Cycling through Norway’s vast nature, dramatic mountains, and remote villages might sound like a dream — but for some people the idea of a young woman doing it alone raises eyebrows. Is it safe? Is it lonely? Is it going to rain a lot! These are the questions I faced before setting off on my solo bikepacking journey across one of Europe’s wildest and most beautiful countries. In this article, I’ll take you inside my 10-day ride — the highs, the challenges, and everything in between — and hopefully offer some real insight (and inspiration) for other women thinking about going it alone with their bike.

Text and photos by Angela Bonaccorso, an Italian-born creative based in Barcelona, Spain – Part 1 of 2 blogs

Before setting off on this trip, I had more than a few concerns weighing on my mind. First, the weather — August in Norway is known for being wet, and the thought of cycling for days in wet conditions wasn’t exactly appealing. Then there was the cost; Norway is famously one of the most expensive countries in Europe, and I wasn’t sure how far her budget would stretch. Getting there posed its own challenge: I would need to fly, something I disliked both personally and for ecological reasons. But perhaps the biggest hurdle was my own state of mind. I was going through a difficult period, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt, and I hadn’t travelled solo in two years. My mind was crowded with anxiety — yet something deeper was pushing me to go.

Undecided until the very last minute, I forced myself to put aside guilt and worries and gave myself a gift: the chance to discover a place that combines everything I love most—wild nature, lakes, fjords, mountains, and breathtaking landscapes. I needed this journey, and I needed to experience it alone to reconnect with myself.

Preparing for the trip: choosing the route

After years of travel, I’ve become an expert in prepping my bike and figuring out what to pack. But route planning is always a new adventure. For reasons of cost, time, and logistics, I decided to start and end my trip in Oslo. And I must say, this area has a lot to offer—there’s nothing to envy in the northern part of the country.

The Bike

I set off with my titanium gravel bike, equipped with classic 10L Crosso rear panniers, two 5L Tailfin fork bags, and my beloved MSR two-person tent. Knowing I’d likely face rain, I brought waterproof jacket and pants, as well as all the gear I’d need for near-freezing mountain temperatures: an insulated sleeping pad and a quilt with a comfort rating of 2°C.

The Departure

To transport my bike by plane, I used a standard cardboard bike box you can usually get for free at bike shops—and easily get rid of upon arrival! From Barcelona, I took the train to the airport. I folded the box in thirds and dismantled the bike directly at the terminal.

Important tip: always check the weight limit for bike boxes with your airline. With Norwegian Airlines, the limit is 23 kg, and my box was heavier. I had to open it back up, remove the panniers, and repackage everything. Luckily, I had arrived early!

Finally in Norway!

I land at Sandefjord Airport, about 100 km south of Oslo, and my adventure begins. It’s been two years since my last solo bike trip, and it’s the first time I’ve ever traveled this far north. No euros here, I don’t speak a word of Norwegian, the sky is overcast, and my heart is still aching from a recent breakup. I feel more alone than ever. Why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I just choose easier things? I reassemble the bike, fasten the panniers—and the hook that secures them to the rack snaps. Do obstacles break us, or make us stronger? Great start, I think. I realize I can replace the hook with a keyring loop. It seems to work. I’m ready to go! 

Day 1 – From Sandefjord Airport to Hvarnes | 41 km – 598 m elevation gain

Normally I don’t like having fixed stages, but this time I have a clear goal for the first four days: cover around 320 km to reach Finse, along the famous Rallarvegen. A fellow bike traveler left me a booking at a mountain hut there. I estimate about 80 km per day—a doable goal, especially with the long summer days and sunsets around 10 PM. But because of the flight, I only start cycling at 4 PM. I aim to cover at least 60–70 km before finding a place to camp. In Norway, wild camping is allowed almost anywhere, except on private land or within 150 meters of a house. I want to use this opportunity to face my fear of solo wild camping.

I begin riding through rolling green hills, up and down, past the typical red wooden Norwegian houses. I try to rationalize and push away the anxious thoughts crowding my mind. “Angela, you’re in Norway, on your bike, in an amazing place—this is the trip you’ve dreamed about!” It’s true. It’s incredible. I’m lucky to be here. Everything will be fine.

