I follow the Expedition orders to retreat south using any available land transportation means available, whether it be by pedaling or riding a reindeer. Actually, it is by bus, which in Norwegian Finmark requires a bit of scrambling. The reader board on the front of bus bound for Alta simply says "bus." Fortunately, it seems most Norwegians speak some English. Through inquiries I get on the right bus.
The road from Hammerfest is precarious to say the least. It cling to the sides of steep barren mountains. A single paved lane is cut into the side. The roadside falls off into a bottomless fjord. For the first time, I see reindeer in big herds munching away at the moss and grass, the only thing that seems to grow in this climate. Through a tunnel that seems a million miles long and over a narrow bridge with no room for a bike, the bus moves slowly away from the freezing winds of the most northern city in the world. To cycle this route would have been suicide. After an hour, we turn away from the fjord and ascend a high maintain valley bisected by a tumbling river fed by gushing tributaries from higher reaches. Storm clouds obscure the higher peaks and veils of rain cloak the upper valleys from which these tributaries originate. Occasionally, the mists part revealing spots of last year's snow clinging to the mountains.
The road from Hammerfest is precarious to say the least. It cling to the sides of steep barren mountains. A single paved lane is cut into the side. The roadside falls off into a bottomless fjord. For the first time, I see reindeer in big herds munching away at the moss and grass, the only thing that seems to grow in this climate. Through a tunnel that seems a million miles long and over a narrow bridge with no room for a bike, the bus moves slowly away from the freezing winds of the most northern city in the world. To cycle this route would have been suicide. After an hour, we turn away from the fjord and ascend a high maintain valley bisected by a tumbling river fed by gushing tributaries from higher reaches. Storm clouds obscure the higher peaks and veils of rain cloak the upper valleys from which these tributaries originate. Occasionally, the mists part revealing spots of last year's snow clinging to the mountains.
We descend into another fjord and there is Alta basking in the afternoon sun against a backdrop of snow-flecked mountains. The alpine forest has also returned, meaning the climate is less severe here. Indeed, it is much warmer in Alta.
I get off at the city center. I assemble the bike and ride about 6 miles to the site of ancient rock carvings for which Alta is famous. The stone carvings dating from 2,000 to 6,000 years ago depict reindeer and bear hunts, as well as a figure on skiis.
Because it is warmer here, I camp next to the Alta River. For the next few days I will follow the path of G. Acerbi, the Italian traveler, who, in 1799, was one of the first Europeans to visit these parts. Acerbi was always complaining of mosquitoes, something I can relate to. But the cold has killed off the pests. They will bother me no more.
I get off at the city center. I assemble the bike and ride about 6 miles to the site of ancient rock carvings for which Alta is famous. The stone carvings dating from 2,000 to 6,000 years ago depict reindeer and bear hunts, as well as a figure on skiis.
Because it is warmer here, I camp next to the Alta River. For the next few days I will follow the path of G. Acerbi, the Italian traveler, who, in 1799, was one of the first Europeans to visit these parts. Acerbi was always complaining of mosquitoes, something I can relate to. But the cold has killed off the pests. They will bother me no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment