We awoke early on Saturday 8th. Very early. Two coffees, frantic dressing and bike-loading saw us arrive at the port an hour and fifteen minutes before our ferry departure at 07.30. We disembarked, soon located the #1 ring road and followed it until the exit for the #4 motorway and started our hike north.
Ready to go.
The first break was just before Heinola with 155km done. The going was predictably dull but, with a long way to go, needs must and so we pressed on. The route was essentially pretty straight and boring with few distractions beyond the perpetual sore behind every time we broke the 120km mark. Indeed, 3 months of home office working on a couch had taken its toll on my girlfriend and her back was sore and so the road was all the harder for her.
The bike, on the other hand, was taking no prisoners. It was dragging the kilometres under the front wheel and hurling them out under the back. As fill-ups came and went, I saw very encouraging figures per 100km: as low as 3.8 litres. At that rate, the bike could do a phenomenal 500km to one tankful! Admittedly these were very straight roads, level ground and keeping a steady throttle at ~100km/hr. Nonetheless, I was super impressed for a fully laden 900 with two bodies in the saddle!
After 650km we finally reached our first night's stop. We fell out of the saddle and onto the smooth lawns of a campsite in Riistijarvi, 40km north of Kajaani. Despite being a nice spot, I was plagued by first-night-in-a-tentitis and didn't sleep much.
Pitched.
The next day, my lack of practice with overlanding showed itself as packing up took an age, but we finally got under way and headed to our next stop: Rovaniemi: Gateway to Lapland. With a roadwork induced diversion, the day took us another 400km: two long days in the saddle which later proved decisive in a positive way. Highlights along the way were seeing our first reindeer waddling along the road ahead of us.
We eventually reached Rovaniemi's bland and very over-priced campsite on the banks of the river in the city. There I had a marginally better night.
€37 Euro buys a small pitch but a nice sunset.
The next morning my partner and I discussed the trip. Her back; the long, straight roads and the very real risk that this holiday would only ever be about reaching the next campsite and nothing more meant it was becoming clear: our notion to reach Nordkapp was now in jeopardy.
That day we decided to be kinder to both our backsides and schedule, deciding on Sodankyla as our next stop, a modest 170km or so, north after a spot of shopping in Rovaniemi for such life-saving essentials as another charging cables which, incidentally, came with a life-changing price tag.
Setting ourselves a shorter destination meant allowing ourselves to chose more entertaining routes and one was a lovely minor road that shot off into the wilds giving us beautiful views of the rolling Lappish forests and hills, yet more curious reindeer and a comfort break that turned into blueberry picking.
Police in disguise?
Worryingly, after 25km, the road went from sealed to unsealed and later from unsealed to under roadworks and my poor Yamaha and nerves alike were weavng their way around large rocks that seemed to be dumped on the surface and later crushed by a truck passing over with a steel "blade". But we emerged, the TDM in far better shape than me, and finally reached Sodankyla by mid afternoon.
Upon finding the Nimella Campsite, we saw it was a bit soulless and empty. It also had lots of chalets which were only €50 a night: a bargain in this part of the world! So, we decided to forego the tent and instead settled for solid walls and a mattress for the night. A good night's rest helped clear our heads.
It was decided: Nordkapp was done. We had come too close to making it about riding and not about seeing. We would be pushing ourselves to reach this one point after which all that would remain would be an equally frantic return.
We decided to enjoy what we could see and not mourn what we couldn’t.
Having made good time, we were the first and as the evening drew on others arrived: campervans, motorhomes, cars, motorbikes and bicycles. By the end it was far more lively and pleasant. Other points of note were the fire-pit, sat under a teepee shaped wooden roof with an open base surrounded by seating for a good 15 people.
Life's little comforts
Another feature, although far more absurd, were the toilets: inexplicably it had been decided it would be a great idea for the edge of the bowl to be a generous 20cm from the closed door. And, yes, I measured it, such was my incredulity. The least they could have done was put padding on the door so you could rest your head for those longer-lasting events. I think the designer was a fan of the aircraft toilet.
