After our wonderful trip to Norway it was time for Taryn to head back to the US. I was scheduled to fly back to the US on July 11th, which left just over a week to squeeze in any final adventures in Europe. Having enjoyed the European bikepacking so much, I wanted to prioritize a bike powered trip.
Some friends who were in Copenhagen for a summer grad program had started their summer with a cool bike loop that started in Copenhagen, traveled the length of Denmark, and then continued, after a quick ferry bump, along the southern coast of Norway to Oslo. This idea of doing a ferry powered trip through Scandinavia tickled my fancy and I decided to copy their route.
The big issue with this plan was that I still didn’t have a fully working bike. My repaired derailleur hanger was holding up okay, but definitely wasn’t robust enough for a multi-day trip. Luckily I had reached out to the bike company after originally breaking the derailleur hanger and had them ship a replacement to my sister’s apartment. I tracked down a bike shop in Copenhagen and brought my bike in for repair. Unfortunately they informed me that it would be a few days before it was ready. I was nervous about my quickly looming departure back to the US but there wasn’t much I could do and they promised to get it done as quick as possible.
The next few days were spent in a strange, yet blissful limbo. On one hand, I watched as the window to do a bike trip grew shorter and shorter, constantly hoping to get a call from the bike shop that my bike was ready. On the other hand, I finally got a moment to slow down and relax in one spot after the manic weeks racing around Europe. I spent most of my days soaking up Copenhagen’s amazing public spaces. I went for multiple swims down at the docks every day and explored some truly spectacular parks. I was amazed to discover that one such park actually abutted a zoo which made it possible to see some elephants mid run!
Eventually, on the 6th I received notice that my bike would be ready the following day. This left three full days and two partial days before I had to fly back to the US. I had originally thought that it would be nice to have six days to do the loop from Copenhagen to Oslo but as I did out the math, double checking ferry schedules and bus schedules, it seemed just possible to fit in the full route. In order to make it work, however, I had to catch an overnight bus back from Oslo that would get me into Copenhagen about 12 hours before my plane home took off. This bus was the last feasibly option for getting both myself and my bike back to Copenhagen in time, and I found myself laughing nervously at how committing this trip was starting to feel.
I spent the rest of the evening packing and making sure I would be ready to depart as soon as my bike was ready. The next morning I got a call that my bike was ready and by 2pm my bike was loaded and I was ready to depart.
Copenhagen’s amazing bike infrastructure made leaving the city a breeze and I followed well labeled bike lanes out of the city and into the forested outskirts. From there I was able to get on a nice bike path that ran through the woods parallel to the highway, making for some pleasant and easy miles. As I made my way further north the woods slowly transitioned into open farmland and I found myself riding through some beautiful wheat fields.
After a couple days in busy Copenhagen it felt refreshing to have some solitude, with only the wind, wheat and some stylish traditional farmhouses to keep me company.
As I grew closer to Hundested more houses began to pop up alongside the road and soon I could smell the nearby ocean, my first little encounter with the North Sea. I arrived in Hundested at 5:15pm after 40 miles of enjoyable riding. This timing worked out perfectly and I had just enough time to locate the ferry terminal and secure a ticket before the 5:30 ferry across the bay to Rørvig.
Wheeling my bike onto the ferry felt special for reasons I can’t fully articulate. I think the novelty of combining the two unique forms of transit, plus the knowledge that this was just the first of the many ferries on my route, plus setting off onto the cold and blustery ocean made it all feel like a grand adventure.
In classic Danish fashion the ferry had a designated section to leave my bike, complete with tie downs to keep it from sliding around. I quickly stashed my bike and headed to the upper deck to soak in the views.
The ferry ride was a quick one, and less than 30 minutes after leaving Hundested we docked in Rørvig.
By now it was 6pm and I had some decisions about how to play my evening. My route took me from to the tip of the Sjællands Odde peninsula and then across Sejerø Bay by ferry. If I rushed across the peninsula it seemed like I might be able to make the last ferry for the night which would set myself up well for the following day. The ferry was going to land in Aarhus, however, and I wasn’t sure how I would fair finding a place to camp near the second largest city in Denmark. While researching the route I had found mention of a supposed lean-to shelter out on the tip of the peninsula so I decided to instead take my time riding across the peninsula and aim to catch the first morning ferry across to Aarhus.