But then… around 5 PM it starts to rain. “Just my luck!” I think. Sure, I was warned about Norway’s rainy climate—but soaking wet on the first day? I look around for shelter and find a small village with a school and a sports field. There’s a canopy, so I stop there. The timing couldn’t be better—soon after, a heavy downpour begins. I’m relieved, but unsure if I can pitch my tent there—it’s a public school area, not far from a few houses. I want to ask someone, but there’s no one around. So I turn to my friends for advice.“Come on, you’re in Norway—it’s safe! Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” I pitch the tent and go to sleep. Day one: done!

Day 2 – Hvarnes to Numedal Kro & Camping | 117 km – 1,484 m elevation gain

Turns out, the school is open in August. By 7 or 8 AM, parents are already dropping off their kids. I feel a bit exposed, worried someone might question why I camped there—but instead, people just smile and greet me as if I belonged. It’s oddly comforting. Time to get going. I’ve got ground to cover after yesterday’s late start, and I’m already behind schedule. No room for hesitation.

As I ride, the landscape begins to open up. Lakes shimmer in the morning light, rivers wind quietly through fields. The sun is out, finally, and it looks like it’ll stick around until evening. Tomorrow, though, rain is back on the forecast. Not the best setup for testing my fear of wild camping—but I don’t have much choice. Campsites are nowhere to be found, and I’m starting to feel the fatigue creep in.

By late afternoon, I come across a restaurant with a small camping area right next to a river. It’s not exactly picture-perfect, but for €3—and with a camper van parked nearby—it feels like a good enough place to rest. I pitch the tent, and the sky slowly turns pink. It’s my first Norwegian sunset—and as a sunset lover, seeing the sky blush in soft hues after such a long day stirs something deep in me. It’s a quiet, moving moment that makes everything feel worth it.

Day two winds down with a quiet sense of relief.

Day 3 – Numedal Kro & Camping to Fauskodammen | 66 km – 1,243 m elevation gain 

I wake up to the sound of rain… It had to happen sooner or later. Still, I was hoping to at least pack everything up while it was dry. Boil some water for tea, make breakfast, and get dressed. Rain gear is essential today—this weather is sticking around for the entire day. One of the worries I had before the trip, as I mentioned, was cycling in the rain. But instead of getting frustrated, I choose to embrace it. After all, it’s part of the adventure. I’m convinced this journey will make me stronger.

It’s summer, technically, but with this weather, it feels more like autumn. I stop at a supermarket for a second breakfast and to warm up a bit. And finally, I meet my first fellow bike travelers! Two couples. We exchange stories about our routes, though their trip sounds much longer and more ambitious than mine. I wonder if I’ll run into them again over the next few days. Even though I’m happy to have shared a few words, I can’t shake off the quiet sense of loneliness wrapping around me.

Back on the bike. The scenery has something hauntingly beautiful about it. Mountain ridges and spruce trees blur into the low-hanging clouds, like the landscapes I had just started painting in watercolor. Then, I spot my first grass roofs! I need to push on today, but the non-stop rain is starting to wear me down mentally.

The forecast says it should stop soon, so I start looking for a place to sleep—and maybe cut the route a little. On Komoot, I find a possible camping area in a natural park, after a ten-kilometer climb and a gravel road. Not exactly thrilling. I’m worried it might start pouring again and I’ll be stuck in some remote, muddy spot. But I have no other option, and I try to stay optimistic.

I begin the climb—and of course, the rain picks up again. Damn. I take shelter at a bus stop, soaked and discouraged. I wait for nearly an hour as my thoughts spiral. But like I said, there’s no other way. When the rain eases up a little, I get back on the saddle.

Eventually, I reach the gravel road. I have no idea what’s waiting for me—but then, the sun comes out. After two days of clouds and rain, it feels like stepping into a fairytale.

I finally arrive at this camping area. And it’s beautiful—far beyond what I expected. A small stream runs through it, with little ponds nearby, and there’s a wooden shelter where I can pitch my tent. There’s even a fire pit. It feels like a scene from a movie. This is the Norway I had been dreaming of.

