockholm for other holiday business.

The second leg: Sundsvall to Tierp

Since my girlfriend still had some time of her summer holidays left, we took the train north to Sundsvall, a town lying some 400 kilometers north of Stockholm on the Baltic Sea. Since only local trains allowed bicycles on board, we needed to change trains in Uppsala, Gävle, and Hudiksvall. From there we cycled south back towards Stockholm. Due to lack of time, we skipped the last piece from Tierp to Uppsala.

The third leg: From Gothenburg to somewhere on the German-Polish border.

Here is the film: Kattegattleden und Sydkustleden: Mit dem Fahrrad entlang Schwedens Westküste

In the middle of nowhere I had my first flat tyre after bicycling more than 10.000 kilometers with my Kona Sutra, version 2018. Unfortunately, this happened during heavy rainfall. I got off the bike and started pushing it, trying to find out how to fix it in the most economical manner. In my mind, I walked through all the details to be done: Get out the tools without getting too much water into my bags; put the bags nicely on the narrow shoulder of the road, and all the rest. While in this technical trance, my eyes suddenly spotted something like bus stop on the horizon. After another ten minutes, I was nicely sitting in a glass covered bus stop shelter. Fixing the flat tyre was never more pleasant before.

Due to the rainy weather, I always stayed at “vandrarhems”, the Swedish word for hostels. The summer season was over, thus it was easy to get vacant rooms. Five days of bicycling took me all the way to Trelleborg in the south of Sweden. From Trelleborg I took the ferry to Świnoujście in Poland. Next I followed the Oder-Neiße bicycle trail along the German-Polish border.

My tour came to a sudden stop when very sad news about my younger brother Wolfgang reached me in the middle of Germany.
Due to a strike of Deutsche-Bahn workers, I could not take the next train right away. Instead, I had to rent a car and drove all the way to Munich, where I found a local train to Salzburg and on to Graz on the following day.

For my return trip from Austria to Sweden, I decided to take trains, too. This trip took me two and a half days and costed 450 Euros — one way ticket. Compared with a flight — 6 hours and maybe 250 Euros (for a return trip), a “luxury”.

The map below shows my bicycle tours during summer of 2021.

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Stockholm in Autumn 2020

Too busy to read? Check out the film here: https://youtu.be/IgUbOZknwoE

I have now been living in Stockholm for almost two years and, I must say, I have enjoyed every minute of it. Even with the restrictions due to the pandemic, my life feels in balance with my expectations.

As some of you might know, I have moved to Stockholm from Austria. When I reached retirement age in 2018, I thought it would be the right time for a new life. Learning a new language, getting to know new people, developing new habits, emerging into a new culture.

With the luxury of having plenty of free time, I embraced my love of bicycle touring. After last year’s tour to the North Cape, I concentrated more on the middle and the southern parts of Sweden this year. I was out for more than four weeks, slept mostly in my one-person tent and enjoyed the vastness of the country.

I have also started trying to document my tours not only with photos, but with videos. For many years I have hesitated to start making videos since I always felt overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of combining shooting photos in motion, recording sound, compiling film clips, and therewith telling a story. But now, seeking new adventures, I dared to try. I must say that combining the tasks of being script writer, film director, camera man, sound engineer, and actor at the same time proved to be quite some task.

I am still at a rather mediocre level of making videos, but I get a lot of pleasure out if it. In my latest result of my experimenting with videos I tried to capture the mood of my recent visits to the Hagapark. This park has become kind of my backyard since it is so close to the place I live.

The video bears the title “Stockholm in autumn 2020” and it features the really beautiful quiet autumn season. Although the days are getting shorter quickly up here in the northern parts of Europe, there is still plenty of daylight with warm temperatures — given adequate clothing.

I feel grateful to my friend Frederic Söderström for letting me use his music as the base for my visit to the Hagapark. Frederic not only makes the best coffee in the world, he is also a gifted composer. I always played his music in my earplugs while researching adequate opportunities to collect footage for “Stockholm in autumn 2020”.

Check out the film here: https://youtu.be/IgUbOZknwoE

Initially, I had in mind to write here about the pandemic and the various approaches to cope with it. Most of you have probably heard about the Swedish way from the media. I leave this discussion for some later time; for the time being I just enjoy the rather simple guidelines we have here and the trust in a sufficiently wise population to act appropriately.

