Hum, hum, hum, for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne… It’s 4am on Thursday morning, I’d ridden 1150km, the sun was just breaking through the clouds, there was a gentle tailwind, riding solo humming along it turned into auld lang syne - no idea why, it’s one of those random events of the road. Bleep bleep. Garmin squawked at me “Warning: heavy traffic roads”. I’d been riding 90 minutes and was yet to see a vehicle, or a moose sadly, they were long gone back in the hills. This was happening. I tell a lie, I knew all was good 6 or 7 hours before, at Åmsele. Arriving at the last checkpoint at 7pm, I had 23 hours to cover the last 105km. That was doable, but why push right away into a midnight finish? There was a enticing cabin and bed - I shall sleep.

Four days earlier, the final kit choices for Midnight Sun Randonée were being made in the hotel room before checkout, final check the weather, final final check the weather. I seem to run a heavier setup than a lot of riders, it just adds up, but choices were made on the layers to take/leave, and the weather forecast for the next day Monday was looking increasingly moist. How much rain is 2.3mm? Finding weather data on the sweet spot between abstract icons for a vast area, and as unrelatably specific as 2.3mm of rain, is difficult. But one thing was for sure, it’d be 8-12º most of the way round, and we’d get wet on Monday. I left the hotel at 11am, right on the dot of last checkout, well only 12 hours to kill now :) Umeå on a Sunday morning is super super quiet, maybe Saturday night everyone had a hard evening on the schnapps. I found one cafe (just) open. That passed a couple of hours, and another 45minutes riding to Brännlands - the start location. All was quiet, but in ones and twos people began to arrive through the afternoon. I had a good chat with Terence, an Irish guy now living in Finland. And Mark, who I’d met the day before on the coffee ride, hollering from North Yorkshire. Special guy lunch was an amazing olive pasta salad, when the others had some kind of local pancakes. And with the group formed dinner was an anxious excitement affair - come on 23:03 (first start) get here quicker. Mr Piper arrived and prompted a reunion catchup - must be 18 months since seeing the fella - but dont use all the chat up, there’ll be a few hours to fill on the road!

Day 1 - Brännlands to Mo I Rana 580km

Ok let’s get going, second group, 23:08, boop boop, off into the Swedish twilight we set. Not quite north enough for strictly 24hr daylight, the dusk was more than enough to see by, and flashers were deployed but not entirely necessary. Our group of ~15 thinned as the first little rollers sorted us out, we ended up as a 4. Piper, Bart, Alex and myself. We worked well, catching a lot of the early group. First stop was Granö, a splash and dash, gob full of coffee, chocolate energy ball thing and roll on. We started as five, three of previous four, and two additional dutch guys, but soon picked up a few more in the wheels, maybe a dozen or so were flying towards Lycksele. The terrain suited it too, rolling at worst, silky smooth tarmac our average speed rose, rose dizzyingly above 30kmh. Make hay while the sun shines.

Lycksele, Hotell Lappland. Utterly fantastic, a 3:24am breakfast spread to ride for! We coordinated our group of five, and got going again. Same again. Although the legs decided there was a little much pace going on, ease slightly. The group seemed to be having the same thoughts although strong turns were still going round, maybe too long at nudging 10 minutes a go 🧐 Climbing a little more we found the draft had lesser effect and we found our own pace, but relatively similar still. The terrain of wall to wall trees began to lift, hillocks became hills to the left and right. Dampness on the road too, a rain shower had gone through recently, none coming from the sky but the roads so smooth the road spray soon was working its way in.

Control! Secret control at the high point of the stage - a cabin, but with welcome sandwiches and biscuits. If there’s a warm 10º and a chilly 10º, it was the latter. But the sun was out and roads once again dry.

The forecast had been loose on if the rain was due in at 8, or closer to late morning. Unfortunately it was 7:45 on the dot. And it hoofed it down. Piper and I pulled out of the group, it’s little fun with a face full of wheel spray in addition to the sky and road rain. Thankfully we weren’t far from the next control - Vilhelmina. What a disappointment after the first one. About the only thing suitable from their breakfast spread was bread and jam. Well that was munched, while applying a change in layers - leg warmers and the big boy overshoes, but we soon jumped back on the road, riding as three, Piper, Bart and me.

