67.41km covered in 3hr 33min
average speed 18.9kmph
max speed 41.2kmph
odometer reads 1063 km
I awake with a nose and throat full of phlegm. Greasy with Vicks Vapor rub, Germolene and various other ointments and emollients, I pull on those padded shorts, pull up the merino socklets and pull myself out of bed. Another day, another smorgasbord of delights. Fill your boots kids, its Swedish breakfast time. A group of British Girl Guides hustle us for elbow room in the bread roll aisle. There's no sign of Brown Owl or She Wolf or whatever the pack leader is called, and the Guides are a lot trendier nowadays, theres hoodies and attitude floating around. There's also, treat of treats, fruit salad! Eager to stock up on vitamins rather than processed meats, I of course overdo the fruit and coffee, and retire back to bed with crippling stomach pains. So much for the early start!
Swedish national television doesn't start until 9am, so there's a lovely test card showing on channel 2. No little girl with a chalkboard, but a lovely bit of Beethoven plays. The symphony eventually ends and is rudely replaced by a grating white noise. Time to get up, and on the road. Today, after the off road adventures of yesterday, we decide to Hazel's delight, to opt for the E4, Sweden's 'motorway'. Having had a great time on Finland's empty E8 we were decidedly over confident and headed out, and things at first go well. There's a wide sholder for us to cycle on, so smooth and warm, and two lanes for overtaking either side, cars and lorries rumble past, courteously. Before you know it, the road has narrowed to one lane, with a crash barrier on our right and a central reservation in the middle, leaving no space for overtaking! We are squeezed into a tiny strip of tarmac, between a rumble strip and crash barrier and progress nervously, as cars zoom past. Then we hear them coming, the lorries and coaches coming up from behind, their thundering hoofwheels shake the ground a couple of miles back. Then there is a stillness in the air just before they draw level with you, you stare straight ahead, never dare to look even to the side. Breathe in deep, make a swift prayer to whomsoever cares to listen to your pitiful atheist pleas. Push hard on the pedals, not too fast, not too slow, willing yourself to stick to the tarmac. Glue me to the ground, gravity hold me down, keep me safe. Passing, passing, quickly, two pedal strokes and the lorry is gone. Close, but safe, these guys are pros, theyve seen Cykelsparet followers on this stretch before. Not a beep or a honk to abuse us. 2 seconds later and oddly a little tailwind from the lorry pushes you along your way.
After 15km or so we take the first exit, and enjoy one of our typical roadside sandwich breaks. We decided to risk it offroad. We progress slowly but steadily, what with Hazel's knees and my cold, we decide a little break is in order. We reach Pitea in early afternoon and book into one of Sweden's delightful 'vandrahem' national hostels, this one is housed in an old hospital, in a beautiful riverside park. Incidentally we had hoped to be seeing the sea by now, but the coastal cycle route seems to consist of towns on estuaries so our craving for saltwater swimming remains unsated. We try to adjust from cycle touring to 'Leisure time' our self prescribed new activity. Not much different from the rest of our trip, leisure time consists of eating cakes and drinking coffee, but without cycling in between. Dinner is consumed, beds are made and we slip into our bunks, after a quick round of dancing along to 'Land of Make Believe' by Bucks Fizz. Wild times.
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