About the photo on the top of this blog: I took it also while visiting the Hagapark during the recent days, I just did not find an adequate place within the film. So I put it here for your pleasure. And yes, it started raining just a minute after I took this photo. I waited under a big tree for five minutes; then the sun started shining again.

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I Gone Bicycling

I recently treated myself with a week in seclusion again. My camping stuff was still in my bags from the last tour in July, so preparing for another week-long trip was not a big deal at all. This time I wanted to avoid the nasty stop-and-go traffic in town and thus took the local train to the little town of Gnesta outside Stockholm. It took me just one hour and I was out in the country.

I have tried to capture the tranquility of rolling through the Swedish country in a little video. Press here; you can also find the link below. Check it out and follow me in my meditation with plenty of Baltic Bay watersides, watching farmers harvesting wheat and barley, and pedaling up and down the hills of Småland, a true place of seclusion.

Swedish country roads are the best bicycle paths one can wish for. Almost no traffic, and if a car happens to pass by, the driver usually pulls over all the way to the other lane and thus leaves plenty of space for the bicyclist.

On my last day I met an old man bicycle-touring. He looked 75, but actually was 92. His bike was of similar age, and his panniers seemed to have seen quite a bit. Despite this fact I had difficulties of keeping up with his speed. He smiled mildly at me and said that his shape seems to get better with age. What a perfect role model.

For the interested ones I put a map with this year’s routes below. You can even zoom into the map by clicking this link.

Screenshot 2020-09-01 at 19.36.32

In case you don’t speak German, my videos come with English translations. Check out the preferences on the bottom right of the screen of your Youtube viewer.

Stockholm – Småland – Stockholm (August 2020)

Stockholm – Motala – Stockholm (July 2020)

Stockholm – Örebro – Stockholm (July 2020)

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Summer 2020 in Stockholm

Why worry? Watch instead my video on the Old Town of Stockholm.

The corona pandemic has been, and still is drawing a lot of attention in many countries. If one tries to follow the traditional media or, even worse, any social  media, one can easily get bogged down in a depressive “no future” mood.

Instead of having Olympic Games, we now seem to have Corona Games; the amount of people tested positively gets compared between countries as if comparing infection rates were an international sports event. We see all kinds of business strategies to gain the most out of the pandemic. What a drag.

Instead of ranting, I would like to participate with a calm and quiet film showing  the sleepy Old Town of Stockholm on a morning in June 2020.

Why worry? Listen to the Dire Straits or watch my video on the Old Town of Stockholm.

 

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Bicycling is like Yoga

Check out the video about my bicycle tour with tent through Östergötland in Sweden here.

Sometimes I call my bicycle tours retreats. One can reduce life to only a few, but essential aspects:

  • The body is comfortably busy; as soon as it is running at full capacity
    — this takes a while — I feel like in seventh heaven.
  • The head gets free; all possible worries are forgotten.
  • I enjoy the changing surroundings.
  • With adequate equipment, almost all weather conditions feel equally OK.
  • The stress felt when climbing hills or facing headwind stays only temporarily, but soon the inner calmness and the soothing tranquility spread.

In my recent video about my one-week bicycle tour I have tried to capture these effects.
The pace of life slows down considerably.

For my tour, I packed sleeping bag, air mattress, tent, gas stove including some essential cooking utensils, tooth brush, and some more paraphernalia which one  never uses anyway, and off I went. The weather forecast was almost optimal and already the evening before I left I got the travel bug; it helped me to get up early morning.

My tour took me in a loop from Stockholm to Lake Vättern and back.

Check out the video here.

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Noise Reduction by Bicycle

 

A bicycle can serve many purposes. Some use it to commute efficiently. Others for just showing off their newest bike wear. Some are on their life’s adventure; to North Cape, for example. And still others seek noise reduction. The latter effect I experienced intensively recently.

