Kayaking trip, last day

For the first time, Liselotte had to wake up each tent for breakfast. We weren't exhausted, just delaying the inevitable end of this truly magical trip. She had made pancakes for us, and we ate them slowly, packed up slowly, and got on the water slowly. Once there, we barely paddled. Matt suggested that we paddle backwards, and pointed out that there are eight of us and only one Liselotte, so what could she do?

 

The last day took us down to the end of a very narrow and particularly stunning fjord which has been named a UNESCO World Heritage site, and for good reason. Our usual joking banter was largely replaced by stunned silence and occasional gasps, and our return to civilization was a bit of a blow. We all felt closer to each other, and closer to the land, and didn't want it to end, even knowing that we could take a hot shower and get a cold beer.

 

Once on land, we went through the gear fussing in reverse, and as we had lunch one of the other guides joined us to ask me questions about a visa application she submitted to come to the U.S. which had been denied. I gave her advice, making a small deposit in the karma bank.

 

Back in Flåm we separated reluctantly, heading off to shower. Our family had a beautiful apartment in town where we showered and did two loads of laundry, and discovered that Thom had three ticks on his torso and leg, and Ria had a baby tick on her eyelid! Thom extracted all of them while I thought serene thoughts about the Queen.

 

 

Cleaned up and rested, we walked in to town and headed straight for the pub. We met Matt, Jason, and John, and shared a hilarious dinner during which Ria taught Matt the clapping game "Happy llama, sad llama," which he intends to use as a pickup line. Good luck with that. The photo of Matt below shows his clear resemblance to the illustration Ria made of his namesake, Mathilda the Hedgohog. This, too, he plans to use to pick up women, so show his soft, sensitive side. It actually was beautiful to see that he is great with kids, and that he totally overcame my initial first impression of him and turned out to be my closest companion on the trip.

 

The evening ended late, and we put off packing so we could sleep in a real bed with crisp, white sheets.

 

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Kayaking, day four

We faced another long day of paddling today, almost as long as the brutal day two, and although tailwinds are apparently common along this route, we were battling head winds much of the day. We had planned to eat packed lunches on the water, but it was too rough, so we pushed on until we were much of the way towards our campsite and stopped at a lovely little beach. Wild flowers and wild strawberries carpeted the shore, a lovely stream passed by us, and a pretty little summer house with flowers in the windows formed the backdrop. The European way of sharing land is such a relief to experience after the American line drawing and paranoia.

 

In the woods I found a sheep skeleton, and gave Ria several of the more interesting bones to turn her kayak into a Viking ship.

 

After lunch, the wind died down completely, and we drifted lazily towards our campsite -- a magical spot with a massive waterfall, incredible views, an outhouse, and perhaps best of all a flat haul-out site so we didn't have to lift five kayaks up and over slippery seaweed-covered rocks in a tidal zone.

 

The site is halfway along an old 5km mail trail crosses the most picturesque farms in the world. Thom went running here, chasing confused sheep part of the way, while the rest of us lazed in the sun or played frisbee. An evening rain confined us under the tarp during dinner, but the sun returned in time for us to build a campfire. We had s'mores, but the concept was a little lost in translation as it crossed the Atlantic: the graham crackers were replaced with cookies, and the Hershey's chocolate with After Eight mint chocolate. And the South Africans just could not get the hang of roasting marshmallows without lighting the on fire, to our great amusement.

 

Thom and I took an evening walk up to the waterfall, and as we returned we saw three fox pups scampering around in the woods. John was out for a stroll too, and we watched as one of them came right up to him, no more than six feet away, and pondered asking John to play.

 

As we curled up in our sleeping bags, the rain returned. Sleeping in a tent in the rain is a joy Thom and I have shared many times, and it was special tonight with the massive waterfall crashing down in the distance, and the knowledge that this was our last night in the fjords.

 

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