71°10′21″

“By 3pm I wasn't even halfway.”

The trip actually started the night before, holed up at The Dirty Habit near Maidstone to get a head start on the Eurotunnel queues. Left at 7:15am, picked up the UK sticker on the way, and still found the terminal rammed — it took hours to get on, and Calais arrived an hour late.

The sat nav routed through the Netherlands, a wrong exit clogged things up badly around Antwerp, and by 3pm the day still wasn't half done. A hard four-hour push clawed the time back — 45mpg and good progress — and Osnabrück finally arrived at 7pm. The hotel had no wifi and no phone signal, which made a proper sit-down dinner in the restaurant feel well earned.

“£15 rosé on the upper deck bar.”

Away at 5:45am for a good run at the ferries, and 3.5 hours in, already a long way down the road. The Germany–Denmark ferry was booked for 11am but the 10am sailing was caught instead, rolling off at 10:55 with two hours still to reach the Copenhagen ferry.

A stranger waved from the next lane on the motorway for no obvious reason. Hours passed sitting in the sun at the port, chatting with a van driver and a motorcyclist waiting for the same sailing. Then the cabin, a £15 rosé on the upper deck bar, dinner of veal, marrow and beer, and a catch-up on YouTube over painfully expensive wifi.

“Beautiful scenery all day.”

Up at 8am on the ferry nursing a rough hangover and not much sleep. Coffee on deck helped. Rolling off at 10:10, the sat nav was still scrambled from the crossing and sent things the wrong way before the phone took over — through the tunnels under Oslo and out onto the E6.

Easy driving for the most part, slower through the single-lane sections, but beautiful scenery the whole way, including a pass through Lillehammer and its famous ski jumps. Levanger turned out to be a nice, quiet little town — quiet enough that everywhere was shut on a Sunday night, so dinner ended up being Italian.

“Vintage Volvo's”

A great sleep set up a strong start — on the road by 7:30am and straight into a solid four-hour driving block, trading waves with a convoy of vintage Volvos out on their own road trip.

The Arctic Circle Centre appeared by early afternoon, marking the actual crossing at 295m elevation, 475km into the day. Lots of photos, and a reindeer burger in the café to mark the occasion. The night's cabin was less of a highlight — no proper curtains, bedlinen cost extra, and rain dripped through the roof all night.

“The view of the Lofoten Islands was spectacular.”

A rough night left things tired and short-tempered from the start — nearly ran off the road trying to open a chocolate milk, then wore the whole thing anyway. First job of the day was the ferry at Bognæs, and a wrong queue nearly missed the sailing entirely.

The view of the Lofoten Islands from the ferry deck made up for it — spectacular. Rolling off into the early afternoon, still not a third of the way through a huge day of winding roads through Narvik and its tunnels. A burger and chips fixed a hollow feeling near the end. Arctic Fjordcamp turned out to be a shared cabin — a lovely Japanese couple and three guys on motorbikes made good company, though a loud snorer through the wall made for another short night.

“The most unbelievable roads I've ever seen.”

A fill-up in Alta set up the big push north. What followed were the most unbelievable roads of the whole trip — hundreds of kilometres of epic landscapes, tunnel after tunnel, the best driving roads imaginable. The final 45km into Nordkapp turned genuinely wild: extreme wind, hard to believe the cyclists out there were making it through.

Reaching the top was incredible — beautiful, wild, everything hoped for. Photos, video, a coffee and cinnamon bun in the café, and the obligatory stop in the gift shop. The road back down to Skaidi swooped just as impressively, with a pause to let reindeer cross and another for a bowl of Scandi fish soup with dill. The night's log cabin, surrounded by taxidermy, called for a small glass of wine to celebrate.

Checked out of the log cabin and back through Alta, with a bit of trouble tracking down the bakery selling the local kveltebole bread. From there, onto the road to Finland through duller countryside, crossing the border and clearing customs, then long straight roads through what felt like millions of trees. Reindeer wandering onto the road kept every mile tense.