I made a one-week long bicycle tour through Middle Sweden. The idea was to travel even though authorities have given the advice not to travel unnecessarily. Thus, I took my tent, avoided crowded places, and as a consequence experienced a very rewarding peaceful week full of slow-motion excitement. I rolled through quiet and peaceful places with no fancy names. I got drowned into vast landscapes filled with wheat, barley, rye, and canola. My roads were decorated with summer flowers of all kinds; I wished I knew the names of some. The sun’s light dived through the forest trees and thus created a scene far better than seen in movies. I declared the wind as my friend as it provided the gentle movement of all the delicate features of nature. I woke up to the chirping of birds in the early morning. I had no longer the desire to check out the latest news about virus outbreaks in other parts of the world or about idiotic decisions of stupid politicians far away. And even the mosquitoes and flies seemed to respect me as soon as I respected their way of life. I was in the tent and they were outside. Drinking water became one of the most pleasant activities of the day. I had a book for reading with me; but I had no desire to read. The scenery around me provided everything I needed for my senses.

Was there anything I did not like at all? Probably, but I must have forgotten it. All what remains is pure delight.

Now I am back here in Stockholm and enjoy town; apparently, my senses needed the tranquility of the country for being prepared to deal with the fast pace of city life. It seems that the duality of rhythms nourishes my brain’s curiosity best.

I have tried to capture my slow-motion excitement in a short film. Check it out here.

DSC00876

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Do you believe in love at first sight? I mean bicycles.

I do. I have had such a moment two times in my life. Let me try to describe it. It is when you happen to see a bicycle in a shop, get the urge to do a test ride, and within less than 5 minutes fall in love with the way it feels to ride it. As a result, you buy it right away.

I had such a moment this spring, and another time in 1993. The bicycle from 1993, a black KTM touring bike, stayed with me until last fall when I donated it to charity before my moving from Graz to Stockholm. Within the 25 years it served me on quite a many trips, most notably the one from Geneva to Nice and back, where I took it up and down many of the famous Alpine passes known from the Tour de France.

Meanwhile we have 2019, and as luck wanted it, I had a déjà vu of my 1993-experience. It was a little shop in Surbrunnsgatan in Stockholm where I saw her from outside through the window. Of course, I have heard about the “Kona Sutra” before. Of course, I was susceptible since I was looking around for a bicycle for my one-month’s tour to the North Cape. I went into the shop, asked for a test ride, and three minutes later I knew that I gotta buy it. Fifteen minutes later I was the proud owner of the Kona Sutra model 2018.

Let me try to analyse this love at first sight, this immediate feeling that this obviously is the right one. First of all, it seems to be an informed decision, in my case, at least. Since I had the plan to bicycle with heavy load, I did an online research to learn about the key issues when choosing such a bike. In this online selection process I have limited my attention to a handful of bicycles, which the Kona Sutra was part of.

Still, with online research you cannot learn about how a particular bicycle feels with your body riding on it. A precondition for figuring out this feeling is that you ride on it. In early 2019, the bicycle shops were still selling off their few left-over models of 2018; I was lucky to find my Kona Sutra among those few.

Meanwhile, my love affair has been lasting for more than 3500 kilometers. Most of this distance, I have had it packed with heavy load. Bicycle plus load weighed more than 45 kilograms most of the time.

On my trip to the North Cape I have met many fellow travellers with similar outfit. During short meetings on the road, one of the usual topics to talk about is gear, and all too often it was about bad gear. In contrast to me, being quite happy about my chosen gear, many complained about their bicycle. The literal pain in the ass, the broken spokes, the flat tires, and similar deficiencies. From these  short discussions, I derived that I must have done a lot of right decisions. In the following, I will characterise the most important ones. Maybe it is of help to anyone reading this essay.

1. Geometry of frame

Apparently by sheer luck I found a bicycle fitting my body and the given task of being loaded for long distance bicycling. I guess that if I would have failed in this respect, my tour would have been a pain. Instead, the Kona Sutra together with all the load including my body formed a single well-fitted ensemble of parts. It felt “compact” to the utmost. It seems that the Kona Sutra is just made for exactly this exercise.

