Category: Europe in a Camper

We’ve spent the last week in Northern Norway, covering less distances and enjoying the slower pace of life in this remote part of Europe. The weather has been cold for this time of year, with the average daily temperature around 10 degrees, but we have had sunshine on and off, enough to enjoy being outdoors in this beautiful part of the world.

The ferry from Bodo to the Island of Moskenes in the archipelago of Lofoten takes around 3 hours, crossing the Vestfjord in the Norwegian Sea. The ferry cost us $380 NZD with the campervan. Our van measures 7.45metres, if you have a van under 7 metres you do save a bit on ferry crossings. We knew this before we bought our van, but weren’t willing to compromise on space.

The Norwegian Sea is known to be wild and we told to be wary if you get seasick. We were lucky, the sea was like a millpond, beautifully calm. Our first view of Lofoten was of dark jagged mountains rising from the sea, still capped with snow. As we drew closer this dramatic landscape began to take shape, with bright green vegetation contrasting against the slate grey cliffs, and the vivid turquoise water lapping onto stony beaches.

We arrived and drove around the bay to the small fishing village of Å, where we planned to spend the night. It was barely a camping ground, more like a parking lot on a rocky outcrop. With limited space and a whole lot of campers just off the ferry and all looking for somewhere to stay, it made for an interesting hour. The host, in good Norwegian spirit, was not fazed and found space in places you’d never think a camper could fit. The electricity connection looked like something from the third world, cords in all directions, but the shower was the best we’d had so far with amazing pressure and a view over the ocean to boot.

Å is a traditional fishing village specialising in stockfish – fish dried on wooden racks in the cold winter air so it ferments, similar to a cheese, and therefore has a shelf life of years. Stockfish has been a major export commodity for Norway over many centuries and is used in traditional dishes across the world, including in Italy and Nigeria. There were still some heads of fish drying on the racks when were there, but the majority is done in the colder months. We were told the smell is quite overpowering for the first week, and washing hung out during that time absorbs it all, making for interesting looks if you leave the islands.

Tourism is now a major part of the economy of Lofoten and Å has embraced this, with accommodation built in old fishing huts over the water to cater for tourists keen to try their hand at catching some of abundant fish life in the area.

Fishing isn’t for us so we made the most of the natural environment and walked around a nearby lake and up a ridge to overlook the bay, after which we treated ourselves to a pint at the pub on the pier. At $16 a pint it was a treat!

The next morning, we headed off around the windy coastal roads to the next island in Lofoten, Flakstad. We stopped in Nusfjord one of Norway’s oldest and best-preserved fishing villages. It’s now a museum and we spent an hour or so wandering through the village. Life as a fisherman would not have been an easy one in years gone by, although it’s still tough nowadays battling the elements in this part of the world. While we were watching the gulls tending their nests on the walls of the village buildings and discussing how different this was to NZ gulls, a boat arrived with the sole occupant dressed in all-weather gear. Andrew was quick to stop him and ask some questions we had about the fish drying process. He was more than obliging to tell us all he knew, as he was the son a fisherman and had grown up in the area spending many hours cutting the tongues out of cod, a local delicacy. He now lives in Berlin with his English wife and is a glass artist. He was back in his hometown to sell some of his artworks at the summer markets on the islands, and was happy to spend time giving us insight into growing up in Nusfjord, even inviting us to visit him in Berlin.

We carried on around the coast along fjords and over mountain ranges to the small settlement of Hov. Hov is one of the oldest places in Lofoten and has historical significance with traces of Viking settlements. It also faces the sea in the North, making it an ideal place to see the so far elusive midnight sun. It was raining when we arrived so we didn’t hold out too much hope.

After visiting the Icelandic ponies in the horse trekking stables next to the campsite we walked along the beach and then up to a what looked like a new subdivision of houses. All the homes were built to be in keeping with the environment, coloured and landscaped to match the natural wildlands surrounding them. We have been intrigued about the grass roofs that we’d seen in many mountain villages in Norway, and which some of these houses had. Fortunately, one of the home owners with a grass roof was outside, so we stopped to ask him about it. He was a great find. This was his holiday home and he had just built a new garage which was yet to have the grass roof added, allowing him to show us what the base was like and how it all worked. There’s no real benefit to grass roofing other than aesthetics. It’s a Norwegian tradition and makes your house look more part of the environment, in fact it sounds like it is a lot higher maintenance than your average roof, requiring fertiliser and trimming, and repair work after any major storm. He told us the subdivision was all holiday homes, and most occupants were business people from Oslo who escape to this remote island in weekends. The well-known Lofoten links golf course nearby is an added benefit. Being from an island further north he encouraged us to change our planned route to Tromso, and instead take the less travelled route via the Vesteralen islands, to experience their stunning natural beauty and remoteness. We took his advice.

