The road to the North Cape - Day 8: Arriving at Nordkapp—the Edge of Europe
After spending the night in a warm, dry cabin, I woke up around 8 AM, feeling refreshed for the first time in a while. The night in Kautokeino had done wonders for my spirit. My gear was dry again, and I had the chance to recharge—both literally and figuratively. I packed up my things, savoring the moment, knowing that I’d soon be back on the road. Before heading out, I stopped by the campsite’s little café to grab some breakfast. It was a bit pricy, but at that moment, I didn’t care. A couple of sandwiches, some coffee, and fried eggs—nothing too fancy, but it was exactly what I needed to fuel up for what I knew would be a long day ahead.
Hitting the Road Towards Alta
With my belly full and the bike fueled up, I hit the road with one goal in mind: make it as far as possible towards Nordkapp. The weather was cooperating for once, with the sun occasionally breaking through the clouds, casting a soft light over the landscape.
When I rode out of Kautokeino the scenery was quite sparse, but the closer I got to Alta, the more dramatic it became. At first, steep mountain walls, cascading waterfalls and winding roads created a surreal backdrop that made it difficult to focus on just riding. Every twist and turn on the road offered a new breathtaking view, and I found myself stopping more often than usual to take pictures and simply take it all in.
I had originally planned to take a detour along the Arctic Postal Road, a route I’d heard was stunning. But as I looked at my watch and the kilometers ahead, I realized I needed to stay on schedule. Missing that road was a bit disappointing, but I promised myself I’d tackle it on the way back.
“I’d made it to the top of Europe, and no matter what happened next, that was something no one could take away from me”
Trouble in Alta
After a few hours of riding when I was approaching Alta, the bike started to rattle and bang, and I understood that something was not right. The banging became more pronounced whenever I revved the engine. My heart sank. After everything I’d been through, the last thing I needed was a mechanical issue this close to Nordkapp. I pulled into the nearest gas station to assess the situation as best I could. I parked the bike, turned off the engine tried to mentally trace the noise, focusing on where it might be coming from. My gut told me it was something serious, but I hoped I was wrong.
While standing at the gas station, I started talking to some fellow travelers, a guy from France and a couple from Germany.
The girl from Germany had had problems with her bike and she had contact details for a workshop which was helpful, however it was quite far from where I was at the time. I got the phone number in case I didn't find any other solution.
It was the day after Midsummer Eve, which meant that almost everything was closed. Still, I wasn't ready to give up. I talked to the gas station attendant if he knew if there were any workshops nearby that might be open, although I wasn't hopeful.
He wasn't too hopeful either, but at least gave me directions to a workshop he thought might be open. I drove over to the place, my bike limping along. And in a stroke of luck, it was still open for a couple of hours!
A Near-Miss at the Workshop
When I arrived, I explained the situation to the folks at the workshop and they agreed to help me as good as they could. While they were busy trying to get in touch with one of their mechanics I walked out to inspect the bike. I then noticed that the front sprocket was totally worn out. I at least knew what was wrong. The bad news: the workshop didn’t have a matching sprocket in stock. The good news: one of the mechanics had a spare one at home that might fit. However, he was probably at home nursing a midsummer hangover. They gave him a call anyway, and in yet another stroke of luck, he agreed to bring it over.
When the mechanic finally arrived with the spare sprocket, it wasn’t an exact match, but it was close enough to get me back on the road. They fitted it onto the bike, and after a few tense minutes of adjustments, I was good to go. I was incredibly grateful for their help, especially considering it was a holiday weekend. If it hadn’t been for their willingness to go the extra mile, I might have been stranded in Alta for days.
With my bike somewhat patched up, I decided to push on. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet—the replacement sprocket wasn’t a perfect fit, and I could hear a ominous scratching noise as I rode. My mind raced with thoughts of breaking down in the middle of nowhere, but I pushed those fears aside. I was too close to my goal to turn back now!