2. The saddle: A Brooks B17, leather

Never before I have had a leather saddle, although I have heard and read a lot about them. Again, by sheer luck, the Kona Sutra came with a Brooks B17; thus, I gave it a try. From reading I knew that you need to “break” it in, i.e. need to ride it for several hundred kilometers before the leather becomes a kind of negative of your back end and starts to feel comfortable. I must say that my Brooks saddle felt comfortable from the first moments on, and the feeling got better and better. I have no idea why it was like this. Again “sheer luck”?  For the first time in my life, I dared to skip the usual thick inlay between my body and the saddle. Most of the 3500 kilometers I was riding with just underwear and plain trousers. No pain i.t.a. whatsoever. Never.

3. Drop handlebar

Preparing for the tour, I was thinking a lot about which handlebar I should choose.  Most of my previous bikes had a variety of straight or slightly bent handlebars, and some had horns. Only my first racing bike, a Puch with 10 gears, had a drop handlebar. But then I was only 12 years old. Now, 54 years later, I seemingly got somewhat childish: I thought that I could still bend over all the way. I refer to what I said earlier about falling in love. Apparently pain does not count so much. But let me tell you what happened: I figured out that with the drop handlebar I had a huge variety of hand positions, and thus getting my arms moved while riding. For the first time in many years, I felt happy with my wrists, hands, and arms. No longer the dull feeling of squeezed nerves. What a miracle.

4. Pedals and shoes

I chose to go with click pedals and my old Shimano bike shoes, a perfect combination. These have worked for me for 20 years now. It seems to be a little bit like with hiking shoes: Be careful with new ones.

5. No flat tire: Schwalbe Marathon Mondial 700×40

After I had learned to pump my tires every other day “as hard as I could with my little pump” it felt as if the bicycle would like to move by itself. It seemed to me as if the little extra pressure in the tires did it all. Speaking about flat tires: At some point during my trip I heard a funny noise coming from the front tire. I inspected it and found a piece of metal stuck in it. I pulled it out and, to my  surprise could see that it was sticking in quite a distance. The Schwalbe Marathon Mondial tolerated even this gross attack.

6. 36 spokes, of course

On my tour I met several people who had broken spokes. In particular, one Italian
colleague was struck with really bad luck. I met him when his third broken spoke on the same wheel. He wanted to fix it in Alta, Norway. But, as bad luck wanted it, it was Sunday when he came there, and all shops were closed. He could not wait until Monday, since he had a lack of time due to the return flight being fixed already for a certain date. Apparently, his wheels were not strong enough for all the weight. I think that proper wheels are more important than a good saddle. While the latter is “only” defining comfort, inappropriate wheels can ruin the whole show. As an aside: When I was young, all bicycle wheels had 36 spokes, some even more.

7. Mirror attached to helmet

In 1989 I came back from a one-year stay in the US. There I saw these crazy guys with the mirrors attached to the bicycle helmet. I took some back home with me to Austria and became some sort of celebrity among the students at the university: “Have you seen the odd professor with his helmet and the funny mirror attached to it?” Since then I have made a thing out of these items. I became a warrior for wearing bicycle helmets, and I have had a mirror attached since then. The mirror helps me to judge the traffic coming from behind. Without having to turn my head, I can see which type of vehicle is approaching. On my trip to the North Cape it provided help to distinguish between “very polite Norwegian drivers” and the usually “all too nasty Italian or German drivers” approaching.

Let me stop here with enumerating gear decisions. My initial list was a lot longer. I might continue with reasoning about  gear in some other blogpost. So much for now.

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Are you preparing for a long bicycle tour?

I recently came back from a one-month bicycle tour to North Cape. Still full with intensive impressions, I would like to share some experiences for those of you who might also think of embarking into a similar adventure.

I would like to state upfront that I see myself as a person who has been doing sport activities probably less than average. Moreover, I am 66 years old and prefer not to suffer pain when being outdoors. It is more the leisure I am seeking: I enjoy being away from the fast lane of city life. I also take the opportunity of fleeing from most of the obligations which come with social life. I consider long-distance bicycling also as some sort of “contemplative retreat”. By reducing the complexity of one’s daily life, one has the chance to see more clearly what is important.

For me, setting a specific goal, like “next year: North Cape” for example, is important, too. With such a goal I can prepare my mind accordingly of what lies ahead. And afterwards, by having reached a particular goal, I feel satisfied for a long time. It also helps growing my self-esteem and keeps me looking forward doing “the next one”.