The riding across Sjællands Odde was absolutely stunning. In many ways it felt similar to an East Coast island like Martha’s Vineyard; small secluded beaches hidden by rolling, grassy hills, tiny cottage towns only accessible by sandy single-lane roads, and a sense that although the weather was calm and inviting, cold winter winds frequently ravage the place.
Soon the peninsula began to pinch down, and I began to see ocean to both sides of me, a sign I was getting close. Two hours after disembarking from the ferry I passed through the final town on the peninsula and road out to the tip where I had read the shelter was. I was a bit alarmed then to reach a gate in the road and signs that seemed to clearly indicate a military facility ahead. I rode as far as I could, looking for signs for a shelter, but soon encountered a tall fence that made it clear I should not continue looking any further.
It was after 8pm at this point and I felt pretty out of options. I slowly made my way back down the road away from the military facility and spotted a wide open grassy field that overlooked the ocean. I didn’t see any no-trespassing signs so I took a quick look around and seeing no signs of other humans, quickly rode across the field. Reaching the far side I found a small grassy knoll above the rocky beach and knew I had my campsite for the night. A tiny flat indent in the hill offered little protection from the wind blowing off the ocean, but at least seemed to partially hide me from any cars driving by.
I unpacked my kit and got to work boiling some water for a quick dinner. It was my first solo trip in a long while, and now that I was finally off my bike and no longer moving a feeling of solitude and remoteness began to set in. The long summer sunset lit up the grass with a warm light and provided the perfect backdrop as I soaked in the intensity of it all. Experiencing this beautiful random stretch of Danish coast, out in the open and totally alone, felt both melancholic and deeply energizing.
Wrapping up dinner I did my best to make sure all my stuff was organized and hidden from view, and then crawled into my sleeping bag, savoring the last rays before a cold and windy night under the stars.
The sun rose early and I woke up relieved to have had an uneventful night. I made my way back across the field and rode into town to catch the morning ferry to Aarhus. The ferry to Aarhus took a little over an hour and I was unloaded and riding by 9am. This mission for the day was simple if somewhat daunting, finish riding the length of Denmark in time to catch an evening ferry to Norway.
Aarhus definitely felt smaller and more industrial than Copenhagen, but the bike infrastructure through Aarhus was just as impressive. A wide bike lane took me straight from the ferry terminal into the city.
Leaving Aarhus the landscape quickly grew rural again. My route largely ran parallel to the major north-south highway in Denmark, but a convenient network of bike paths kept the riding mellow as I made my way through rolling farmland and small towns.
At first the farmland felt novel and scenic, but as the miles wore on I soon began to succumb to boredom. Even worse was the absolutely brutal headwind. My apple weather app had shown the windy icon for the day, but the consistency and strength of the wind still caught me off guard. Riding solo, I felt as if I was climbing an endless steep hill just to keep the bike moving. Occasionally the winds would momentarily shift to a side wind which at times threatened to push me off the road. The wind noise in my ears threatened to drive me crazy and I sought occasional refuge in my headphones, well aware that their cheap batteries would only last for a fraction of the day. I checked my weather app throughout the day and it always showed a 20-25mph winds. The ubiquitous windmills I rode past, always spinning fast, always pointing away from me, validated my lived experience.
At times I wanted to scream into the wind, but I knew there wasn’t anything I could do but put my head down and keep riding. It was meditation of the most un-fun variety. Nine and a half hours in I crossed the 100 mile mark, my first time ever riding that distance. Ten and a half hours in and I finally began to see frequent signs for Hirthshals, my final stop in Denmark. At this point both my legs were on the brink of cramping, I was shivering, and I felt like I had fully lost my mind. But the finish line provided some much needed motivation and I put my head down and gritted my teeth for the final 5 miles.
I arrived in Hirthshals eleven hours and 117 miles after leaving Aarhus, concluding one of the more trying days of exercise I have ever had. My spirits were bolstered when I made my way to the port and I saw the rough North Sea crashing into the breakwater; the massive whitecaps embodying the wind I had battled all day and the raw power of the ocean somehow lending legitimacy to the banal suffering I had just endured.
