Philosophy of travel

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

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“Look how golden it shimmers down from the mountains,” says Tanja enthusiastically. “A real feast for the eyes,” I reply, looking out of the window whenever the pass road allows it. On the stretch to the village of Lom, the asphalt strip slopes from 1400 meters to 380 meters. The mountain world around us loses its roughness and menace with every meter of altitude. The glaciers and snow patches recede further and further and the squalls, which almost blew us out of the saddle at the top of the pass, ease off noticeably.

Autumn bathes the increasingly lovely-looking mountains in a golden light that seems to have sprung from a fairytale world. Delicate gold changes to an even more delicate yellow, framed by lime green, in which a few pearly low-growing shrubs sit. Nature is breathtaking and seems to play all its trump cards here to cast a spell over us.

It is already dusk when we reach the village of Lom with its 2228 inhabitants. With its lovely radiance, it blends into the ending autumnal day.

As we don’t park at campsites, we look for a pitch for the night and find one right on the banks of the River Otta. “To round off this eventful day, I’ll prepare salmon, roast potatoes, fried eggs and a fresh salad if you like. What do you think of that, my darling?” “Oh, that sounds too good to be true,” I say happily. Hiss! I hear it half an hour later as I open one of the precious Franconian beer bottles I brought with me. As a beer sommelier, I can hardly stand the plonk of Danish beer, which is available everywhere in Norway and at €3 a can is one of the cheaper brands, so this moment is something special. “Mmm, delicious,” I say, taking a sip. “How much longer?” “Almost finished. I have to turn the fish again. You love it when the skin is crispy,” Tanja replies with a laugh. “I can understand the campers,” I say a little later. “It’s nice to spend the whole day on the bike, load it back into the Terra’s backpack, cruise through spectacular scenery and, to top it all off, dine like a king in your own little home in the evening,” I say, enjoying Tanja’s meal. “Yes, it has something. I could also get used to this lifestyle,” Tanja replies. “I hope we don’t get too comfortable.” “You mean we’ll find it difficult to go back to just cycling in the future?” “Hm, yes. On the other hand, I’m also looking forward to being able to ride 100 or 150 km on the bike every day, thinking about where we can charge the batteries, where we can get drinking water and where we can pitch our tent. Crossing a country exclusively by bike has something original about it and is full of adventure.” “That’s true, but we also experience a lot on this trip. You can’t and shouldn’t compare one with the other. They are two completely different travel concepts. Both are interesting and both contain unexpected challenges,” Tanja reflects. “In any case, the combination of off-road motorhome and bicycle or e-bike is a fantastic combination. You can get to almost anywhere you want to go. The only disadvantage is the enormous amount of technology involved in such a vehicle. Nothing should break down in remote regions.” “I don’t think that should be a problem. You know your way around quite well by now and if something should really break down, we’ll find a workshop. There are good mechanics all over the world and so far we’ve been able to solve every problem that has come our way.” “My dear Tanja. Always confident. That’s what I like about you. You’re absolutely right. With a positive mindset, life becomes easier. The success of an expedition or trip lies in good preparation and if something goes wrong, it’s just part of it. Maybe that’s the salt in the soup?” “If you remember, we have always been enriched by unforeseen events.” “That’s right, we met extraordinary people that we would never have met otherwise, sometimes we were able to immerse ourselves in a culture or habitat that we would never have experienced while passing through,” I reflect, taking another sip of my hop juice. “Do you mean Mai Chau in Vietnam, where you broke your shoulder joint when you fell off your bike?” “Among other things. That was also a painful time when we initially didn’t know what would happen next, but later the three-month stay there in the rice terraces valley was an absolute life enrichment,” I reflect on the time. “Yes, or how the camels ran away from us in the Australian outback,” Tanja interjects. “Or how the frame of my bike broke just before the Siberian winter and the truck driver Sergei saved us,” I add. “Ha, ha, ha,” we laugh hilariously and tell each other stories late into the night that we have experienced, analyze them and come to the conclusion that we have been able to live a truly fulfilling life so far.

After a day of writing in the parking lot next to the Otta River, we buy a delicious, fresh grain bread at the local bakery before setting off. “For the coming days,” says Tanja, putting some of it in our freezer. Then we head north, into the country with its seemingly endless natural treasures. As soon as we leave the pleasant village of Lom behind us, the off-road tires of our Terra roll along a breathtakingly beautiful mountain road. We pass raging rivers, whose foaming waters push their way through valleys and rocky constrictions and plunge over cataracts in white spray. Mountain lakes, which are so clear that we can see right to the bottom during the ride, spread out in one valley or another. In some places, the elixir of life, water, laps at the black strip of asphalt that runs right past its banks. On today’s completely calm day, not the slightest ripple appears on the surface of the lakes, so that they lie there like finely polished mirrors reflecting every ray of sunshine. In a valley depression, several waterfalls lined with lush greenery plunge into the depths. Deciduous forests cover countless mountain ridges in this region with golden autumn colors, which appear even more intense under the steel-blue sky and sometimes stand out from the land like a high-contrast silhouette. As if an oversized power had cut a tonsure into the mountains, they raise their snow-covered heads into the radiant firmament.