Planning and preparing the tour was equally important for me as actually embarking for several weeks. Never before I have been bicycling with “heavy” equipment including tent, cooking utensils, and all the other stuff considered necessary to have on the trip. Of course, it would have been best to know someone personally who could “coach” and help with useful advice of how to prepare and which equipment to buy. Having had no such person at hand, I had to help myself with resources found online. The problem with online stuff is that you quickly tend to get lost in the sheer unlimited amount of seemingly good advice. As a result I quickly felt inferior to all the self-declared heroes showing off with their apparently spectacular abilities. My 40 years experience as a researcher, engineer, and teacher always helped me to re-focus: It does not help much to watch someone on YouTube doing a backflip, if you want to learn to do it yourself. But, yes, watching others is a good start; it just needs to be followed by doing “experiments” on your own. Decomposition of a larger problem into smaller chunks also helps a lot. Planning according to a time-line and being patient, but also determined helps, too. I also love to do lists; lists of things to remember, lists of things to be bought, lists of ideas to try out, and the like.

One of the ideas found on one of my lists was like this, for instance: Find an appropriate touring bicycle by researching what others have been using, reduce the list to roughly three bicycles, and try to find them in real shops. Then decide to buy one.

Another idea looked like this: Try out rain gear in real rain well before the trip.

Or this: Buy tent, mattress, and sleeping bag; then sleep outside — on the balcony — at 0 degrees.

Another one: Take kitchen scales and bathroom scales and get an idea of how heavy different items are. With these data, you can get an estimate of the overall packing weight.

Another useful experiment: Fill plastic water bottles and strap them to the existing bicycle. 3 kilograms left and right on the front and 6 kilograms each left and right on my back. In addition, I loaded some more on my luggage rack. Try to bicycle with all this for several kilometers.

All these pre-tour activities helped me to get acquainted with the situation lying ahead. A general idea with all these experiments was “to avoid to get discouraged by initial feelings”. I can remember that riding a bicycle with water bottles weighing 45 kilograms felt ridiculously uncomfortable initially. But I got used to such a beast rather soon. In contrast, after being used to 45 kilograms for a while, a bicycle weighing only 15 kilograms felt ridiculously light afterwards. Apparently, mind and body get used to new circumstances rather quickly.

Before embarking onto the long trip, I also bicycled four day tours with the fully loaded bicycle. The latter two of these day tours were already part of the tour Stockholm to North Cape. Thus, I bicycled from Stockholm to Uppsala in cold and rainy weather, and in the evening took the train back to Stockholm. The day after I used to make smaller adjustments. I quickly learned, for instance, that I needed to fill my tires with a lot more pressure than usual. I also learned that I need a second muff for my neck.

Two days later, I took the train to Uppsala and continued from there to the town of Tierp. On both of these first two day tours, I allowed myself the luxurious thought of quitting anytime. With this I kept my head free of the necessity of “getting there”. It also helped me to overcome my initial anxiety.

The big lesson of all this: Don’t go from zero to full speed when embarking into something new. Build yourself a ramp allowing you to do small steps with the goal that you always feel comfortable.

In my next blog I intend to reason about the important equipment decisions. About the geometry of the bicycle’s frame, about the saddle, about the type of handlebar, and some more. See you there, soon.

By the way: Have you checked out my photos? Stockholm to Luleå and Luleå to North Cape and back.

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Bicycling from Stockholm to North Cape

When I told them that I intended to bicycle to North Cape they stopped nagging me with their nasty questions. This was some years ago.

Meanwhile I have returned from my bicycle trip to North Cape and I am quite content with myself. I have been fighting heavy headwinds — the usual companion of bicyclists, just much stronger –, I have seen so many reindeer that I almost stopped caring about them, I cohabitated with hoards of mosquitoes and I learned how to avoid them, I embraced the loneliness in my one-person tent, I coped with all kinds of weather including ice, snow, rain and fog, and, not to forget, I have seen the North Cape.

