“The North Cape is nothing more than a parking lot and a gift shop at a cold, misty edge of the European continent. Yet for centuries, it has been a magnet for travelers and oddballs.

When Van Peel drove there himself on his old Vespa during an endless summer of empty roads, it was the atmosphere of those final kilometers to the Cape that stuck with him most. Everyone on that stretch of road was almost there, heading toward the finish line together. Some had been traveling for months, occasionally in the strangest ways; on rickety motorcycles with sidecars full of junk, in converted hearses, on muddy bikes, scooters, and skateboards, in a deceased grandfather’s restored Mercedes, or simply with a thumb held out.

They had set off from Belgium, Spain, South Africa, Russia, Canada, or Myanmar. All their storylines converged for a brief moment at that mythical place, before fanning out across the globe again. Along their own paths and with their own stories and dreams.”