Days 10-14

As the 5 cyclists made swift progress through the winding paths between the two largest lakes in Europe (Russia is not Europe), mosquitoes became more and more of a problem. In Tivedens national park, where they stayed for a night in a disgusting mosquito ridden area (scam), they seemed to be inching along, having travelled 70km in reality but only 25 to 30 as the crow flies. How they wished to be crows. But still they pressed on. Through kilomètres of energy-sapping gravelled dirt tracks they endured, to come at last with a cheer of “macadam!” onto the silky smooth surface that is incomparably delicious when cycling.

After that, the group of mad cyclists pedalled on to more mosquitos, but this time it went faster. Past Askersund in a day and still further to a wild camp where silly sasch, a member of the group, developed a powerful new suit to combat the blood sucking insects from hell- the Hazmos suit (Or hazardous mosquitos)

We They then cycled into Katrineholm and spent the night in a campsite there after a short day of cycling.

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They then took the train to Nyköping via Norrköping (Elliot remarking that the train did go to Stockholm), and cycled 13km up to a campsite, where they met the first mean peeps in the Sweden, (that’s what workin at Saab does), but their meanness was compensated by the kindness of some other swedes who swedely offered a tent in their garden. But we had already called Vicki in Stockholm because parents were tired (and there was a void) and we took the train to stockholm and stayed with Vicki for a total of 52km that day,

I forgot to mention one incident – the time when I generously offered, without asking, to refill all the family’s bottles for the day (apart from Sascha ‘s as he was too far away) and I therefore replenished them with wonderful watery water from the purest place and left them on the counter as I sought to brush my teeth, hygienic as I am. Yet, these actions were remis en question soon thereafter, or 10 kilometres after. No gratefulness, or any such thing! How appaling! Ok, yes, yes, I had forgotten to restitute the bottles to the bikes, but nevertheless! At first it was decided in democratic demeanor that I was to correct this error of Providence by cycling  extra 20 kilometres to retrieve the bottles.

But, as I emptied my panier and my heart, a cry came from behind. And turning, I observed my mother, often referred to as Sabrina the Negotiator, driving off in the passenger seat of a Volvo (the last word is synonymous with “car” in Sweden). I was agape and relief washed over me quick. Agape because thus was not the first, mais bien, the second time I had seen mama clamber into a strangers car through pure negotiation to make life easier for us. For the 20min I waited I was absorbed in other things, but when she returned with the kindly old man, and the beloved bottles, I was thankful. The man (lived near a church) and was a keen kind cyclists “like” ourselves. He advised the dictators parents on the optimal route to take to avoid to the marvellous magnanimous magnificent macadam as per their wishes (they don’t know what’s good for them). Then, bidding them farewell and thanks, we made our way, not a tear leaving our eyes, yes- we made our way back to the road, to the struggle for survival, past the lakes.

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