Even in this magical place, my anxious mind kicks in—am I really safe spending the night here alone? A few people pass by. Two women approach, and I ask if it’s okay to camp here.

“Are you alone? Don’t worry, this is a peaceful spot.”

We chat for a while. I’m curious—I want to understand what it’s like to live in this part of Europe, where summers are heaven and winters are dark and freezing.

“Yes, winters are tough, but Norway is so beautiful—how could we ever leave? Why don’t you light a fire?” Well… I don’t even know where to start. The wood is all wet, and the last thing I want is to accidentally burn down a forest. They help me gather some dry bark from a metal box, and suddenly, it feels possible.

Yes, I must be dreaming—or maybe I really am in a movie. I want to soak it all in. I take out my watercolors and start painting. It won’t be the best sketch I’ve ever done, but as a friend once told me, I’ll remember this one.

Day 4 – Fauskodammen – Geilo | 52 km – 960 m of elevation + Geilo – Finse Hytta by train

Tonight, I absolutely have to reach the hut, which means I need to cover 100 km. I wake up early, bid farewell to this enchanted place, and start cycling. It’s freezing cold. I step into a small mini market to have breakfast and stock up on food. Every supermarket here has a small area with tables and chairs, and often a thermos with coffee or hot water for tea. This is where I usually stop to eat and charge my devices.

The weather doesn’t look promising, and the fatigue is starting to set in. But I know that tonight I’ll finally have a roof over my head and a warm shower waiting for me. And, most importantly, a Norwegian dinner! Moreover, today I begin riding one of the highlights of this trip: the Rallarvegen. This road is considered by many to be the most beautiful one ever ridden.

The problem is that the weather is visibly getting worse: it starts raining again, and there’s a very strong wind. So, I arrive in Geilo and, reluctantly, decide to take a train. I watch this paradise unfold outside the window: mountains, waterfalls, lakes, rain, sunshine, and then rain again.

I arrive at Finse Hytta, and it’s practically winter. The hut is full of hikers, many of whom arrive cold and drenched. This helps convince me that taking the train was the right decision. 🙂

At dinner, there are large shared tables. After four days of almost complete silence, it feels strange to be surrounded by so many people and have conversations. I meet a Canadian couple who live in Oslo and are here for a weekend getaway. Then a family with three kids, also here for an active vacation with their bikes. And finally, Andrea and Mihol, a German couple of cycle tourists. They cycled the first part of the route and tell me how beautiful it is, but also quite challenging due to the adverse weather conditions. They’re undecided about whether to continue by train the next day. We agree to possibly set off together.

Day 5 – Rallarvegen (Finse Hytta – Aurlandsvangen) | 63 km – 490 m of elevation gain 

We’re off!! The weather is truly epic. A strong, cold wind is blowing, and it’s raining. But this time, I’m not alone—I’m with Andrea and Mihol. They’re really nice, a super close couple, around 55 years old. They’ve been together forever, doing active holidays with cycling and trekking. They have two children, and when they were little, they traveled together by bike. They’re a huge inspiration to me.

The landscape before us is nothing less than breathtaking. Despite the harsh conditions, I feel as though I’ve stepped into a dream once again. Crystal-clear lakes shimmer against the backdrop of towering mountains, massive glaciers loom in the distance, and waterfalls cascade with thunderous power. Snow still lingers in the highlands, adding a mystical touch to the already surreal scenery. This road is a wonder, a true marvel of nature that unfolds in front of our eyes.

The landscape is a living, breathing entity, constantly shifting and evolving, leaving us in awe with every turn. Each new vista feels like something out of a fantasy.

Finally, we reach Flåm, and the magic of the journey momentarily shatters. It’s a tourist village, bustling with people from every corner of the globe. Souvenir shops line the streets, and the terminal for trains and tourist boats hums with activity. We pause for a moment to let our clothes dry under the brief embrace of sunlight, but the call of the road urges us onward. We press on to the next village, in search of supplies and a quiet place to camp, knowing that the adventure is far from over.

Continue the journey in Part 2 here

Discover the full route here