Day 5: Lapland

Day 5 (9.6.16): Lulea - Narvik

It is still raining and storming the next day. We are still convinced that it can only get better. If we had known what awaited us, we would have stayed in bed.

Chapter 1: The ONE screw

I check the screw. It doesn't hold, apparently broken by the forces of the numerous gusts. In addition, a fatigue fracture has now formed in the aluminum crossbar of the A-pillar. It is clear that we will not reach Narvik this way. Mood: subdued. We search for a workshop in Lulea. We also consult the internet, no chance. Ikea, Mediamarkt, but no workshop. Neither trucks, nor cars or tractors seem to break down here. Only Land Rover.

We drive onto the highway, hoping to find a workshop along the way. The gusts mercilessly tear at the roof, the wind howls. I suffer with the Defender every time. He is not pleased, you can tell. In the meantime, I only drive 70 km/h, we are completely tense.

Slowly but surely, the mood is getting worse. That's when Andreas intuition comes to the rescue. Get out of here, she says. I don't disagree. Across the bridge to a gas station and behold: Verkstad is written in weathered letters on an old building. It would be suitable as a backdrop in a zombie movie and looks closed. Under normal circumstances, probably not the first choice to seek help. The owner is friendly, but signals little technical understanding of our problem. Sweden is still Switzerland, things are replaced, not repaired. You can only improvise in Russia and Africa.

English is not his strong suit either. But I am allowed to use his tools. The broken screw is quickly removed, but there is no replacement to be found in the entire workshop. The gas station only has M screws with nuts, which doesn't help. I ask the owner if there are any screws to buy nearby. He looks at the pitiful broken screw in my hand, mutters "how much" and after my answer "one" he disappears wordlessly for minutes into the storeroom. He comes back with a screw that fits in diameter and shape, I could hug the grumpy guy, but I don't. We compensate for the extra length of the screw with a good number of washers from his assortment. It holds. The Defender is saved. As a thanks for his tools, I press a bottle of Piedmontese wine into the black oily fingers of the workshop owner. He is so delighted with our friendliness (or the alcohol?) that he assures us that we are always welcome. That's how it goes.

Chapter 2: The Gas Station Misery

The good mood is back, but the storm is increasingly annoying. It is a horror to rock with the Defender in these gusts. An older local at the gas station has assured Andrea that he has never experienced anything like this at this time of year. There are hundreds of broken and uprooted trees along the route. No one is going voluntarily anymore. The Defender, despite its 3 tons, is being tossed back and forth. In addition, there are the ruts that are challenging with our profile even under good conditions. The wind keeps pushing us from rut to rut, followed by violent shaking of the body.

Again, let others overtake, overtake, let others overtake, overtake. Over and over again. Unbelievable, there are drivers who are even slower than us.

Finally, a gas station, because in Lapland, the number of petrol stations is becoming increasingly scarce. I decide two things: frequent refuelling and keeping the cans on the roof empty. I don't want to burden the roof any further and consider it excessive to drive in Sahara mode. A mistake, as it turns out.

The gas station does not accept any of our cards. Apparently, the storm has damaged the connection to the server. Thanks to ample reserves and an auxiliary tank, we are not worried.

The next gas station, a lonely pump in the middle of nowhere, is 45 km away. Refuelling is also not possible here. Sweating.

The next gas station after 55 km. Refuelling not possible. Fear.

The next gas station according to the navigation: 78 km. After that, 70 km to the next option. Slight panic. Now we are going through scenarios in our heads. What if the next gas station doesn't work either? Force an indigenous person off the road and beg? Suck out an abandoned excavator? Wait at the gas station for locals or others in desperate need of petrol? Camp out and wait out the storm? What if the food runs out? Bite Andrea? Will she defend herself? 30 km left. I curse the empty cans on the roof. Sahara mode. It would have been so easy. We still have 500 km through no man's land. Just forests. Endless. 20 km left. By now, I am focusing more on the fuel gauge than on the road. Andrea is bending over more and more frequently with a worried look at the fuel gauge. I don't care about the gusts anymore. 10 km. Hope, we will definitely reach the gas station. When the little village gets closer, joy arises, the traffic becomes denser, it really seems to be inhabited, not an abandoned lonely gas station on an improvised gravel site.

The card in the slot, first prayer, enter the code, second prayer, Swedish gibberish on the display, "ladda dem till kolumn 2", the diesel flows, I could drink it out of joy.

In the adjacent shop, we buy provisions for good mood. We are in a great mood again.

The remaining kilometers to Narvik are stress-free. The wind calms down with every kilometer, but freezing rain sets in. We don't care. We are used to worse by now. Andrea is looking at the scenery again, planning our stay in Narvik, providing me with water and sugar. Shortly before the border to Norway, the landscape becomes more and more exciting, the forests are ending, the scenery is more reminiscent of the Gotthard Pass. When the flag of Narvik appears on the navigation, we become euphoric. A brief but loud rumbling, once again a stop.

Analysis. The front of the Defender has formed a layer of ice. A plate of ice has come loose from the roof, ridiculous, if it's not something else. Stuck, off to Narvik.

The hotel is quickly found. A good restaurant as well (Bella Italia, highly recommended). We check out the local specialties, pizza, beer, vanilla ice cream, and whiskey. Delicious, Norway is great. Back at the hotel, we close the curtains, fall asleep, good night.