Well, the North Cape itself does not offer all too much. It is just the end of the road. Moreover, you don’t go to the North Cape for the sake of fair weather. Thus, once there, you turn around and bicycle south again. This I did, too. I went back south through northern Finland until I got tired after some 500 kilometers or so. Then I took a bus, some trains, and a ferry back to Stockholm where I had started my trip. In 30 days I bicycled 2700 kilometers with 20000 meters vertical distance.

To bring a tent to such a trip is a necessity. The average distance between rooms to rent gets too large in northern Scandinavia. Even places to get food are quite often too far apart. Thus, my equipment included a sleeping mattress and a sleeping bag. In addition, basic cooking utensils, some food and other paraphernalia like emergency bicycle repair tools, some body care, or spare clothes. All in all, my bicycle plus all the stuff weighed some 45 kilograms.

Before this trip I had no idea about the rich variety of different landscapes in the north. I had no idea about the huge amount of really broad water streams bringing melted ice water towards the Gulf of Bothnia or the Arctic Sea. Before, I could only think of large forests, but I could not imagine the richness of different types of forests. Traveling at the typical speed of a bicycle, I could direct all my attention to the magnificent landscapes. I must say that one must not underestimate the potential of addiction to these landscapes.

Check out some of the photos: Stockholm to Luleå and Luleå to North Cape and back.

As an Austrian, being used to heavy traffic with traffic jams in summer, I was amazed by the sheer non-existing traffic on seemingly freshly paved roads all over northern Sweden, Finland, and Norway. Even with all the Italians and Germans with their motor homes seeking their way to the North Cape, I felt alone on the road most of the time. I quickly started to admire the Norwegian car driver’s way of passing a bicyclist: They go all the way to the opposite lane, and in case of oncoming traffic, they patiently wait in some non-disturbing distance behind you. The Finnish and the Swedish car drivers do alike. The Italians and Germans could definitely learn a bit from this attitude.

Having spoken about paved roads, I must not forget to mention my experience with dirt roads. Of course, they were also a part of the trip. Mainly in Sweden in order to avoid the highway E4, and 60 kilometers in northern Finland between Pokka and Sirkka. There, my main thought was about what the few people living along this road must have been doing wrong in their lives that they deserved such a bad road. Thinking back now, it must have been the headwind which consumed all my courage and made me take a bus in Sirkka. The nice thing about dirt roads is that you can bicycle undisturbed for hours. Just the occasional reindeer might offer company for a couple of minutes.

Let me come back to the beginning of my thoughts: Why on earth did I decide to bicycle to North Cape in the first place?

When one comes closer to retirement age of 65, people usually start asking about one’s plans for retirement. These questions usually come with comments of the type “you will be bored to death”. For me, these questions were nagging in my brain and I tried to come up with various answers. Most answers did not work well, i.e. did not stop the questioners. However, when I tried with “I might bicycle to the North Cape”, I usually could divert the attention of the inquirer. Suddenly people stopped nagging me and instead turned their imagination of what it would be like to go to North Cape — a magical place when living in Austria. I had to repeat this answer quite many times, up to a point where I started to believe myself that I would do such an expedition.

In the first months of 2019 I planned the trip, bought equipment like bicycle, tent,  mattress, sleeping bag, cooking utensils, and the like. I also started training by doing first short and then successively longer trips with a heavy loaded bicycle. I also tested outdoor sleeping at 0 degrees Celsius. This preparation phase proved rather valuable since it raised my self-confidence in being able not only to master the trip, but also to enjoy it since the body was already used to physical stress.

Now, my mind is constantly looking for more adventures of a similar type for the near future. It might really become an addiction.

 

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Speaking languages with ignorance, dilettantism, and by definition

I was born in Austria. In Austria, people speak various dialects. My parents’ was “Oststeirisch”, the dialect spoken in the eastern part of the province of Steiermark, also known as Styria. Here is an example for this dialect: The German word for soap is “Seife”. In my dialect, this turns to “Soaft”. Thus, when I entered primary school, I had to learn that “Soaft” is pronounced like “Seife” and gets spelled without ‘t’ at the end. As a matter of fact, my mother tongue could be called “Bad German”, but nobody dares to say so.