On the same evening walk we passed a barn with a sulky leaning against it. I’d seen what looked like a small harness racing track in a town we passed through earlier that day and we were curious to see what sort of horses they were racing. The couple in the barn were more than happy to talk and to show us their small racing operation – four horses in the barn, of which only one was currently racing. These are Norwegian Trotters, a type of small draft horse bred for harness racing, complete with the trademark feathers of heavy horse breeds. It’s apparently quite a popular sport in Scandinavia, even in winter when the horses wear studded ice shoes, and our new friends were keen to show us their array of trophies and newspaper clippings telling of their success.

Back at camp that night, the clouds cleared enough for us to witness the sun peeking through just on midnight. We ran down the beach excitedly taking photos and relishing the moment. Andrew FaceTimed his mother to let her experience it as well. We have now seen the sun shining in the sky at midnight – success.

Our late night didn’t deter us from an early morning hike up Hoven mountain, a 368 metre craggy rock rising out of swampland behind the campsite. A third of the way up Andrew decided the warm sun on the mountainside was too alluring and lay down in the heather to await my return. I carried on to the top and the views were definitely worth the effort, although Andrew thought he had the better deal relaxing in the warmth, watching the golfers below, and chatting to passing hikers heading up the hill.

Next, we headed towards the archipelago of Vesteralen, enjoying more stunning scenery and eventually arriving at the township of Andenes on the Island of Andoya. Andenes once was a major military base for Norway, but because of Norway’s current stance on defence, the military base mostly been removed. The locals are fighting to keep the remaining air force base open as it employs many in the town – it doesn’t sound promising. The rows of uniform houses, that look like they were made from shipping containers, are a constant reminder of the military past. Tourism is now more important than ever, with whale watching and tours to the puffin colony popular attractions in the area. However, the town is desolate and windblown and is not a place you’d linger in.  We were there as a stopover before catching the ferry the next day to the island of Senja. Another ferry crossing, this time $302 NZD for the hour and a half trip – the terrain in Norway does not make for cheap or quick travel.

Senja is gorgeous. We were told it is like the whole of Norway packed into one small island, and it was. Fjords, lakes, mountains, forests, and that beautiful turquoise water in the bays that turns inky black as it reaches into the deeper sea.

We found a unique place to stay in Mefjordvaer, on a pier at an upmarket fishing resort where they offer parking for just two motorhomes. Mefjord Brygge is the sort of resort wealthy tourists fly into for the authentic fishing experience. They have numerous fishing boats and all the gear needed for hire, along with the expert advice from guides, and the well renowned restaurant with an impressive wine list provides the perfect finish to a day on the water. And of course, the setting is magnificent. We spoke to two elderly German gentleman who were heading out to fish at 7pm and came back two hours later with two very large cod and equally big smiles. It was a great spot and, as we have found all the way through Norway, the people were friendly and hospitable, nothing is too much trouble and you are always made to feel so very welcome.

We continued our tour of Senja, heading to the small island of Husoy, famous for their spicy smoked salmon.  Located only about 100 metres offshore, and connected to the main island by a bridge, this island is just a dot, only 1km long and 500 metres wide, and amazingly home to 300 people. Like most settlements in this area fishing provides a livelihood and in Husoy there is a large a commercial fish factory prominently placed at the entrance of town. We bought some of the spicy smoked salmon we had heard about and ate it for lunch, on sourdough with cream cheese while waiting for the ferry to Kvaloy. Yes, another ferry – only 30 minutes this time, and $140 NZD.

From the ferry, we continued towards Tromso, and to my delight met a herd of Reindeer on the road. Screaming for Andrew to stop and scrambling for our camera I nearly caused a pile up if it wasn’t for cool calm collected Mr Love. By the time we’d safely pulled over they had moved off the road onto the grassy slopes. I jumped out of the van and took off after them to get my photos. It was only after coaxing them to look up for the camera by making clicking sounds that I noticed one, with particularly big antlers, had been staring at me for a while and was starting to move toward me in an assertive manner. Oh God, do Reindeer attack? Thankfully not these ones.