Once you’re wet, you’re wet right? Well I now know there’s wet, really wet, and Swedish wet. This was really freaking Swedish wet. Distinctly grim to be honest. After a couple of hours fighting my Garmin that wanted to change all the display settings on its screen every 2 minutes (I found the lock screen option later), not really being able to eat or drink well, still in a three, the call was made - “wood shed”! We sheltered in a wood shed for 15 minutes or so; ate, drank, swore at the weather, swore at the mosquitoes. The Swedish really wet rain kept falling. Did I say it was grim? We stopped at a little village Coop, it was grim too, a packet of rich tea style biscuits and a Red Bull were acquired, part munched in the doorway, and somehow it was still perspiring from the sky. We continued. The hills all around now, and our turn to ascend one, half way up, psst - Bart had a puncture. Quicker with two pairs of hands, I stopped to help, Piper rode on I think he was on a bit of an energy lull at the time and needed to keep rolling.

There’s a saying that there are years in which ten years of technical progress are made, and periods of ten years where one year of progress is made. I think this section was of the 10 for 1 variety, at least. We’d arrived at Vilhelmina at 8:30, 130km later arrived at 15:30 at Kittelfjäll (hittel-fell). And it was the best thing ever, roaring fire, soon to have steaming gloves and socks, warm spaghetti bolognese, focaccia. There was a strong pull to stay here forever.

We met Florian the ride organiser. So organised that he was also riding it himself! He joined us briefly setting back out, alas only to turn back shortly after due to not feeling well. Piper had gone 10 minutes or so before Bart and I, but still we stopped to take photos - the rain had momentarily lifted and the combination of the first snow topped mountains, pristine lakes was too good to miss. Terrain was different, beyond the trees now, alas more short testing ramps that kept coming. Riding together was chatting and camaraderie rather than drafting.

Rain lighter, that was a relief, but highlights in the mountains now were bell-necklaced sheep, and the first moose and reindeer! Oh and the Norwegian border of course. Two reindeer, big shabby fellas, none too happy with a couple of cyclists interrupting them they darted into the foliage. As did the pair of moose, a biggie and a littley were spotted briefly before they vanished. The sheep on the other hand wanted to run down the road ahead of us, making quite a racket with their sheep-bells. Oh and the border, not much more than a county sign on a little descent here. Did feel like we were getting somewhere though.

So Norway. Somehow so similar, and so very different. Immediately the road was back to what we’re used to in the UK, bumps, holes, etc. The middle line (where there was one) had changed from white to yellow. The most noticeable thing though was the angry water. I mean angry water, the waterfalls, and there were lots of them were raging. Really raging. Other than angry water, the quietness though, I’m sure we hadn't seen a car for several hours, we were three of just 50 or so cyclists meandering their way across the country interrupting the local wildlife. There were houses, at first I thought, ah summer houses, no wonder it’s quiet, but it’s literally mid summer, winter houses then? I imagine it to be really really harsh in the winter. Who knows.

We rejoined Piper at some point, before the reindeer I think. I hung back a bit, a lull of my own, I was chatted out for a bit, and gently lambasting a really quite heavy bike. We rounded a corner, descended a bit, and then we saw Hattfjelldal (het-fell-dahl) - what a sight as the valley opened up before us, a factory dominating the centre (paper mill I think) on the side of a runway (wiki lookup later: original German concrete runway from WW2). Well a runway in a previous life, stacks of trees at one end for the industry, and the cut timber smell really smacked us in the face.

And a shop! A decent shop too, chocolate m*lk, some bread product and some nuts were the order of the evening iirc. It was evening 21:00 when we were greeted (at the top of an unwelcome climb!) by the owner of the hotel and Shab. Apparently we were the first to arrive. That didnt seem right at the time, there were definitely people who left earlier controls earlier, but apparently they’d stopped. The owner of the hotel had so much energy, he oozed welcoming spirit, anything he could do for us was the least he could do. Soup and focaccia, probably some other stuff too was consumed with a wonderful view down on the airstrip and surrounding area. The weather was looking much more willing too. Bart was decisive, he was staying here, shower and sleep, no questions. I admired this. Piper and I had the optimistic plan of getting to Mo I Rana before resting, and it still seemed possible. I was low at the end of the last section, but alert enough and knowing stopping now would make an even harder day two. So the decision was to nap for 45 minutes and then get back on the road. I didn't introduce Shab - a wonderful lady who was supporting her husband, which it sounds like she’s done on these kinds of trips all around the world. She’d taken lots of photos at the coffee ride, and start and posted them to the Facebook group. We had a lovely chat here, and even moreso following the finish when a group got together to celebrate the final riders and have a beer in the bar.

