MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR AUGUST 1999

SWEDEN, NORWAY, FINLAND

It's still very warm and sunny as we drive north from Leksand on route 70 along the eastern shore of Lake Siljan (25 miles in length, the largest of 6,200 lakes in the Dalarna region of Sweden!) After 10 miles, at Rättvik, we parked to watch the lovely spectacle of a long narrow wooden church boat taking to the water. The 10 pairs of rowers, men and women (none of them young) in colourful national costumes, held their oars upright in the air to the applause of a small crowd, then pushed off and rowed out onto Lake Siljan. Nearby a long low wooden boathouse contained a second boat, of the type known since Viking times on these lakes and used until the turn of the century to get to church. This pair of boats were built in 1941 along traditional lines in order to 'preserve local culture' — year in which people in other European countries were having to take more drastic measures!

The lake villages hold church boat races in summer and at Leksand they are an important part of the Midsummer Eve rituals, when 3 boats row across from the l3thC church to the village harbour at 7 pm. The crew then lead a procession, with music and bands, to Sommarland (by the campsite) where a giant fir tree is erected for Maypole—type dancing and merrymaking on the longest night of the year. We were to see many Maypoles but what luck to see a church boat being launched. We made coffee and bought a Swedish phone card from the nearby supermarket which was open from 1.0 am Sundays and late on weekdays, with no long lunch hours in the Protestant north!

Continuing, the road followed Lake Siljan's eastern shore to Mora, a lovely little town on the Water between Siljan and the smaller Lake Orsa, and the start of Route 45, the famous Inlandsvägen (Inland Route), which we were to follow north for many days, up the centre of Sweden, parallel with the Inlandsbanan railway. The nearby village of Nusnäs is where the famous red-painted Dala wooden horses are made in all sizes - the tourist symbol of the Province of Dalarna. We wisely by-passed such kitsch but unwisely chose to look for 'Europe's largest bear park' north of Mora near Orsa.

Orsa was on our route but the bear park turned out to be 10 miles off the beaten track (literally), high in the forest at Grönklitt, a makeshift, wooden ski-ing and hiking centre with restaurant, youth hostel, chalets and car parks bulldozed through the trees. We parked for lunch and walked to the Bear Park entrance but left without paying £5 each to watch wolves and bears begging for their food when they should be roaming in the wild. A free glimpse through the binoculars of 2 bears at the feeding station, below a viewing platform crowded with visitors, was enough.

Delayed by the detour, we continued up Route 45 to Sveg, another small town on a lake, and parked by the water near one Swedish motorhome. Barry washed the coating of flies off Rosie's front; M worked on the diary and made supper. The lake fountain was illuminated in the twilight which fell after 10 pm.

158 miles. Free parking.

A long sunny day's drive on the Inlandsvägen, forests to the right, forests to the left, criss-crossing the Inlandsbanan railway line, sometimes passing small settlements of red wooden chalets with white windows like dolls' houses, often passing reed-fringed lakes with white or yellow waterlily patches reflecting the clear blue sky. Idyllic —-apart from the infamous Swedish roadworks, with lengths of up to 12 miles stripped of their hard tops and left, bumpy and dusty, waiting for the graders, levellers and seal machines. Fortunately, traffic is very light and at crawling speed it's easier to spot the reindeer which are beginning to appear by the roadside on the forest's edge, singly or in 2's and 3's with young. Their colour varies from black or brown with dark velvety antlers to white coats with pink antlers but they're always a delight. Hard to think of them as farmed animals, destined for the table.

A brochure had offered Reindeer Trail Adventures in Finland, walking with a reindeer to carry your back-pack for the day, finishing with coffee and reindeer meat sandwiches! This ingratitude was matched by a Norwegian 'Whale Tour - Meet the friendly giants of the Arctic Sea, sperm whales ocas and mink whales, where a taste of whale meat could be booked the night before or after whale-watching (whose orce included seasick tablets)!

We paused in Rätan (a small town on a lake) for coffee, then in Ostersund (a busier town on a lake), crossing by bridge to thee sand of Froso to park for lunch. Then back on Route 45, becoming ever quieter and emptier (no McDonald's on the map north of here!), civilisation giving way to forest which has never known the axe. We took on diesel and drinking/washing water at Hammerdal, as filling stations are also thinning out, and finally arriving at Strömsund, a medium-sized town where a bridge crosses the junction of 2 aes. Tne-e .as a campsite just before the bridge, a large parking area by a Folk Museum (complete with talking giant stone troll - 6 m high, celebrating the Dunderklumpen, a children's book) where we made tea, and a free car park for caravans in the town by the sports hall where we came to rest for the night

191 miles. Free parking.

Free nights mean easy starts since there is nothing to prevent us driving off as soon as breakfast is over and the pots are washed. Our first stop was to make coffee in a splendid lay-by just before Hoting. As is common in Sweden, there were clean toilets, water tap and Latrin (dump point for Rosie's wastes), but this one also had a little kitchen with tables & chairs, sinks with piping hot water and a barbecue place outside, all well kept and much appreciated by travellers who'd filled the visitors' book with praise (can anyone imagine a British layby with a visitors' book?) Two tents were pitched by the stream with 3 German cycle-tourers on their way to fish in Norways Lofoten Islands.

Hoting has a museum with the world's oldest wooden ski (!) and yet another motor museum (Swedes seem fond of veteran cars, or anything from the States - we've seen many modern Chevvie and Dodge vans and well-preserved American cars from the immediate post-war era). Content to stay in the present moment, we passed the museums by and continued on Route 45, entering the Province of West Bothnia at Dorotea. Another 15 miles of roadworks ended thankfully at Storuman (a town on a lake), where we had a late lunch. It's an important crossroad with the E12 (the Blue Way) leading from the Gulf of Bothnia to Mo-i-Rana on the Atlantic coast in Norway, but we remained faithful to the Route 45 Inlandsvagen, also known as Via Lappia.

In Sorsele (a small town on a lake) we visited the tourist office, in the old station alongside a railway museum. The 3* campsite is on a peninsula in the lake, ideal for a break after 5 days and 943 miles of continuous driving north through Sweden. The receptionist agreed to accept our Camping Carnet instead of charging us £5 for a Swedish Camping Card (whatever the official list might say). The site is typically well equipped - 2 kitchens, 2 laundries, 2 TV lounges, a sauna, plenty of cabins - and the biggest hungriest mosquitoes we've ever met! We settled in, did the dhobi, cooked chicken BBQ in the camp kitchen and kept the mozzie coils smouldering.

