Leaving Lililhammer, we realised that this ski resort town was surprisingly less welcoming of 2 rag tag cyclists than the more open country areas we had previously experienced. All across Norway our waves and hellos to passers-by had been reciprocated with as much good will. In Lillihammer however, our ‘good middags’, ‘hejs’, waves and cheeky winks at beautiful Norwegian maidens had not been so well received. It could be just a look of disdain or even more annoyingly, the filthy habit of failing even to acknowledge our benevolent greetings.
Â
Despite these negative gestures, some locals were friendly and helpful, giving us tips about the road ahead. But riding out of Lillihammer, we decided to ignore this advice, warning of possible road closures up on the mountain track we planned to ride across. This route was the most direct, and as our advised alternative meant riding along a busy main road we took to the snow-capped peaks.
Â
The road was mainly composed of sand, to start with at least, not ideal for our thin tires. As we climbed the surface deterriorated, we found ourselves sinking into deep patches of gravel and silt, making us wobble precariously. But that wasn’t all, we found pot holes where we could see mountain streams running below. On the plateau itself, we met with parts of the road still 3 foot deep in snow, for patches up to 200 metres in places. After walking our bikes at a snail’s pace through this snow, we concluded local advice is better than foreign ignorance.