Yes, it’s really possible: a broken saddle and swimming after your water bottle all within the same hour. But let me start with something more cheerful: I’m cycling a beautiful route, the weather has been amazing (except for one day), not bothered by mosquitoes or midges, and I'm actually on schedule! And that last part, despite the – how shall I put it? – necessary, but mostly unnecessary, challenges.
“Crack!” eit choed through the silent forest, and I almost fell over backwards off my bike. In disbelief, I looked at the saddle. The nose was triumphantly pointing skywards, and there I was, just staring at it. I don’t panic easily, but I could feel my breathing quicken and my heart rate go up. Crap… I quickly determined that the seat post wasn’t broken – which was a relief. But then I saw what was broken: a bolt. Oddly enough, I felt relieved. A bolt can be replaced, even though they don’t grow on trees in this forest. Both broken parts were still in place, and after some fiddling, I managed to get them out. I held them in my hand, and suddenly I had hope! I carried a tiny box with various screws, nuts and bolts. I had a spare of every type used on my bike. Hopefully this one too! I dug out my toolkit from one of my panniers (Ha! I knew exactly which one!) and opened the box with anticipation, pouring the contents into my hand. Unbelievable! A bolt with the exact same dimensions. I optimistically got to work. But then the trouble began: I couldn’t get it to fasten. No matter what I tried. The bolt needed to go into a tube, but I couldn’t get that tube into the right position. The saddle uses two bolts, and ideally, I would unscrew the second one to get better access – but I didn’t dare. That second bolt looked just as rusty as the first, and I was afraid it would break too if I touched it. Bent over and starting to get a sore back, I grew increasingly frustrated. This just wasn’t going to work.
I was about five kilometers from my intended wild camping spot – a lovely wooden hut by a lake where I’d stayed three years ago. Five kilometers is quite a trek in cycling shoes. I checked my phone for the nearest bike shop or hardware store. Östersund – 90 kilometers away as the crow flies. I thought of other solutions. I was in the middle of the forest, but not far from the highway – I could hitchhike. But it was late afternoon already, and hitchhiking scares me. Call Remy? No… he wouldn’t be able to help and I’d rather call him once the problem is solved. My list of solutions was empty. Or… maybe Lars?
Lars had told me to call if I got into trouble. He had even offered to keep my car keys so he could come pick me up with my bike if needed. But it felt almost comical to call him and have him drive an hour and a half just because I couldn’t fasten a little bolt. Then again, it was the one bolt that made the difference between riding and not riding. I decided to walk to the wild camping spot and get a good night’s sleep. Maybe I’d have better luck in the morning!
One more try. Because I really didn’t want to walk. And then… against all odds! The bolt caught in the tube and I was able to tighten it. Yes, yes, yes!!! The saddle was fixed in no time. What a relief! I packed up my tools and carefully started riding again – and within half an hour, I was at my little palace on the shore of a lake. And wouldn’t it have been lovely if I could now say “all’s well that ends well”…?
I was nearly out of water, but that didn’t matter because there was a huge lake in front of me. I went down to the shore with my water bladder and bottle to fill them. Suddenly, the bottle slipped from my hands – just out of reach. Slowly, it floated away and there was only one thing to do: get in the water! So I got my bottle back and made the best of it. After three nights of wild camping, I probably didn’t smell like roses anymore. To avoid tempting fate – or Murphy – I decided not to take the usual foot selfie in the water. I could already picture my phone slipping out of my hands this time. No, I was done with Murphy.
But Murphy wasn’t done with me. I’m now halfway through the route – or so claims Birger Björnfot (yes, really: “bear foot”). The 85th elderly Swede offered me a cup of coffee and a beautiful stamp in my passport, along with his life story and photos. We sat outside on a bench in front of his house, where he waits for pilgrims to stop by for a chat.
The route is truly stunning. It even seems more beautiful than in 2022, when I last cycled it in full. Or maybe it’s just the constant good weather? No, I had mostly great weather back then too. I’ve spent the first three nights wildcamping. That freedom is wonderful! On the first evening, I immediately saw a moose – I was over the moon. He or she was unfortunately too fast for a photo. I’ve also seen a fox, squirrels, deer, and cranes.
The fourth and fifth nights I stayed in a pilgrim’s cottage. Alternating between wild camping and staying at special pilgrim accommodations works really well for me.
Yesterday, I saw traffic lights again for the first time! I had arrived in Östersund, where I had a meeting with Jenny Hall, the coordinator for the Swedish section of the route. We went over all the trouble spots from Sundsvall to Östersund. Some areas will be adjusted, and in others, cyclists will soon be able to choose between the main route and an alternative. Once I’ve finished the entire route, I’ll meet with Jenny again to discuss the rest of the Swedish section.
And I also visited the nearby pilgrim center on the island of Frösön. These days, you can spend the night there as a pilgrim – either in the dormitory or by pitching a tent in the garden. Unfortunately, the church across the street was covered in scaffolding, but luckily we still have the photos from previous visits.
This morning, I left Lars – and the car. Super convenient to have your car parked halfway and to be able to offload unnecessary gear. And there was a lot! I had packed in a hurry and even brought two plates – including Remy’s (Remy, I’ve got it, don’t worry!). Poor Remy, he’s bearing the brunt of it all. Orders are suddenly pouring in – everyone wants a guide, a passport, or pilgrim items at the last minute. I forward the orders to Remy and he handles them. Meanwhile, he’s also dealing with a leaking roof at home, and I’m sending him encouraging photos with the caption: “Look, it could be worse!”
And now I’m back in a beautiful pilgrim’s cottage – and that’s a lot nicer than a tent for the moment. Murphy has struck again: since yesterday I’ve had a nasty cough. Sigh…
