I’ve slogged through the first stretch of winter, but another half remains. Let’s go!

After the deep darkness of December, the sun slowly turns back. The days become longer, a couple of minutes more each day, hinting of warm and smooth rides to come. The promise of summer is there, just out of reach.

But winter isn’t done yet, and neither am I.

There’s still plenty of time for more icy adventures. Here’s what the second half of winter had in store.

Text: Gjermund Gustavsen,
Photos: Gjermund Gustavsen, Hans Flensted-Jensen & Jørn Haanæs

The Wild Side of Vesterålen

From our secluded island in the Vesterålen archipelago, we set out for a real adventure on the mainland. Well, it’s technically just a bigger island, but who cares about semantics on a day like this. The sun is shining, it feels like spring and we are without studs on our tires. But the moment we step off the taxi boat, we’re in for a surprise: yesterday’s clear roads are now completely white.

“Vær no helvetes førrsekti” translates to “Be f*cking careful”, and it bears a certain weight when it’s the words of our boat captain, a local paraglider that I’ve also seen skiing down the mountains in the most off-piste of ways. We ease into it, taking the first stretch cautiously. The descent stirs a few dormant butterflies, but soon we settle in. The grip is actually decent.

What follows is a breathtaking ride through two fjords, where one insane peak after the other presents itself, and the water below mirrors them perfectly.

After some well-earned wheat buns at the gas station in Myre, we push on through a mountain pass toward a long-held dream of mine: the road to Nyksund. A raw and exposed strip of gravel, wedged between alpine cliffs and the vast ocean.

With the sun high and the views cranked to maximum, the ride is pure bliss. And just when we think it can’t get any better, we roll into the picturesque village of Nyksund to find an open restaurant, serving us a fresh meal of skrei—local cod that has just returned from its long swim north.

The Earliest of Mornings with Oslo Dawn Patrol

While winter cycling tend to be a lonely pursuit, Oslo Dawn Patrol stands out as a notable exception. Twice a week, year-round, a small but dedicated group gathers to ride in the earliest of mornings. Tuesdays and Thursdays, no matter the season, at a brutal 05:40 start.

On a good summer day, these rides draw 100–200 cyclists. In wintertime though, only a handful remain. I take the first group, and have a quiet ride with four others, only interrupted by the studded tires making their characteristic sound towards the ground.

If you can pry yourself out of bed in the middle of the night, layer up, and roll into the cold, the rewards are worth it. An hour and a half on the bike is doable, but still feels like an expedition in retrospect, and the post-ride coffee tastes even better.

My mom always say that exercising in the morning gives you a mental yellow jersey for the rest of the day, and she’s never been more right than on the days of ODP.

Last, but Not Least: Ice!

By late February, I figured I’d checked off most of what winter cycling had to offer. Then came the invitation to ride on the frozen fjord.

A warm spell had been working on the ice, and this was likely the last day it would be rideable. A thin layer of water pooled on top of the surface, and the fog hung thick over the landscape, giving a truly special vibe to the scene. We started by skipping over some loose ice chunks near the shore before rolling out onto the vast, open expanse of frozen sea.

This was something else indeed. The weightless glide over the ice felt like floating, caught in the feeling between crap-your-pants terror and euphoria.

As sketchy as it looks, we weren’t reckless. Two of us were on skates in front, testing the ice with poles as we moved. We followed each other’s lines when possible and wore ice spikes around our necks—a last resort should we break through. But the most important rule? Never go alone.

Tip: Riding on ice is possible in the Oslo fjord after periods of cold temperature. They typically occur in January. Safety is of utmost importance though: stick to people with experience, avoid unnecessary risks, and never get too cocky.

Final words

Hardly anyone thinks of Norway as a winter cycling destination, but maybe they should?

All of this may seem a bit on the extreme side, but trust me: Every ride I’ve written about is possible for moderately experienced riders, at least if you team up with someone local. Put on studs, layer up, pace yourself, and keep the rides a little shorter than usual.

The reward? A season of adventure, a deep sense of accomplishment, and let’s be honest—a few brag-worthy stories for the ‘gram. 

Follow me on Instagram @gjermundg for more of my travels.