And set back out that Monday night is exactly what we did. Maybe 23:00 and we set out for the 81km to Mo I Rana. Three hours right? Ha, no not even our optimistic minds thought any less than 4-5, pushing past the 500km mark since the start, this was going to be a couple of things, but on-pace was not one of them. We immediately climbed up to about 400m, and for the first time, 24 hours into the ride, started catching up from the past 18 months since Piper and I’d last ridden together. And that was bliss. The road undulated, but our minds weren't on that. The road had decent trenches and sections filled with compacted and rather not-compacted gravel, but our minds weren't on that. There was a mahoosive lake, running along that, and at one point seemingly across the middle of it, we did notice that. This was our midnight “sun” riding, the Garmins never faltered from daylight mode - although it was distinctly overcast and therefore dusky for the entirety.

We had a great descent, although much care was taken on the swooping curves and still wet roads. Suddenly at a church and junction, joining bigger roads. One of those, we joined the E6, notorious, we were glad to be joining it at something like 3am. But still the traffic, albeit not too much, wasn't particularly friendly, or maybe it was because we’d barely seen vehicles in 24 hours. Our first tunnels, one short was grand, the second, longer and a couple of lorries were deafening. The rain came back pretty heavily too, we just wanted to be in Mo I Rana.

But soon we were, 4:30 to be exact. Quick checkin at the control point, wrap and a coke from the very excited volunteer. A dash to the 24hr petrol station - very disappointing from my point of view, almost literally no suitable food, and I was looking for some AAA batteries for the GPS tracker that’d given up the ghost. None of those either. I made a quick exit and headed for the Scandic hotel where I’d booked a room.

The hotel boyo didn't just have a recommendation for batteries, he had some, and gave me them for free. Hero. A shower was heavenly, and real sheets on a real bed - it’d be easy to just set up camp here. But the alarms went on for +3 hours, time to catch the last of hotel breakfast and hit the road.

Day 2 - Mo I Rana to Arjeplog 280km

Well three hours was the plan, however we both woke after two. No words, but a thumb up across the room and it seemed we were on wavelength for just getting on with it. So we did.

The E6 was indeed a different beast in the daytime. We set out in, you guessed it, rain at 9:30. Up the valley, coaxing the legs to life with gentle ramps in the knowledge that a big climb up to the plateau and the Arctic Circle was coming. And it did, although thankfully never more than a handful of percent, not thankfully to the lorries who didnt want to loose momentum on the hill and were overtaking no matter what.

We’d been up to just north of 600m earlier, but this time it was different, very different. The plateau was another world all together, first the abundance of snow - so much so I checked the puddles and road surface a couple of times for ice, it was 6º but felt a cold 6º. Grateful to the wind that nudged us along, although it had a distinct edge to it. Sign: 2km Arctic Centre. Nearly at the next checkpoint, and a real marker in the ride - the Arctic freaking Circle. We’d cycled. Cycled our bikes. To the Arctic Circle!

Well the Arctic Circle has a gift shop, and a cafe. Who knew! Everyone it seemed. It was pretty full with tourists. Unclear where to go I made a beeline to the cafe and something warm to eat and drink. Still unclear I made my order before producing the yellow card “where might I get this stamped?”. The lady on the counter said, “oh there’s something about them, I’ll need to ring my manager and find out what”. Chuckle. Oh, and “you can have a waffle”. I gave Piper my waffle and ordered two plates of chips. One for now and one for the road, but they wouldn't travel, so just two now then :) Ah, and a quick dash round the gift shop - when would I be here next? - and I couldn’t walk past Snorgë. I christened him that, a traditional moose wearing a red I heart Norway thingy, obviously. He would be my on-bike companion home. Come on Snorgë I’ll take you to Scotland, you’ll like it.

They were the best chips, salty, slightly seasoned with spice or pepper or something, best things ever. I had an amazing time TT-ing off the plateau, and looming in the mind - because of the icy rain and still rather chilly temperatures - the long descent coming. If I pushed on the top, I also kept pushing down the descent, to keep warm. But it was stunning, the desolate arctic top became a vast dramatic landscape of mountains that you couldn't see the tops of, raging raging waterfalls, snow highlighting the dark rock details. This section of the ride will stay with me for quite some time, utterly beautiful even in the second rate weather conditions.

