"Rest" day

July 25, 2017

Around lake Siljan to Mora

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I slept a dreamlessly and late. Getting up in the late morning, it felt strange not to have to get off cycling immediately. Today I had pencilled in for a rest day, but I thought I should try to get to Mora so I could reprovision and be ready for the next stage.

With one day to rest, that would give me three days to get to Oslo. This was no mean feat: I had measured it at around 200 miles, and since my calculations had been reliably 10% or so off, I was going to have to pull 3 70 mile days at least. At the end of the last day, this seemed quite absurd, and I began to feel I had cycled myself into a corner: I had come so far north that I would struggle to get back to the south in time under my own power.

I spent quite a bit of the evening pondering what mode of transport I could use to get to Norway. I knew there was a train station in Mora, but also that it was effectively the end of the line: national trains only ran back towards the South-East and Stockholm, with the only other route being the tourist Inlandsbanan that runs North further into central Sweden. Neither of these would help me get towards Norway (and I was sceptical they would carry a bike anyway). I wondered if there were bus options.

After a good meal and night's sleep I felt significantly more optimistic. It was another 30km or so to Mora - I needed to go there anyway, so I'd see how I felt and take it from there.

I got some free coffee from the Turkish chef who was back on duty, and investigated the hotel. It's a charming and good value place and has great views over the lake, and I quite liked its out-of-the-way vibe.

I slowly packed myself up, paid the bill and wheeled downhill. The morning was cool and cloudy: that suited me fine after the baking I'd had the previous day.

Traditional stilted wooden hut (or Fäbod)

...and this was how I learnt the word "Fäbod". Actually, the penny only recently dropped that the many signs I saw around the place with "Fäb" on them stood for "Fäbod"

I was soon on the road again. It was quieter in the morning, and with no pressure to cover the distance quickly I took it slowly. I wheeled through the small village of Björka, where I saw a very impressive loaded recumbent heading the other way. I felt nice and serene, and despite the greyness of the day and the extra miles on my rest day it was quite enjoyable.

Rather than follow the perimeter of the lake, I planned to cut across to the island to Sollerön, which joined by two bridges, one to the west shore of the lake and the other coming out near Mora. There was a campsite on Sollerön - originally my plan for the previous day was to consider stoping there and to use it as a base to explore Mora.

The bridge (or spit) joining to the island of Sollerön in lake Siljan

Utter what? I didn't see any, unfortunately

The campsite on Sollerön. It did have one of these weird convex bouncy-castles, which seem designed to fling kids out at all angles to land onto harder surfaces

In the event I'm sort of glad I didn't - even by the map it is a 13km ride into town, and the roads between turned out to be straight, broad and busy. I cut around the back of the island on a forest track past as golf course, and then pedalled along the (thankfully) wide shoulders to Mora.

Mora, in contrast, is charming. It is not a big place, and before I knew it I was wheeling my bike through the pedestrianised streets. From the main church it was easy to find my way over the river to the huge municipal campsite. It then took me about 10 minutes just to cross it and find the reception: there must have been thousands of campers here, mostly caravans and RVs, and nearly all Swedes and Norwegians.

It was a bit uncanny hitting the very organised and hotel-style reception after my previous ramshackle campsites. Unfortunately the price also matched: I had to join the Swedish camping club and pay £40 for the pitch, making this the most expensive camp I've ever made. I was far too tired to look for alternatives, though, and given my accommodation bill for the entire trip so far came to something like £30, I signed up.

Straight and fast road from the island to Mora. Not a particularly relaxing ride.

Mora camping. No, they weren't trolling me with the price.

For such a huge site it's actually quite pleasant, as it's so big you can get away from the groups with a tent and camp between the trees. I pitched up, and set out to explore the town.

What followed was the slowest, most low-intensity sight-seeing of all time, punctuated every hour or so. I couldn't stop eating! First stop was to get a proper lunch. Mora Kaffestuga was perfect for this, but the whole mechanics of queueing, choosing food, and getting drinks seemed rather alien after the last few days. I ate a big lunch there and caught up with communications - I had had no phone signal since near Karlskoga.

There's quite a lot to see in Mora, though I wondered around in a bit of a daze. I'd certainly recommend the Vasaloppet museum. The Vasaloppet is a gruelling 90km cross-country ski race held every year from Sälen, near the Norwegian border with the finish line in Mora (you can't miss the finish line as you wonder around town).

It commemorates the flight of future king of the Swedes Gustav Vasa from Danish oppression in the 16th century. In what strikes me as a very Swedish story, he arrived in Mora after having fled across country from Stockholm, where his parent were among those who had been killed by the Danish king Christian II. In Mora he attempted to raise a last stand of Swedish resistance; but the local nobility took one look at the advancing Danes and decided to give it a miss.

In what we can imagine to be a rather put-out state, Vasa continued his flight towards the Norwegian border. It was only after he was gone that the nobles of Mora changed their minds because the Danes were going to raise taxes and sent out two messengers, the best cross-country skiers they had, to try to catch up with him. The future king had almost reached the Norwegian border when he was waylaid and told they did want him to lead a rebellion after all - a rebellion that eventually led to the independence of the kingdom of Sweden, and made Vasa its new king.

Going West to the Norwegian border it's largely uphill (as I was to find out), so - in another rather characteristic concession to practicality - the modern race goes the other way, and finishes in Mora.

There's also a lot of stuff in the town devoted to the painter Anders Zorn. I didn't actually go in the Zorn house, being too preoccupied with stuffing myself.

A big local draw, and one which I somewhat regret (not having the energy) to see, is the bear park up beyond the town of Orsa. It would have been another 40km biking round trip, and I just couldn't face that.

The church spire in Mora. It's by the far the biggest in the region, and people used to travel to it from the wilds of Dalarna from miles around

Some entertainers getting ready in traditional dress. I always like to see them "off duty" like this

The free-standing belltower attached to the church

The inside of the church was very bare and lutheran (and not hugely interesting) but in the vestibule they have a display of roof shingles which they found during renovation, carved with the family runes of those that contributed

Huge engine by the lakeside, commemorating the coming of the railway to Mora

A little steamship, that is much older than it looked. It was originally used to ferry timber across the lake.

Ice cream float! I was possibly the oldest person eating ice-cream on this boat, but I needed the calories dammit

Giant Dalarna horse, the traditional symbol of the province. This one is actually made of wood and laquer just as the smaller ones. Comically, this isn't even the only giant Dalarna horse in the region: Atorp apparently has one too..

These are your two options at this Mora photographers: you can go "glamorous", or "witch"

The sun came out at the end of the afternoon, making the lakeside very pretty

Dalarna horse with SJ national train behind

Statue of Gustav Vasa - "Guys... hey, guys... Well, if you want a rebellion after all, I guess I'll be in Norway"

By the end of the day I was in such a relaxed state (and so full of food) that my optimism was returning. The next few days would be hard, and would traverse the most remote country I had yet travelled through, but it should be doable to reach Norway in the next two days, and make Oslo on the third day. As evening set in, I paid a visit to the giant Co-op, and filled my panniers full of bread, cheese, chocolate, and fruit and nuts.

For dinner I checked out the Vasagatan restaurant, which was good and remarkably inexpensive. I got there around 7.30pm knowing Swedish opening times, and was glad I did - I intended to make an evening of it, sipping my drink over reading and maps, but to my surprise I looked up at 9pm to find the restaurant deserted and the lights being turned off in the surrounding rooms. It was only the owner left who (very tactfully) let me know they were closing up. This was at the height of the season! Still, a very nice place for dinner in Mora.

Today's ride: 20 miles (32 km)
Total: 601 miles (967 km)

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