Into the wild

July 26, 2017

Mora to Niställingen

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I awoke nice and early, and it was not long gone 8am as I cycled the fully-laden blue flash back to the camping reception to return my keycard. I felt a little sick as I awoke - this seemed to be a result of crashing and all the rich food the previous day - but I felt optimistic.

The day was cool and still, which suited me fine. To proceed towards my destination I knew I had to head West, out into the very sparsely populated and increasingly high ridges of hills that lead up to the proper mountains that form the Norwegian border. If I wanted to avoid the single major road (the "red" major route E45) and furthe scores of kilometers detour - and I knew I did - then I would have to make my way almost exclusively along private, unsurfaced forest roads. Settlements would be at least 30km apart.

So it was with some trepidation that I pedalled out of Mora. I had enough supplies for 2-3 days, had plenty of solid fuel left, was carrying a good amount of water in my bottles and bladder, and could purify any further quantity from any stream or lake.

Oddly enough, my immediate fear, and one that had troubled me since I "planned" the route, was whether I could find the right forestry road West out of Mora. This was a privately maintained, unsurfaced road that lead over the hills, reaching the next settlement at Venjan, 35km away. Even on the map there were a proliferation of forestry road, and I knew that signage might be missing or misleading: the last thing I wanted to do was head out on the wrong one. But I had actually picked up the little landmarks (including a biker's hostel) that I'd scoped out on streetview, and had the satisfaction of seeing a direct sign to Venjan.

It was with some relief that I picked up this sign leading me on the unsurfaced road West to the next settlement 35km away, Venjan. Don't be fooled by those other destinations marked on the signs: they are not villages, just named areas...

So I set off into the wooded hills. At first I was shadowed by a bin lorry - picking up the bins for the occasional house on the edge of Mora - but soon was quite alone. The road started to climb - it would roll in stages up to 400m before descending to the next valley - and my initial lurginess wore off.

The dirt road loped kilometers ahead of me, with no other sign of human habitation, asnd disappeared into the valley behind me where I could still just about make out the lake. The sense of isolation was remarkable. I saw roughly two cars every hour on this stretch, and when I did the surprise was intense. I was rather glad of their presence - if I'd had an accident I would've been pleased to see another soul.

...or catastrophic mechanical failure. The haze, thankfully, was running really well - I had no further signs of any trouble from my drivetrain, and the only minor complaint I had was the loss of one (of my three!) back lights and screw out of the toe-clip. But I saw significant evidence of others that hadn't been so lucky on this desolate stretch - a shredded truck tyre, and a mountain bike tyre which someone (in frustration, presumably) had jammed over one of the rare signs...

The loneliness of the Venjan road begins. I could generally see 2-3km each way, with no other sign of human activity. A car would pass me every half hour or so - in later days, I would come to consider this well-trafficked...

The road lifted me gently up to around 400m - you can just see lake Siljan in the distance.

Some other vehicles weren't so lucky. I hope he had a spare.

Mountain bike tyre jammed comically over a passing place sign, presumably in frustration. It's a very long walk if you break down out here.

As I gained height, the trees opened out, and the landscape almost started to look tundra-like

It was with some relief that I completed the 35km and descended down into Venjan. This is the only settlement for many kilometers around, but is still pretty tiny. Venjan lies at the end of the Venjanssjön and from here an actual surface road existed to take me further West. This would allow me to get over the next range of hills, and to Limedsforsen in the next valley down which the 62 major North-South route ran.

The plan was to cross this next valley, work my way to the South parallel to the main road, and then plunge into the next (and increasingly higher) range of hills to the West, in which I could camp. There wasn't much to detain me in Venjan and I needed to clock up the kilometres, so I sped on.

Junction in Venjan - I was pleased to see a sign to my next destination, Limedsforsen. Major settlements are now 50km or so apart...

Unfortunately the metalled surface didn't last, and as I pulled away from the Venjanssjön the surface became gravelly and the gradients quite steep. The road would rise to an average of 500m again here, rolling all the time of course. I felt reasonably strong, but was pulling a lot of water and supplies up the hills.

Despite looking more official on the map, this stretch was if anything more desolate than the road to Venjan. There was evidence of logging stations and the occassional hunter's turret, but not much else.

The most desolate bus stop in the world. (this was actually close to evidence of logging activity, so I can only guess a couple of lumberjacks had put it together during a very long wait)

In winter, the whole thing must be a skidoo track!

Crossing the river Ogan, a small holiday home, which seemed to be abandoned. I had my lunch near here.