171 miles. £7.50

We awoke to the unusual sound of a shower on the roof and found the weather had changed, cloudy and much cooler. Yestercay people were swimming in the lake; today, we took a hook-up (£3.33 extra) in order to recharge everything (flashlight, phone, toothbrush, batteries) since there was no reading on the solar panels. Barry gave Rosie a good wash, removing her insect collection, while M cleaned inside. After lunch, with steady rain, we looked through our growing pile of Swedish tourist leaflets - no paper shortage here! Barry has finished AJP Taylor's 2nd WW and is reading the delightful 'Autobiography of a Supertramp' by WH Davies. M updated the diary and we printed July and did some baking, using the campsite's electric oven to save gas (we've not seen LPG since Lubeck). The kitchens were busy with a gang of Polish men, staying in cabins and in tents, trying to cook a frozen chicken and the results of their days fishing, and we finally got our pudding done by 10.45 pm, when there is still good daylight!. Swedish television favours English (as opposed to American) programmes, subtitled and retaining their original sound track. We watched an old 'Prime Suspect' with Helen Mrrren.

After 50 miles (and 4 miles of roadworks) we stopped at Arvidsjaur, where a bookshop had been recommended (way back in Storsund!) for a map of the far north, but they only had local maps. We did find a new Silva compass at a well stocked camping shop (having lost one), bought a few essentials at the Konsum supermarket and continued on Route 45 for another 100 miles, from the province of West Bothnia (Västerbotten) into North Bothnia (Norrbotten) pausing near Moskosel for lunch before another 8 miles of roadworks. (There is even a map listing them, with length and dates, in West and North Bothnia from June to September when they appear to resurface the entire road network) Then the thrill of crossing the Polar (Arctic) Circle, 1,100 miles after entering Sweden and 6,100 miles from our southernmost point this year, near the Tropic of Cancer in Morocco. Infinite desert and absence of water has been replaced infinite forest and thousands of pure, freshwater lakes, exhilaratingly clear air, little traffic, magical northern light and (almost) midnight sun. We parked by the Polar Circle Cafe and Souvenir Shop and bought Rosie a pair of Elk stickers, disappointed there were no Arctic Circle badges.

Overnight parking was allowed, with free toilets and Latrin, but we decided to continue for 5 miles into Jokkmokk itself. We collected some interesting Fact Sheets about the Sam! (Lapp) people from the Tourist Office and took advice on a good place for the night, a large car park on the shore of the Little Lule River (dammed into a lake by the Vattenfall Hydro-electric Co) 4 miles north of the town. We parked at the water's edge and walked over the road and railway track to a souvenir stall outside a restaurant. The line is very quiet, we've only seen one 2-coach train on the whole length of the Inlandsbanan. The Sami woman running the stall complained about the weather - she'd covered her large stuffed reindeer with an incongruous blue plastic mac and said she'd have to light a fire in the tepee! It is colder than we remember from our 2 previous trips to the far north, or perhaps we were tougher then! The sunset was wonderful, taking a very long time to slide sideways out of view behind the trees at 9.45 pm, and mist rose eerily round the fringes of the lake. This sunset lasts for 4 or 5 hours across the northern sky, during which time it slowly transforms into a dawn, the sun reappearing at about 3 am. It was still light enough (though not warm enough) to read outside at midnight and as we continue north, the nights will get even shorter.

153 miles. Free parking.

First we drove back into Jokkmokk to buv diesel and make phone calls (to Frenchie's garage for reassurance about a low oil pressure reading; to Turners for reassurance about the ground rent problem – cheque cashed; and to Martin, who recently left us a message, but was at work – Clare said he finished at the end of the month. Beyond Jokkmokk, Sweden's fjall (mountain region) meets the forest and it became a traditional settlement for the Swedish Sarni bringing their reindeer bers south for the winter. The Sami (who don't like the name Lapps, at least not in Sweden) have inhabited Sápmi (Lapland – northern Russia, Finland, Norway and Sweden) since ancient times, today totalling about 60,000, with 17,000 in Sweden. They have their own colourful flag and language (related to Finnish), though many now lead settled lives and in Sweden only about 3,000 are dependent on their 30,000 reindeer. These provide not only milk, meat, fur, leather. antler, bone and sinew for handicrafts, but also transport, as light pack animals or pulling sleds (though snowmobiles, helicopters and mobile phones have all arrived to help in rounding up the herds). The annual Wintermarket in Jokkmokk has taken place since 1605 (the oldest market in the world north of the Arctic Circle). In the past merchants and traders came up the Lule Valley from Lulea on the Bothnian coast to barter for leather and furs, joined by river valley settlers in the l7thC. A church was built in 1607 and the Wintermarket also became the occasion for weddings, baptisms and other ceremonies. Today, it has lost its importance as a meeting and trading centre and has become a tourist attraction with a reindeer procession, dog-sled races, 30,000 visitors and every bed booked. But now in August we saw no sign of the Sami in the town apart from some lovely soft reindeer pelts and fur slippers in the single gift shop, though we didn't visit the Swedish Mountain and Sami Museum.

We continued north up Route 45, past Porjus hydro-power station (oldest of 15 on the Lule River, opened in 1914 to supply the Lulea-Narvik railroad). Half Sweden's electricity is now nuclear, the rest from hydro-power and a quarter of that comes from the Lule river alone. Another 10 miles or so of roadworks followed, skirting the Muddus National Park to the east. This is listed as Sweden's largest (500 sq km) area of uninterrupted primeval marsh forest, part of the Laponia region, a World Heritage site for natural and cultural values. But we couldn't see the trees for the forest!

At Galliväre, a mining town on a lake, we parked by the water for lunch, sadly leaving the Inlandsbanan which continues to Kiruna. After a few more miles we also left Route 45, the Inlandsvägen, to wind its own way north, as we turned east on the E1O, seduced by the luxury of a smooth dual carriageway for 10 miles. Then it was north-east to Pajala, a little town near the Finnish border where we had cycle-camped on our way to Norway in the summer of 1990. The tourist office at the bus station sold (what they said was) a good map covering the Arctic Circle to Nordkapp and the friendly woman said we could stay on the forecourt for the night. As in all the car parks outside shops or offices up here, there are electrical points for cars to plug into whilst parked in winter, to run engine heaters. We had a quiet evening except for a few local lads practising handbrake turns, burning their tyres and dreaming of rally championships! Couldn't they wait for the snow?

157 miles. Free parking.

Frm Pajala a little-used minor road led 15 miles the bridge across the wide Muonio into the village of Kolari in Finland. We had a last coffee in Sweden, parked in the woods by a fishing hut, startling a reindeer grazing among the heather and berries. Barry replaced a headlight bulb which had vibrated to death on the rough roads (dipped headlights are compulsory at all times in all Scandinavian countries - necessary in winter, but annoying in such broad summer daylight!) The police and customs buildings on either side of the river a were not just empty, they were abandoned, another memorial to the wonders of the EU.

