Day 12: Hörnefors - Nordmaling - Örnsköldsvik | 96km
Anyone my age or older probably remembers what it was like as a kid on a long car ride, trying to pass the time with little games. Rainy windows became racetracks for droplets, and counting cars of a certain color turned into a competition. Bikepacking isn’t so different. The hours in the saddle demand their own kind of mental games to keep the mind engaged and the legs turning.
Since entering Finland, my GPS device has become my navigator and my gamemaster. It tells me how far it is to the next turn, and I’ve turned those distances into a game. On particularly tough climbs or endless straightaways, I withhold small rewards like a sip of water, a piece of chocolate, or a brief pause until I’ve conquered the segment. I’m writing this now because I’ve just completed a 40km stretch of unbroken road. My reward: a few minutes of rest, a drink, a square of chocolate, and time to clean up yesterday’s journal entry.
Many people have asked me to upload my rides to Strava. And while it sounds enticing to get recognition from others for this intensely physical challenge, I can’t help but feel it would take something away from me. Perhaps even one of the main reasons I’m doing this in the first place. The little games I play to break down the day’s ride are just for me. They make the journey more interesting and, sometimes, bearable. But sharing the exact stats of the day with others feels almost too intimate. I don’t want to be thinking about how other people will evaluate my rides during a trip like this.
Today’s ride wasn’t long by my new standards, but the hills made it feel like a marathon. What kept me going was the promise waiting at the end: a home-cooked meal and a real bed. A few days ago, my dad mentioned he has a cousin, Maria, living in Örnsköldsvik. She had offered to host me for the night, and though we’d never met, I couldn’t refuse such kindness.
I was running low on breakfast supplies, so I stopped at a café in Nordmaling. The moment I walked in, I was greeted by shelves lined with freshly made sandwiches and pastries. The place had the charm of a traditional Swedish bakery, and the woman behind the counter, with her warm smile, made me feel right at home. I ordered a shrimp sandwich, two cinnamon buns, and a cup of coffee. It was the perfect fuel for the final push to Örnsköldsvik and the home of my newfound relatives.
However, the last 20 kilometers were a test of endurance: gravel roads and steep hills that just kept climbing. But when I finally arrived, Maria and her husband Anders welcomed me with open arms. Cold beers were pressed into my hands (very voluntarily), and a hot sauna awaited us by the water. Their home sat on a lush hillside, just steps from the lake where the sauna was perched. I hadn’t craved a cold drink until that moment, but the first sip of beer never tasted better.
After a sauna session that left me refreshed and a quick dip in the lake, we headed inside for dinner. Maria had prepared pasta with meat in a creamy sauce, which is exactly what a weary traveler dreams of. I served myself seconds, knowing that every calorie would be put to good use on the next day’s climbs.
The visit also gave me a chance to do some much-needed laundry. My clothes were filthier than I was, so I tossed them in the wash. As it turned out, the sauna doubled as the world’s most effective dryer. It was a first for me, but it made perfect sense.
Some things, like the kindness of relatives you’ve never met, just can’t be planned. They’re the best surprises.
