After my little stunt at the monument (read yesterday's report), I drank my victory coffee, had my victory breadrolls and rode off on my victory bike. Within a few hundred meters though, I was brought back with my feet firmly upon this earth. The entire Nordkapp was shrouded in mist. Moreover, the high road was wet as a whistle and extremely slippery. The back wheel of the bike started started sliding left and right, as I tried to make my way down. At one point, on a steep descent, the bike nearly fell over. Thank God the traction control self-corrected. Needless to say, I proceeded further down with extreme caution and was very happy to leave Nordkapp behind me.

A little more about the motorcycle I'm riding. It's a somewhat older BMW R1200 GS. Of course it's one of BMW's most popular models, but that's not why I bought it. I prefer the aircooled version from before 2013; less weight and less hassle, but still with a decent ABS and ESA system. I fitted it with Anakee Adventure tires and some extra protection for the engine, fumbled around with the gear ratio and put some extra lights on (quite essential in these parts). Took a FuelFriend with me for some extra petrol. I kept the standard Vario cases, they are more sturdy than given credit for. Up till now, I'm pretty happy with it all.

OK, enough with the bike commercial. How was I faring after Nordkapp? Pretty well actually. The weather soon improved. The road to Oldenfjord and Lakselv follows the coastline and gradually the sun came out over the Porfangerfjord, to stunning effect. I saw a whale playing in the sunshine, jumping over the waves again and again. The whale was black and quite big, about 10 metres. Could have been a blue whale, or a 'potvis', as we call them in Dutch. Wonderful sight.
I didn't get to film the whale, but I made a short video of the bay, take a look here: https://youtu.be/nMXOem-6jJY

After a few coffee and petrol breaks I left the peninsula behind me and rode into the Finnmarksvidda, 'the Finnmark emptiness'. Well, it's empty of people, but certainly not of trees! Millions of them as far as the eye can see. The Ruska, the Lapponian autumn, is in full swing now. So the birch forests shine with red, yellow and brown's. It's as beautiful as the arctic sea's different kinds of blue.

Close to Karasjok, I decided to take the bike off the road one last time to take a picture of the tree-sea. But as I took a turn, I hit a spot of soft sand. No chance to steer clear off it anymore. The bike slipped and fell over, and I was launched into the green. Luckily I escaped without any harm, thanks to my protective suit and helmet. The bike seemed ok as well. But how to get it up again? It weighs about 320 kg's. I stopped some passing cars, and the people were very helpful. But the bike was in an awkward position, so it took 4 people, me included, to get it up again. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart. In the end, the bike started without any problem and I was able to ride off as if nothing happened.

When I got to my cabin in Karasjok, I was glad to have a rest and finish the day. But the day had one last surprise in store for me. When I came out of the kitchen with my freshly cooked meal, I was greeted by waves of green in the sky. Northern lights! I yelled out like a four-year old in the toy shop. I enjoyed the spectacle for as long as possible.

The Sami in Karasjok seemed to do as well. Karasjok is the Sami capital and most of the people here are of Sami descent. When the northern lights started to show, they started huge bonfires in the town centre and I could hear the drums beating. It looked and sounded great, but I was too exhausted from this long day to join them. It was magical though, and when the northern lights returned later that evening, I couldn't resist to have one last look.

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In 320 BC Pythias the Elder, Greek geographer and historian, wrote about a land in the far north, beyond the reaches of civilization. He had heard from travellers that the people there were fishermen and hunters of deer, and that they were capable of withstanding extreme cold and darkness, as the sun did not shine there for 6 months in each year. He was not sure what it was called but named it the furthest away land in the sea. Or as the Romans would translate it, Ultima Thule.

Since Roman times there has been speculation which land Pythias meant to describe. Some said Shetland, others Iceland. In the Middle Ages Ultima Thule was generally believed to be the north of Scandinavia, specifically the Varanger peninsula to the far east. Priests returning from missionary work there said it was an unholy place, a gateway to hell. In the 17th century the authorities executed 91 men and women on Varanger, claiming they were servants of the devil and witches. A fortress was built in Vardo, on the eastern edge of Varanger, not only as a defence against Russian incursions, but also to keep the peace locally.

