On the evening of our trip to the North Cape, we drove down to Honningsvåg, the northernmost village in Norway. A few houses, a fishing port, and two or three hotels. We parked our bikes in front of a restaurant because we were celebrating that evening. We pushed open the door, a little self-conscious about our smell and appearance.
It's been weeks since we've been inside a real restaurant to sit down at a table. We've only been going to the heated entrances of supermarkets.
But tonight, we don't care. We've reached the North. We're cold, hungry, and we need it.
Outside, winter doesn't take a break. We set off again at night on our bikes, our stomachs full and our hearts a little lighter.
And very quickly, reality catches up with us: the supermarkets close for the Easter weekend, and we have almost nothing left to eat. This means no shopping for two days because Norwegians take public holidays very seriously.
We rummage through our saddlebags. There's a can of dehydrated soup at the bottom, two cans of food, a few cereal bars, and maybe some chocolate. We'll have to improvise.
