Summary: 1100 km (680 miles) of touring on recumbents from Bergen in Norway to Motala in Sweden, late May - early June 1993.

Prologue: Sometimes when writing stories about my tours, I've had problems telling exactly when it all started. Not so this time. I still have the E-mail Richard Freytag from Washington DC sent me asking for hints on touring routes in Scandinavia. A long correspondence ensued until I'd convinced him that a ride from Bergen on the coast of Norway and eastwards into Sweden would probably be a good idea. Then he asked me if I'd like to join too and to my surprise I said "yes". So from late October we planned the tour via E-mail. Eventually more people got dragged into it. First to join was Charles Clinton from Seattle. Then came Ian Feldman who (like me) lives in Stockholm. Still the planning was all done by E-mail. If the names sound familiar (at least Richard's and mine) it's because we post stuff quite frequently on both rec.bicycles.* and on the hpv mailing list. Yep, that's right. All four of us were going to ride recumbents.

In looking over the possible routes and matching them with the approximate dates we were talking about, I discovered that it would in fact be possible to ride from Bergen to the sleepy little town of Motala in central Sweden in perfect time to participate in Sweden's greatest cycling event - V�tternrundan. So that's what became our goal. To ride 1000 km to Motala and then do the 300 km ride of the "Rundan" ("The Round" - There Is Only One, You Know). Some would call it folly but we called it fun.

Being the computer types we were, it seemed natural to use electronics to as high an extent as we possibly could during the planning stages. In my case this took the form of a gigantic spreadsheet that I deviced and planned on my big workstation screen at work. I then imported it into my tiny palmtop computer (HP95LX) and typed in the data from my maps and guidebooks at home.

A spreadsheet? Whatever for? Well, basically I used it to enter everything I could find out in advance about the route and the places along it. Where there were hills, where we could sleep, where we would have to wait for ferries and where there were tunnels that would force us to use other transports. I then calculated estimated ride times for the stages and could easily see the results from any changes to the plans. A bit overworked, maybe, but it provided an easy means of finding which days we just had to go longer and which ones we could take more easily.

Of course, reality is the final test for any computer model, so I entered the data from a previous tour into a similar spreadsheet (using the same formulas), to verify that the numbers were at least in the correct ballpark. They were.

So the day approached. A little over a month before our starting day, I managed to bust a knee. I still don't know what happened but after a ride It started hurting and then just got worse. A doctor gave me a cortisone shot and some anti-inflammatory pills, then prescribed rest and very careful exercise. Worries began building up.

Then came more trouble. Ian's bike turned out to be "not quite ready". I'd agreed to help him re-build his rear wheel. It then became apparent that it needed more fixing and I spent several evenings installing and adjusting a new rear derailleur and some other things for him. Time flies. I finally got time to fix the last things on my own bike the weekend before our tour start. Considering that we had to send our bikes ahead by rail on Tuesday, this was definitely cutting it too close for my taste.

Tuesday afternoon (June 1:st 1993), Ian and I handed our bikes to the suspicious staff at Stockholm central station. Suspicious? Well, they probably hadn't seen many recumbents before. On the evening of that same day, I twisted my bad knee so that I could hardly walk on it! Disaster looms...

There was not a whole lot to do about it. The bike had been sent. I'd at least have to go there and claim it to be able to send it back to Stockholm. I treated the knee as gently as I could for two days. Then on Thursday (June 3:rd) afternoon Ian and I left Stockholm.

We arrived at Bergen on Friday morning to find a) Ian's bike had been wrecked in transport. b) Even after it had been outfitted with a brand new wheel at the expense of the Norwegian state railways, it still wouldn't ride right.

While Ian supervised the repair of his wheel, I took the bus to Bergen's airport to meet Richard who arrived by plane after a couple of days stopover in Copenhagen. Seeing him for the first time after all those months of mail-only communication was fun. We took his bike still in its hard travel case on the bus back into town and met up with Ian at the central station. Then we occupied a section of the station grounds to spread our equipment, assemble Richard's bike (an ATP R-20 SWB recumbent) and look at what was wrong with Ian's.