So, as I set off from Karasjok to make my way to Varanger, I wasn't really sure what to expect. Having been to Nordkapp, which is itself a pretty inhospitable place, was I to be treated to an even more ungodly wasteland?

Well, here I am, in my cosy and warm apartment in Vadso town, listening to smooth jazz from my digital media station. It's quite comfortable here. Which is just as well, as it's been a busy three days. Ultima Thule may not have the best climate, but there's a lot to see and do. That's why I decided to stick around for a few days. A man has got to relax between all those holiday excursions.

Riding up from Karasjok, it first didn't all seem that promising. I travelled through dense forest to the east, along the Tana river. Beautiful autumn colours, but very isolated. And there was danger of hitting stray wildlife. Cor, a Dutchman I met in Karasjok, who has been living in Norway for 20 years, told me this is the time the reindeer come down from the mountains on the coast to return for the winter grazing inland. They wander over the roads, because the tar is warmer, and this causes many accidents. Indeed, I saw a lot of reindeer on the way. As I'd seen them on Noordkaap as well, I knew you had to pass slowly and carefully. Thankfully, that worked out nicely.

When I finally reached Varanger, I was pleasantly surprised. It's a quiet place, where the Barentsz Sea gently nips the coast and sheep and reindeer calmly wander around. Yes, it's somewhat cold and there are few trees, but it does not have the high winds and barren rockfaces of Nordkapp, at least not until the most outward cliffs at Vardo. Not many people live in Varanger, so I suspect its probably difficult to make a decent income here. Nonetheless, Varanger has a quality that I would describe as, for lack of a better word, peaceful.

After a good night's rest, I thought to try my luck and head out to the most eastern frontier post at the border with Russia. I headed to Grense Jakobselv, a small hamlet at the Barentsz Sea, which acts as a reminder to Russia that this is where the buck stops. To emphasize that, the Norwegians have put up a little chapel and a big NATO base. After a coffee stopover at Kirkenes (what an ugly town, but thank God for Cafe Visit), I followed the road to Murmansk, up to the point where you are persuaded not to enter Russia, but to go left into the bushbush. Then I had another 40 km's to ride, over one of the worst roads in recent memory. Those military vehicles sure know how to mess up a road surface. The GS handled it nicely though, as it did the last 10 km's of offroading, when the road literally turned into mud. Oh joy.

I ended up looking over the sea with a nice warm cup of coffee in my hands from an admiring German camper (he had also ridden motorcycles, so he knew, he said). After I had thanked him, I proceeded to do what I had promised myself a year ago when I thougt up this trip: I went down to the waterfront and washed my boots in the Barentsz Sea. A Norwegian soldier came up to me and said: What do you think, is the water warm enough? I said: It's not too bad. Him: I hope so, because they told us to get in there this afternoon. Me: Well, I wouldn't stay in too long. Him: I'll be sure to tell them that. And we had a good laugh.

The next day I went to visit the town of Vardo. I took just about an hour to get there, so I had a very relaxed ride along the Varanger coastline. It's mainly tundra and small (really small) villages, and it was raining, but still I had a good time. It was such a moment when you realize you have really gotten some travelling done, as you cast your eye over a land that's definitely nothing like home.

Vardo itself is a place which few people would prefer to hang around at for long. Quite a few people have to though, because there is a substantial 'radar installation' here, otherwise known as a spy station, pertinently pointed towards Russia. The other main reason to visit Vardo is the earlier mentioned island fortress. That may sound imposing, but it's actually quite a modest affair, with a small barracks and a munition warehouse that looks like a chapel. Hmm, wasn't there a 'chapel' at the Jakobselv borderpost as well? Funny lot, those Norwegian soldiers.

Well, as I sit here by the fire smoking a pipe (figuratively speaking), I must conclude: Ultima Thule has gotten a bad rep. Maybe Pythias had a hearing problem. Or maybe it's those pesky Russians.
I for one wouldn't mind staying a few days more. But I have a ferry to catch in Helsinki on Friday. So it's back on the road tomorrow.

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A rainy morning again, and it suited my wake-up mood, as I had to leave Varanger to head down south. Varanger definitely made an impression on me. I wasn't in a hurry to leave. Maybe it was the peace and quiet, maybe it was the constantly shifting sights, sounds and colours of the bay. Maybe it was just me wanting to relax. In any case, I gathered my belongings, packed the bike and rode off, reluctantly.