Reaching Tromso meant we had reached our northernmost destination in our Norwegian adventure. Known as the Paris of the North for its lively, colourful atmosphere and elegant beauty, it was a beautiful place to spend our last two days in Norway.

We visited the striking Arctic Cathedral, biked across the bridge to the city centre, and wandered through the streets and parks, enjoying some sunshine at last.

After three weeks in Norway we are off to Finland tomorrow. We’ve packed a lot into our time here, made much easier by the never-ending daylight, and we have fallen in love with this spectacular country, so much so we will definitely be back – perhaps in autumn or winter next time to experience the Northern Lights.

Senja, Norway

Lofoten, Norway

Since our last blog in Odda we have travelled 1316 kilometres north to Bodo where we are catching the ferry across to the Lofoten Islands. Averaging around 65 km/h through some challenging terrain, and enduring a lot of roadworks, it’s taken us almost four full days of driving to get here. But this was expected. When we planned our Norway trip we focused on two areas to spend time in, the Ryfylke area with the beautiful Lysefjord in southwestern Norway, and the Lofoten archipelago in the northwest. Both areas are renowned for their beauty and our time in Ryfylke and surrounds certainly lived up to our expectations.

After leaving Odda we continued to wind through the fjords along narrow roads running beside cliff edges. There were many hair-raising moments, especially when meeting large trucks on tight corners, and in one instance we were held up while two trucks worked out how they were going to disentangle themselves after trying to squeeze past in a particularly narrow part. Norwegian drivers, being used to these roads, are polite and patient so we never felt unsafe or hurried.

A few hours into our drive, after coming around a sharp corner down from a mountain pass, we found ourselves looking over a beautiful fjord with two large cruise ships docked at a pier. It was quite surreal seeing these huge vessels in the narrow inlet, surrounded by high peaks and sheer cliffs. This is the village of Flam, a popular tourist destination with its sightseeing railway that runs up into the peaks for magnificent views across the fjords. The place was humming with people and we decided it was an ideal place to stop for our lunch. While eating our reheated pasta in the sun outside our van a couple of British tourists from one of the ships stopped for a chat. They saw we had GB number plates and presumed we were Brits. Intrigued about life in a camper, we gave them a tour of our home on wheels, and promoted NZ as a great destination for their campervan tour.

From Flam we went through a series of long tunnels before coming across the Laerdal Tunnel, the world’s longest road tunnel at 24.5km. It was quite an experience. There were even rest areas on the way through, lit up with green and blue lighting to resemble life above ground. Surprisingly there were no tolls to pay when we emerged, although we’ve certainly paid our fair share towards roading in Norway, with more to come.

Speed cameras are frequent in Norway, and after passing a few we started to get concerned as they always flashed. However, we were relieved to be told “this is what they do”, by an English couple we met in a rest area. The sight of our scarce GB plates united us in conversation, they were just the second motorhome from the UK we’d seen in Norway. Most motorhomes on the road here are from Germany and the Netherlands, with a handful of French, Spanish and Italian vans.

As we drove further inland the landscape became much softer, changing to forests, lakes and farmland, and then up into the alpine landscape of the ski areas. We stopped for the night in the ski resort town of Beitostolen. The camping ground here was one of the nicest so far with excellent facilities and parking area, and with lovely expansive views across the alpine landscape.

The next day our drive continued through spectacular rocky alpine moonscapes with snow drifts still lying on the side of the road, then down through forests and alongside beautiful lakes and rivers. In Norway you are never far from water.

All along the roads in Norway there are signs warning of moose, or elk as they’re called here. I have been keeping my eyes peeled for a sighting of this iconic image of Norway. Somewhere on the road after Beitostolen I got lucky and saw my moose. A massive slick grey beast crashing through the undergrowth beside the road, much larger than a cow. Hopefully it won’t be the last one I see.

Our destination that day was Trondheim, the third largest city in Norway. We camped in Flakk, a small village on the waterside 10kms out of Trondheim and drove into town the following morning to have look around. Trondheim is not a destination city, but is pretty enough on a warm summer’s day, and we enjoyed a few hours there. The impressive 11^th century Nidaros Cathedral, built over the grave of the patron saint of Norway, Saint Olav, and Scandinavia’s oldest secular building, the Archbishop’s Palace, were both worth visiting.