Examining it we found that the problem was that the right-hand rear dropout was far too wide so the wheel would not stay properly fixed. We tried putting washers in as a temporary fix but there was little hope that it would hold. Suspicion began creeping in. Ian had bought that bike (a Roulandt) last fall and had crashed (derailleur getting snagged in the rear wheel) on his way from the seller to the station. I think the reason he crashed was because of the poorly aligned dropout, even back then.

So while Richard put his together, Ian and I tried to fix his as best we could. We'd planned to be out of that station early in the day and ride to see Paul Tvete (another net.personality), partly to thank him for the help he'd given us in the planning of the trip and to ask for further advice on how to best get out of Bergen, but mostly because he'd never had the opportunity to see a recumbent. Well, he did get to see three of them, but we had to call him and have him come to see us at the station, because the fruitless fiddling with Ian's bike took more and more time.

Finally, we were ready to roll. Paul had told me the route out of town (which we were to take the following day) and we headed off for the youth hostel. Me first on my Linear (this has to be one of the longest singles' bikes in existence!), Richard on his R-20 and Ian on his Roulandt. It all went reasonably well until at one point we got stopped in a steep uphill. When Ian tried to start again his bike rose up on its rear wheel and he fell sideways into the street. Luckily, there were no cars but he was a bit shook up. It turns out that in order to reduce the weight on the (small) front wheel, the Roulandt designers have put the rider so far back that with a heavy load on the rear rack (no room for anything by the front wheel), it could rise up and fall over. Not good. And that rear wheel had come loose again.

We stayed that night at the youth hostel. Ian was exhausted from having had to push his bike up the hill to the YH and chose to stay in for the night. Richard and I unloaded our bikes and zoomed back down into town for a pizza.

The next morning, we set Ian up with a "fixed speed" (no rear derailleur) so that he could ride back into town, then we went to the bikeshop which had fixed his wheel the previous day and Ian managed to convince them to let us use their workshop. In with the bike (at this time we discovered that we'd left Ian's derailleur on the ground outside the YH so Richard set off to fetch that) and off with everything that sat around the dropouts. A friendly mechanic helped us hammer the dropout into shape and by the time Richard got back with the missing derailleur, we had the rest of the bike ready. Derailleur & chain on. Wash hands. Go!!! By now it was Saturday afternoon and we were getting hungry.

We found a place to eat and a tourist information office that helped me call a campsite along our intended route to make sure they'd still be there when we were to arrive (late Saturday night). Finally, at 5 PM we got rolling. What a way to begin a tour!

Day 1 - Saturday June 5:th; Bergen to Breisteln At last we got started. Our route called for us to ride straight north from Bergen for about 150 km to the mouth of Sognfjord and then turn east inland along the fjord. We'd planned to get to the fjord by Monday but this would turn out to be hard to achieve. The way out of Bergen turned out to be tricky (lots of tunnels with bikes not allowed). We tried to follow the advice we'd got from Paul but at some point we got lost and it took us a while to get back on our tracks. Then Richard got a flat. Since Ian was the slowest of us, we told him to go ahead and we'd catch up. A few minutes later we were rolling again. Where's Ian? We got to the ferry landing where we were going to take a boat. No Ian. Could he have missed the turnoff to the ferry and gone on past it? Richard left his luggage with me and took off to chase Ian. I stayed behind to discover that the ferry landing had been sealed up with bricks! Wrong landing. Look closer at the map; Wrong town! What to do now? I managed to sling all Richard's gear on top of mine (don't ask how but it involved a rather innovative new use of a spare tire and wasn't very stable), then I too set off up the hill. When it got really steep I had to get off and push. At about the point where it started getting slightly less steep I met Richard who was heading back. No Ian. We continued riding up the road which got more and more narrow and was still so steep it forced us to ride in our lowest gears. Finally, we gave up. No point in riding further without knowing if we might have to turn back to look.

We knocked on the door of one of the houses nearby (remember, this was Saturday night) and the owner was happy to get in his car and drive me around (Saturday night!?). Finally we found Ian. Up the road. Coming back to meet us. "Where have you been?"

