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Where am I?:^mistymornings-->Cycletouring-->2008-->Norway.-->Day 8

Day 8-4. Voss to Dragsvik contd.

We hardly had to pedal on the way down: coming into Voss there was a wonderful set of bends, where we had to slow down to below forty for the first time since the cafe. I was still following Damae and on one haripin bend I noticed a small stone in the middle of the corner and watched Damae deftly avoid it. Muggins, of course hit this one small stone on the bend and I cringed as my bike jigged momentarily. It was a sharp bend and had I fallen off at that point then I would have probably ended up in hospital either with broken bones or severe grazing, most probably a combination of both. However the T400 behaved perfectly under these demanding conditions and straightened itself immediately.

Then, before we knew it, we were outside the Co-op supermarket in Vik. I gladly went inside to do groceries, which consisted of around three litres of liquids two of which we drank then and there. On returning outside we got into a conversation about Rohloffs with a Brazillian couple, after they asked about whether tunnels on the way to Fløro would be closed or not. I was then accosted by a Dutch participant of the Viking tour and chatted with him and his partner. Apparently the old bloke we'd seen a couple of times this afternoon was well into his seventies, which made his achievements all the more impressive.

This was the first time we had seen Vik in the tourist season and the first time on sunny evening. It bustled a bit and we thought it would be nice to stay one day when it was happy, sunny and bustling, instead of grey, empty and cool. Still whilst the participants of the Vikingtour were to celebrate the end of the event that evening in Vik, we still had to cycle some more. First to the Vangnes and the ferry to Dragsvik, then an uncertain distance to the campsite at Dragsvik. After we'd each finished our litres of milk outside the Co-op, and enjoyed a Tine yoghurt off we headed.

The ten or so kilometres to Vangsnes passed uneventfully enough, cycling this section of the 13 from Vik is more comfortable than the other way. Going North you end up on the inside edge of the road. The hot sunshine that had made progress difficult earlier in the day left us for a while making the light more special and the fjord more mysterious than in the bright Norwegian daylight. We arrived with fifteen minutes to spare for the next ferry to Dragsvik and waited under the watchful eye of the 'Fridtjov den frøkne' statue. After watching ferry arrive and the passengers get off, we cycled on and parked the bikes up. The light and clouds were wonderful. The thirty minute ferry crossing, with fjord views in all directions and a stop at Hella was lovely, with the light providing more contrast than earlier in the day.

To our delight the campsite was right next to the ferry albeit on the other side of a little hill. Tired cold muscles protested as we hauled ourselves uphill. Damae using her best Norwegian negotiated the deal and after we'd paid up and the site owner took us to a lovely spot with a view over the fjord to Balestrand. The ground was not entirely flat, it was a bit hard to get the pegs in but the tent went up easily. We were glad that we were using our thick Exped mats that night as they took out all the bumps from under us. As we were getting set up a bloke wandered past, stopped to look and said 'Schön Ecke!' twice before I understood what he had said and replied with 'ja'. He then asked 'Hollanders?' to which I repied 'Aus England'. 'Uh Englanders' he said, and wandered off leaving the tone of his comment and the precise meaning of it unexplained.

That excitement over and done with we ate our dinner showered and spent what was left of the evening taking it easy. Damae wondered if this might not be a great spot for a rest day, and it was only later that this seemed like a good idea to me. Balestrand lay across the bay, probably no more than two kilometres by boat, although by road it was somewhat longer. Ten kilometres there and back would be ideal for a day off. Last year we'd briefly visited Balestrand on the way to Fjærland but it had been raining heavily. It would be interesting to see if the fjords do indeed look lovelier in the rain as I suspected.

As the night drew it and the sun 'went down' all we could hear besides the occasional outboard motor was the gemütlich babble from the German tourists who had congregated next to the quay. The view remained lovely and at an uncertain moment, not so much later, everyone retreated to their respective mobile homes and we let sleep flow over us like the waves lapping on the shore.

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