Published in: Rides

Last summer, along a journey to Norway’s North Cape on a Ducati Scrambler Desert Sled, I encountered the most beautiful moments of my life, while being faced with some of the biggest physical and mental challenges. But this is what adventure motorcycling is all about—feeling alive, pushing boundaries, and creating memories that will invoke goosebumps when thinking about them in years to come.

It was an atypical early August day for Switzerland; the weather was cold and the sky was pouring rain. My hopes weren’t high, considering my destination was more than 2,000 miles north. The fact that I’d never been on a long trip with my Ducati Scrambler Desert Sled, which wasn’t exactly designed for long hauls, didn’t help matters. We all know that initial urge to leave after much planning and anticipation of an adventure, yet when it comes close to departure time—cold feet. Fortunately, I’d planned the adventure with a good friend, Nico, who was waiting for me at the German border. And so, our unforgettable journey began.

The plan was to ride through Germany via the Autobahn, rush through Denmark by taking the impressive 5.5-mile-long Öresund Bridge that connects it with Sweden, and then ride on the TET (Trans Euro Trail) mostly offroad through Sweden until we eventually reached the most northern drivable point of Europe, Norway’s North Cape. I could write a book about the entire journey, its insights, and moments, but in this story the focus is on the most important part of my trip, riding through Sweden, into Norway, and eventually, reaching our magical destination.

After spending two days riding the Autobahn to burn off some miles, we saw the first glimpse of Sweden from the Öresund Bridge. Glancing down at the workhorse Scrambler I couldn’t help but think this is what an adventure feels like!

Much of the appeal of our chosen route, especially around Sweden and Norway, was the wild camping where you’re allowed to camp pretty much wherever you want as long as it’s not someone’s private property. We arrived in that sacred wild camping land (where the sun never fully sets during the summer that far north) rather late in the evening, but could not find a good spot accessible by the bikes with enough space for two tents. Accepting that we were not the hardcore Bear Grylls types, we changed plans and eventually found an affordable Airbnb. It’s surprising how inexpensively an overnight Airbnb stay is in these countries. As well, Scandinavia also has many campground huts situated everywhere in case of an emergency or bad weather.

After a few days of some of the best off-roading we’d ever done on forest trails, we were becoming concerned that our 21-day timeframe wouldn’t be enough to reach the destination and return to Switzerland. So, we decided shave some time by getting get back on the paved roads in order to cover the maximum miles per day possible.

Due to the sheer vastness, emptiness, and monotony of the Swedish landscape, those days had the same feel. The route could be best described as one long main street heading north, dead straight with only the occasional slight curves. One might consider that to be the most boring way to ride a motorcycle, but it wasn’t because we were surrounded by spruces, pines, and birches, as far as the eye could see. That made it quite relaxing, a time to just be in the moment, absorbing every detail, or having the space to ponder life. As we continued north, we encountered less people and increasing numbers of furry creatures, mostly reindeer who didn’t seem to mind our loud machines, and some majestic elks.

Approaching the northern-most drivable point of Europe, we crossed the Arctic Circle at Jokkmokk, Sweden. It felt good for our adventurous spirits as the landscape was becoming more rugged by the mile and the omnipresent tall firs shrank until eventually, at our gateway to Norway, only bushes and cold stone remained. When we eventually stopped at Kiruna, Sweden, there was still more than 550 miles, many rustic tunnels, reindeer, and twisty fjord curves between us and the North Cape. The following morning, as we prepared our bikes while icy wind and rain knocked us around, we could only guess what was in store for us.

About an hour later, we crossed the border into Norway, but this time heading east as a range of massive mountains prevented any other route to the breathtaking fjords. Along the way we passed more mossy stones and bleak bushes until the spectacular first sight of the North Sea at Narvik, Norway. However, the weather forecast around North Cape was not good, and there was little shelter available. Around 2:00 p.m. we pulled into Skibotn, Norway for a break—still 11 hours from our destination. As the forecast for the next day was even worse and there was only one chance for accommodations near the North Cape remaining, which happened to only be available that day, the schedule was tight. To be honest, we were so worn out by then that we were close to aborting the mission, but we couldn’t just turn around when we were that close.

At some point, I turned to Nico and said, “Mate, we’ve just got to do it!” From there, the following 11 hours were the best, most adventurous and exhausting of my life. We were pumped with adrenaline and determined to reach our goal. The roads were rugged and twisty as they wound along the fjord’s sharp edges as we rode into the not-quite-setting sun, its warm reddish glare glancing off the ocean. Eventually we reached the North Cape Tunnel, looking like it had been dug by dwarves centuries ago. The tunnel carried us more than four miles under the Barents Sea.

Then, up ahead, we finally saw the sign—North Cape! We had arrived at the most beautiful environment I’d ever seen! My watch read 1:00 a.m. as we shut off our bikes’ engines. While we felt near-spent as we dismounted, I hugged my travel buddy, and from relief, pride, happiness, and exhaustion, I shed a tear. (Luckily, I still had the helmet on so nobody had to know.)

I would not have been able to do this without Nico and me checking on each other, making sure we were still in condition to ride, and motivating each other to push farther. I realized how strong a bond between two friends can get if an adventure is challenging enough, how deep a bond can grow not only with humans, but also Man and machine. Throughout this incredible journey, I was never prouder of my Ducati Scrambler, and I could not think of a better companion for that kind of trip.

We rode our motorcycles to the North Cape monument sitting on an enormous cliff. It felt like we were looking over the edge of the world—beyond the sharp and beat-up looking cliff, there was nothing. Nothing but a vast sea of cold water, shining in a burning red tint coming from the cloud-stroked sun hanging low on the horizon. It felt like a dream, knowing that every single inch of road, from my tiny comfortable home in Switzerland had been worth it. That’s where I realized that leaving, setting off into the unknown, especially on two wheels, is what makes us feel this rush of living in the moment, of feeling alive, and is worth every inconvenience and problem surmounted to get there. We stood, looking into that ridiculously gorgeous sunset. We had arrived. And so this story ends, with me, putting on a very tired but relieved smile, as Nico finally asked, “We should get some sleep, shouldn’t we?”

Franco Restelli is a passionate ADV motorcycle rider, who has had a heart for engines and gasoline since he was a boy. He studies economics in Switzerland and uses every free minute to hop on his two wheels, sometimes off to explore the backyard streets, sometimes to travel through half of Europe in one trip. Combined with his big love for photography, he is the happiest capturing dreamy moments containing bikes and otherworldly landscapes all around the world. Franco believes in the fact that owning a motorcycle and going for an adventurous ride is the best medicine for any inconvenience one has. If you want to keep up with Franco’s adventures, follow him on Instagram @Frankeethesledrider.

Read more …