Alas this was our most northerly point, we turned right to head eastwards once more and for the Swedish border. A big bikes-banned-tunnel immediately meant we were on the “old road” climb. What a treat. Genuinely, different to the feeling of any other road on the route, narrower, more mountain pass of somewhere much further south. Closed to vehicles there were (minor) rockfalls to avoid, and a large section of tree-work detritus to navigate. The views to the valley that we were leaving, and the mountains to the north though - ooft. The dramatic-ness of the mountains up here, quite unlike anything else. Perspective setting.

Alas having dropped to 200m, we had to climb to nearly 400, to drop once more, only to rise again to I think the highest point on the course at 700 or so - just after the Swedish border. This way up albeit a long climb it was shallow and a bigger road, there was a good sized border checkpoint at the top, anything to declare? Shh Snorgë!

The landscape had changed again. Maybe as we’re a little further north to where we crossed the border in Sweden earlier, but the mountains here very different, and very different to the ones just back over the border. A vast openness to the landscape, but big-ass mountains to the north a big-ass waterfall between a couple in the distance - so forceful that it was almost the sound of motorway traffic, you know the white noise. And we made our final bit of the climb amongst the snow again. And a lake at the top. A blue lake. A kind of radioactive blue - the lake was still frozen solid - a colour that will stay with me.

Descending a little now, let’s not get cold on the 30 remaining kms to Vuoggatjalme (I never got my pronunciation around this one - vuggy-place). We rolled in to the restaurant just before 19:00. A warm welcome and a pasta falafel box was the order of the day. Unfortunately little else, coke and coffee, and the very friendly lady found us some biscuits “on the house”. The welcome was warm but at less than 200km for the day we knew we needed to turn it around and head out. A big stretch ahead, over 100kms before the plan was to get our heads down for a few hours.

I remember little from this section, back in the trees, some gravelly roadworks, largely flat, the heart was just set on getting to Arjeplog and a bit of rest. Finally the town came, and a lake, and the hotel. It was just after midnight. The wrap and bottle of water was a little underwhelming but we did take on the hot drinks machine, and the room upstairs with airbeds was just what was needed. Probably gone 1am, the alarm was set for 5am.

Day 3 - Arjeplog to Åmsele 249km

5am because faffing, and the local garage was due to open at 6am. Piper wrangled another wrap that would serve as first breakfast, too early to get hotel breakfast. The garage turned out to be a self-serve shop access via your bank card, probably open 24hrs, but heyho. Less good it only really had sweets and biscuits - I grabbed a pack of Oreos, “for the road”. And on the road the legs were reluctant. Just a dullness and lack of power, they kept turning but it felt a stretch to keep the wheel.

60km to a turn, a turn to face westwards and the increasingly brisk westerly breeze. Stepping back a moment, we had this ride so good regarding the wind, other than the 30kms on this section either flat wind, or helping. It would have been next level difficult had there been more adverse wind. We saw to solo reindeer stags on the road in this section, beautiful creatures.

Turn we did and into the wind, but we took the opportunity to chat again, which took our mind off it, chatting for maybe 20km and drafting for 10km Sorsele was reached at 10am. Piper had hatched a plan, we were still first on the road, and he wanted to give it a go to see if he could maintain it. That would mean quick stops and keeping moving - not really compatible with the way I was feeling or the way I ride. After hours in the saddle I find eating on the bike difficult and prefer to eat more substantially at controls and take a few moments to chat to folks letting the food go down, also in my mind savouring the remainder of the ride - what would I do with an extra day in Umeå, ride my bike? :)

So we were to split at Sorsele. I bedded down with a couscous and falafel box (Sweden seems to love falafel), and then got my head down for an hour’s sleep. Unconventional at ~11am but it was welcome. Once again the control volunteers here were great, anything they could do for you, and a bit of chat along the way - there’s a real spirit to the ride.

I was aware of a few riders passing through while snoozing, and I said hi again to Bart as he got away with another guy just before I was ready. Things were good for a couple of hours, tailwind, good vibes, podcasts in my ears. Energy sapped a little again though, probably with another rain shower that required a layering change around. It was a long 157km stretch to the next control, but word had gone around of the second secret control intersecting it.

