It´s not as if our lives are divided simply into dark and light. There´s a shadowy middle ground. Recognising and understanding the shadow is what a healthy intelligence does.
Haruki Murakami
After darkness, I went to a place where the Sun never sets in Summer, the Lyngen Alps. There, my thoughts were pondered kilometre after kilometre with endless daylight. It´s funny how I thought I´d get peace by hiking solo with no human souls nearby, but darkness was shouting loud and clear, echoing through fjords. It took time to get to the zen zone, but as usual, according to the plan.
I haven´t been writing since I kicked out all the exorcists because I needed to change the course of the Titanic to another lurking iceberg. The motherfucking ship was heading right to the spot even though I´ve seen the documentaries and the movie in French dubbed version in Martinique. It took time to rewrite history and navigate the wet desert by following green beacons, not the red ones, but here I am, following the new sea route.
I started to plan a 5-day trekking trip 2 days before my flight departures. Of course, subconsciously, I was working on it, but popping it out on paper was a challenge for my plan-making skills. I had just the flight, and that´s about it. Even my worried, over-planner friend started to send threatening messages to boost my plan.
I opened a beer on Saturday evening, and my brain fluids were balanced.
These were the results.
- One night in a hostel, Tromsø
- Bus and ferry combo to Svensby
- Bus from Svensby to the North tip of Lyngen
- First night in a hut
- Trekking back to the Svensby in 4 days
- Last night in a cabin with a fireplace and wine
- Eat like a king and catch a flight back
Again, I congratulated myself for making such a great plan on short notice. I thought I was spitting for over-planners and felt like an adventurous travel expert with a hinch of adulthood. I decided to enjoy a glass of wine and watch one episode of Master Chef to prepare for “the eat like a king” part of my plan.
The next day was all about shopping for food, checking the trekking stuff and packing. My last trip to Paris with a companion of red wine taught me not to take more than one glass before taking off, and on my admiral´s chair, when everything was ready, I was at the helm of this MF ship. Then I heard a sound coming from my phone, an email.
It was a message that my accommodation at Solheim Fritidsgård had been confirmed. Then, my grip on the wheel slipped. The days were different, and I felt the plans for the trip to Portugal were having a sequel. Again, I was facing the raw truth that I had booked the wrong days without the chance of cancellation, and the trekking plan was making cartwheels. I can fix this. I just need to make a phone call.
I called and called, but there was no answer. Of course, I was making backup plans simultaneously, but I could see it would destroy my fragile, non-existent budget. Finally, in the evening, there was a contact with a Norwegian farm owner.
- – Ole-Anton Teigen
- -Hi! I accidentally booked a cabin for one night but on the wrong day.
- -Jaa-a, min kone tar seg av disse tingene. Jeg tar meg av sauer.
- – ?
I just understood the words disse tingene, these things. Then I heard a lot of sheep making noises. Totally confused about what was happening.
- – Can you speak English, please? My Norwegian could be better.
- – Je, yes. Your name. My sheep are eating.
- You en natt, en hytte.
- – Yes, wrong day, feil dag!
- – Feil dag? What is okay dag?
- – 8th of June. Åtta….öööö….Juni?
- – Juni? Neste uke.
- – Next week yes! Neste uke.
- – Greit, okej. neste uke, Fredag.
- Y- es, jaa, Fredag friday.
- – My woman email du, five minuter. Okej?
- – Yes, thank you, tack.
Ole-Anton´s wife called after a few minutes and confirmed that the new date for the cabin was on the day I wanted. She also told me they have a sheep farm, and Ole-Teigen was just checking them. Usually, no one calls, and that´s why her husband had the phone. Now, it was the moment to enjoy the cruise. My plan was solid.
I was in Tromsø and ready to move to the next place. It was raining heavily when I arrived, and honestly, the bubbly drink before taking off felt too cocky. The weather was greyer than grey, which gave me the boost to find a shop to buy the most crucial part of this journey. The gas. I needed warm food and survival juice, the coffee, to carry me through this journey.
All was set. I decided to have a meal full of energy, and Burger King was the place. I had 45 minutes before my bus-ferry combo left from the central to Svensby, so it was the perfect time to double-check the plan. There were two critical connections—the starting and ending point. I had already downloaded the app to buy and check public transport before leaving, so I was on top of the task. I opened it, and an alert stared at me, “changes due to the Summer season.” When I checked the timetable before, I admit there was a red thingy, but it wasn´t that big and red to think of something serious. It was big and red enough, and I had 45 minutes to fix the plan.
The MF ship had to avoid a major iceberg and fast.
The bus-ferry combo was running as usual, but in Lyngby, buses were available every second day. I wanted to see all, but now I could rent a car, a bicycle, or walk without sleep. From those options, I chose the bike. I wouldn´t say I like cycling, but the alternative was walking on a road for 30k to arrive at the starting point and then walking with a 17kg pack bag to keep the original trekking plan alive. Bike it was, and there was a tourist centre, or at least it was called in Svensby, where to rent one.
On the ferry, I was planning where to leave the bike while trekking on the fjords and preparing myself for the final trip back. It didn´t feel quite right, and my mood was in the perkele zone.
Perkele is a Finnish word meaning “evil spirit” and a popular Finnish profanity, used similarly to the English phrase “god damn”, although it is considered much more profane. It is most likely the most internationally known Finnish curse word.
