Sandwiches to Sicily - 3 girls, 4000 miles, 3 months!: Day 9 - Kolari - Pello

Friday 30th July 2010
123.65 km covered in 5hr 24
22.8kmph average
47.8kmph maximum
odometer reads 785 km of trip total

Awake, arise, another day beckons, sunny fingers creep through the flimsy curtains and tickle the eyelids open. Clearing my sticky throat and lift my heavy head, drag feet through to the warm breakfast room, there's some serious sandwich making to be done, and not a moment to waste. I do remember a time, at least I think it existed, when sandwiches were not even a minor feature in my life, in fact I rarely bought bread at university. And yet here I stand, body morphed into functional cycling machine, all extraneous muscles erased other than the thigh, and the only fuel I know my machine wants is bread, bread and more bread. And none of this continental open top rubbish, that is not going to last a minute in the bulging pannier bag. Call me the Earl of Sandwich and whack another bit of bread atop my pan european salami and tasteless pre sliced cheese, I'm living on the edge of an empty motorway and I'm ready to roll.
Back on the E8, the Finnish 'motorway' we are courteously passed most slowly by other vehicular beasts every hour or so, the ubiquitous Mr Caravan and Ms Caravanette crawl past us leaving a rather unneccesary 12ft berth, cheerfully tooting their approval at our epic and impressive mission. Either that or they are trying to beep a warning that we shouldn't be on the 'motorway'. The most danger we encounter is the occasional but nevertheless fearsome reindeer swaying drunkenly around on the highway ahead, seemingly weighed down by the world's largest antlers. The age old adage of 'they are more scared of you, than you are of them' springs to mind, but as we edge closer, Rudolph and co just stop and stare. Slowing right down we bide our time and then sprint past when they're not looking! I say sprint, but of course, we weigh more than them with our saddlebags and they let us win.
Hazel's quest to purchase the world's tackiest t shirt continues as we browse endless tourist shops boasting arctic scenes on fruit of the loom apparel. She is surprisingly surprised that the equivalent of a child size age 5 to 6 doesnt fit on her 5.11 frame and we press on empty handed. Leaving the E8 we stop in for our daily coffee and ten cakes at 'Granni' cafe, much to our Philippa 'granny gear' Colby's delight. I should mention at this juncture that it is a very hot and sunny day, and you would think we would all be delighted. Alas I am suffering from a strange cold (unverified by Dr Learner who will only suggest I have a sore throat from over exertion during the previous days singing peloton) and cannot cope with dramatic change in climate. Flinging myself upon the ground I admit to shouting 'go away mr sun, go away'. Which later on in our tale you will find I regret. Like true Brits, on the first day of sunshine we optimistically strip our cycle shoes of their protective gaffer tape waterproofing, unable to imagine that it will ever rain again.
At Pello, we cross the river, which forms a natural border between Finland and Sweden. I would like to say we were instantly struck by the dramatic difference in climate and terrain but we were mostly struck by a vision in the road up ahead which we were at first unable to comprehend. Moving swiftly but smoothly and of a pinkish colour in human form, it was neither reindeer nor touring cyclist, but flailing around like a madman in the road, heading straight toward us at unnatural speed. It was of course, a half naked old man, wearing skis with wheels, using his ski poles to propel him the wrong way down the road. This proved to be quite a familiar scene as we progressed, and cars passed these beings with as much courtesy and respect as they did us regular cyclists. Welcome to Sweden.
Smooth rolling roads ensued, and before we knew it were out of the arctic circle, glorious pure white light still beating down on us. The photographing and documentation stepped up a gear in these perfect conditions, and Hazel began to document us, documenting the landscape and each other, in a wonderful self referential nature, photos of photos become more interesting than the photo itself. Or perhaps its all, quite an inadequate way of recording what was in fact, a wonderful experience to remain in our heads and memories. The photo of me clambering up an ants nest to try and get a perfect forest photo, is definitely more interesting than my results! Long day over, after 175 miles in two days, we 'treated' ourselves to dinner at our campsite restaurant, ordering unknown meat items within our price range. We, of course, ended up being served meat sandwiches. Hot sandwiches, so some variation there, but well within the boundaries of acceptable food stuffs. We retire to bed in Swedish almostsunset. The sun drops low, but the night does not fall, just hangs, in the air, waiting.