The next ferry to Norway did not depart until 11:45pm so I had a couple of hours to kill. I felt pretty shattered after the day’s effort so I found a well-reviewed pizza shop and proceeded to devour most of a large pizza.
A warm dinner helped bring me back to life, but soon it was time for the pizza shop to close and I didn’t want to spend any more time out in the wind so I made my way to the ferry terminal where I managed to find a little enclosed waiting area. I found a corner where it seemed like I would be out of the way, set an alarm for 11:00pm and curled up and immediately fell asleep.
I woke up to my alarm feeling absolutely terrible. Combining 11 hours of hard biking with an hour and a half of sleep on the ground, and then getting up in the middle night is not a recovery routine I would recommend. Bleary eyed I stumbled back out into the wind and got in line with the other bikes and motorcycles to board the ferry.
The ferry ride took three and a half hours and there was nothing to see but pitch black out the windows so I quickly curled up in my chair and fell back asleep, the large swells of the North Sea doing their best to rock me to sleep. I woke back up as we were pulling into Kristiansand. It was now 3am and I had no real game plan of where to sleep. I was hoping there would be a similar waiting area at the Kristiansand terminal where I could sleep the remainder of the night but I found nothing open. I decided to head towards an area of green on my map that abutted the city, figuring there had to be some sort of semi-appropriate place to lay down for a few hours. It felt a bit surreal to be back in Norway so soon after my last adventures, this time riding through completely deserted streets in the middle of the night. I followed a gravel path into the woods and eventually found a picnic table in a little clearing. This seemed like as good a spot as I was going to find so I rolled out my sleeping bag and settled in for my third go at sleep for the night.
I woke up three hours later to early morning sunlight and the sound of some joggers running by. No one seemed overly alarmed by my camping so I let myself snooze for a bit longer before I forced by achy body upright. Seeing it for the first time in the daylight, I was amazed at the beauty of the camp spot I had stumbled upon. A little pond lay just on the other side of the path and there was even a perfect swimming dock attached to a granite island. I debated a morning swim but decided it would be unwise since the only shorts I had were my bike chamois. I did take a minute to sit by the water and appreciate the how lucky I was to stumble upon this random beautiful spot.
I still had over 200 miles to Oslo and only 36 hours to get there so I didn’t let myself dilly dally for too long and I was riding by 8am.
To my relief it was immediately obvious I was in for a very different day than the day before. Leaving Kristiansand I crossed over a large bridge spanning an inlet. From the bridge I could see granite outcrops and miles of beautiful coastline. Most importantly, there was only the slightest hint of wind.
The next several hours provided some seriously enjoyable bike riding. My route wound along the coast, leading me past gorgeous cove after gorgeous cove. Each cove had its own character, some wide and open, some deep and surrounded by cliffs, all populated with a variety of old-timey boats and overlooked by a collection of quaint Norwegian summer cabins. The best (and most Americancentric) way I can describe the landscape was like that of coastal Maine, except with a wonderfully European flair.
The European flair became even more apparent whenever I passed through the small coastal towns that dotted the coast. These towns all seemed to feature rows of spotless white and red houses lining a picturesque waterfront. The towns were perfectly spaced, every 10-20 miles, so I found myself stopping at almost every single one to get off my bike, stretch my legs, and soak up the beautiful summer weather.
I also found myself riding by a number of flawless beaches, their white sand and the turquoise water looking almost too inviting to resist. At each beach my regret at not bringing a bathing suit grew deeper and deeper, but it honestly was probably for the best because I think I could have easily squandered the rest of the day soaking in the water and laying in the warm sun.
A final highlight of the riding was witnessing speedboat racing in an inlet north of Tvedestrand. I was biking along a narrow road cut into some granite cliffs when I suddenly saw a large number of cars pulled off to the side of the road and a bunch of hanging out on the cliff edge. I heard the roar of some very large engines and decided to pullover to see what was going on. I ended up spending 15 minutes watching speedboats rip up and down the inlet, another example of the magic spontaneity inherent in bikepacking.
