11 September 2002 - Boyzone
Tuesday was a good day! It started well - we actually made it to breakfast whilst the restaurant was still open! A brief strategy meeting and we decided we would head to Umea - the fact that it had 25,000 English-loving students in it was purely a coincidence. A quick stop at the supermarket for batteries (the GPS units were eating 4 batteries a day!) and some provisions (yes, we were actually going to camp!) and we started heading north once more.

As the road unfolded along the east coast of Sweden, the scenery began to change, as did the temperature. The weather was fantastic - clear skies for hundreds of miles and the sun was fantastically warm - but the air was taking on a bit of a chill. You can't go far in Sweden without bumping into a lake, a pine tree, a moustache or a blonde person called Sven, but the forests were becoming thicker and the boulders discharged by the glaciers (I know there's a word for that but we can't remember it, alright? Scroo, Scrop, Scrim or something.) were beginning to pepper the landscape. Think 'pine fresh' fabric conditioner adverts and you'll get the picture. Still no sign of the Majestic Moose though, which was a shame. Already the roads were beginning to get smaller and people were becoming a little more sparse - less Volvos, which was nice, but generally slower progress.

After 250 miles we decided to stop for some lunch in Gavle, a large coastal town on the Gulf of Bothnia. Things were looking up in the totty department as Dan ordered a couple of Hurdy-Gurdy Burgers from the only open restaurant in town - another bloody MacDonalds!

Faith in Swedish totty fully restored, we went for a wander through the town - oblivious to the clearly marked cycle lanes, Al was almost mown down by bicycle-wielding psychopaths several times before we found a kitchen shop to continue our camping preparations in. Having bought the most ridiculously over-the-top saucepan for a camping trip (cast iron, Teflon, glass lid, expensive, "Is it a gift? shall I wrap it for you?"!), we decided to leave this small Swedish Birmingham and continue up the coast. The wok and fondue set might have been a bit over the top anyway.

Dan took over the driving for the next leg towards Sundval. After another 100 miles or so, we remembered that we still hadn't actually worked out how to get back from Norway - a long chat with Fjordline and they kindly agreed to swap our (missed) ferry ticket for one back from Bergen next Tuesday morning. Was there a hint of laughter in her voice when she said 'Do try not too miss this one."?!

The roads by now had become generally slower and twistier, and we hadn't made as much progress as we had hoped given that we had actually managed to leave before noon for the first time. The plan was changed - the ladies of Umea were just going to have to wait, bless 'em. Sundval was chosen as the evenings destination and as we pulled into the town we started looking for a campsite, hoping that as it was only 6pm we may actually find somewhere open.

Sundval seemed like a pretty good place to spend an evening. Quite a few bars (empty) dotted around a square, with a good selection of restaurants (empty) and even a fountain (surprisingly not empty). Interestingly, the town seemed to be made up almost entirely of lingerie shops. Which was nice. Even the mannequins in the windows seemed more attractive than in England.

Maybe there are some things you shouldn't admit to.

Driving out of the town to find the nearby campsite, excited at the idea of finally doing some camping with all of our new kit, we decided to check in to the most expensive hotel in the town and get a suite. Again. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, to be honest. Something to do with a foyer full of beautiful women and a bar with a piano in it, I think. A quick chat with the most outrageously effeminate receptionist chap (see, it was a kind of camp-site after all...) and we were ready to explore the town. And get properly lashed.

8pm and, as we were coming to expect, Sweden was still closed. Nobody for miles. Luckily the bars were open, albeit empty, and as we settled into a couple of pints at about £5 each we began to realise why people were probably staying in at night. Once again, even 1900 miles from home, we managed to pick an Irish bar, with a) English football on the TV and b) Sweden's most devout Arsenal supporter. I wonder where you have to go to find a Swedish bar? Dublin I imagine.

A few more jars of ridiculously pokey falling-down water, and we were kicked out into the (very cold) night air. Determined not to let the side down, we managed to track down a kebeb shop as we had forgotten to eat anything during the evening! Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, it was closed. Another couple of blocks and we found a restaurant claiming to be open until midnight.

"Any chance of some food?"
"No."
"What about beer?"
"Yes."
"That'll do. Two strong beers please."

Several pints later, and we had made our first Swedish pal, Roger. Only mildly disappointed that he wasn't called Sven, we happily staggered to a late bar (Irish, again) with him and got drunkerer. And drunkerer.

Roger turned out to be Sweden's answer to Ronan Keating - he even sounded Irish. A top chap, with 3 albums to his name, he had somehow ended up as a chef in the Conran restaurant in Butlers Wharf, before moving back to Sundval. Roger thought we were a bit mad going up north. In fact his exact words were "No! Don't go there! Turn back! This is the last real town! Don't do it!". Hmmm. Safely set up for the first 'I told you so', we promised to come back to Sundval at the weekend for a booze up. Apparently on Fridays and Saturdays there are even real people out and about! Who knows, we may even make it...

More soon....


OTHER NEWS

Where are we? There's now a link on the site to a map with our route on it! Take a look at http://www.mini-adventures.co.uk/images/arctic/progress.gif for our route so far!

Christmas Lists. We'll be in Lappland tomorrow, so send us your Christmas lists and we'll give them to Santa. Apparently he runs a kebab shop in Storuman during the summer, so we're bound to bump into him.

A member of a well know British bank is not receiving most of these emails as they contain rude words. Sorry Roz.

Keep the emails coming! It's been great getting your highly derisive messages - its great to have something to laugh at because we are sick of each other now. We haven't actually spoken to each other since Lego Land..

IR Film. Several of you have asked what the relevance of this is. Very simple - at some point, having been carried across 7 countries, it will be left in a hotel fridge and will have been a waste of time. It's inevitable really isn't it?

In fact, whilst we're on the subject... Rather embarrassingly, Al has finally admitted to not actually remembering how to use the stuff anyway. It's been 10 years since he last tried to use the stuff, and it didn't work then either. Any professional photographers out there (you know who you are!) who may be feeling charitable enough to provide some advice along the lines of 'what to do with it' would be rewarded with a special present on our return... (It's a Kodak Ektachrome EIR.)

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