Quick back to the bikes, thank the man with the car, borrow his phone, call the campsite and tell them there's no way we'll make it there this night, ride off to another campsite Ian had located and rent a cabin there for an outrageous price. And the name of the place still had "Bergen" in it!!! What a miserable evening.

At least they had laundry machines so Richard and I stayed up quite late, feeding Norwegian coins into some machine that controlled everything from showers to tumble-driers.

Result of the day: 33.3 km riding, 356 m climbing (Avocet 50 algorithm).

Day 2 - Sunday June 6:th; Breisteln to Hatlevik We woke up later than planned and packing our stuff took time too. By noon we'd got to the REAL ferry we'd intended to take yesterday and finally left Bergen behind us. Across (well, more "along", actually) the island of Lind�s. Lunch at a cheap place. Rain most of the time. Most memorable comment of the day (from a local kid who admired our bikes) was when I asked (jokingly) if it always rained in these parts and he replied (with a dead-pan booored face) "No, just 90% of the time.") The locals at the caf� had had a few beers too many and were truly disappointed to hear that Richard was American. They'd hoped he'd be English so they could rile him about Norway's recent soccer victory over England.

On in the rain, past Mongstad, Norway's largest oil refinery, to give a bit of contrast to the otherwise beautiful scenery, and another ferry further north to the next campsite.

By now a clear pattern had evolved. We'd ride up some hill which gradually got steeper until Ian was forced to stop because a) his bike didn't have as low gears as Richard's and mine; b) he had had less practice riding it and was very uncomfortable at low speeds; c) it was not quite the right size for him and he had to strain to reach the pedals. He could then not get started again until the road had leveled off, so he had to push it up the hills. Richard and I spent quite a lot of time (subjective time, that is) waiting for Ian that day.

The campsite that night (in a small place called "Hatlevik") was VERY "picturesque" and the cabin was "rustic". But it was cheap and it had live turf growing on the roof.

Result: 58.4 km, 552 m climbing.

Day 3 - Monday June 7:th; Hatlevik to Lavik This was getting worrisome. We were one day behind our schedule and seemed likely to lose more. The problem was that we had arranged to meet up with Charles along the way! We had to get to a place called Gol by Wednesday lunchtime and there was no way we were going to make that on bike.

And the climbs on this island were getting serious. Those Norwegians have a cruel outlook on climbing. There was not a single indication on my map how high or steep those roads were going to be. Obviously, since they never went higher than about 200 m above sea level, they weren't worth mentioning. Of course, they rose to that height three times in that day (across one island) with drops so low our feet practically got wet with seawater in-between. This day Ian did a lot of walking. Richard and I had to stop to rest occasionally too, but we'd just remain seated and grab hold of a railing or lean against a rock face wall. No need to even get unclipped when you're riding the most comfortable seat within miles!

The final ferry took us across the mouth of the fjord to the eastbound road on the north side. This was great riding! A wonderful winding road along the waterfront. No steep climbs and glorious weather. What a contrast. We got to the campsite outside Lavik in reasonable time that evening.

Result: 67.2 km, 608 m climbing.

Day 4 - Tuesday June 8:th; Lavik to Borgund This day we split up. We all got on the same boat together to ride past the dreaded tunnel by H�yanger (9 km - no cycling!). Richard and I got off at Leikanger while Ian continued to Fl�m where he could catch a train to Gol and be there to meet Charles. The ride from Leikanger along the fjord past Sogndal was easy going until we came upon a road construction crew. Newly-laid tar for several kilometers and on an uphill. Grind, grind in the lowest gear, feeling like a couple of bugs on a hot fly-paper!. At the peak the road opened up and we speeded down to the next ferry with relief.

Cross the fjord and ride along to L�rdal. This was where we'd intended to stay for the night but it turned out there was no longer a campsite. The friendly ladies at the tourist information office called ahead for us and made a reservation at the nearest campsite - in Borgund, 30 km and 500 m up the valley. "You will have to be there by 9 or they will not keep it for you any longer." 6.30 - we should have time to make it. A guy from the local newspaper took a bunch of pictures and asked questions. He promised to send a copy of the paper when the article was published but none ever arrived.

