I flew from Newark to Oslo, simply because it was the cheapest ticket available over the Atlantic. Europe is only a few pages in the book, so I'll keep this section brief.
My plan was to cycle from Norway south into Europe, then through Spain and across the Straits of Gibraltar to Africa. I ended up touring Europe for awhile, even heading east as far as Poland before doubling back to Spain.
The fjords don't disappoint -- they're so blue it almost hurts your eyes. Kolofjorden overlooks the Kattegat Strait, and Lysefjord is a bit to the north of the ferry crossing to Denmark.
Ahh . . . Europe. Showers, clean water, real food. I still had my brand new Gortex, my functioning GT Timberline mountain bike . . . all the gear a cyclist needs.
By my fourth country, Denmark, the repairs began to pile up -- here, my chain snapped and I had to replace the link.
My budget was five dollars a day, so I camped in fields or small patches of woodland rather than spend money on hotels. Usually, I didn't even bother to set up my tent.
As a cyclist, I was fascinated by the way these bridges work in Holland. A boat would come down the canal and the bridgetender would frantically turn a crank to swing the bridge open. Then he would jump on his bicycle and do a mad dash to the next bridge, crank that one open, and so on down the canal. That guy was probably in better shape than I was!
Once in a while I stayed at a hostel, like this one in Germany. One guy staying there with his kids pestered me constantly to demonstrate setting up my tent, so I became a preformer while his kids looked on. He even timed me! My Clip Flashlight tent never took me more than a minute or two from start to finish.
This is one last look at clean clothes and a clean-shaven cyclist before the harsh heat of the Sahara Desert . . . in August.

On to Africa