Once over the river and in Finland we drove 45 miles forest north (what other sort are there?) on E8 through a brief hailstorm to the village of Muonio, where we found a bank (but only after we remembered that here they are called Panki) and a Spar supermarket before settling on a simple campsite on the river a couple of miles south of the town. It is in the grounds of the Harriniva Husky Dog and Rafting Centre, complete with hotel, restaurant, chalets, sauna cabins and a husky breeding centre. Sweden lies on the opposite bank of the wide river which flows speedily past our windows. This same river, called the Muonio here and the Tornio further south, forms the whole border between Finland and Sweden, from the Gulf of Bothnia in the south to the Norwegian frontier in the far north-west. White wagtails flit on the banks among the silver birch, raft-trips can be booked to enjoy the rapids or spot beavers – Wilderness Country! The sun still shines warmly between showers but the wind is in the north and the nights are getting colder.

95 miles. £8.82 inc elec,

Colder and showery again, but what a magnificent place! Barry washed the road dust off Rosie and the bicycles (plenty of it after all the roadworks), re-sealed a leaking bedroom window, strung up an external short-wave aerial (reception is very poor up here), fixed a loose front running board and replaced 2 camel stickers (of the 4 given to us by an Austrian lorry driver at Agadir in Morocco) with 2 elks. M got the diary up to date and made a chocolate cake. We watched a rafting party take to the water for the 6 km trip downstream over 3 rapids, and fishermen wading in pursuit of salmon and trout.

We spent the morning filling in our tax returns for the year ended last April, as the September deadline looms! We also wrote to mum, enclosing them for her to post. After lunch, as Barry pumped up the cycle tyres, M's front Presta valve exploded, something he's never seen before! Fitted with a new inner tube, we rode the 3 miles into Muonio along a cycle track, posted mum's letter and called at the Tourist Office for lists of campsites and hostels and a delightfully illustrated booklet on Reindeer Husbandry. We also shopped at the town's other supermarket, trying to relate the names and prices on the shelves to the food! Help-yourself-to-a-free-cup-of-coffee was a nice touch, only seen in Canada and the USA before. They expect shoppers to be cold on arrival up here. On our way back we crossed the river for a brief foray into Sweden, looking for a phone so that we could use the remains of our Swedish phonecard. But all we found were trees.

We got back to camp just as the rain set in, warmed ourselves with Beanfeast veg curry and put the electric blanket on the bed (taken off back in Morocco). En route, Barry demonstrated that not even Huskies are immune to the Dog Dazer!

In which we shelter from the rain

Serious rain began in the night and continued all day so we didn't move on, as we might have planned. We are still looking for a window in the weather in order to fit in serious bike ride. Instead, Barry took the Sony video recorder apart to find out why it wouldn't work last night. After gaining access to the heads, a spray with contact cleaner and a rub with cotton buds restored both picture and sound. We also did a general audit and test of batteries, replacing or swopping round those in the Dog Dazer, TV Zapper, razor, small short-wave radio and cycle headlight. M desfrosted the freezer, wrote the diary up to date, made a carrot cake and mended B's shorts (again), her anorak and the laundry bag.

Still raining, the green mats floating outside our door. Just like English rain, it pours from a leaden sky. Wellingtons, trousers and anoraks were needed to venture out to refill the water, hose the green mats and hang them up under the awning. Barry dug a channel to divert the stream from our doorstep into the river, then pitched the cycling tent nearby to check its waterproofness in case we use it. It passed!

Indeed, it felt surprisingly cosy inside the tent, listening to the rain and it made us nostalgic or those long distance cycle-tours when it had been our home.

Back inside, home-made soup kept the chill at bay as we watched a red squirrel running up and down the pine trees. M did 2 loads of dhobi on the understanding that a drying room was available (it was all hung in the heated river-rafting shed alongside the boots, helmets and oilskins).

Finnish TV had more subtitled British programmes (such as 'Heartbeat') and later the videoplayer, its head now clear, showed us part of 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade' - good comic-strip style adventure with Sean Connery and Harrison Ford as father and son (both Dr Jones up against the Nazis in pursuit of the Holy Grail!)

The rain had stopped, so after packing up the tent and retrieving the dhobi we got back on our way. 30 miles up the main road at Palojoensuu we turned right on a quieter road, stopping for coffee by a lake before reaching Enontekio, the last settlement before the Norwegian border. Here we filled up with diesel (about 45p per litre compared with over 60p in Norway - Europe's 2nd most expensive after GB!) and shopped at the one large general store. Then 20 miles or so to another deserted frontier and into Finnmark — the northernmost of Norway's 3 counties The trees became sparser as we climbed gradually through a further 25 miles of empty wilderness, pine forest giving way to dwarf birch on the mountain plain.

We passed the Fritidssenter og Camping 5 miles before the Sami town of Kautokeino, and 2 more campsites nearer the town. The Motel og Camping was charging £12.50 and Haettas Camping was a ramshackle collection of cabins right on the road, so we later returned to the Fritidssenter. First we called at a bank and the Tourist Office, which was closed — until next June! School is back this week and the season is over.

By now it was raining again, with a biting north wind, as we manoeuvred down a track to the lakeside at the Sami-run campsite. A lone silver birch, mysteriously moving from where it was last seen, bumped into Rosie's rear, bending the bicycle carrier and breaking its offside light cluster. And it's not even Friday the 13th yet.

108 miles. £9.58 inc elec.

13 AUGUST 1999 N FRITIDSSENTER & CAMPING, KAUTOKEINO

In the cold north wind and rain, Barry worked on the bicycle carrier. One of the crosspieces that held M's front wheel was bent beyond repair. Since it was the front wheel, it was able to turn with the bending of the carrier; a back wheel (and the rear bicycle frame) would have been twisted beyond repair. Eventually both crosspieces of the Pendle rack had to be removed and replaced with 2 of the 3 bars from the upper Fiamma rack, after being drilled and shaped to fit. This worked well and B moved on to the lighting board. The number plate was cracked (again) and had to be rebolted to its temporary backing board, the broken light cluster was removed - the bolts had to be drilled out - and replaced with one from an old lighting board, carried as a spare, and the whole thing needed rewiring. After a long day's work, cutting, drilling and wiring, the bicycles were safely back in place with all the lights and indicators working.

M kept busy cleaning, cooking, patching her jeans, and pressing the brake pedal and light switches on command. Finally, we have a new carrier, perhaps an improvement as the rain cover now fastens further below the bicycles.