On up the valley. At first the climbs were hardly noticeable but after about 20 km it turned upwards. 10 km of 5% climb at 8 in the evening. Oh, well. At least the sun had disappeared behind the mountain so it wasn't so hot. We got to the campsite well before 9. The guy who invented instant hot drinking chocolate should be awarded with the Nobel price in medicine. I was tired.

Result: 88.9 km, 697 m climbing.

Day 5 - Wednesday June 9:th; Borgund to Hemsedal Time for the REAL (tm) test of strength. A quick backtrack to the old church in Borgund (one of Norway's chief tourist attractions) to get some pictures in daylight, then up the valley again. Shop for food and eat some breakfast outside a store ("Last shop this side of the mountain passes"). Up to the road junction at Borlaug, then turn right to the road for Hemsedal. The average climb here is 5.9% according to the maps. Key word "average". It's not too steep at first. Nor is the part where they start making switchbacks. But that middle section where there is no room for switchbacks, that's the killer! Richard pulled ahead of me as I stopped frequently to shed more and more clothes and simply to catch my breath. Finally I was riding in just my touring shorts. The helmet was slung from the pack, my T-shirt was draped over the seat (nylon mesh against bare skin is not so comfortable). I should have accepted Richard's offer for sunblock cream...

At Breist�len (1025 m elevation) the road levels off and the remaining 100+ meters elevation gain we didn't notice at all over the 5 km to the summit. Richard was waiting for me and we used my spirit stove for the first (and, it turned out, only) time on the journey. Hot chocolate. Lots of bread. Lots of attention from a van-full of Belgian tourists.

Down the other side to Hemsedal, the descent wasn't nearly as steep so we had to keep pedalling all the way, but it was easy going. We found an information board with a map that showed most of the area. Let's check out that campsite down across the river.

The campsite was not too hot (we needed someplace to do our laundry again) so we pulled out of there. As we went past the information board somebody shouted my name. And there's a funny-looking bike. Charles had decided to ride up the valley to meet us rather than wait at our next stop!

Charles also brought the news that Ian had left us and gone home on the train. One down, three to go! In a way it was a relief, since Richard and I now knew for sure that we could manage a much higher tempo than Ian and his bike were up to. Let the serious riding begin. Charles? One look at his bike and there was no worry about him. At least not that kind of worry. A Presto with that funky mushroom-like "Roots in the Sky" fairing up front and such a mass of equipment on the rear you were amazed that the skinny tires held together. And he'd hauled that up from Gol to Hemsedal in a short afternoon? The only worry would be if he'd leave such a dust trail we'd find it hard to breathe behind him...

We found a campsite outside town and did our laundry. Now the riding started feeling really good!

Result: 69.8 km, 766 m climbing.

Day 6 - Thursday June 10:th; Hemsedal to Leira We were a bit short on food for breakfast so we rode down to Hemsedal for brunch. Then on down the valley to a junction where the road down to Gol turned steep and we turned up the other way. We probably saved a couple of hundred meters climbing by not going down to Gol. Up along the side of the mountain until we re-joined a main road - this time headed east to Leira. Waffles at a caf�, an easy ride across the plateau and then a 500 m drop into Leira. This is where we reached terminal velocity. Charles and Richard had lower aero drag than me so they pulled ahead. The last part of the drop was spoiled for me by a logging truck. I got caught behind it and couldn't get past in the hairpins...

We stayed at the YH in Leira but rode 3 km to the near-by town Fagernes to find an open restaurant where we had dinner.

Result: 84.9 km, 504 m climbing.

Day 7 - Friday June 11:th; Leira to Gj�vik The morning started out easy enough with a ride down the valley, but soon we turned up across a ridge. The views from the top were quite spectacular as we rode a saddle point around a sharp bend and over a canyon before the drop started. I discovered that by "slouching down" on my seat I could improve my aerodynamics noticeably, to the point where I rolled almost as fast as Richard.

