At the end of the world

Date:
17.08.2020 until 18.08.2020

Day: 015 – 016

Country:
Norway

Location:
Verden’s end

Total kilometers:
1802 km

Sunrise:
05:37 – 05:39

Sunset:
21:08 – 21:05

Temperature day max:
24°

Temperature day min:
19°

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

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It’s already 10:00 in the morning and no one has yet shooed us away from this beautiful spot or even asked for money. I’m doing my sport, as I do every morning, when the first Norwegians park their cars here. After a completely rainy July, August is gorgeous, so many locals take the opportunity to enjoy the world at the end of the world. Some go hiking, others go fishing and some go swimming. “What do you say we unpack our e-bikes and explore the area. Then we can enjoy a picnic at the Verdens Ende?” “Sure, why not. Sounds like a good plan,” I say, stopping my picture archiving work, jumping euphorically out of the Terra and unlocking the box in which our precious Riese und Müller e-bikes live. Then I put the hand crank on the thread and lower the box to the ground. “Do you need me?” I hear Tanja’s voice muffled from the cabin. “Nope, nope, everything’s okay!” I reply and lift the first bike out of the anchorage that bimobil has installed in the bike garage. Once both bikes are in front of the Terra, I crank the box up again and fold it to the side to access the large hatch of the garage or, to put it another way, the trunk of the Terra. I get out the saddlebags, bike helmets, tools and spare parts. Then I straighten the handlebars and bar ends, screw on the pedals, click in the batteries and attach the saddlebags to the bikes. All in all, I need 1 ½ hours for this work. “When you consider that it took us a week in total to load our first batch of camels in Australia, 1 ½ hours isn’t so bad,” I say to motivate myself a little. “With routine, we were able to shorten the loading of the camels to around 1 ½ hours. That was a fantastic success. I assume that with a little practice you’ll have the bikes ready in 30 minutes in future,” Tanja encourages me, as she hears me swearing quietly to myself. As if we were going on a long tour, I pack spare parts, repair kit and tools into the saddlebags. “Do you expect to have to repair something on the way?” wonders Tanja. “Better to be prepared than to get a flat tire somewhere and have to stop,” I smile. Two hours after Tanja’s idea of exploring the area by bike, we are ready to go. First we cycle to the end of Verden, which translates as the end of the world. “It’s such a pleasure to be on the bike again!” I cheer. Our expedition bikes run fantastically and purr over the asphalt. We reach our first destination a little later on very well-maintained cycle paths. We let the e-bikes roll down to the harbor, ride past the small motorboats and yachts on jetties. “Hello!”, a couple of Norwegians call out to us in a friendly manner. “Wooouuuuuiii! Wooouuuuuiii! Wooouuuuuuiii!” Ajaci squeals back excitedly, sitting in his new trailer, which was specially designed for him.

We take a few photos in front of the rocking beacon made of natural stone, which, as already mentioned, was built in 1932 as an advertisement for a restaurant. “Did you cycle all the way here from Germany?” a tanned man asks us. “No, we have our expedition vehicle parked in a parking lot a few kilometers from here. We’re just going on a little day trip,” I reply, but tell them that we’ve ridden our bikes from Germany to Thailand and are making a stopover in Norway because of coronavirus. Patrick is Norwegian by birth, but has lived in Switzerland for 30 years. “I don’t want to be permanently in the land of eternal darkness. I come here from time to time in the summer to sail with my boyfriend,” he explains and introduces us to Thore. “We sailed here from Oslo. Last night we anchored in the middle of a family of whales. It was a wonderful encounter to see the baby being cared for by its mother,” he says enthusiastically. Patrick and Thore talk about their trip, about the fact that they can’t sail any further at the moment because of the lack of wind, about the end of the tourist season, the northern lights and much more. Although the conversation is interesting, we say goodbye. “We want to explore the coast a little before sunset and, if time permits, have a picnic on the rocks,” we say. “Have a great trip to the North Cape. And watch out for the trolls!” the cheerful man calls after us with a laugh.

We find a wonderful spot for our picnic on the sun-heated rocks. Ajaci can hardly wait to jump into the cooling waters of the North Sea. Access to the water is difficult because of the rocks. We carefully feel our way forward on the rock, which is slippery in places. “Puaaah!” we shout as we finally jump into the calm sea. “Wooouuuuuiii! Wooouuuuuiii! Wooouuuuuuiii!”, Ajaci squeals with pure joie de vivre. We do a few laps together, then our dog wants to go ashore again. We lie down on the sun-heated rocks and let Mother Nature dry us out. “Are you hungry?” “Like a wolf,” I reply. Tanja covered the smooth rock with crispbread, fresh butter, a few almonds and delicious homemade salad. Each is accompanied by a can of bad Danish beer. “If you drink it often enough, it’s not so bad,” I joke and enjoy this carefree time to the full. “We should stay here until the sun goes down and continue our bike tour tomorrow,” Tanja suggests. “I’m in,” I reply. An hour later, the glowing fireball settles on the smooth water. We sit close together and watch as the bright rays take on more and more color, as the white-yellow turns orange, as the yellow and orange literally melt together, become redder and the fading star is reflected in the sea until the barely perceptible waves spill over it. With an imaginary hiss, the reflection disappears into the salt water. The firmament is now pale pink, changing to an even softer pink, until a darker blue blots out the remaining daylight…