Halfway along the Havøysund road the land begins to tilt toward the sea. The plateau is lower here, the lakes are bigger and the first fjords start to cut into the coast, with long inlets of cold, dark water between rounded hills. The vegetation is thin, a few birches in sheltered hollows and otherwise heather, lichen and dwarf shrubs, and in autumn the whole landscape turns red and gold with astonishing intensity. In summer the cotton grass makes white patches in the bogs.
The wildlife is more varied than the bare land suggests. Reindeer wander in herds on the hills, arctic foxes and ptarmigan live in the uplands, and the coast is rich in seabirds, including eiders, gulls, and the occasional sea eagle. The Barents Sea is cold but productive, and the fisheries of Finnmark have fed the coast for a thousand years. Cod and haddock are the staple, and the long wooden racks used to dry fish in the wind are still seen in some places.
Finnmark's history is marked by the war. In the autumn of 1944, as German forces retreated before the Soviet advance, they burned most of the settlements in the county and forced the population to leave, so much of the north was rebuilt from nothing after 1945. Many of the villages therefore look plain and modern, built for practicality, with little of the old wooden charm found farther south. It is a part of the story that is rarely mentioned in the glossy brochures, but it gives the place a particular seriousness.
The road here is quiet and rewarding, with long straights and sweeping views, and the surface is generally smooth. Take care in wet weather, and keep a lookout for reindeer. Ávanuorri, the community at the end of the road, is some twenty-three kilometres ahead, and Hammerfest is a good deal farther behind, so keep your fuel and supplies in mind. In the long summer evenings it is possible to ride late and see the land in a very low, golden light.