A quick snack outside a "general store" and then on through Dokka. We passed Odnes (where I'd intended for us to stay) far too early so we ate at a caf� and pulled on. Over the next ridge which was, thankfully, not quite as high and into Gj�vik just as the rain started. We checked in at the youth hostel and feasted on a family-size pizza from a near-by "street-kitchen".

Result: 96.1 km, 836 m climbing.

Day 8 - Saturday June 12:th; Gj�vik to Ulv�lia This day started out bad. The weather was "unsteady" and Richard who felt uncomfortable riding with cold hands wanted to shop for better gloves. Charles needed to find some material to repair his seat and I needed a new water bottle. So we went shopping, which meant that when we got down to the harbor, the last morning ferry across the lake had left. Either wait until 2 PM or take a 60 km detour. We took the detour.

Out north from Gj�vik parallel to a cyclists-prohibited highway. The bike path looked good to start with. Then it started narrowing off. Eventually it came to an end where you could either carry the bikes on a stony trail by the waterline or push them on the grassy bank above the highway. We scouted around a bit and pushed. Down a muddy slope and on to a dirt road. We asked an old man on a moped for directions and he looked at our bikes and asked if we were on he run from from some kind of institution. This is where I did not make a Michael Keaton impersonation and say "Yes, I'm an escaped mental patient with a history of violence" - that poor guy would have believed it. We eventually made it back to the highway to find that for a short stretch they actually did allow cyclists on it. Then there was a "no cycling" sign and a detour onto some side road.

As a side note, cycling in Norway was fantastic for the most parts. The roads were in good condition but narrow. This, however, was never a problem since the motorists were extremely considerate. Charles and Richard made comments about expecting Ron Serling to poke his head out any minute and say "Welcome to the Twilight Zone". At one point when a logging truck had slowed down to a crawl to wait behind us for a safe spot to pass on an uphill, Richard said he'd had a wet dream about something like that once...

But the signposting for cyclists on the major roads around Bergen and Gj�vik (the largest cities we passed) was lousy. After a while a pattern showed up. Cyclists were allowed on the highway when there were no alternate roads. But as soon as there was a local road, up goes the "no cycling" sign and you're directed off the highway. Now that, as such, is fine by me and I prefer riding on the local roads. But once they'd dumped you off the highway there was no signposting telling you how to continue! Several times we got lost and wound our way back to the main road only to find that we were allowed on it again.

Finally we got to where a bridge across a long arm of the lake took us away from the busy road and over to the east shore of the lake. Here we found lots of older roads far enough away from the highway to show up on the maps... "Lunch" of bread and marmelade. Shop for more food in Hamar and then continue to Elverum. The plan was to stop at some campsite after Elverum. Eventually, we realized that the information map outside Elverum was not drawn to scale. The campsite with near-by restaurant that we'd spotted as being on the outskirts of the town was in reality 50 km past it... We finally got to a campsite well after 9 PM and made a VERY fast process of wolfing down our food.

Result: 113.7 km, 964 m climbing.

Day 9 - Sunday June 13:th; Ulv�lia, Norway to H�ljes, Sweden The weather had cleared up to be windy with the occasional cloud. We pushed on up the forests, houses now far apart. At the road junction where our road towards Sweden turned off we had lunch of hamburgers at a gas station turned general store. Ever see the movie "Bagdad Caf�"? Imagine that re-set in Twin Peaks country... On the way eastwards we had some climbs as the road insisted on crossing a couple of rivers all running the way we were heading. Then, almost before we knew it, the roadsigns changed color and I looked and saw a sign that said we'd entered Sweden.

We turned south along a big reservoir which ran all the way to H�ljes, our stay for the night. Riding along waters sure is easier than across...

We found a youth hostel at H�ljes and managed to borrow their washing machine to do some desperately needed laundry.

Result: 83.5 km, 716 m climbing.

