Day 2: Russenes to Alta | 140km

After a bumpy first day, I woke up motivated to push further south. The wind had finally died down, the bike felt dialed in after some morning tinkering, and despite the stubborn cold, the sun was out and the wind was at my back.

I crossed paths with a few other cyclists heading north, back toward where I’d started. Javi, a guy from Valencia, had set off from Helsinki, and judging by his setup and physique, this wasn’t his first rodeo. He didn’t speak much English, so I fumbled through conversation in my elementary Spanish. In just two days, I’d already met several Spaniards working up here for the "summer" season. Makes sense, Norwegian employers pay well, and if you’re into solitude or just really want to escape the scorching Spanish summers, the North Cape seems like a solid gig.

The kilometers melted away with surprising ease. But after a few hours, the cold crept back in. Luckily, I stumbled upon a roadside café, where I downed four cups of coffee, a waffle drowning in jam and cream (glorious calories), and a sandwich. I knew I had to keep moving to stay warm and eat like it was my job. So far, there’d only been one road to follow, so I hadn’t bothered with GPS to track my "workouts." But I’m burning somewhere between 4,000 and 6,000 calories a day, and no matter how much I shovel in, I’m running a severe deficit.

With the sun refusing to set this far north in summer, daylight stretched endlessly. I was desperate to keep pushing, if only to escape the cold. Every kilometer today, I told myself, was one step closer to shedding at least one layer of clothing.

By the time evening rolled around, I found myself just a couple of kilometers outside Alta, the same town I’d flown into just three days earlier to catch the bus up to North Cape. I pitched my tent on a patch of grass by the lake that wrapped around the city. Satisfied and exhausted by the big push, I passed out the second my head hit the inflatable pillow.