As I was running the bike down the coast, the sun came out. And Varanger presented its one last surprise for me. First, I saw another whale playing in the morning sun, over at the eastern side of the bay. I stopped to watch it. Then my attention was drawn to some markings on the shale coast. I had a look around and found some information on a signpost. It was quite a special place I had stumbled upon, an ancient Sami burial site. The graves date back from 400 to 2000 years ago. I can very well imagine why they chose that particular spot, as it overlooks a fjord at the other side of the bay, which catches the full light of the sun.

But this turned out to be only a part of the whole story. Because this particular coastline, which is called Ceavccageceadne (now try to pronounce that while having your morning coffee), hosts a complete prehistoric village that dates back 10.000 years. You can actually see where the first settlers put up their tents. The central piece of the site is the so-called Tear Stone, which is a holy monument not dedicated to something sad and tragic, but to fish oil ('tear of the fish' in old language). It seems the fishermen rubbed the stone to ensure a good catch. That they kept doing so for at least 2000 years, boggles the mind.

Having had a look around and being suitably impressed, I went on my way again with a much improved frame of mind. Yeah, I'm that type of guy that gets his mood lifted by prehistoric burial sites. What can I say. After a few dozen kilometers I made a pitstop at Tana Bru, to restock, have a quick lunch at the Elvekanten Spiseri (damn fine coffee) and to buy myself a Sami hunting knife. That's right, I'm that type of guy that will get a knife as a souvenir and ... Well. What can I say. It's purely ornamental, and such.

Then it was off to the Finnish border. That meant a 150 km ride into the eternal forest. It was cold, as the Finnmarksvidda is expected to be in September. You can feel the frost coming in. The Ruska autumn means the birch trees have now turned a full orange, offset against purple and red tundra. Affter crossing the border, the spruces returned again; I hadn't seen those for at least 10 days. The mountains gradually disappeared, making way for wide plains of stunning autumn colours. Sometimes a lost mountain (the Finnish call them Tunturi) appeared, to preside over the natural splendour around it. Riding through the Finnish forest constitutes an almost psychedelical experience. It's a good thing that, in the middle of all that glory, the Finnish have put up some signs to alert you in detail to the local traffic regulations. Nothing better to keep you grounded and sober.

As I sit here in an almost abandoned holiday camp at Inari (it came cheap and they've got great amenities), I am contemplating my fate. What a lucky guy I am, to leave one great place and run straight into the next one. I almost don't want to l... Oh, not that again.

PS. Looking out over the lake I can see the northern lights over at the horizon. Finnmark is saying goodbye in style.

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There was no way around it, I had to ride a fair distance today to get down south, were I to make it to the Helsinki ferry on Friday. So I got up early, had a quick breakfast (powder coffee) and rode off. Four hundred fifty kilometers to go to Kemi, on the Gulf of Bothnia.

It was pretty cold outside, about 4 degrees C. When it started raining, I was sure to cover and close every possible windleak in my suit, because at pace you basically get below zero because of the riding wind. That worked out well, but I still needed a break every 50 km's, just to get those muscles warmed up again. I am pretty sure some reindeer secretly observed me from the forest edge as I danced around the bike trying to chase out the cold. Maybe even a moose.

A warm coffee was very much in need, so when I pulled up to Tankavaara, I ran straight into the saloon. Saloon? Yes, it was an actual saloon, because Tankavaara is a recreation of an old goldmining town. Turns out there is some gold to be found in the woods surrounding it, and you can join the gold washers at the local river. I was too much in a hurry for that, but I did enjoy their coffee. The whole thing's a bit of a tourist trap of course, but it's all in good fun.

The Finnish definitely do like to have some fun in Lapin Laani, as they call this region. Everywhere down the road there are signs pointing to this or that activity. Husky rides seem to be popular, skiing and hiking as well. As are the many roadside restaurants and bars. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to Kafe Zippi & Suhaus?

All that creativity got my spirits up. Which was just as well as I was only 100 km's in. 350 to go, so I started to amuse myself by trying to pronounce all those extraordinary Finnish place names. Try for yourself: Akasjokisuu, Kakslauttanen, Pelkosenniemmi, Muodoslompolo. When that had exhausted itself, I thought to sing to myself, as nobody but the reindeer could hear me. I ended up doing at least 100 very loud variations on Pachelbel's Canon and Gigue in D Major.