Mid-afternoon we set off again, as with 700 km’s still to go to Bodo we were keen to eat up some kilometres before the day’s end; I’d like to say before dark, but there is no dark here. To pass the time we did a survey of how many motorhomes were on the road compared to other traffic. It’s rough science but after half an hour 22% of the vehicles that passed us were motorhomes, and the number seemed to increase as the days went on. Sticking to motorhome etiquette of waving to each van that passed becomes quite exhausting.

About three hours out of Trondheim we stopped at a lovely campsite right on the lake in the small village of Namasskogan and took advantage of the sunny evening to wash our van, she was starting to look a bit road weary and after over 5,000 kilometres there were a lot of splattered insects to scrape off.

From Namasskogan we drove through even more spectacular landscapes, with picture postcard views around every corner, and drawing ever closer to the Arctic Circle. I was super excited and a bit emotional about driving into the Arctic. I’ve always wanted to go to the top of the world. Mr Love, not so. He had never really put much thought into it, and this adventure into the far north has been driven by me. Luckily, he has fallen in love with Norway and is not in too much of a hurry to get back “down to Europe”. We crossed the Arctic Circle at 3.30pm on June 30th. 

A night on the waterfront in Fauska, 50km’s out of Bodo, and then a short drive to the ferry the following morning, and we are on our way across the Norwegian Sea to the wild and rugged Lofoten Islands, the place many say is the true Norway.

The day after our hike to Kjeragbolten we arrived in Stavanger in the pouring rain. We based ourselves at Mosvangen Camping just under 3km from the city centre, so an easy bike ride.

Stavanger is Norway’s fourth largest city and is Europe’s oil capital. It’s also the gateway to the beautiful Lysefjord with its many scenic attractions including what we were there for, the world famous Preikestolen, or “Pulpit Rock”.

The town centre is lovely, very compact with quaint little streets and, like most European towns, the waterfront is the feature, so much so in Stavanger that large cruise ships dock directly on the pier in the centre of town. Close beside the town centre is Old Stavanger, Europe’s best preserved wooden house settlement, consisting of more than 170 cute white wooden houses set in cobbled streets. We enjoyed wandering through the town and absorbing the atmosphere, and both agreed Stavanger was the perfect choice of place to stay to access our next challenge – Pulpit Rock.

Preikestolen

Aside from Kjeragbolten, the other peak we had set our sights on was Preikestolen, or Pulpit Rock. This square flat rock juts out 30 metres from the clifftop, 600 metres above Lysefjord and is one of the most popular tourist attractions in the area.

We had read that it was worth seeing the fjords by boat as well as from above so we booked a sightseeing cruise for the day after we arrived in Stavanger. The package included a 2-hour cruise after which we were bussed to the start of the track to Preikestolen to begin our hike. The bus back to the ferry afterwards was also included, but not the ferry ticket from Tau to Stavanger.

The cruise was definitely a great way to experience the fjords, with the boat going right up against the towering cliffs, and under the waterfalls plummeting into the inky sea, as well as stopping directly below Pulpit Rock so we could get the full perspective from below.

The squally weather didn’t make for the most pleasant time on the water, but we’re starting to get used to enduring biting wind and rain to witness breath-taking beauty in Norway. After two hours cruising we were dropped at the start of the hike, just as the weather cleared and the sun came out.

The Preikestolen hike is 8km return and takes about 4 hours including time at the top for photos and lunch. It’s a lot easier than Kjeragbolten, not nearly as steep and with mostly well-formed tracks, but there are a lot more people on this track, making it slow at times and taking away from the “wild” experience. However, the views are spectacular!

On the way back down we were caught in a hail storm that thoroughly soaked us, so we finished our walk cold and wet, and remained that way for the long journey home by bus, ferry, and then bike back to the campground. The hot showers were very welcome. Once we were warm and dry we reflected on another worthy achievement.

Stavanger to Odda

After three nights in Stavanger we took to the road once more and headed north. We decided not to stick to the coast and instead go inland for a while to cut down our journey time to Trondheim. Like all countries, there is so much to see and do in Norway, but we are keeping in mind that we still have over 2,300 kilometres to cover and there are a whole lot more countries in Europe to see and only 12 months in a year.