Still showery and cold, the Sami campsite owners say winter is coming early and blame the recent Solar Eclipse (or 'SunKlipping')! We drove about 20 miles north on road 93 to the Karasjok turn-off and parked a little way along in that direction at a beautiful riverside layby for coffee. Back on the 93 to Alta, the landscape becoming more mountainous and 'Norwegian' with waterfalls splashing down the sides of the fells and onto the road. We paused at the village of Masi (or Maze), with a pretty wooden church, one-hut campsite and shop. From here the Altaelva (a great salmon river) rushes to the coast along the Sautso Canyon, north Europe's biggest canyon, accessible only to hikers and river boat trips. Our road followed the parallel Eibyelva river canyon until the 2 rivers join a few miles before Alta, where we parked for lunch. We hadn't realised what height the road had gained, climbing gently out of Finland into Norway, until it dropped steeply down the canyon for 40 miles from Masi to Alta. 4 miles before Alta, the 3 campsites on the river banks were waterlogged and we drove on to meet the E6 (the Norwegian coast road) and then into Alta.

North Norway's largest town is a deep-sea fishing port at the head of Altafjord, with copper mines, slate quarries, a splendid Museum and World Heritage Site with prehistoric rock carvings. We parked in the centre, shopped at 'Domus' for circlips to fix a leaking water pipe, and gathered information on the route to Nordkapp, as the ferry has been replaced by a tunnel which opened in mid-June this year. Rain had set in again so we didn't revisit the 2500-6500 year old rock carvings of reindeer and hunting in longboats, which involves an exposed walk on gangplanks along the cliffs below the museum. We'd seen them on our previous visit (exactly 5 years and 1 day ago) along with the award-winning museum exhibitions on 'Northern Lights and Copper Mines', 'From Rock Carvings to Christianity', 'Silver Treasures and the Market' and 'The Alta River and Fjord, from Ice Age to Hydro-electric Power'. Today, we were pleased to find a campsite, 5 miles further up the E6 over the new Alta Bridge near the airport, and keep warm and dry.

95 miles. £8.33 inc elec.

In a dry interval, still with bitter north winds, we talked to a lone cyclist who emerged from a tiny tent. Marco, a 24-year-old postgrad chemistry student from Konstanz on the Bodensee, was riding to Nordkapp in the teeth of the weather. He pulled a light, single-wheeled trailer and had cycled the length of Norway on the busy, mountainous E6. We were impressed: the weather had forced us to abandon the idea of riding this last stage of the journey ourselves.

The E6 took us north-east for 70 miles across a headland, from the coast at Altafjord to Olderfjord on the Porsanger. The road climbed past reindeer herds and the odd Sami summer settlement. After 20 miles we were above the tree-line and even saw pockets of snow as we drove into a dead-head wind and thought of Marco. Parking for coffee at Biggas (small collection of wooden houses and a church) we saw an old woman in Lapp dress (full skirt, jacket and bonnet in bright primary colours). We'd seen a similar woman riding a bike in wellingtons in Kautokeino and another shopping in Finland's Enontekio - normal dress, not just a costume for tourists. At Sennaland (a wide open space) the road reached 385 m/ 1270 ft before dropping to sea-level again at Skaidi, where the road for Hammerfest turns off. We stopped to gather more information on Nordkapp's tunnel and campsites, then continued on the E6 (we'd visited Hammerfest, the world's most northerly town and innovator of street lighting, in 94 but didn't join the Royal and Ancient Society of Polar Bears!)

The road climbed again to 240 m/792 ft at Hatter before dropping suddenly to the coast at Olderfjord. Here the E6 turns south to Lakselv while we 'Nordkappers' turn left and north on the narrow and scenic E69, following the west bank of Porsanger fjord for 35 miles from Russenes to Kåfjord. We parked for lunch with a wild sea view, watching the gulls, eider ducks and cormorants. Now the road passed tiny fishing villages, with the familiar wooden racks for drying cod for salt-fish (Torfisk, the stuff of Garrison Keiller's childhood, sold as far afield as Greek grocery stores). After a couple of short tunnels we turned off for a mile to the village of Repvåg, now in Nordkapp Borough, and the last camping on the mainland. This was just a windswept collection of Rorbus (fishermen's cabins) for hire (there had been larger campsites at Olderfjord and Russenes) so we decided to press on to Nordkapp.

At Kåfjord we passed the abandoned ferry terminal, where a 45-minute voyage marked the end of the road until the opening of the tunnel, just 2 months ago.

Now, a couple of miles along a new road, the mouth of the world's longest under-sea tunnel (6.87 km) gaped, steaming alarmingly in the damp atmosphere. We pulled over for a pot of tea before driving through, signing the credit card chitty (440 kr = £36.66 one-way!) and continuing on the new road, through a second 4.44 km tunnel, to Honningsvåg. That's 11.3 km (7 miles) of tunnel to reach an island of 3,000 people!

For the last 20 miles we climbed to 1,000 ft as we crossed Mager ya (meaning 'Lean Island'). The scenery was wild, void of trees, wind and rain-swept, reindeer looming out of a thick mist/low cloud. Suddenly, incongruously, toll-booths blocked the road onto the Cape itself. Checking that overnatting was still allowed, we paid 175 kr = £14.60 entry each and found our way onto the large stony car park, lining up alongside a handful of Bobils (mainly German and Italian), still the only way to spend a night at Nordkapp unless you can afford and are eligible for the new bridal suite above Nordkapp Hall! (Yes, there's a tiny chapel where marriages can be arranged.) By 6 pm we were in the Hall, reminding ourselves of its eccentric displays and outrageous prices. We got a phone card and rang both Mum and Martin from the world's most northerly visitor centre, then into the world's most northerly cinema to watch the 20-minute 'Super Videograph' (shown hourly and included in the entry fee). 5 screens cleverly synchronise film of a helicopter flight over the island and round its coast, scattering reindeer to a suitable soundtrack. This is the only way to see the island, in this weather! That done, we retreated to Rosie to eat and to fill the world's most northerly hot water bottle. The outside temperature was 6°C (42°F) and visibility was down to 50 feet - we could just make out our Italian neighbours on each side! Incredibly, we had a good signal on the Vodafone and 2 TV channels to choose from, though we're beyond the reach of the BBC World Service. TV showed a delightful Welsh film, 'He who climbed a hill and came down a mountain', subtitled. Norwegians follow all things British, even our football results are prominent on the evening news!

149 miles. Free parking.

Thick damp mist still shrouded the plateau making everything invisible. Barry wrote a piece on Nordkapp and a letter to go with it to Barry Crawshaw while M found her way (with difficulty) back to the Hall to buy postcards and a sticker. Open from 9 am till 2 am in summer, it was eerily quiet. The Royal North Cape Club bar, offering champagne and caviar at the end of the tunnel to the cliff edge, was deserted, its glass-walled terrace giving an infinite view of the Arctic Ocean mist. A few bemused visitors looked at the childish tableaux of stuffed people and birds showing the history of Nordkapp's exploration; the information on the WWII Battle of North Cape was tucked away near the toilets and telephones; no-one entered the Thai Museum, commemorating King Chulalongkom's visit in 1907; and few paid the price of coffee and cakes in the restaurant. The souvenir shop was obviously aimed at wealthy cruise passengers (90 cruise liners a year put into Honningsvåg and come by coach on shore leave). Back through the mist for lunch in Rosie, one of 15 Bobils plus a Polish caravan with antlers on the roof! Here is Barry's summary:

THE END OF THE ROAD

Norway's Nordkapp (North Cape) is (almost) Europe's most northerly point; it is certainly the most northerly point in the world reachable by road in an ordinary vehicle. It lies at 71° 10' 21", over 300 miles north of the Arctic Circle as the reindeer walks but at least 450 miles by road. Although it is parallel with the very top of Alaska and further north than any part of mainland Canada, amazingly the Gulf Stream keeps it free of ice and snow for at least 5 months every year.