About 10km before the end of the day, a stop to help after a van had struck a reindeer — it was badly hurt, trapped under a crash barrier, and people at the scene were searching for a knife to end its suffering. There was nothing to be done to help, so it meant wishing them well and carrying on, a genuinely hard moment on an otherwise good day. The Kolari hotel had a payment system glitch to sort out on arrival, and a restaurant menu leaning heavily on reindeer wasn't the easiest thing to face afterwards.

“Crossed the Arctic Circle again.”

The countryside turned far more interesting once the lakes region arrived, and crossing the Arctic Circle again brought the promise of shorter driving days ahead. Easy-moving motorways carried things smoothly into Oulu.

The area around the city was lovely — lots of water and parkland. A walk into town brought a big iced mocha and a bun, sat outside listening to people talking, followed by a stroll out to the waterpark where kids were tearing around on huge inflatables. Being back in a big hotel felt like a treat — cocktails in the bar planning the next day, then a light dinner.

“The world's northernmost Parkrun.”

The day started with the world's northernmost Parkrun — lovely people, plenty of English speakers, and organisers who couldn't have been more welcoming. Only 32 runners, but 14 bridges on the course. Setting off too fast after days sitting in a car took its toll, but hanging on paid off with a finish of 18th — possibly a personal best placing.

After a shower, the drive to Umeå began with an annoying 95km of backtracking built into the route, then easy roads the rest of the way — a hotdog, pastry and milkshake at lunch, then almost uninterrupted driving to the end. The night's stop was Hotel 1861 in Umeå, a genuinely converted former prison and very cool for it. A walk along the waterfront into town turned up a ramen bar for dinner, absolutely delicious, followed by a FaceTime home that made it sound like things there had been more of an ordeal than the trip itself.

“Motorways, motorways and motorways.”

The converted prison hotel left a strong impression — a place worth staying at again. A wrong turn into a random town produced an unexpected sight: a huge ski jump looming over a roundabout.

Otherwise this was a boring day of fast, dull Swedish motorways — motorways, motorways, and more motorways. There could have been more stops along the way, but pushing straight through felt like the better plan. The Scandic hotel in Uppsala was nice, if sprawling, and the staff pointed toward another excellent sushi restaurant. Wine, then bed.

No photos survive from this one — just motorway, motorway, motorway.

“Sat on deck and had a couple of beers.”

Away at 8am with no real sense of how long the drive would take. A strong 4–5 hour block in one go made good progress, with a stop at a picnic lay-by to kill a bit of time before the ferry. The drive into Oslo was hard work but manageable, and check-in went smoothly enough to land right at the front of the queue.

The evening was spent on deck with a couple of beers, watching a beach full of sunbathers from the ship as it pulled away. A really nice Danish couple who'd been staying in a cabin turned out to have both done military service and were now training to be teachers — genuinely good company for the crossing.

“Wished I'd taken my swimmers.”

A coffee for breakfast and first off the ferry, spotting the same nice couple again on the way down to the car deck. Copenhagen passed quickly and the motorways opened up easily from there, with the Denmark–Germany ferry connection running right on schedule.

A couple of fast German drivers tucked in for a stretch, making the usual speed differences hard to judge. It was a long day's driving into Münster, rewarded by a beautiful spa hotel with huge windows — the only regret was not packing swimwear. The last bottle of wine got finished off, and the Eurotunnel got booked for around 5pm the next day.

“Home by about 7pm.”

Back onto the German motorways for the final push, glad to cross into the Netherlands for a change of scenery. It was a long, fairly boring stretch broken up by the odd coffee stop. Antwerp lived up to its reputation again — difficult roads, huge jams, and a city firmly filed under "avoid next time."

The heat picked up heading south, and a long drag along the northern French coast led to the Eurotunnel, where hours of delays waited. A spell in the terminal ended with a faster-than-expected call through border control, then UK roads and UK speeds, the Dartford Crossing jammed exactly as predicted. Home by about 7pm, one last tank filled from the jerry can, and a car that had well and truly earned a proper clean the next day.