My Aunt Deborah’s friend Maria lives in the small mountain village of Skare outside Odda, so we planned to stop and visit her, and make Odda the first of our two stopovers on our way through to Trondheim.

Incredibly, 27 kilometres of our 198 kilometre journey from Stavanger to Odda was spent underground. Talk about tunnels! The longest was 8 kilometres, there was another that was 6kms, and another 4kms, and so it went on. There must be plenty of work for engineers in Norway. Part of the highway included a ferry journey across an 11km stretch of water. There is no option to go around, the highway simply ends at the wharf and you drive straight onto the ferry, after paying $92 NZD that is. They are currently working on replacing the ferry with another undersea tunnel.

Aside from the excitement and awe of these amazing tunnels the road to Odda had some equally spectacular natural scenery including Oddadalen, the valley of the waterfalls. These magnificent waterfalls are all visible from the main road with parking available close by.

It was lovely to stop and visit Maria and her family in Skare. Maria had been an exchange student in New Zealand in 2005 and had spent over 6 months living with my Aunt and Uncle in New Plymouth. She loved New Zealand and has kept in close contact with Deborah over the years. We were welcomed with open arms and enjoyed a couple of hours talking about life in Norway over home-baking, fresh raspberries and strawberries and hot coffee. Andrew and I had loads of questions to ask Maria and her father Arne about Norway, the numerous toll roads being the first on the list. Did Norwegian’s see them as being fair? The answer was a very quick “No”.

The small mountain village Maria and her family live in is peaceful and picturesque, and provides an idyllic lifestyle for her 5-year old son Viljar, who can safely play in the streets and nearby schoolyard with his friends, not needing to be watched over or worried about.

With full stomachs, we headed down the road to Odda, and a beautiful lakeside camping spot. Odda is a small town of around 10,000 located at the southernmost end of Sørfjorden. Over the summertime tourists mostly come here to hike to Trolltunga, another iconic rock hanging over a fjord. It looks beautiful, and it’s tempting, but we can’t be doing every hike.

As I’ve been writing this post Andrew has been crunching the numbers. Last week we came in under budget, and after 3 weeks on the road, and travelling in one of the more expensive countries, covering big distances, we’re only 4% over our budget, so we’re feeling pretty pleased with ourselves.

Tomorrow we continue our journey North.

We first saw an image of Kjeragbolten on the Spectacular Norway Facebook page and we were instantly taken by this rock hanging, seemingly suspended, high above Lysefjord, with the most stunning view below. We decided our trip to Norway must include a hike to this famous boulder and to experience the unique landscape surrounding it.

We arrived the evening before and set up camp in Lysebotn, 640 metres below the start of the hike and at the top of the Lysefjord. It was a stunning evening and had we known the weather was going to turn so quickly we would have hiked to Kjeragbolten that night.  Instead, we planned to set off early to beat the weather that looked likely to set in mid-afternoon. Unfortunately, the rain came early leaving us sitting in our van in the campground in Lysebotn wondering what to do. The forecast looked worse the next day, and not much better the following, so our window of opportunity was that afternoon, if the rain eased.

At 11 the sky started to lighten and we decided to drive to the parking area at the start of the hike and wait for it clear further. The road from Lysebotn to the parking area is a 7.5 kilometre, windy and steep, one-lane road, with a 1.1 kilometre tunnel with twists and turns, and makes you feel you’re on an amusement park ride.

When we arrived, we spoke to the park ranger who told us the rain was likely to stop around 2, and that would be our window of opportunity. Time for lunch in the campervan. At 12.30 the rain was still heavy and we discussed briefly whether we should call it a day.  While we waited and watched the sky for signs of the weather breaking we saw a few brave souls heading off on the track. It didn’t look pleasant.

Finally, I made the call that if we were going to do this we needed to leave at 1. It’s a 6-hour hike, and in the wet conditions we weren’t sure how much longer it may take us, and we still had to drive to our camp in Haugen, 1 hour 20 away.

We layered up, coated up, and packed supplies; chocolate and water.

Then, just before 1 the rain stopped, so we set off. There was no gentle beginning, we were thrown into it with an immediate climb of around 200 metres almost straight up.