That kept me busy until Sodankyla, where I hit the 200 km mark. I took a short look around town. Sodankyla is remarkable (if it is to be considered remarkable) for two things: a ridiculous amount of petrol stations and one of the oldest wooden churches in Finland. This so-called Lapp church dates from the 17th century and has a definite non-christian look about it, at least on the outside. Not a cross to be found. I was still wondering about this when I pulled up at my lunch cafeteria. But my attention was soon drawn away by having to choose a meal from the menu. Was it going to be Savuporoleipa or Karjalanpiirakka? Ah, why not both, you only live once.

Appropriately refreshed I made my way south again. It was time for the mental jukebox. In the last two weeks I have accrued a lot of new material. You can listen in if you want, check out this all new Spotify playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6E...ive-share-menu

After about 300 km's I arrived at Rovaniemi. It's where Santa Claus lives, they say. You can pay for the privilege to meet him at Santa Park. I decided to not enjoy that particular pleasure, but to ride on to the town centre. Rovaniemi calls itself the Capital of the Arctic, as it straddles the Arctic Circle. Well, all I saw was a few very large malls. As they didn't particularly appeal to me, I rode on.

I did feel a bit sad to leave the Arctic Circle behind. The magic of the eternal forest had already begun to fade about 50 km's before Rovaniemi, as the tundra started to disappear, being replaced by evergreen spruces and grass meadows. Now the human presence began to make itself felt again. Supermarkets, building sites, vaping shops, graffiti. Welcome back to civilisation.

The last 100 km's to Kemi were heavy going. It had started to rain and the road became busy with late afternoon traffic. When I arrived at the hotel in Kemi, it turned out to be something akin to a medical center amidst council flats. The main door won't open except when kicked, there's a weird buzz in the bathroom and the kitchen has been taken over by Russian builders.

It's comfortable enough though. I just want a rest. And to have a dream or two about the eternal forest.

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The last few days I've made a lot of kilometers. I've been steadily riding down the coast of Finland, getting closer to Helsinki. I've passed the 7000 km mark now.

And I'm still loving it. There has not been one day that I didn't want to get on that motorcycle and ride around. I must confess I didn't expect that. There would surely come a point where I would tire of it, right? Wrong. Which will be giving me something to ponder about in the coming weeks and months.

Anyway, I've been riding around a part of Finland called Ostrobothnia. It's basically a few medium sized towns on the Bothnian coast with a lot of pine forests in between. Sometimes that has been as boring as it sounds. Those pine forests do go on for a long time, and they do not seem half as interesting as the eternal forest of the high north. But the coast can be beautiful, looking out over the hundreds of islands that are dotted around the Gulf of Bothnia.

And the main towns are reasonably interesting as well. First up, Oulo. Oulo is the first major town that you encounter coming from up north (sorry Rovaniemi, but Santa's village really does NOT count). The specific attraction that Oulo offers are the old harbour warehouses, that have now been converted into cafe's and shops. It's a fun place to hang around for an afternoon. Especially to catch some late summer sun.

Then comes Vaasa. This is the first place since the high north that has a city feel to it. To my surprise I'd missed that somewhat. And Vaasa offered me the opportunity to lounge for a while in the local branch of Espresso House (a favourite of mine since Malmo). Bring forth the cinnamon rolls!

I liked Vaasa very much, but my favourite moment of the last few days has to be my pitstop at Parkano, where I happened to walk into the diner of Meya and her husband. It had been a particularly rainy ride the last few hours, and when Meya saw that I had arrived somewhat drenched, she welcomed me with a hot coffee, a fine cheeseburger and a warm heart. Turns out she and her husband had been touring around Europe themselves, on a VFR (my first motorcycle). They hadn't been able to tour anymore since the Covid thing though, because their diner had run into difficulty because of the lockdowns (I've heard quite a few similar stories on this trip). Seeing me riding into town brought back some happy memories which she wanted to share, and off course I duly obliged. When we said goodbye, I thanked them for their hospitality and wished them every opportunity to tour again.

