Translated with DeepL
I wake up very early, at around 4:30 a.m., after far too little sleep. The wind, or rather my concern about it, has kept me awake. At least it has blown my tent dry. It is supposed to rain from 8 a.m. and I give up hope of getting any more sleep so that I can pack my tent away dry. At least it is already light.
The stretch of the Rallarvegen from here is exactly the kind of driving I want. A beautiful and exciting mountain landscape, and fairly challenging but still well-drivable forest roads. I am amazed by the glaciers in the distance, the shades of green of the mosses and the shades of blue that the waters take on. I enjoy the snowfields that are still there in August. There are a lot of downhill sections, from a mountainous 1300 metres down to sea level in the fjord. Slowly the road becomes less wild, slowly more people surround me.
In Flåm, the village on the fjord, I am overwhelmed by the crowds of people. I hear all European languages except Norwegian. But behind the crowds I also discover the beautiful fjords. The mountain walls towering above the water are very impressive. I fight my way through the crowds to a bench and cook lunch.
The question of how to continue from here is almost like starting a new day for me. Suddenly all my energy is gone and I am overcome by the lack of sleep from the previous night. There are no simple, obvious options for continuing from here. All the roads seem to lead over some federal highways, many metres in altitude and partly through tunnels. Probably the disadvantage of the fjord landscape.
I decide to see Rallarvegen as a detour, to take the bus back to a place where I’ve already been. At least I can bypass 25 km of tunnel that would otherwise only be possible with a 1400 m climb. I don’t have the energy for that today.
As I feared, the second bus does not take me with my bike. I get through the tunnel, but I have to cycle back down into the valley myself. The prospect of 80 km and 1800 metres of mainly federal roads puts me off continuing. I try to hitchhike for a short while, but that is perhaps asking a bit too much with my bike and luggage.
So I continue, with little motivation, into the valley. I ride as far as I need to and lie down in the first meadow behind the village. When my parents criticise my choice of sleeping place in view of the thunderstorm forecasts and want to persuade me to ride on, I am only frustrated and exhausted.
A nap helps me to get my head back together. It also helps that the weather forecast no longer predicts any more thunderstorms. A phone call with Tobias helps me to sort out my feelings and to get back to myself. Nevertheless, the question remains whether I still want to take this journey, constantly at the mercy of the world, the weather and the cars? It bothers me that I can be so easily thrown off course. Or is that just a result of being overtired?
A day with morning cycling euphoria and afternoon depression feels like two days have passed. Accordingly exhausted, I now snuggle up in my sleeping bag.