And there it was, the now expected MSR flags and a car in a layby. Hmm. A couple - had done it several years - had a fire next to a shack by the river. Hotdogs on the fire along with warm drinks and fruit. Again spirit of this thing, these guys looking after me for 15 minutes, but every rider with the same relish over a period of probably more than 12 hours. Mozzies had me moving before long, although I did take the opportunity to empty the pool of water from the frame bag. The drinks bladder hadn’t leaked, the rain from the days previous had simply worked its way in through the opening that the drinking tube exits by the downtube.

Thank goodness for breaking that section up, there was little resupply again - a definite factor in this second half of the ride, but I did need and find a small shop in the remaining 85km to Åmsele. Rusksele I think it was. One other thing on this section, another runway, but a runway that was the road. What a terrible terrible thing that was. Massively wide, super straight, and every 200m a thumping gap between concrete/tarmac sections. Maybe it was 2 or 3 miles long that felt like eternity - the yellow house at the end just didn't move, didn’t get closer, it was horrible.

I reached Åmsele at 19:00 and the plan was pretty solidly set in my mind. Sod the time, another 106km would be a grim post-midnight finish, I was eating, and sleeping, and making this a Thursday morning finish. Åmsele was kind of a camping place, a fire in an open sided hut welcomed as did another couple who were cooking up palt. Yeah I didn’t know either, and to be honest wasn't sure afterwards - looking it up a potato, oat dumpling usually with some pork. To be honest it was warm and filling but little else, and lingonberry jam with it, yeah to be kind I’m not sure.

Day 4 - Åmsele to Umeå 107km

So that sleep, would it be possible? Yupo, hut 1 was bathrooms, 2 and 3 were sleeping bunks, and only had real beds. Result! I sorted myself out and set my alarm for midnight. I awoke once, maybe around 23:00, sounded like rain bouncing off the roof - grand, and roll over. Bang, thump thump, another rider opened the door and came briefly in. Thankfully they did, it was 2am and I’d had a luxury 5 or 6 hours sleep. The rain had stopped, the nighttime daylight was doing its thing and it was go-time.

The morning was quiet, oh so quiet, but unlike the Bjork song didn't go bang, or blow a fuse or whatever she was singing about. But breaking up 106km was something - a long old section. But things began to change, sure there were another billion-million trees, frequent lakes, but the houses and villages started coming. A train line - seemed out of place, although there were some houses, this still seemed very remote. Blue wooden bus shelters started cropping up on corners, pretty little things. And then Tavelsjö, the place that we’d coffee ridden to - so familiar roads. Brännlands again, although that’s not the finish, keep on rolling into Umeå. The sun came out, the suburbs were waking up on a sleepy Thursday morning. An orange jacketed rider scooted the final bike paths, down by the river, up the final berg and to the Scandic hotel - finito.

Beep, stop the Garmin, ferret about for the golden yellow brevet card and work out how to get in the hotel, easier said than done, although everything is in the fatigued state. Lady at the reception desk was super friendly, stamped the card, offered me my medal, and “shall I take your photograph”, yes let’s.

Post-amble

What an amazing experience. This part of the world is beautiful. It is super remote. The people are so wonderful. The rain made it really testy, more in the timing I think, it occurred that dampened when we needed to keep spirits high to roll into the second night. I don’t regret pushing to 580km and 4:30am Tuesday before sleeping. Actual riding Tuesday was hard enough at 250km rather than 350. Yes I’d love to see this part of the world in better weather - so could see more of those majestic mountains. After the rain, the next hardest is probably the resupply and remoteness if something goes wrong. But support of the organisers makes this passable, and having notes on opening times to keep the pocket filled with supplies. The course itself is entirely doable, in another location probably on the easier side, but with the location just about right. 1200 is never going to be a walk in the park, and this one isn’t, but it gets it’s amount of challenge just about right. Big shout to the people, all the people. Wonderful volunteers who clearly loved it, friends of the road, many I’ll be following in their next and future pursuits. Bart who after meeting at the pre-ride dinner shared wheels and a puncture with for best part of 24 hours. And Piper (his MSR write-up is here), the reunion, the chuckles and the missed sleep. All told, loved it, thanks MSR.

This was my ride to raise funds for the MS Society, if you would like to support my JustGiving link is https://www.justgiving.com/page/richard-sanderson-midnight-sun-2025. Thank you.

Comments? Tweet me @mealybar, smoke signals, or homing pigeon, or something :)