I wasn’t so sure about my spontaneity, however, when I realized I needed to be in Risør by 5pm to catch the final ferry of the day across the bay to Øysang, saving me 20 miles of riding. Looking at my watch I could tell it was going to be close. My legs were starting to feel pretty heavy and the steep, rolling hills, while beautiful, did not make for easy miles. I put my head down and started to pedal hard, once again deciding to use some of my valuable remaining headphone battery to distract myself. I sped into Risør just a couple minutes before 5, adrenaline pumping, desperately looking for something that looked like a ferry. To my dismay I didn’t see anything remotely promising.
I wandered up and down the docks for a few more minutes until I was forced to accept that I had missed the ferry. I pulled out my phone to double check the schedule and saw that I had been looking at the wrong day. When I navigated to the correct day I saw that the last ferry had departed several hours before. I was dreading the unplanned 20 miles around the bay I now needed to ride, but at least I was consoled that I did not miss my ferry by just a few minutes. I spent a few minutes hanging on the docks feeling sorry for myself before I could convince myself to get back on the bike.
At this point I started to have some real concerns about my ability to make it to Oslo in time. It was 5pm in the evening, I had 27 hours until my must-make bus, and I now had 30+ miles just to get to my next ferry from Stabbestad to Kragerø. With the delay I knew I was no longer going to make the dinner time ferry I had hoped to make. The Stabbestad ferry did do a final run at 10pm but I was less than enthusiastic about another late night ferry. I knew, however, that if I wanted any hope of making it to Oslo I would need to get across to Kragerø so I could resume riding first thing in the morning.
The next three hours of riding to Stabbestad were tough. I had already ridden 85 miles that day and my legs and mind were still worn down from the day prior. The meandering, complex coastline that I had found so much joy in earlier in the day now seemed frustratingly indirect. The road bobbed up and down over short, but devastatingly steep, hills. The hills were so closely spaced that I often found myself desperately clicking through the full range of my gears in an attempt to find a usable gear before I stalled out in the abrupt transition from down to up (or vice versa, trying to get even a couple useful pedal strokes in on a descent before I reached the bottom). Despite the suffering, I did my best to appreciate fullness of the adventure I was on.
I finally arrived in Stabbestad a bit before 8pm, concluding a burly 12 hours of riding. My legs were completely dead but I got some satisfaction seeing that I had climbed over 7000 feet for the day, most of it in 200 foot increments! I set my bike down in a little waiting shelter and wandered over to a restaurant that overlooked the bay to see if I could get some dinner. The restaurant ended up being closed, but the next door ice cream shop was not and I treated myself to a much needed treat as I basked in the evening sun and the feeling of accomplishment for the ground I had covered so far.
Finishing my ice cream I returned to the shelter to whip up some dinner and settle in for the two hour wait for the ferry.
The next couple hours were blissful. I was still enjoying the endorphins from the day’s effort and unlike the prior night in Hirtshals the weather was serene. I knew I was going to have another late night search for a place to camp, but for some reason (probably the aforementioned runner’s high) it felt easy to just savor the moment and enjoy the fact there was nothing I currently needed to do or accomplish.
The water grew calmer and calmer and I watched as the sky slowly transitioned from blue to yellow to orange.
Eventually I saw a boat approaching on the horizon. I repacked my stuff and wheeled my bike onto the final ferry of my trip. As we set off across the bay I found myself already feeling nostalgic reflecting on all the different shapes and sizes of ferries I had been on in the last 60 hours. From that initial functional commuter ferry to Sjællands Odde, to the seaworthy ship from Denmark to Norway, now to this small little local’s ferry across the bay, each had their own energy, each ushering me too the next phase of the adventure.
I spent the remainder of the 30 minute boat ride enjoying on deck, enjoying the salty air and the last of the day’s light.
It was completely dark by the time I unloaded in Kragerø. Luckily I had the whole show-up-by-ferry-after-dark-and-find-camping thing down at this point so I identified a nearby chunk of green on the map and biked towards it. I road up a steep hill past some very nice houses until I got to what looked like the entrance to a wooded park. I followed a dirt trail in and ended up finding a play structure with some flat mulched ground where I setup camp for the night.
Despite the late bedtime I woke up by 6:30am the next morning, in part because I wasn’t sure the legality of my camping spot, but mostly because I was anxious about the 120 miles I had to finish by 9pm if I wanted to catch my bus. I didn’t have any food left on my bike so it made it easy to get up and start riding right away.