Meanwhile, I live in Sweden. Now I most often speak Bad Swedish. Really bad Swedish for the time being. If I do not know how to express myself in Swedish, I usually use English. To be precise: I use Bad English, the most commonly spoken language in the world. Thus, not counting my knowledge of Latin, my language skills add up to three badly spoken languages.

I started learning Bad English in grade 5 in school. For some odd reason, we restart counting years in school after 4 in Austria. Thus, it was grade 1 in the “Akademische Gymnasium” in Graz, the capital of Steiermark. Most of my fellow kids in my home town did not go to “Gymnasium”, they just continued with grade 5 of grammar school. They pitted me of being downgraded to grade 1. Moreover, they were neither forced to learn foreign languages nor to do math with such incomprehensible numbers like ‘a’, ‘b’, or ‘c’.

Learning English way back then was not meant to be an exercise to learn to speak and communicate, but rather to learn to translate texts. In addition, we got drilled in grammar – a very useful way of developing structural thinking, as my teachers said. Thus, I learned that ships are female in English, but I could not speak much more than “I am Pat” and “How are you?”. English was treated like Latin – like a dead language.

Despite not understanding English, I got heavily attracted by contemporary music with English lyrics. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Kinks, Small Faces, Donovan, or Bob Dylan, to name just a few bands and artists. I did not understand much of what they were singing about. To be honest, I understood some parts of the lyrics of some songs. Like “I am an animal, I break your mind”, or “Wild thing, you make my heart sing”. But most often, I had no idea of what the lyrics were all about. Instead, I was making up a kind of personal English when I was humming the songs. Later, when singing these songs to my really basic guitar skills, I was using these imaginary incomprehensible lyrics. Luckily, nobody noticed since those listening could understand English either. I was quite happy with imitating English song texts with my kind of English sounding gibberish. When I became the bass player in a band at age 15, I noticed that we all did the same thing. For instance, when interpreting the song “Badge” by The Cream, I had no idea why this song was called “Badge”. The word did not even appear in the song’s lyrics. Only many years later I found the solution to this little question. It also took me years to understand that George Harrison was singing silly profane lines like “I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping” in his wonderful song “While my guitar gently weeps.”

In grade 10, that is grade 6 in Austria’s “Gymansium”, we got a guest teacher whose native language was English. His name was Mr. Gaisenhoff, and me and my class colleagues were proud of being chosen to have him as a teacher. To his disappointment, none of us could speak any useful English after having spent already five years learning English in school. Luckily, facing this miserable situation, he took the right approach, for me at least. He found out that I was really into contemporary pop music, and therefore asked me to copy song texts printed on record sleeves or published in music magazines for homework. This exercise was an eye opener. He helped me reading my homework loudly in class, and suddenly I understood the meaning of the lyrics of some of my favorite songs like “Lazy Sunday Afternoon” by The Small Faces, for instance. I still could not comprehend the lyrics of Bob Dylan songs like “All Along The Watchtower”. Even to this day, I cannot.

After school, while waiting for the train from the school town to my home town, we were usually visiting a coffee place where all the in-people were hanging out day in, day out. There was a jukebox and it asked for one Austrian Schilling to play a song. For some time, I usually chose “Lazy Sunday Afternoon” and I got really proud of finally understanding what the lyrics were all about. We were smoking some cigarettes, had a soft drink, and felt really cool by hanging out with the “important people”. These were usually guys who knew more guitar chords and could play more of the famous guitar riffs than I knew at that time.

Some years later — meanwhile living in the provincial capital and studying electrical engineering at university — I noticed that my English language skills were still inferior. Remembering the successes during my year with Mr. Gaisenhoff, I started translating song lyrics by my favorite musician at that time, Frank Zappa. This was another eye-opening experience. “Be a jerk, go to work” or “Bamboozled by love” and “The shit just hit the fan”. My English skills certainly started to developed in a strange direction. At that time, I was also working as a sound engineer for a band called “Magic”. We had several national number-one hits, and I seriously considered to start a carrier as professional sound engineer after finishing university. My dream was to become the sound engineer of Frank Zappa and The Mothers Of Invention. But this is another story.

Let me finish this one with the following summary: I am ignorant in Swedish, I am a dilettante in English, and I call German my mother tongue; despite this, I take pleasure to try to speak all of these languages.