It is a little known fact (kept secret by Nordkapp's owners) that the most northerly point is the Knivskjellodden Headland, a little to the west of Nordkapp. It lies at 71° 11' 08", about 1 mile further north, and reachable by walking 5 miles down a marked trail. It gives splendid views of the Nordkapp cliffs.

Nordkapp is now also among Europe's most expensive destinations. The world's longest under-sea road tunnel was opened in June 1999 to link the island of Mager ya (on which Nordkapp lies) to the Norwegian mainland. Sadly, this 4.25-mile tunnel has replaced the excellent little ferry which used to run from Kåfjord to Honningsvåg (the main town on the island). Once on the island, there is another new 2.5-mile tunnel on the 20-mile detour which is now required to travel between Kåfjord and Honningsvåg. Cyclists take their lives in their hands, riding through the tunnels which are well-lit but only just wide enough for 2 vehicles. The under-sea tunnel drops 225 m (750 ft) and then climbs again, quite steeply. Some experience!

The cost of using the under-sea tunnel leaps from £10 each way for vehicles up to 6 metre long to £33 each way for vehicles between 6 and 12 metre; there is nothing between! The price includes the driver; adult passengers are an extra £3.50 each. Entry to the Nordkapp Visitor Centre itself costs £14.50 each adult (£29 for a family), so the total cost of our visit was £102! To this could be added the cost of getting there - Nordkapp is nearer to the North Pole (1,300 miles) than it is to London (1,600 miles as the Arctic Tern flies; nearer 3,000 for the motorhomer). A good bonus, however, is that the entry to Nordkapp is for 48 hours which means that motorhomes can stay in Europe's (and, we guess, the World's) most northerly car park for 2 nights, right on the edge of the 1,000 ft-high cliffs, facing north to the Arctic Ocean. This unique view also has unique lighting: the Northern Lights in winter and the midnight sun in summer between 14 May and 29 July.

In the afternoon we wrote postcards (to Mum, Jeff Mason, Stan & Celia, Rupert of Latvia and the Swatmans), then ventured forth armed with a compass. Rain and wind had abated a little but the mist still enveloped all but the nearest objects. We walked beyond the Hall to the Globe, symbol of Nordkapp, then followed the edge of the 1000 ft cliffs and across the boggy plateau to a point which Barry thought was slightly further north.

An Italian flag was pushed into the ground, shredding itself in the wind, with 5 carefully embroidered names and the dates of their week-long journey, 2 weeks ago. We thought they'd got the right place, and turned back towards the invisible Hall, past the 1989 'Children of the Earth' monument, made by 7 children from all round the world, symbolising peace and friendship across the boundaries.

There was no sign of Marco and we assumed he was on a campsite, waiting for better weather or saving up for the bus fare. The wind rose alarmingly in the night, swaying our home and tearing at the bicycles.

Raining, no sign of a window in the mist, we can wait no longer for clearer weather. We are minimising the use of gas for heating and cooking since LPG doesn't seem to be on sale in Scandinavia. We are pleased we got good views and photographs 5 years ago, and realise how lucky that was. We walked across to the Hall to post our cards with the Nordkapp postmark before leaving and to our astonishment saw Marco, soaked and shivering, about to cycle back to Honningsvåg and anxious about coaches seeing him in the mist! He'd arrived at 9 pm yesterday evening (after cycling the mountainous 149 miles complete with tunnels in 2 days), slipped in free and pitched his tent on the stony ground outside Nordkapp Hall through the wild night! Unbelievable.

We took him in, brewed up (he had no stove and little money) and he accepted a lift since he had come to the end of his particular road. His bike went on the Fiamma rack, his trailer fastened above our bicycles and his single large black bag of luggage came inside. As we drove off the plateau towards Skarsvåg the mist cleared (though not the rain) and we saw the reindeer and moors we'd crossed coming up. Marco was reminded of Macbeth (he spoke excellent English) - the 'blasted heath' and 'when shall we 3 meet again?'

We took him to the tiny airport, 5 miles before Honningsvåg, where he hoped to get a flight via Tromso and Oslo to Zurich for a student fare of about £300. We waited and watched the landing of a 30-seater Fokker Friendship twin turbo-prop (familiar to Barry from India). Marco returned having learned that he can fly early tomorrow and we made coffee and watched the Fokker take off again.

It was still raining and we continued into Honningsvåg where Marco needed a bank and we needed bread. With parking meters in the streets we didn't linger, but noticed the Kong Harald cruiseliner in the deep-water harbour, near the Hurtigrute pier. Out of town we parked on the forlorn Kåfjord ferry quay, ate lunch and talked with Marco, a very intelligent and interesting young man, though his scant knowledge of Germany's wartime legacy was worrying. He was puzzled that Norwegians seemed to prefer the English! Here in Honningsvåg, the entire town was burned to the ground in the autumn of 1944 as the Germans retreated, with only the stone church left standing to shelter the inhabitants from the Arctic winter; in Hammerfest there is a Museum of Post-war Reconstruction, showing how people whose wooden homes had been deliberately burned coped with winter cave-dwelling; at Hasvik (on an island off Hammerfest) the church was again the only building left as the Germans retreated, and so on. But we spared Marco the details and talked about Reunification, Green politics, travel and cycling, literature and language, love and life, and we all enjoyed the contact. We finally ran him back to the airport to buy his ticket and cycle to the nearby 'Nordkapp Camping & Youth Hostel'.

We then drove a few miles further north to Skarsvåg, the world's northernmost fishing village, pop 170, 10 miles before Nordkapp, which has the other 2 campsites on the island. We chose Kirkeporten, the world's most northerly camping, on a little lake, and shared this unique site with one Dutch van, an Italian motorhome and 7 reindeer. Splendid - not least to have a hook-up again for the fan heater, electric blanket and the rest of the 'Indiana Jones' video.

43 miles. £14.11 inc elec.