Having ditched the Nordkapp plan we had a far more leisurely day. Our first, in fact, since reaching Finland. So we set ourselves a place to visit: and open amethyst mine. And we chose a nice route to get there. A leisurely, unladen 40km trip got us to the parking area which then led us to a 2.5km walk up a gentle slope to a cafe and the mine entrance. With €50 getting us two pastries, two coffees and two tickets we waited.
Views from the fell
At an allotted time we were let in which involved unlocking a wooden gate and letting us walk up a wood staircase that climbed the scree slope to the summit. From there we had breathtaking views of the Lappish landscapes. Once at the mine's HQ were we were taken into a nice wooden conference "hut" and given a 25 min lecture on amethyst, its origins, its formation and how it came to be strewn across a hillside when it was formed in caves 100s of meters below the surface about 2 billion years ago. After that we were led to a fenced-off area, given a small pick-axe and a sieve and we started digging. The idea is to find amethyst. And you can keep a piece of your choosing provided it fits in your fist. The rest they keep to work and sell.
The mine is "sustainable". In other words all manual and no machinery meaning that the amethyst stocks should last 500 years as opposed to a mechanised mine where it would be bare in under 5 years.
Having worked up an appetite we returned to the bike, where all our gear was as we'd left it. We rode into the main area of the Luosto ski resort where the mine is located and found prices are not seasonal!! €35 for two pizzas and a coke. But they were big, and tasty so that was forgiven.
On the ride back to the campsite, I slammed on the anchors and peeled onto a side road that I saw because of a sign that caught my eye. The road itself was great: nice bends and a decent surface so that my half-load TDM and underused Pirelli Angel GT edges could get some proper use. And as we rode along we found what it was that I'd seen a sign for. A reindeer farm that was open to the public. It was closed then but that made our plans for us the following day.
With that decided we returned to Sodankyla, stopped off at the supermarket and bought food for the evening and the following morning. Back in the cabin, a fine meal was prepared and enjoyed before walking down to the fire-pit and sitting in front of the flames and later chatting to a dutch couple who had sold everything they owned and were now cycling North to Lapland with their 5 kids!
The next morning we savoured not needing to pack anything more than waterproofs and snacks before heading off. Upon arrival at the farm we saw other cars already parked.The principle is straight forward. Pay €5 and then go to the reindeer pen and feed them birch leaves. After that there were some sheep to be fed and, as I found out, massaged as one presented its ribcage for a thorough scratching. Finish too soon and you're treated to a glare through the fence until you resume. After than we had homemade pancakes in their barn whilst petting their beautiful Lappish Reindeer Herder; a smallish dog with an incredibly soft coat and even softer eyes.
Feeding the habit.
Riding away I took the same scenic route as the day before but going the other way, rejoining the road we'd taken to the mine. Along that stretch we stopped off near a hiking trail and clambered up to the bare summit to enjoy the views and for me to fly my drone on its first and only flight of the trip! So a chunk of storage that, in the end, was not so useful.
That evening saw us having steak and a bottle of red from the local state-run alcohol outlet followed by another evening by the firepit. We left the following morning after 3 nights.
Heading south we rode for 310 km to Taivalkoski, included 80km of unplanned unpaved roads. Some steep sections and blind summits, gravel and rocky edges made for a very focussed rider but it was generally very peaceful: one truck and one car. Several times the asphalt started again when there were any houses only to return to dirt again. The TDM managed fine despite the full load and road tyres.
On the 80, just West of Taivalkoski we found a very cute campsite surrounding a lake. To protect our wallets we pitched the tent amongst the pines, with a little view of the lake below. With the basic shower and toilet house some 100m away through the woods, and the sound of a reindeer testing my guy ropes for ripeness in the early hours, this was as close to wild camping as we ever got.
We woke to rain. Heavy rain; and so began the fun task of trying to pack tent and then a bike in inclement weather. To be fair, we had been very lucky. 5 days of riding, 3 of them above the Arctic Circle and no rain of note. The Friday made up for that with 270km of precipitation.Our waterproofs held up but the helmet cuffs started taking on water. We found a small campsite north of Iisalmi. Last decorated in the late 80s and festooned with mosquitoes, we took a cabin again and soon redecorated it with all our gear draped over every available surface and hanging from every available hook in order to dry.It was rice with tuna and some Thai soup mix to celebrate a wet day washed down with a
.