I left the park and road down the hill to begin my journey back along the coast. No sooner had I joined the main roadway when I noticed that my rear tire was low on pressure. A bit concerned I pulled over and pumped it back up to normal. I road for another 20 minutes until I looked down and saw that, once again, the tire was looking low. Feeling worried now I again stopped and pulled out my pump. After pumping it up again I paused to listen carefully. I could just make out the slightly whisper of a slow leak. I did my best to locate the leak but it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t carrying any plugs or extra sealant so there wasn’t much I could do.
I was carrying a couple of spare tubes which left me with a difficult decision. On one hand, if I got lucky I could put a tube in and be set for the rest of the day. On the other hand, I’ve had multiple experiences where I flat and then blow through a few tubes pretty quickly, either because the tubes were somehow pinched or because they puncture on something sharp (either inside the tire or on the road). My tire was at least holding a bit of air and if I tore down my tubeless setup and then ran into issues with the few tubes I had I could find myself even worse off.
I checked Google Maps for a public transit route to Oslo from my current location and didn’t see anything promising until much further along the coast. I decided to keep trying to make my tubeless setup work, figuring I could always fall back to tubes if the frequent pump-ups got too annoying, but couldn’t go the other way if I tried tubes now and hit any issues.
The morning riding was enjoyable despite the looming 9pm deadline and frequent stops to top off my tire. My legs felt shockingly fresh for having done back to back 100+ mile days and even my mind felt fairly sharp despite the late nights. In some ways the simplicity of my goal, make it as close as possible to Oslo before I missed my bus or my bike stopped working, was a nice break from the complex interwoven logistics of the ferry routes the three prior days. I road for an hour and a half, enjoying the feeling of progress on my goal, before stopping for a delicious breakfast in Valle.
After breakfast I continued up the coast enjoying more beautiful scenery. I had to keep adding air to my tire but it continued to hold air well enough to be rideable.
I arrived in the city of Sandefjord at around 2:30pm and pondered my options. During my earlier Googling I saw that Sandefjord was one of the first places where it would be easy to take public transit to Oslo. I was strongly attached to the idea of making it all the way to Olso under my own power, but when I stopped and did the math it just didn’t make sense. I had 6.5 hours until I needed to be at the Olso bus terminal and 70 miles remaining. With a perfectly working bike I could maybe gamble that I could hold the necessary pace, but with a tire that was barely functional I didn’t like my odds. Feeling some regret, but mostly relief I pulled up the train schedule to see when the next departure was. I enjoyed a few final minutes to soak up the views of the ocean and then headed to the train station.
Sitting on the train making rapid (and effortless) progress towards Oslo felt amazing after three stressful (and strenuous) days of biking. I ended up being very glad I made to the decision to bail to public transit when I did because the train tracks ended up being under construction near Oslo which required an unplanned detour onto a shuttle bus. Despite some drama involving deconstructing basically my entire bike in order to fit into the luggage compartment of the bus I managed to make it to Oslo by 5:00pm.
It felt a bit surreal being back in Oslo only 7 days after previously passing through on the way back from Jotunheimen. Despite completing the final leg with public transit I felt very proud to have made it all the way there from Copenhagen. I had a few hours to kill so I walked down to the Tjuvholmen park and decided to finally let myself have a swim. After four of staring at the ocean it felt heavenly to jump in and wash off all the salt and dirt that had accumulated while riding. I lounged in the sun on shore for a bit and then headed back towards the bus terminal to grab some dinner and catch my ride back to Copenhagen.
The travel logistics all went smoothly and I arrived back in Copenhagen by 6am, enjoyed a final day around the city, and headed to the airport in the evening to fly back to the US.
This four day bikepacking trip was the perfect way to wrap up an amazing two months in Europe, acting as a “capstone project” that tested my newfound bikepacking abilities. The solo travel was also particularly rewarding. While at times lonely, it added an intensity and degree of self-reliance I don’t think I would have felt otherwise. I would have felt guilty dragging someone along on the itinerary I set myself and it was special to dive deep into some suffering without having to worry about it being too much for anyone else. All around a memorable couple days I won’t soon forget!
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