From Skarsvåg a 30-minute footpath climbs to the Kirkeporten headland, with fine views across to Nordkapp, and we'd hoped to walk this, or even the 10-mile walk out to Knivskjelodden, the true northernmost tip of Europe. But we woke to strong winds, steady rain and temperatures in the upper 30's F, and so we spent the morning reading and writing. In the afternoon rain and wind were even stronger, impossible weather for even a short walk to the fishing harbour, but we enjoyed the peace, watching the gulls on the lake and the empty landscape. The 6 Sami families who bring their 6,000 reindeer across to the island from Karasjok for the summer will soon round them up to return. No, they don't go through the tunnel, the Norwegian navy ferries those not strong enough to swim the Sound!

An early visitor to Nordkapp was the Italian priest Francesco Negri who scaled the cliffs after a journey on horse, skis and fishing boats in 1664. 'Here I am at the North Cape, the very end of the world' he wrote. 'Here where the world ends, ends also my curiosity and I return home content'. But he later added 'One trip to the North Cape and back is not enough' and at the age of 60 asked the Grand Duke of Tuscany to sponsor another expedition. He was refused - we have been luckier.

Now there are 250,000 visitors a year but we guess few make it a second time.

Still reluctant to leave, despite the weather, we donned wellingtons and water-proofs for the walk to Kirkeporten when the rain eased slightly. The footpath was marked with bright white posts, reassuring if the mist descended, and we walked for an hour, over a ridge and down to the famous rock forming an arch over the sea, looking straight across to the Nordkapp headland. The path looped back to Skarsvåg (a hotel and a few fishermen's cottages), just up the road from the campsite. The rain gathered strength again as we drove Rosie down to the harbour for coffee - we'd timed the walk well, breathing in the Arctic air, watching the reindeer, trying not to trample the few fragile flowers, like tiny harebells, and failing to identify the many gulls and ducks.

Driving back to the main road we gave 2 women a lift to their campsite and found they were English, on a coach tour of Scandinavia. The rest of their party had gone fishing, they'd preferred to walk to Kirkeporten. They asked where we were going next; we replied 'South!'

We soon turned off for the slightly larger fishing village of Gjesvaer on the west side of the island, 15 miles along a single-track road only opened in 1976, before which the only access was by boat. A trading and fishing port since Viking times, its population is now 220, with their own school, post office-shop and hotel, living on cod fishing and tourism (there are daily puffin safaris round the nearby bird-rocks and tiny islands in summer). We parked by the harbour for lunch, then drove back and on to Honningsvåg, still in the rain. (Our campsite owner said it had rained for the last 4 weeks and was the worst summer he could remember!)

In Honningsvåg (world's most northerly parking meters) we paid for 30 mins while we walked round the harbour and watched the daily Hurtigrute coastal steamer arrive, with good memories of taking it south from Tromso at the end of our 1990 cycle tour. We skipped the Nordkapp Museum, above the Tourist Office and due to close, and went to see the famous church, the only building to escape the German 'scorched earth' policy as they retreated in 1944. The population was forcibly evacuated, and the church was home and bakery for the few men who remained. A simple, white painted wooden building, it had a small display with 6 photographs from that time, showing the smoky ruins of the town, whose Reconstruction took until the mid-1960's. A last pot of tea on Mager y island, then back through the 4,440 m road tunnel and the 6,870 m submarine tunnel to the mainland after 4 very strange days indeed!

Near the old ferry terminal at Kåfjord we spotted a group of the rare Whooper Swans which breed in the far north - similar to the Mute Swan but with black-tipped yellow bills and a whooping call. Driving south for nearly 50 miles down the side of Porsanger Fjord we only saw a handful of coaches and motorhomes heading for Nordkapp, more reindeer, an empty watery seascape. At Russenes we stopped to check the campsite but it was very muddy after 3½ weeks' rain, with no hard-standing, and so we continued down the E6 towards Lakselv. We gradually noticed small birch trees appearing and even a flock of woolly sheep, a different climate, though still well north of the Arctic Circle. At Stabbursnes, about 10 miles before Lakselv, there was a campsite, restaurant and sled-dog kennels by the entrance to a nature reserve and we settled in by the fast-flowing river.

140 miles. £8.33 inc elec.

Lakselv, at the foot of Porsangen, means 'salmon river'. Norway claims the finest salmon in the world and the frozen steaks bought in Honningsvågen had made a delicious meal. Last time we drove from Nordkapp 5 years ago, we turned north-east at Lakselv, up the far side of Porsangen and across to Norway's eastern outpost, Kirkenes, against the Russian border. Today we headed on south, pleased to see the birch trees growing taller, more sheep, even a few cattle now that there is grass! The steady rain gave way to occasional showers as we drove through the Sami town of Karasjok and across the Inari River into Finland.

We got diesel and changed money in the little border town of Karigasniemi, parked for lunch and shopped at the 'Spar'. Our previous fill of diesel before leaving Finland had lasted 630 miles to Nordkapp and back, avoiding Norwegian prices. Sweden and Finland are more affordable - and better drivers too. A delightful 50 miles along the quiet road 92, through forests which now include pine and fir trees, grazed by beautiful reindeer which sometimes caused us to brake sharply. After meeting the E75 road (Finland's only north/south road in the north) we drove another 20 miles through Inari, a small town on Lake Inari, with 2 campsites a couple of miles south. We chose the second, right on the lake and almost empty, and settled in, reminded once more of Dire Straits 'Love Over Gold' -

"And he put down his load where he thought it was the best,

Built a home in the wilderness, Built a cabin and a winter store,

Ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore."

133 miles. £9.41 inc elec.

Inari, Finnland's 3rd largest lake, is twice the area of Germany's Lake Constance, 45 km wide by 60 km long. There is a new museum of natural history and Sami culture, and boats and sea-planes offer a taxi service, pleasure trips, Midnight Sun cruises, bird-watching and fishing, but luckily both crowds and mosquitoes have gone. We have the place to ourselves and it's stopped raining!

We cycled through Inari and north on yesterday's route along the E75 through the forests. A sign indicated a 'Wilderness Centre' 5 miles down a track, but it's all around us. We passed a souvenir stall and cafe in a tepee with smoke coming out of the top but continued, through a rain shower, to the turn-off for Karigasniemi, where we bought coffee and donuts at the petrol station in Kaamanen (in fact, the petrol station is Kaamanen!) Then back, through another shower, pleased we can still ride 45 rolling miles without effort after a month's respite.

After lunch we did 2 loads of dhobi (drying room provided, along with 3 kitchens, sauna, etc) and watched the white wagtails on the lake shore, soon to fly south (them and us!) Barry started on the task of removing the tarmac which Rosie had collected on her forays through Swedish road works.

Hoping still to take time out cycling, encouraged by yesterday's ride, we spent the day getting ready and watching the weather forecast. It's still showery but with brighter intervals and even a glowing sunset over the lake before a cold night (it dropped to -2°C). We sorted and packed our kit, Barry continued with tarmac removing before checking and servicing the bicycles, and M made fruity flapjack and chocolate crispies for the road.

