For detailed route planning, see my posting:

Part 4: Route Info Motorcycle Adventure from Lillehammer to The Netherlands

The Midsummer Border: Sweden’s Festive Gateway

The crossing into Sweden felt like a sudden shift in climate and culture. We traded Norway’s fjords for Sweden’s sun-drenched, winding roads—ideal conditions for a final push south. But the day was marked by something more profound: Midsummer’s Eve, one of Sweden’s most beloved holidays.

Knowing that the country would effectively shut down for the festivities, we searched for a campsite with amenities. We soon found one just over the border, only to arrive and discover that the reception and restaurant were closed; everyone, it seemed, was busy celebrating.

The camp was bustling with life. Music drifted across the grounds, mingling with the savory aroma of barbecues. People gathered, many wearing the traditional Midsummer flower crowns, a beautiful, ephemeral symbol of summer. Laughter was plentiful, and even a display of classic American cars added a distinctly Swedish flavor to the party.

We managed to find the manager amidst the joyful chaos and were simply told to pick a free spot. Our modest dinner—noodles and leftover bread—was eaten in the shadow of grilling feasts, a humorous contrast we embraced. We mustered the courage to ask our neighbors, curious about our bikes, if they could spare a couple of beers. They happily obliged—a small gesture of roadside camaraderie that tasted better than any gourmet meal. The celebration gradually faded, leaving us with the quiet, contented glow of a truly cultural night.

Rain, Resilience, and the Race to the Cabin

The reprieve was short-lived. By 5 a.m., the rain started, and by 7 a.m., it was a steady, cold downpour. We packed up our tents, now heavy and wet, and left without checking out; the deserted reception and the less-than-ideal state of the restrooms made the escape feel justified.

Thirty kilometers later, we found refuge at a gas station, warming ourselves with a hearty breakfast and hot coffee—a small, necessary victory after a chilly start.

The rain kept coming, forcing us to abandon our planned scenic route for the safer, faster E6 highway. The risk of narrow, winding, wet B-roads wasn't worth the reward. Even the highway offered a challenge, with a significant construction detour near Malmö that added extra time to our day.

By late afternoon, soaked but determined, we found salvation at Hanksville Farm Camping. Booking.com delivered a cozy cabin that included dinner and breakfast—an irresistible deal. The host greeted us warmly with a local beer, and after a long, hot shower, we finally felt human again.

The cabin was spotless, a wonderful contrast to the previous night's makeshift arrangements. We sat down to a delicious, home-cooked meal, savoring the simple luxury of warmth and dry clothing. With only a week left, tomorrow promised a sunny passage into Denmark via the spectacular Øresund Bridge.

Bridging the North: Crossing the Øresund and Great Belt

The following morning marked the start of our great bridge crossings. The day began with packing up our tents, still damp from the rain, as we set out for the Øresund Bridge (Øresundsbron). This stunning feat of engineering—a seamless blend of bridge and tunnel stretching eight kilometers—is the definitive connection between Scandinavia and the mainland.

Despite the initial gray skies, the weather began to turn by midday. The clouds parted, and the sun made its long-awaited appearance, lifting our spirits as we rode.

We arrived at Bildsø Camping near Slagelse, Denmark, with the sun now beating down. Our first order of business was to pitch the tents to let them dry in the warm, 23∘C breeze. A short stroll through a forest path led us directly to the beach, where we had a fantastic view of the Great Belt Bridge (Storebæltsbroen), our route for the next day.

The flatlands of Denmark, however, proved a stark contrast to the dramatic landscapes of Norway. The endless farmlands lacked the visual excitement we'd grown accustomed to. The highlight of the ride was, without a doubt, crossing the Great Belt Bridge, an 18-kilometer suspension masterpiece linking the islands of Zealand and Funen.

The crossing was not without incident: while one bike sailed through the automated toll, the other was mistakenly categorized as a car and charged twice the motorcycle rate. An automated headache that would require a claim upon returning home—a frustrating reminder that even the most high-tech infrastructure can falter.

The Descent into Heat: Germany and the Lure of Shade

With little to delay us in Denmark, we reached the German border by mid-afternoon. The shift was immediate and palpable: the flat, calm fields of Denmark gave way to the lush greenery, rolling hills, and vibrant atmosphere of Schleswig-Holstein. The change in scenery alone made the ride more enjoyable.

We arrived at Nortorf, a small, charming town that bills itself as the "center of Schleswig-Holstein." The town was well-equipped, boasting five supermarkets and a surprising variety of restaurants, confirming our return to mainland convenience. Dinner at the local Montenegrin restaurant was a welcome feast of Balkan-style grilled meats and savory sides—a taste of the Mediterranean at classic German prices.

The following day brought a punishing shift in temperature: a sweltering 29∘C. After weeks of cool Arctic air, riding under such heat was almost unbearable. We called it a day early, stopping at 4:00 p.m. to seek shade, the heat having taken its toll.

A welcome highlight was taking the ferry across the Elbe River, an iconic crossing that offered a peaceful break from the heat. We ended the day in Bad Zwischenahn, a charming spa town known for its picturesque Zwischenahn Lake. We secured a spot at a well-maintained campground with a delightful surprise: a self-service beer fridge where guests simply grabbed a cold one and left payment in a jar—a heartwarming display of trust.

The Red Zone and The Final Splash

Our penultimate day was a race against the heat. We left later to avoid the worst of the sun, aiming for a final stop just over the Dutch border. The last stretch through Germany was a lesson in frustration: 30∘C heat combined with an endless succession of red lights—20 in the final 10 kilometers—trapped us in a sweltering "red zone."

By the time we reached De Rammelbeek in Lattrop-Breklenkamp, Netherlands, we were overheated and desperate for relief. The sight of the swimming lake right in front of our tents was all the invitation we needed. We immediately shed our gear and dove straight into the cool water—a simple, glorious pleasure that washed away the dust and heat of the road.

Our final evening was spent sipping cold drinks on the restaurant terrace, sharing stories of the journey with an older couple, and savoring the quiet of the Dutch countryside. The BMW R1200GSA had survived its failing suspension, the Arctic, and the sudden summer blast.

Tomorrow, the tents would be packed for the last time. These past weeks had been nothing short of incredible, filled with scenic routes, cultural discoveries, and unforgettable moments. The journey was ending, but the memories of Norway's cold beauty and the long road home would stay with us forever.