Last summer, I embarked on a remarkable adventure along the European Divide Trail, covering a distance of 7,600km (4,722 miles) across nine countries. Starting from Arctic Norway and ending at the Atlantic coast in Portugal, I embraced the challenge of cycling this extensive route while camping along the way.
The inspiration for this journey came from stumbling upon an article on bikepacking.com. From initially finding it intriguing, the idea gradually transformed into a firm decision to pursue this undertaking. Against all odds, in June 2022, the time had come to embark on this grand adventure. I planned to spend three months on the trail, with the company of my friend Max for the first three weeks.
Although I had some prior experience with bikepacking, usually for just a couple of nights, I had never attempted something this ambitious. Despite a challenging nine-day trip to Snowdon and back, where I felt quite lonely, I was undeterred. It was almost serendipitous that I encountered Anna from Sheffield, who happened to be cycling the same route on the first day of the European Divide Trail. Her companionship proved invaluable, and I couldn’t imagine where I would have ended up without her support after Max left.
Equipped with a mountain bike and a basic bikepacking setup, my daily goal was to cycle an average of 100km. With only 90 days to complete the trail due to the limitations of my post-Brexit UK passport, my plan was to spend 86 days riding, allowing for a couple of spare days. However, there were instances where I cycled much longer distances, reaching up to 120, 130, or even 140km. On the other hand, when faced with mountainous terrains, our progress would naturally be slower.
The European Divide Trail was conceptualized by Andy Cox, a British enthusiast, in 2021, inspired by the Great Divide mountain bike trail in the United States. Starting from Grense Jakobselv in the Arctic Circle of Norway, near the Russian border, the route traverses through Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, France, Switzerland, and finally culminates at Cabo de São Vicente in Portugal. Although not following a geographical continental divide, it symbolically crosses various cultural, political, economic, and environmental divides. It holds the distinction of being the longest predominantly off-road bikepacking route in the world.
The journey began with an interesting and slightly odd starting point featuring CCTV cameras and a military checkpoint. Nevertheless, Max and I began our descent and soon reached a beach, where we took a refreshing dip in the sea. The feeling of finally embarking on this adventure was exhilarating.
On our very first day, while enjoying our lunch, we had the pleasure of meeting Anna, who was also cycling the Divide on her own. Considering that only a handful of individuals had completed this trail so far, this meeting was an incredible coincidence. We decided to join forces, and her presence made a significant impact. I honestly couldn’t fathom how my journey would have unfolded had I been alone again.
The terrain varied significantly throughout the trail. We encountered endless forests, lakes, rivers, and dirt roads in Scandinavia, followed by farmland, woodlands, heathlands, and grasslands in central Europe. Finally, we navigated the diverse landscapes of the Iberian Peninsula, with the highest points reaching around 2,000m in eastern Spain. Our time in Norway was brief, hugging the coastline closely. The picturesque fjords and towering cliffs left a lasting impression on us. Camping in the woods was a delightful experience, especially knowing that wild camping is legal in Norway, Finland, and Sweden. Suddenly finding ourselves in Finland, border crossings turned out to be unremarkable, as we continued cycling through forests for about four days. Our route then led us through Sweden, where we spent three weeks.
Denmark proved to be relatively relaxed, but Germany presented its own set of challenges. Some parts of the trail were simply impassable. There was one instance where we encountered a 2km stretch obstructed by fallen trees. We had to lift our heavy bikes over each tree, which took hours. Unfortunately, Anna fell and injured her knee on the final tree, which was indeed a low point for us.
As the journey progressed, the landscape transitioned from flatter areas in the north to more mountainous regions in the south. While the continuous climbs and descents were physically demanding, the scenery became increasingly captivating. Personally, the mountains of France and Spain held a special place in my heart. The Vosges, Jura, Pyrenees, and Sierra de Javalambre were particularly memorable. Reaching a refuge after a full day or two of uphill riding and pushing our bikes, with a sunset view all to ourselves, was an awe-inspiring experience. Along the entire route, we explored small towns and villages that are rarely frequented by tourists, revealing hidden gems at every turn.
Undoubtedly, one of the most memorable aspects of this adventure was the people we encountered and the kindness we received from strangers. The biggest challenge often revolved around finding food and water stops. In the middle of nowhere, we were saved by a kind Dutch couple named Marten and Karin. They generously shared their packet of digestive biscuits and chocolate bar when we were low on supplies due to a closed shop the previous night. In Sweden, a man with a small boat helped us cross the Lainio River when we missed the ferry. In Germany, a man named Benni graciously allowed us to camp on his family’s land and offered us food for an evening. Everywhere we went, we encountered many other kind and fascinating individuals.
My advice to anyone contemplating a similar adventure is simple: just do it. I did not excessively prepare for this undertaking. The majority of my energy was devoted to getting myself to the starting point. I believed that I could figure everything out along the way, as long as I had the essentials. Armed with maps, I planned each day as it came, identifying villages and locations to procure provisions. Having Anna by my side as a teammate proved to be invaluable. Of course, things did not always go according to plan, with mechanical and physical challenges arising. However, we faced each obstacle head-on, resolving the issues and moving forward.
In terms of training, I approached it with the mindset of “if I’m not fit enough at the start, I’ll be fit enough by the end.” As it turned out, this notion held true. Within about a week of cycling, I could already feel a significant transformation in my body compared to when I began. By the end of the journey, my physical fitness had improved even more. It was genuinely surprising how quickly the body can adapt to such demanding conditions.
Though I may not have fully recognized it until I returned home, those few months on the trail brought about tremendous personal growth and increased confidence. The numerous problems solved and the novel experiences lived have provided me with newfound abilities and opportunities. A few of the lessons I learned along the way include discovering that civilization isn’t always civil; anticipating and overcoming obstacles is an essential skill developed on the trail; carrying a roll of duct tape is invaluable; never pass up an opportunity to swim in a beautiful spot; regularly lubing your chain is crucial; and, most importantly, strangers can quickly become great friends.
Interview by Jane Dunford
For more information, maps, and advice, visit europeandividetrail.com. The optimal time to embark on this route is late May or early June when starting from the north, or late March or early April when starting from the south.
To explore my journey further and view the photobook from my trip titled “Strangers Make Great Friends,” you can visit shop.midnowhere.co.uk. For additional content, please visit my website at midnowhere.co.uk.