Another good evening on Finnish TV, with plenty of subtitled British and American entertainment, including a series starring Kevin Whatley (Morse's Sgt Lewis) as a private investigator working on insurance fraud.

Cold and bright, much drier, and with better weather forecast from tomorrow after heavy rain later today. We continue with cleaning, writing and planning while we may. We have a very neat 350-mile cycle tour in mind, the minimum distance by road round the empty mountain wilderness where Finland and Norway meet. Once we finally leave Inari in Rosie we have about 500 more miles of Finland before Helsinki and another 1,000 miles to get to Berlin via a ferry to Tallinn, the Baltic Republics and Poland, if we go that way. This will mean a busy time in Helsinki, fixing ferries, insurance, travel information. So we must make the most of this time in the wonderful country above the Arctic Circle.

Barry finally finished washing the many miles of road seal and spray off Rosie while M updated the diary and patched more jeans. Final preparations were made to park Rosie in a corner and leave her for a few days. Barry's restlessness may in part be due to his current reading of Jack Kerouac's beat generation classic 'On the Road'.

Last night's weather forecast was for a continuous belt of rain to move in from the west and we woke to cold winds and black skies - no incentive for the planned cycle tour in the wilderness. We decided to head slowly south, but leaving all the cycle bags packed ready to ride. We reluctantly said goodbye to the excellent campground and its hard-working owner and drove off to shop in Inari. We then took the 955 south-west from Inari, a quiet back road through the lakes and forests of the Lemmenjoki national park and sighted many reindeer, including several white ones.

After about 50 miles near Repojoki (joki = river) we found a splendid layby for lunch. Its WC was a miniature log cabin with turf roof and there were several fascinating information boards about the life of the Sami and their old reindeer round-up site at Sammalselkä, 5 km away. A boarded walk led through the swampy forest to see the reindeer fences, pens and cottages restored by the National Board of Antiquities. They were used until road 955 was built in the 1960's, when the corral was moved nearer the road. The promised rain now began pouring, so we left the site unvisited and drove on through Pokka, Hanhimaa, Loma Harjula and Köngäs - each a tiny collection of wooden cabins, a small clearing in the pristine forest bordering a road little better than a dirt track for the 38 miles from Pokka to Köngäs. In 115 miles from Inari we met less than 20 other vehicles on the road.

We reached civilisation of a sort at Sirkka, where we had hoped to spend a night. The village had been swallowed by a ski resort called Levi, whose only expensive campsite was high on the hillside by the ski-lifts which suddenly marred the grandeur of the wilderness. To continue driving south, to Kittilä, would mean abandoning our planned cycle route and the weather was brightening, so we kept west on the 79 for another 40 peaceful miles back to Muonio, pausing to photograph a group of reindeer wandering in the road, antlers proudly held high.

We were remembered and welcomed at the Harriniva Husky Farm and settled in by the river, looking across to Sweden's forests on the opposite bank. The evening TV showed the film 'Rob Roy' with Finnish subtitles which was entertaining, though it needed a stronger actor than Liam Nielson in the title role. More 'Walter Scott meets Hollywood' than history, and without the vigour and charisma of 'Braveheart'.

Dry, bright, the nice receptionist at Harriniva says we can leave Rosie here a few days for free, we're off to ride the Arctic fells. After emptying the fridge into our panniers and loading the bicycles with tent, sleeping bags, cooking gear, spare clothes, radio, books, compass, et al, we set off along the cycle path into Muonio, where we completed our preparations with a supply of chocolate bars and liquorice sticks. Then we rode in earnest, north-west on road 400 into a gathering west wind. Very little traffic - this road just crosses the fells of Lapland towards Norway. Self-sufficiency is essential (the only Grilli we saw all day was closed). We stopped after 20 miles to eat our chicken sandwiches and brew up in a cosy bus shelter at Kätkäsuvanto. It had been painted with murals inside and out by the village children (all 8 of them had added their names) and had a good seat and table. After another 15 miles at Palojoensuu we turned right (east) on road 93. It was a better wind direction (now from the NW) but we had 10 miles of roadworks to negotiate, then a rest and a brew-up behind a woodpile (the only buildings in these parts) before the last few miles to Enontekio (or Heta), arriving about 5 pm. We had driven this route in Rosie 2 weeks ago to cross into Norway and knew it had a couple of campsites and a shop.

The first campsite demanded 80 Finmks to put up our tent (as much or more than we had paid for Rosie + electricity at Inari and Muonio) so we tried the second and settled for 65. We had the site to ourselves, pitched the tent by the stream and made and ate supper in the kitchen, which had no heating but did provide hot water and 4 slow electric rings. The first time we'd used the tent for 7 years and we certainly chose a cold night to try it, but we survived in the new Karrimor sleeping bags and almost enjoyed it!

Camping £7.64

Breakfast in the camp kitchen, then into Enontekio to buy bread and check campsite details at the Tourist Office. Continuing eastwards we had a choice of route, via Raattama (with camping and cabins at the Tunturihotelli or 'Hotel of the Fells') or via Nunnanen where there were rumoured to be cabins. It was cool and cloudy with the wind in the SW, but no rain and warmer as the sun got up.

We rode east for 20 miles to the crossroads at Peltovuoma, marked by a shop, a school and a bus shelter, in which we made lunch. After another 10 miles to Nunnanen, crossing wide strips of unsurfaced road through rolling fells of birch and pine forest, there was no sign of camping or cabins (just isolated farmhouses). Faced with 45 miles of empty road until Köngäs we turned back to Peltovuoma and took the Raattama road, south into the wind for 20 miles. We passed nothing but an empty layby and reindeer, who ran across the road leaving splayed footprints in the sandy banks.

At Vuontispirtti, 3 miles before Raattama, was the sign for the Hotel of the Fells, 2 miles up a side road. It was gone 6 pm as we arrived at the collection of wooden buildings nestling in the forest - a good hotel-restaurant and an assortment of cabins and cottages. The receptionist offered a cabin for 200 Finmks, or we could pitch the tent and use the kitchen and bathroom in the 'hostel' for 50. As we considered the choice, she took pity on us and added that we could sleep in the hostel as well, for no extra charge, since it was empty!

We had a 4-bedded room to ourselves, blankets and pillows, central heating, kitchen and bathroom adjoining! We made supper and slept well.

Hostel £5.88

Warm and rested, we rode the 8 miles back to the main road and on to Raattama. We barely saw tarmac again for the rest of the day! There were 19 miles of unsurfaced track to Tepasto, through thick forest, following the river Ounasjoki on our left. We made coffee on the river bank by a lone house with rowing boats moored outside. The inevitable house-husky barked but no-one appeared.