The next day we rode 400 km of the #5 which we’d ridden North 7 days earlier. This got us to Lahti: a medium sized town that didn't seem to have a lot going on but was well supplied with boy racers.It was a clean apartment but an unwelcoming host. We were treated to perfunctory tour, and I to a look that suggested I’d asked if the sky was indeed blue and had questioned his mother’s honour at the same time when I enquired if it was safe to park the bike in the street. Strange.
The streets were noisy but the bike was right under the balcony where I could keep an eye on it. Guess where I planned to sleep! Thankfully the next morning the bike was unscathed and just as I had left it.
On the final day, we rode the last 110km into Helsinki, did a spot of shopping for family and friends before finally boarding the ferry home.
Some thoughts and observations:
The Finns.
Generally polite and friendly, contrary to their reputation and contrary to our last night's host. Always a hello from shop staff and more importantly, no stupidity on the roads. After living in Estonia for over a decade it is nice to ride somewhere where forethought goes into the driving style. The only scare we had was being caught behind a caravan which then started reversing without any warning and where my little legs could not keep pace! I had to blast round the side of it instead, on to the grassy verge and avoided contact by no more than 10cm. It seems my two truck horns were not loud enough for that driver. And that leads us to....
Finland and its roads.
Finland is big. The distances are big. And certainly too big for a one week blast because, for us at least, all the interesting scenery and sights were in Lapland and they all started a full 1000km North of Helsinki. So either you have one or two hideous days in the saddle to get there ASAP or you have 3-4 more manageable but dull and somewhat wasted days getting there. In the case of the former you arrive with sore everything but have time to visit, in the case of the latter you have too few days to see anything unless you've given yourself a good 2 weeks of travel, which we did not. The Lappish scenery and wildlife are worth the trek. The ubiquitous road-going reindeer always looked at us as if asking "what fashion of new devilry is this?!" despite no doubt seeing vehicles every day. This look of disbelief was always followed shortly after by a very cute, splayed-leg gait back into the forested verge.
The bike.
The TDM did really well. The only problem was an intermittent cutting out of the engine which I whittled down to being some water in the tank largely because the problem seemed to be worst after a downpour, despite the HT leads having been wrapped to prevent the known frame-arcing problem the 900s suffer from in damp weather. It handled, carried the load and delivered phenomenal fuel economy when ridden sensibly.
A first foray into motorcycle travel for my better half.
I fear the trip might have killed any motorcycle trip love affair for my girlfriend in a way that the ride to Central Europe we'd planned to do before COVID screwed things up wouldn't have. A sore back, long straight roads, and the challenges of packing everything for two on the bike made for a memorable, although uncomfortable trip for her, and was perhaps a bit too much like jumping in the deep end. Had hotels been affordable to us as they were in Austria, Czech and Slovakia, things might have been different. I think for now at least, the most she'll tolerate will be weekends away. Thankfully we have the "camperised" van for overland trips which is probably more practical given I have kids too.
The kit.
The Jack Wolfskin tunnel tent did very well. I think this is my favourite design for the bike. It fits in the luggage and is pretty easy to erect and the palatial vestibule is very handy for storing stuff within easy reach yet dry and out of the elements. I took two stoves, thinking that we might wild camp. To be honest, certainly in Lapland, I would have been more than OK with just my little MSR pocket rocket and gas canister. The latter is bulky but together they are trouble free. My omnifuel had issues, and probably needs a thorough clean, but essentially went unused after the first night: just not worth the bother. If the trip involves extended periods cooking off unleaded fuel then it's obviously the best choice. The wood-burner would have been great for that back to nature feeling but that is going to be a van thing from now on. We bought cheap Outwell inflatable 3 cm "Thermarest style" mattresses: comfortable and competitive in terms of packed size so pleased with those. The Mountain Equipment Firewalker II sleeping bags were plenty warm enough. Certainly on the day we wore them, the Oxford one-piece rain-suits worked very well and no complaints there apart from looking like I was wearing a sumo suit.
Small but fierce.
Go again?
Yes, for sure. In fact the trip is already planned for my kids to have one Lappish Christmas before they grow up enough to no longer believe in the Santa Claus fairy tale (yes, folks. There's no Santa!). But, unless I go alone, the next trips will be on 4 wheels, not two.
Linear Mode