I realise how lucky I am to have had the chance to make this journey. Sure, I put a lot of preparation in it, but there's so much more that had to come together to make it possible. Not least to mention, the huge support from my wife Monica. But more about that next time. That will also be my last entry in this travel journal, as I will be heading home!

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As per usual I got up this morning and went looking for some black coffee. The good ship Finnstar, which takes me from Helsinki to Germany, doesn't do breakfast, they serve you a 'brunch' at 1 pm. Luckily the bar is open most of the day (good to see they've gotten their priorities straight), so I got my coffee. And a cinnamon roll as well. And a nice view over the Baltic Sea.

Let's call that compensation for letting me standing out in the rain for 3 hours yesterday. They didn't open the cargo bay doors until the very last moment. I've seen some bad weather on this trip, but right at that time the heavens decided to open above me as never before. I was glad to have my all-weather motorcycle suit on. Others weren't so lucky though.

Finally they let us board. And now I've 38 hours of sailing to do to Travemunde, Germany. To be fair, the Finnstar has everything you would want from a ferry. The Baltic Sea is shining like silver and the weather's lovely. So I am having a comfortable ride home.

I've been biding my time thinking about the last four weeks. They certainly were memorable; I can honestly say it has been the best trip of my life. That has mainly been up to the magical land in the high north that I've been travelling to. It's stunningly beautiful in a rugged kind of way. And the connection between the land and the people is strong; it has to be because of those rugged conditions. I never knew of it before, but it suited me fine. I'd like to return some day.

A journey beyond what you know is also a journey into oneself, Seneca said. What have I learned, if anything? Well, I love travelling like this, just riding to the world's end with a motorcycle. And it wasn't as exhausting or difficult as you'd expect. I think I'll do it more often.
Also: it's as much the people you meet and the stories they tell, as the places you visit. The whole thing's reminded me that I'm a sucker for a good story, be it personal or historical.
And: I don't know if it was the bike or the trip or something else, but I was surprised by all the positive reactions and responses that I've received. From the people that I've met on the road and who have, more than once, helped me out when I was in a tough spot. But also from people back home and even online. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

I'd especially like to single out my wife Monica. She's been supportive of this trip from the very beginning, even when it all seemed a bit mad and farfetched. Or when it started to go off the rails (I broke my foot preparing my off road 'skills'). She persisted and shone through it all and what's more, she valiantly took care of Ava during my long absence. In a fantastic way. I truly love and admire you, my love.

Also my love to Ava, Rosa and Aaron, who stuck it out while daddy was frolicking through the Scandinavian tundra and taiga. And many, many thanks to Marc, who has been a great moral and practical support from the beginning to the end.

It's crystal clear: a journey like this isn't made without the help and support of some good people. And maybe that's the biggest lesson of all.

The Finnstar is waking up and some of the Finnish are already on their first . I'm not going to join them right now (I like my coffee better), but metaforically I'll raise a glass to all the lands I've visited, to my wonderful motorcycle and last but least, to all the wonderful people I've met and who've supported me. Skol and good health to all. It's been a joy.

Oh, there's one last lesson that I definitely shouldn't forget: I sure like those cinnamon buns. Note to self: start an import business in kanelbulli. Now, where's the phone number of the bakery in Jokkmokk ....

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GREAT report, and excellent photos, thanks for sharing!
We'd love to have you present your story at an HU Travellers Meeting next year!
https://www.horizonsunlimited.com/events

__________________
Grant Johnson
Seek, and ye shall find.
------------------------
Inspiring, Informing and Connecting travellers since 1997!
www.HorizonsUnlimited.com

Hi Grant,

Thank you very much, that's great to hear! HU is such a wonderful platform, so it has been an honour and joy to bring my story here. Great reactions as well and it has been good to catch up with a few fellow travellers.

I would love to present my story at a HU Travellers Meeting. Montenegro and Germany in 2023 would certainly be possible, but basically any meeting in Europe is fine, just let me know when and where.

Kind regards, David

Awesome!

Just check the schedule, and / or sign up for updates on ones you're interested in, and sign up to present as soon as you can.

Event Updates List: https://www.horizonsunlimited.com/events/updateslist/

Events: https://www.horizonsunlimited.com/events/

__________________
Grant Johnson
Seek, and ye shall find.
------------------------
Inspiring, Informing and Connecting travellers since 1997!
www.HorizonsUnlimited.com