When I arrived at the tourist centre, it was missing two things: tourists and a centre. There was no one. Just cabins and the sound of pouring rain. After searching for some kind of info, I noticed a message taped on the window, “call us if not around.” I remembered the phone call with Ole-Anton and stopped for a minute to think about what to do. Then a car arrived with two men in it. I assumed they had to do something with this tourist centre and approached the vehicle.
- Hi! Do you work here?
- No. We are just checking the cabins because of the rain.
- Ou, here´s no one.
- We called the person, and she said she´ll be here later.
- Later? No specific time at all?
- Nope. We were thinking of renting a cabin, but it´s too expensive. What about you?
- No, I just need to rent a bike.
- Bike? In this weather? Where are you going?
- Just around, but I need a bike.
- Hey, why won´t we make a deal? If we rent the cabin, three of us, it would be cheaper, and you don´t need to trek in the rain.
I looked at the men who were looking like a combination of rednecks meeting the hairstyle of McGyver with an accent that was taking me to the East. I avoided answering anything and dialled the number to ask what “later” meant.
I got my answer. Later meant two hours and maybe “I have bicycles.” A decision needed to be made. A night with a threesome, a tent in a tourist centre which is not a tourist or centre, or just keep on walking 30k by the road and, during that walk, make a new better plan that will take me out of the perkele zone. I decided to walk.
I made my plan after one kilometre, and there was still 29k to go. It kept raining, and I doubted my waterproof ideas with every step, not because of the new ideas of how to make the plan great again, but because of the walking. I was sweating under the rainproof clothes, and passing cars spoiled my remote nature experience. My feet were hitting on the hard surface with a load of a heavy pack bag, and that caused pain in my hip. Walking was getting slower and slower.
Halfway, I started to look at the barns with eyes of a romantic night over like in a James Bond movie, and then I remembered my mum telling me her runaway stories. In her teenage years, she slept nights in a barn to get away from home. Even nowadays, she looks at the barns with that kind of eye would that be a safe place to sleep. Well, the apple hasn´t dropped that far away from the tree.
After waking up to the reality, my mindset was heading towards a nightmare for an antisocial person. Why won´t I hitchhike? The last ferry for the next two days was spitting cars, and I could have a chance. In Scotland, with my life before, we tried that, and it worked. I was struggling between how embarrassing it would be and whether it was the solution to it all. The last time, I had a support friend who was sharing the heavy load of shame with me, but now, it was just me.
After hiding the antisocial wolf in perky scout´s sheep clothes, I did it; I lifted my thumb to a potential car after a few missed cars because of being too chicken. The car didn´t stop! That was it. Perkele. I will never do this again; my feet started to have an extra life.
I guess I wept when I was inside the tent when I had my first spoonful of warm pasta made with Trangia because the soaked wet appearance was camouflaging the tiers. Mac and cheese had never tasted so good, and changing dry clothes for snuggling inside the sleeping bag felt like a luxury holiday. I was genuinely happy from the bottom of my heart and waiting to see the wonders of life the next day, a bit less of changing plans, though.
“Be careful what you wish for; you might get it.” Said a legendary rock figure, Andy McCoy. Now, I wish for an excellent plan to return to the south tip of Lyngen at the end of my trekking. No bicycle, hitchhiking is NOT an option, and buses are not running.
When I arrived at the mountain lake, which was so bright turquoise and surrounded by mountains with snow, my plan popped out as clear as the water in the lake—a taxi in the middle of nowhere. There must be a taxi because bubble drink people don´t drive their cars here; they order a helicopter or a taxi. I calculated how much I saved by not renting the bike and making a double booking with the cabin, and my pain limit for the taxi was ready. Now I just needed to find a taxi and make a phone call that could be mixed with two languages. Google knows! Let´s give it a try.
A taxi was in the area, and we made a deal that he would pick me up from Ruslev at 12 on Friday. I asked multiple times if he was coming, and he asked me the same question. It felt like the best deal, and the price was what I assumed, hitting the limit. It was time to enjoy the nightless nights and unlimited time to keep hiking.
I got what I wished for and more. The grey weather passed, and my inner sunshine shone inside out. I didn´t meet anyone, and my mind entered the zen zone.
Then the darkness made a visit. Not uninvited because I knew it would appear when I had time to feel it.
It was a choir of ghosts and shadows, totally out of tune, singing my dark anthem, and hell yeah, I cried. My voice was a beautiful high note accompanying the dark voices, forming a band like Titanic´s last moments. Then I stopped for a moment and looked around. I was exactly where I should be and with the person I should be. After callous weather conditions, I have started to like myself for the past year. It was a joke that I was called an admiral, but It felt like I´d earned it by navigating and keeping my hands on the wheel even though this ship is quite an MF ship. I don´t know how to read a map; I only sail by looking at the sun and the stars when the darkness arrives.
I used to think that the day would never come
I’d see delight in the shade of the morning sun
My morning sun is the drug that brings me near
To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear
I used to think that the day would never come
When the taxi arrived at 12 and took me to the cabin where the fireplace and bottle of wine waited, I couldn´t be happier, but Ole-Anton made it perfect. Two cold beers were waiting for me, and he asked if I would like to go to the sauna. The taxi driver was his cousin, and he told me that I´d been trekking for five days alone and thought I deserved something nice. Yes, be careful what you wish for; you might get it and even more.
Let me tell you a story 
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