At Tepasto cross-roads a good lay-by provided shelter to make lunch and we watched 2 men arrive by canoe, come ashore and walk off down the road, knives tucked in their boots. Where or why they went, we'll never know! We could now have headed 10 miles south to camping at Köngäs but the weather was warmer and we felt fitter and stronger, so took the long way round, starting with 10 miles north to Lompolo on a narrow surfaced road with passing places (but nothing passed!) Missing our unsigned right turn onto a forest track, we passed a cafe-shop which appeared to be closed. Entering in search of water, we found it run by a large Sami woman, busy knitting socks and mittens to stock the shelves. She was only too pleased to provide coffee, biscuits, cheesecake and pulla (home-made sweet bread buns) in exchange for Finmks (who needs language?)

Turning back we found the track we'd missed, 14 miles of rough forest path climbing and falling through reindeer territory, splendidly empty. We brewed up in the woods, briefly considered how wild camping would feel and decided to press on to Hanhimaa! Slowed by the dirt tracks it was getting late when we eventually hit the road from Inari which we'd driven down on Tuesday. Full of pot-holes, it was no better for cycling than for driving, and after 10 miles, through Hanhimaa, we reached Loma Harjula, which we knew to have at least one cabin. It was in fact a luxury family log-cabin with bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room - this we deserved! We used the microwave but didn't stay up watching TV or playing Trivial Pursuit in Finnish! With a choice of 8 beds we slept very well.

Of today's 60 miles, 40 were on unsurfaced tracks in the forest.

Cottage £23.52

After rain in the night, the pot-holed dirt road to Köngäs was slippery with mud and we rode carefully for 10 miles, pausing to buy bread at a petrol station shop (just as well since it was the only shop we were to see).

Köngäs was simply a youth hostel and a crossroads, where we turned south for 5 miles towards Sirkka-Levi to meet road 79 north-west for Munonio. A delightful ride through reindeer forest, climbing and falling along the southern edge of the fells or Tunturi. We had circled the Ounastunturi and Pallastunturi region of Lapland. The weather was warmer (no gloves today) but Ruska (autumn) is arriving in all its glory, the birch trees turning yellow and gold, the rich undergrowth crimson, the forest floor studded with black, purple and red berries, blooming heather and all kinds of fungi - reindeer heaven! We stopped to make coffee in a woodcutter's clearing and for lunch at a layby picnic table by a lake. Near the ski hotel at Särkijärvi, about 7 miles before Muonio, a Kioski provided mugs of coffee and cake to linger over in the sunshine on the flower-decked terrace, then it was downhill to Muonio, which felt like a big town after 4 days in the forest fells - a bank, post office, choice of 2 shops! Back to Harriniva, where Rosie was patiently waiting by the splendid river. We were both sorry and pleased to be home.

A day of unpacking, airing the tent and sleeping bags, doing the dhobi, cooking, cleaning the bicycles, writing the diary, sealing the kitchen window, fixing the smoke alarm and planning our next move. After 4 weeks north of the Arctic Circle we are very reluctant to leave, especially these bright crisp autumn days, but perhaps summer is still waiting further south?

A family from Mannheim, on holiday at the hotel, came by walking a puppy they might buy from the Husky Farm - a beautiful 10-week-old Husky-Alsation cross, very fluffy and friendly, bounding with energy. We easily resisted the temptation!

After shopping in Muonio we drove south, following the river which forms the frontier with Sweden. We had coffee in a layby watching the rapids, but no rubber rafts came down from Harriniva today, it's the quiet season between summer and winter sports. Lunch in a lakeside layby, then past Kolari (where we'd entered Finland 3 weeks ago) and down to Pello (where we'd crossed into Sweden cycling to Tromso 9 years ago!) We crossed the Pello bridge again for a tea-break and to use our remaining Swedish coins and phonecard there, though both Mum and Alan were out so we still have a phonecard!

Now it was time to leave the Muonio-Tornio river and turn east for Rovaniemi, crossing the Arctic Circle just above the town (though it was barely mentioned, all the signs being on the E75 at Santa's Village!) There are 3 campsites near the town but only one open after the end of August, the Napapiiri (= Arctic Circle), about 4 miles north of Rovaniemi at Saarenkylä. It was evening by the time we settled there on the shore of the wide Kemi River, which joins the Ounas River nearby, and the night was lit by a bright moon turning the water silver.

172 miles. £10 inc elec.

First we rode along the cycle paths into Rovaniemi to collect a town plan (confusing, as it was completely rebuilt after WWII to Alvar Aalto's design, with the main streets in the form of reindeer antlers! He also created the railway station in the shape of a reindeer horn, and plenty of concrete buildings in the shape of concrete buildings.) It's the capital of the Lappi Province of Finland, complete with university, winter sports centre, international airport (Concorde visits Santa), and a McDonald's, where we joined the students and soldiers for our first Big Mac & Fries since Lübeck. We bought the University bookshop's only book in English about the Baltic Republics, Tim Bird's 'Baltic Odyssey'; skipped the Arktikum (Arctic Centre and Lapland Museum) and rode out to see Santa.

Santa Claus Village is about 5 miles north of Rovaniemi, right on the Arctic Circle, and cycle tracks led there through the forest. Few bicycles were out but we met students roller-blading or ski-ing on wheels, keeping their muscles in tone for the coming winter. The average annual temperature in Rovaniemi is 0.6°C!

About a mile before the Village we passed the entrance to the new Santa Park theme park, open only at weekends at this time of year (though at over £10 each we didn't mind!) The ticket does include transport from the Village by miniature train or snow scooter and a visit to the Reindeer Park en route. We could see the reindeer off-duty, lying in their paddock looking over-fed and bored, a far cry from the proud lively animals which bound through the forest.

Santa Claus Village is a collection of gift shops, restaurant and cafes with a large free car park where we could have spent the night. Old cynics we might be, but we did buy a husky dog (to be called Häärääld) for Barry and a reindeer, Poro, for M, as well as coffee and doughnuts. Sadly, calendars for 2000 had yet to arrive, and Santa was away on his summer holidays! He is usually available in the Santa Claus Post Office to talk to children, who can have their photo taken with the real Father Christmas. Mail can be posted there for immediate delivery, or delayed until December, complete with a Santa stamp. Impressively, any letters sent to Santa from anywhere in the world arrive here, and all are answered - 700,000 in 1998. A few samples were spread on the Great Man's desk, from Britian, France, Poland, Japan ... One little boy had added a PS to his long wish-list: 'I now have a baby sister so please leave something for her as well'!

More usefully, we got Rosie a litre of oil and some sidelight bulbs from the Arctic Circle Shell Station opposite, then turned for home. Later Margaret rang Alan to get Rosie's Road Fund Licence form sent on to Helsinki when it arrives. Summer is over - school is back tomorrow.