Day 10 - Monday June 14:th; H�ljes to Eksh�rad (Hagfors...) The next day the rain started slowly as we packed our bikes. We rode together down the valley to Syssleb�ck where we found a couple of open banks and ATM:s which relieved a certain cash problem we'd been feeling when we pulled into a new country on a Sunday night. Then the rain got to Charles. Out of this stems an expression I formulated a couple of days later. "There's nothing faster than a hydrophobic in rain!" And to imagine he lives in Seattle. I now understand why he's in such great shape...:-)

He took off. Richard and I continued at our own pace, expecting to find him waiting at some caf� somewhere. But there were no caf�s... Eventually, we found a place where we had some sorely needed meatballs. No Charles. When we got to Eksh�rad, our intended stay for the night, he wasn't there either. We looked around a bit and tried calling a campsite down the road to see if we could trace him but no luck. Eventually, we checked into the youth hostel and called it a night.

Result: 108.6 km, 284 m climbing.

Day 11 - Tuesday June 15:th; Eksh�rad (Hagfors...) to Kristinehamn Tuesday the weather had improved and Richard and I continued down the road, still along the same river that we'd been following since H�ljes. When we got to a road junction, I made a hasty decision to go on the "wrong" side of a long but narrow lake for a while. This was not according to my route plan but it would take us past a campsite where I thought Charles might have stayed. Well, the campsite was closed and the road on that side of the lake was unpaved so it proved an "interesting" experience, but we made it without any failures and did get to see a fox (they're getting rare since they were struck by disease a few years ago). Eventually, we made it back onto the "proper" road and continued. At a small store near a refugee camp (housing people from the former Yugoslavia), we spoke to a motorist who said she'd just passed another cyclist on a bike like ours!

"Oh, that must have been Charles. How far ahead of us was he?" "He was after you. He should be here in 10 minutes..."

So we sat by the roadside and waited. Pretty soon Charles showed up. He'd stayed in Hagfors, 5 km to the side of our route and we'd passed him when we went by on that dirt road on the other side of that lake. He'd been taking it easy to let us catch up.

It was an easy misunderstanding. Early in the day (before we'd got separated) we'd talked about how far we still had to go and I'd told them to ignore all distance readings for Karlstad (the county seat) because we'd be heading down another way, near Hagfors. So Charles went to Hagfors.

After we'd re-joined we sped through the remaining woods to the farmlands around lake V�nern like nothing could stop us. That night we stayed at the youth hostel in Kristinehamn, playing miniature golf and overhauling the bikes after the soaking they'd had in the rain.

Result: 124.7 km, 592 m climbing.

Day 12 - Wednesday June 16:th; Kristinehamn to Askersund We spent the morning at a bike shop in Kristinehamn, getting Charles' and Richard's bikes street legal for riding in the dark. "You can't use that shape reflector in this country..." While we were at it we got a new derailleur cable for Richard and fixed the indexing on his gears.

Then on south-east. Through the sleepy little hamlet of Bj�rneborg (forgive me for not stopping to say "hi!", Jonas, Filip and Emilie, should you ever read this). Some moderate climbs across to the next plain but generally feeling good. Richard was feeling a little too good after his gears had been fixed so now it was his turn to take off into the blue. Charles and I had lunch at a very nice picnic table by a beautiful lake.

Eventually we caught up with Richard. He'd had his meal in a gas station diner. Serves him right for taking off like that...:-)

We got to Askersund quite early in the afternoon. The night was spent feeding coins into their coin-op laundry machine and drier, while we gorged ourselves on pasta in preparation for the upcoming ride on Saturday.

Result: 91.7 km, 368 m climbing.

Day 13 - Thursday June 17:th; Askersund to Motala The final day was scheduled to be only a half day of riding, to begin resting for the Big Ride. We took things very easy, stopped to look around on the way. Charles had two flats... We did notice an increasing amount of bicycles on the roofs of cars heading the same way. Many of the passengers turned astonished heads our way as they passed. In Motala we left our gear at the youth hostel and then went into town to sort out some lose ends. A parcel "Poste Restante" for me contained my inflatable mattress should we need to sleep on some hard floor the next nights. Richard's entry documents for the ride had still not caught up with us, but a quick call at the information booth by the "V�ttenrundan" tents solved everything and we all got our starting documents

The last night was spent cooking and eating pasta at the youth hostel. We were getting prepared...