To give some perspective, the hike to Kjeragbolten is described as hard on the noticeboard at the track entrance, and difficult on most websites. You are advised that if it’s wet it can be very slippery and you should be prepared for all conditions and wear the appropriate hiking gear. It’s a hilly 9.6km roundtrip with about 600 metres of climbing, and goes across some challenging terrain, made even more so by the heavy rain.

The first climb was the hardest for us. We needed time to get our “mountain feet” and adjust to the conditions. Looking up from the carpark it was almost ridiculous seeing tiny people far up on the ridge and thinking we were heading there too. On this first ascent we were passed by many hikers returning who looked pale, wet, and weary, and even a cheerful hello and encouragement that they were only metres from home, couldn’t raise a smile. This is not the motivation you need when you’re just setting out, but given the heavy rain earlier on we could understand why they weren’t overly enthusiastic.

There are three main climbs on the way to Kjeragbolten and two on the way home. We were told by returning hikers that the third climb was the killer, but we were on a roll by the time we got there and found this the easiest, perhaps because the goal was just around the corner. The chain guides on the steepest parts were a great help, even better coming back down when you could walk backwards and use them like you would abseiling.

Once we reached the top of the first climb we were relieved to see there was a flat walk in front of us across a rocky plateau before the track dropped down into a valley glowing with spring growth, the green a beautiful contrast against the slate grey rocks.  The second ascent up the other side of the valley started easily with well-formed rock paths but very quickly we were once again navigating steep boulders and putting thought into every footfall. We were reminded that when climbing rocks, you must consider the consequence of your path well before taking it.

The weather held out for most of our walk, it rained, but not heavily, and there was no wind, so the 8-degree temperature didn’t seem too low. When we reached the third and final climb we were more prepared for what was instore, and although it looked bigger and steeper, we didn’t find it as hard and even passed a couple of groups on our ascent.

The final couple of kilometres to Kjeragbolten were across an undulating rocky landscape with water running across every surface and large snow drifts reminding us of just how high we were.

A sign post told us we were 300 metres away and our energy levels surged. A short walk through the snow and we turned the corner to see a group of figures gathered in the mist and realised this was it – Kjeragbolten.

The snow went right down to the edge of the crevasse, which was a bit unnerving, so I quickly made my way to the rocky outcrop, away from any slippery surface that could have me plummeting to the fjord below.

Wedged between two cliffs and hanging 1000 metres above Lysefjord, Kjeragbolten is the trophy photo for many travellers to Norway. If you want to stand on it you have jump down on to it. It’s not a big jump, but it’s more than a step, and with 1000 metres of emptiness below you it isn’t for the faint hearted.

I am scared of heights. I always have been. I dream of falling often, and leading up to this hike had dreamed of falling off this exact boulder. So, I always knew I would never be one of the supposedly 25 per cent of hikers who stand on the boulder to get their photo taken. I thought that maybe, had it been a lovely day, I may have considered it, but when we arrived in the mist and with snow underfoot, I knew straight away I was happy just to see it and appreciate its magnificence. Luckily Mr Love agreed that it was too slippery and didn’t consider jumping out on to the boulder either – I couldn’t have stomached that. While we were there we only saw four people get on the boulder, and there were at least 25 people on the summit.

We were lucky that the clouds cleared enough for us to get a full appreciation of the drop down to the fjord below, and we could take some great photos to remember the experience.

After about twenty minutes we turned and headed back. As always, the journey home is faster and we bounded along the mountain ridge towards the first descent. The descents were difficult in the wet and there were a few slips and slides. I resorted to scrambling down on my bum for a few of the hairier bits and Andrew became a specialist at using the chain supports and going backwards down the rocks, so much so a Czech woman mirrored his every move down the final descent.

On the second descent, we met a young American guy who was in a very bad way. He was on his own and was struggling. He hadn’t realised how tough the hike was and had an anxiety attack as a result. We gave him chocolate and a pep talk and he headed back to base with us. It made us realise that not everyone can do this, and as Kiwis we take our outdoors knowledge and experience for granted.

The final descent was agonising. We could see our van far below but it seemed to take an age to get there as we carefully made our way down the slope. Just as we reached the bottom the mist rolled in, reminding us how quickly the weather can change on the mountains.

We had done it! After just under six hours we were back. Tired and happy we clambered into the van and drove off to find a hot shower and a cold beer.