[ blog » 2022 » 07_Tour_Norway ]d23: Fusa to Odda ( by Philipp Gesang, location: A Niche Pitch at the Odda Campsite)

Quand elle est arrivee l'aube etait une epave

Around 7 h in the morning I woke up from the sound of raindrops hitting the tent wall like a drumstick a snare drum. Hastily I salvaged what I could from the laundry I had hung up to dry. Great, this was going to be one of those days again. Despite the weather god's percussionist solo I actually fell asleep again, trying to solve the rain problem by sitting it out.

That strategy wasn't really effective though, as the rain just kept going until the afternoon. Meh. At least I got a full night's worth of sleep out of it. The legs were noticably fresher than they were the day before. Which made a difference immediately on the climb out of Fusa, one of the tougher ascents of the day.

This being a Sunday I had stocked up on food yesterday which I was lugging around all day over those countless hills. What I lacked was snacks for during the ride. Apples and bananas would only get me so far, but I was kinda banking on the fact that there were a number of gas stations along the route where I hoped to get some coffee and cheap carbs even on a Sunday. Big mistake as it turned out, these gas stations were invariably of the self-service variety without a shop.

By the time I reached the ferry to Jondal I was famished. My timing was way off for that ferry so I got some junk food from the little booth next to the waiting area and then some more aboard the ferry, both at a significant margin but that seemed fair if it would keep me from hitting the wall.


After all the paranoia concerning food supply I looked like a complete fool after getting off the ferry at Jondal where in close proximity of the pier I found not just one but two supermarkets that open on Sundays too. Splendid. At that point I had lugged around the canned mackerel and potato salad for over a hundred kilometers already, only to realize I could have bought all that stuff here. So much for being prepared.

Hardanger. Hard anger. Say what you will about those Norsemen, they did no how to name a fjord! The hard part became painfully accurate at the town of Herand which is the base of a 300 m climb at excruciatingly steep gradients. Near the town I passed two French tourers from Paris on their way to Oslo, the only bicycle travellers I encountered today.

Apart from this one climb that road on the south coast of the fjord was a treat to ride. Few cars, no headwind, it had even stopped raining for an hour or so! Easily the best part of the day.


According to my itinerary, Odda was the destination of today. Since I slept in and this was going to be a hilly day again I wasn't confident I was going to make it in time to the campsite there until I reached that bend in the road where Hardangerfjorden branches off to the south into Sorfjorden.

Considering its proximity to the Folgefonna national park I didn't expect Odda to be an industrial town. The lower slopes of the valley and islands in the fjord near the city are covered in industrial structures that made up the Odda smelteverk, an enormous fertilizer production plant.

Outside the Odda campsite there was a sign declaring the site full which caused a brief panic moment. Lucky for me the receptionist found me a pitch, a rather neat one on an elevated corner shielded from the wind. One of the priceyer campsites I've been to, this one knows to address the needs of hikers; it boasts a heated drying room for laundry and a contraption for drying shoes, kind of like an inverted refrigerator. Amazing.


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