July 15, 2022

Diana and I are not gregarious people. In fact, I only half-jokingly consider myself a bit of a hermit. So when it comes to meeting people, we usually aren’t the ones to just randomly strike up a conversation. That’s where our Texas license plate does all the work for us.

Leaving Lofoten, we pulled to the front of the ferry line with the other motorcycles. We were immediately approached by a number of French bikers on their way to Nordkapp. The conversation always begins with “Are you really from Texas?” and usually leads to “how long have you been traveling?” As always, lots of curiosity about us, but also a chance to learn about them, their travels, their bikes, their lives back home, etc.

And it’s not just motorcyclists. The Texas “number plate”, as they call it here, stands out to everyone. In just the past couple of days, we’ve met a lot of great people, including a woman from Germany traveling with her parents in her camper van, and a newlywed couple on an “extreme honeymoon”.

On the ferry, I’m approached by a gentleman who asks how long we’ve been traveling. He also saw the Texas plate while waiting in line. I realize that we stayed near each other in the campground last night; Gerry, his wife Babs and their dog are traveling in a large MAN 4×4 camper truck. They’re from Switzerland but have traveled all over the world. At the end of our ten minute conversation he hands me his business card and invites us to stay on their farm. I hope to take him up on his offer. He’s another person that in just a few minutes time I can tell I could have a long conversation with, and learn a lot.

That evening we stumble on a roadside parking area next to a lake and with several RVs already camped there. It has a covered area for cooking and nice clean bathrooms. And best of all, it’s free. Not exactly “wild camping”; more like “tame camping”, but I need more of these places to ease Diana into being comfortable with staying “off-grid”. My motto is “Every dollar we save today extends our travels tomorrow.”

As I’m walking up to the cooking area, I hear “Hey Texas!” It’s the woman and her parents in the camper van. Similar to the travelers heading through Patagonia to Ushuaia, there is a stream of people heading for Nordkapp, and we keep crossing paths. We talk for a good twenty minutes or so, and we learn a lot more about each other. Except her name! I can’t believe we didn’t get her name.

We’re now only two days from reaching the top of Europe. It looks like we may have some heavy rain the next night, so we decide to find a cabin, even though it’s out of our budget. We end up with a room instead, which reminds us of the rooms in Alaska on the way to Prudhoe Bay.

A lot like our room in Coldfoot, Alaska, or Deadhorse. But nicer, and $40 instead of $200. And this is the most expensive country in the world!?

Alek and Anna just got married, and called this trip to Nordkapp their “extreme honeymoon”. I like that. They’re originally from Latvia, but have been living in Bergen for some time. Alek gave me some tips on places to visit in Latvia when we pass through.

We’re now only a hundred miles from Nordkapp. The weather in the morning looks great and the road is good. It’s an easy three hour ride to the top of the world.

Getting close…only 88km, or about 55 miles. The trees are gone. It’s just rocky hills and grass; a different scenery than the Alaskan tundra fifty miles from Deadhorse. And still people living here as well.

Most of the tunnels in Norway have these signs when entering. They give the name of the tunnel, its’ length in kilometers, and how high above sea level you are at its peak. This one is different: it’s 212 meters below sea level at the bottom of the tunnel. This one goes under the Barents Sea, crossing to the island where Nordkapp is located.

Just before arriving at Nordkapp, the GPS tells me there’s a 40 minute traffic delay ahead. Really? Odd. Yep. There’s a gate at the entrance. You can park and walk out to the monument for free, but there is a $31 fee if you want to go inside the building, which houses a cafeteria, museum, and gift shop. So, let’s see: you want to charge me $31 just to go into the gift shop so I can spend more money on souvenirs? Somebody has this system all wrong. I have to think they lose more money than they could possibly take in this way.

We parked the bike, walked to the monument, and took some photos. Then I casually strolled (quickly) into the gift shop to buy a sticker. Diana wasn’t so lucky. Security stopped her. Fortunately there isn’t a jail in Nordkapp, or she would probably be there for trying to sneak in and spend money.

End of the road, and the earth, in Europe. Well, technically there are places further north, but this is the “official” marker.

The door to the actual end of the earth.

There are a lot of reindeer wandering around here. The first one we saw was on the side of the road, grazing. He had a bright orange collar and a cow bell. Somebody’s pet, I guess.

This has been the easiest of the four “Most” points I’ve ridden to:

Ushuaia, Argentina, the “fin del mundo” (end of the world) in South America. An easy, mostly paved ride if you’re starting in or coming from Buenos Aires. Less so the way I went, down Ruta 40 for a couple of thousand miles.

Cape Agulhas, South Africa, the southernmost point in Africa. Also a fairly easy ride from Cape Town. But who starts in Cape Town?

Deadhorse, Alaska, generally considered the northernmost road point in North America. 400 miles of dirt and gravel each way (and mud in our case).

And finally:

Number four of the four roads to the ends of the earth. Box checked.
Nordkapp, or the North Cape of Norway. Nice pavement, a real grocery store and gas station (and town) just 50 miles south, and on the day we arrived 73 degrees F and clear skies. We couldn’t have asked for an easier, more scenic ride.