The Stunning Ride to Nordkapp
The road from Alta to Nordkapp is nothing short of otherworldly. As I road along further north, the trees thinned out until they disappeared entirely. The landscape became a vast, barren tundra, with only the occasional patch of scraggly bushes breaking up the endless expanse of rocky ground and mosses. The road itself was a marvel—smooth, winding, and perfectly designed for a motorcycle. Despite the noise from my bike, I couldn’t help but enjoy the ride. The scenery was simply too spectacular to ignore.
One of the most nerve-wracking parts of the journey was the tunnel to Magerøya, the island where Nordkapp is located. The tunnel is 4.5 kilometers long and drops down to 200 meters below sea level. As I descended into the tunnel, the air became noticeably cooler, and the walls seemed to close in around me. It was a bit claustrophobic, to be honest. The idea that I was riding beneath the ocean made it even more surreal.
When I finally emerged on the other side, I was greeted by the stark beauty of Magerøya. The landscape here was even more desolate than before, with rolling hills and jagged cliffs plunging into the sea. I knew I was getting close to my goal, and my excitement grew with each passing kilometer.
Reaching the North Cape
As I approached Nordkapp, the weather again took a turn for the worse. The sky, which had been mostly clear all day, suddenly filled with thick, heavy fog. Visibility dropped to just a few meters, and I could barely see the road ahead of me. It was like riding through a dream—or a nightmare, depending on how you look at it. By the time I reached the parking lot at Nordkapp, the fog was so dense that I could hardly see the iconic globe monument that marks the northernmost point in Europe.
I parked my bike and walked the short distance to the monument, feeling a mix of triumph and exhaustion. I’d finally made it. After all the setbacks, the long days, and the sleepless nights, I was standing at the very edge of Europe. I took a few photos, though the thick fog meant they didn’t capture much more than a vague silhouette of the monument. Still, they were proof that I’d made it.
I called my family to let them know I was safe and that I’d reached Nordkapp. There was a sense of bittersweetness in the air—on one hand, I was relieved and proud to have made it this far, but on the other, I was utterly spent. The adrenaline that had kept me going for the past week was finally wearing off, and all I wanted was to find a place to crash.
A Brief Stop at the Visitors Center
Even though I was tired, I decided to check out the Nordkapp Visitors Center. The entrance fee was a steep 330 NOK just to get inside, but I figured it was worth it since I might never be back here again. Inside, there was a souvenir shop, a restaurant, and a museum. I picked up a few souvenirs for my family and a sticker for my bike, though the prices were predictably high. When I tried to get some food, I found out that the restaurant was booked for the evening. Just my luck. So, I settled for an MRE I had stashed in my saddle bag, wolfing it down before heading back to my bike.
Camping at the Edge of the World
As I rode away from Nordkapp, the fog lifted, and the sun broke through the clouds. It was like a switch had been flipped—one minute I was shrouded in mist, and the next I was bathed in golden light. I decided to find a place to camp nearby, not wanting to stray too far from the cape after such a long day. A few kilometers down the road, I found a parking area with a stunning view of the surrounding landscape. It was the perfect spot to pitch my tent.
One of the most surreal aspects of being this far north is the midnight sun. The sun never sets, and the sky remains a soft, glowing orange all night long. It’s a beautiful sight, but it also messes with your sense of time. I set up my tent, hung up my gear to dry, and tried to get some rest. But sleep didn’t come easily. The parking area was a popular spot and cars and even buses with lots of people stopped all through the night, and at one point I woke up to a bunch of bikers (guessing 6-7) stopping and then sending off a drone. Of course, everyone wanted to stop for the magnificent view.
Despite the less-than-ideal conditions, I eventually drifted off, my mind buzzing with the events of the day. Reaching Nordkapp had been a major milestone and also half way mark of my entire trip. It had also been one of the toughest days of the trip.
As I lay there, listening to the occasional car passing by (and motorcycles starting a drone), I knew that while the physical journey to the North Cape was over, the adventure was far from finished. I still had the long road home ahead of me, and I still had some interesting stops to make.
Day 8 had been a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences—highs and lows, triumphs and setbacks. But as I drifted into a restless sleep, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. I’d made it to the top of Europe, and no matter what happened next, that was something no one could take away from me.