Hunters turret with fire extinguisher. Safety first!

The empty gravel road stretching for many many kilometres behind me

The same road with fortuitously approaching car - which gives a sense of scale

Walden pond - somewhere at 500m between Vinjan and Limedsforsen

During this stretch I passed the 1,000km mark, and stopped to take a photo. I was feeling good, and despite the worsening surface I made good time crossing the hills and was soon at the descent down into the next valley and Limedsforsen.

Another milestone - passing the 1000km mark! It took some time to actually get a legible photograph of the bike computer...

This second valley contained the main 66 road heading North to Sälen (the start of the Vasaloppets) and South to Malung, the only real town of any size. It was strange popping out onto a road of this size, and I quickly pulled off it into the village. As I cycled through I heard a rather eerie sound of soft singing - it originated from the "folk park", which was holding a kind of fete. I had a quick look around, and then headed back up to the road where I could buy some more supplies (chocolate) and join fellow travellers to look out on a great viewpoint over the broad Västerdalälven river which flows down the valley.

The folk park, and origin of the strange singing I could hear through Limedsforsen

Looking over the broad Västerdalälven flowing down the valley from the route 66 layby

From Limedsforsen, I had a dilemma. The next range of hills to the West of the Västerdalälven valley were higher still, formed the provincial border with Varmland, and no public road crossed them. To take signed roads, I would need to go about 40km out of my way, either to the North or South to Malung, and ride on the (comparatively busy) 66.

Given how far I had to travel, this was out of the question. Now I knew, and it was recorded on my map, that forestry roads did cross the ridge between here and the next valley. But they formed a network of unsigned and confusing tracks; and only a single very specific route actually joined the east and west side of the hills. It seemed possible, with perfect navigation, to strike out West of Limedsforsen and cross over. But a compromise route looked easier: to head south, following a minor road running parallel to the 66 on the other side of the river for 17km or so, and then to head West from there. Navigationally, there were more reliable routes crossing to the West from there, and I needed to be somewhat South anyway.

I set South out of Limedsforsen, and looked for a place to cross the river. Just outside the town I was delighted to see another wooden suspension bridge spanning the broad Västerdalälven.

Another wooden suspension bridge crossing the river just South of Limedsforsen

They really were very narrow - perfect for bikes, though

The minor road following the valley on the other side of the river proved to be flat and well surfaced, and I flew through the 17km. Just before I arrived in Malungsfors I was rewarded with an official sign to a village in the next valley to the West: Likenäs, 40km. This I happily took: Likenäs would be my destination for tomorrow, while this evening I would find somewhere to camp in the hills to the West.

My position looked rather good for the day: I had covered over 60 miles I needed to make towards the border, crossed two ranges of hills, and seemed to have a verified route over the next range into the final valley before approaching the border

I was very happy to see this sign: verification that there was a way west across the range of hills to Likenäs, in the next valley 40km away

In high spirits I pulled the bike up into the hills to the west of the river. Soon I reached the hamlet of Lidsälen and the picture-perfect lake of Niställingen - this looked like a promising spot. Surprisingly, though I guess it was close to the 66 highway, the lake was dotted with holiday homes, and my first effort to explore the eastern shore didn't find any sites that were tucked away enough. I was getting a little tired now, and so when as I headed along the southern shore I found a dense patch of trees next to the lake, I pulled my bike in.

It wasn't an ideal camping spot - it was a little sloping - but it had a greate view of the lake, and it wasn't long before I found somewhere I could pitch up. In fact the main thing putting me off was the local wildlife - as I waded into the deep undergrowth, there was a sudden rustle and 5-6 small, black snakes darted away. Actually, I don't mind snakes too much (much rather them than giant slugs), and they seemed shy and harmless - indeed, I didn't see any more of them that night.

A non-optimal camping spot, but a great view. No snakes pictured.

I was only 50m or so from the road, and had a slight start when around the corner I saw a window light up, and I realised that I was only a couple of hundred metres from a house. After being in the real wilderness all day, it felt a bit exposed, but I'm not sure if anyone saw me (or cared too much I was there). I cooked up a meal of pasta and lit a mosquito coil, and as I ate it I heard the strange sound of ringing of bells coming from the road. It disconcerted me and I just couldn't place what it might be - until I saw a cow trying to rub its way into the woods. I never figured that cows had bell collars in Sweden.

As the dusk came down I felt very tired, and didn't want to draw too much attention to myself by shining lights, so turned in.

Today's ride: 69 miles (111 km)
Total: 670 miles (1,078 km)

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