Day 21-2. Vinsternes to Ytre Snillfjord contd.
The road ran parallel to the other main road for a while and was a little undulating. We pootled along just taking in the views. I remember seeing a very new looking house, in 'traditional' stained wood and turf roof style. It looked just a little out of place among the more conventional wooden houses and was as though someone had decided to try to out-do the traditionalists. Maybe it was a holiday home for someone who now lived somewhere else.
The day had started well, Damae was happy, it was sunny without being too hot and the going was not too hard. The next bridge of the day came within a half hour of the Mjosundbrua. The Coop sign said we were in Vihals, but the bridge was definitely there wherever it actually was. It looked graceful as it rose over the sound on four huge pillars. Somehow Damae had managed to pass me and stopped to take a couple of photos of me catching her up before we arrived at the turning for the Dromnessundbrua.
We turned right following signs for RV 680 Kjørviksbugen and once over the bridge took a left turning. Here it was a bit flatter than earlier in the day although this was not to last. We cycled close to the fjord under a blue and sunny sky, with views reminiscent of the last twenty kilometres to Florø before the road headed uphill once more. We stopped for a break in a sort of layby as we found it a bit too hot and Damae had dropped far behind. Then, we lost height gained again as we headed towards Hemne Kommune and following signs to Kyrksæterøra turned left. An hour later we were a bit tired and stopped for a brew in a car park nicely shielded from the road, not that we'd had problems with too much traffic today. It was half four by the time we set off again and it took us a further hour of determined cycling to reach Kyrksæterøra.
We hit Kyrksæterøra at tea time on a Saturday afternoon. This time of day usually gives us a rather poor view of any place we visit and today Kyrksæterøra was no exception to the rule. The only people on the streets of Kyrksæterøra seemed to be young people in old cars with wide alloy wheels and ultra low profile tyres popping into the supermarket for packs of beer and crisps. Too much testosterone and revving of engines for it to be peaceful. Damae hit the supermarket in the centre of town whilst I sat outside watching the sun disappear behind remarkably dark grim grey clouds.
Damae came out and we dranks some pop before heading towards those dark clouds. On the way out of town we noticed a couple of burnt out buildings which didn't improve our impression of Kyrksæterøra. Then, after following the road round to the left, closer to the fjord, we noticed a large plume of smoke rising from a chimney stack in the distance. With the mood set already, the skies darkening further it looked just like one of those 'dark satanic mills' that my British forefathers were condemned to working in long before I was born.
It was, however a fantastic sight to see and we approached the factory. Only one of the chimneys was spewing forth smoke today but we had no idea what this factory produced nor why it was here. We had plenty of time to muse about this as we passed for the road decided to go up and down at this point, taking us away from the fjord. A little further on with the smoke behind us it became clear that this area was not totally forgotten by time. A short straight section of the road had been widened which involved blasting rock to move the cliff face back away from the side of the fjord.
We came across two unnamed tunnels here on this section. The first was the old type, with no lining on the inside and no lighting. Between the tunnels there was another section where the road was sandwiched between a drop on the one side and a cliff on the other. Helpful signs alerting us to the danger of falling rocks were placed along the way as the road wound its way along rising and falling. It occurred to me that if a rock decided to fall on top of me as I cycled past, the chances of survival would be minimal and a sign would not help me in that situation either. The entrance to the second tunnel was lined and both tunnels turned out to be short. Our B&M dynamo lights did their best to improve road safety. Much of the road here was no more than one and a half cars wide. It was thus quite fortunate that the few drivers we encountered were all courteous and we felt no sense of threat. As I climbed at six kilometres an hour round a bend a minibus slowed down behind me and waited for a clear view before overtaking. I thanked them for their patience, not that there was really an alternative here.