Result: 52.2 km, 224 m climbing.

Day 14, Friday June 18:th; Motala We hadn't made any prior reservations in Motala so we couldn't stay at the youth hostel more than one night. Some asking around directed us to a young couple who were willing to make a quick buck by letting us use a room in their apartment. Apparently, this is a popular side-income for the people of Motala at the annual chaos of the "Rundan".

We rode our bikes around town to do some shopping, eat and generally relax. Richard finally found some gloves to wear in rain - a pair of Neoprene diving gloves! Some last-minute tune-ups to the bikes, then more food! The final carbo-stuffing was in the guise of rice porridge with sweet sauce. Then we tried to get some sleep before our midnight start.

Day 15, Saturday, June 19:th; V�tternrundan (Gets its own article since it's a different type of ride.)

Conclusion: This was the first major (loaded) recumbent tour for Richard and me. I'd done some upright touring before and Charles, well, he labels himself an "endorphin junkie". I was a bit uncertain about how it would actually turn out to be and we'd heard all the warnings about how 'bents can't climb. Well, in case you haven't tried it, I can testify that neither can upright loaded tourers. When the bike gets heavy so that you can't throw it around under you, any climbing advantage of the upright position disappears. What remains is mass. My Linear with all its lights and touring equipment is 5 kg heavier than my old upright was. That weight showed up together with all the tools and spares I carried and made for slower climbs.

But for the rest it was wonderful. I'd equipped my bike (which is a long wheelbase machine) with front lowriders and had "traditional" panniers front and back plus a racktop bag on the rear rack. Handling was steady and comfortable even at high speeds. Charles and Richard both rode short wheelbase 'bents and had to carry all their gear on the backs of the bikes. To my surprise, this worked out perfectly and they could take more gear than I could. Since SWB:s normally have most of their weight on the front wheel, load on the back just stabilizes them...

Charles' Presto with the front "mushroom" fairing and its elastic rain cover must be well on the way to a perfect allround bike. Fast and light but still comfortable in bad weather. Neat.

We made our goal - to get to Motala in time before the "Rundan" ride - despite the loss of a day at the start and we had lots of fun on the way. And to be honest: How many upright cyclists could ride 1100 km in 12.5 days, then 300 in a day after just a single day's rest and still feel comfortable about the idea of cycling the day after that? When I'd finished the "Rundan" and was talking to the people at the finish, I remained seated on my bike because it was (again) the best chair around. How many head-firsters can say the same?

One evening in Norway, when we'd got slightly lost and were asking for help to find a campsite, Charles fell asleep on his bike! He'd locked a brake with one of those Blackburn clips, sat both feet on the ground and was nearly snoring by the time we woke him up. Not something I'd recommend but it does illustrate the comfort factor pretty well.

After 1100 km of riding I had no bruises, blisters or sores. After the additional 300 km of the "Rundan", I had some slight chafing on the insides of my thighs where my touring shorts turned out to have seams. These were mostly gone by the next morning and as I rode the Linear down to the railway station to ship it home, I realized with a bit of shock that if I'd had more time I could have gone on to ride home to Stockholm in 100 km/day installments. And this on the morning after a 300 km (186 miles) ride!

My knee which I mentioned in the prologue never hurt me one bit while riding. The first days it was painful when I was walking around and it sometimes hurt a bit when I was in bed but never on the bike. I later had it diagnosed as a ruptured meniscus and I got surgery for it that fall. But all the time it felt lots better cycling than walking. As a matter of fact, when I made a bad move (walking up steps, mostly) and it started hurting, it seemed to go away faster if I did a bit of cycling. Go figure...

I bought the Linear chiefly for touring and riding around town. For those purposes it has proven itself admirably. If I were to buy a new bike today I would look at some other recumbent designs, too, but all things considered I might still buy a Linear again. I most certainly would never go back to touring on an upright bike! The following year, Richard and I did another ride together, in Switzerland. But that's another story. - Torsten.