Ah well, another day in the life of …well, me. Thanks for tuning in again, thank you for coming back for more. To be honest, today has been rather disillusioning. Gorgeous nonetheless. But I found myself enormously fatigued. Not tired, literally fatigued. And because in my brain that shouldn’t be so, because all I am allowed to be is happy and productive, that presented some form of challenge.
Not at first though.
But I get ahead of myself.
I am so eager to tell the tale, you see. So grateful that I am writing everyday, posting everyday and finding so much purpose and contentment from it. So happy to have you out there right here with me the moment I open my laptop.
I’ll start at the beginning though. Or maybe I’ll start at the end with the last sentence and from there take you all the way back to when Marjorie and I awoke this morning.
It goes something like this:
And there I was, on the shores of the Norwegian Sea, somewhere on the island of Kvaløya, realising that there is such vastness to explore, places to visit in the proximity of the northernmost town Hammerfest, that within me the restlessness settled and transformed itself into the comfortable blanket of the knowing that all is well and all is as it is meant to be.
And it started something like this:
Bright, dazzling sunshine creeping through the slits of my makeshift curtain dividing the back from the front of the car. Floating, tiny, fairy-like particles dancing in the rays of sunlight flooding in between the gaps of the morning outside and the lingering rest of a night spent inside. Stretching, yawning, cuddling and snoozing a bit more until the call to rise and seize the day wouldn’t be ignored anymore. Thus, from inside the sheltering womb of Glen Van Ben, movement could be recognised and at once the side door slid open to let out the little wolf, ready to stretch and welcome the great outdoors. Followed by a human being that was evidently in dire need of a bath, or shower, or minimum a good wash of her hair. So evident that it became the first deed of the day to find a lake, or a waterfall, or a stream, after a short morning walk to do other deeds, and packing up.
The clearing and refreshing bath in a broad but gentle river revitalised the human, made her feel much more presentable and ready to conquer the very first town since… well, I had to think about that for a while. I realise that the last town we actually stayed in was indeed Horten, the South of Norway. Then again, we did not really venture in Horten, we stayed on the outskirts and left basically after 14 hours. If that counts, then it was Horten, which was 20 days ago. I, however, would say the last town we actually stayed in, spend three nights and had two excursions and even a meal, was Möllä, which was in Sweden about three weeks ago.
It doesn’t matter.
I was ready to give myself to some humanity again, to a sort of civilisation, to treat myself to a coffee from a real coffee shop, maybe even be seduced to buy a sandwich for me and a sausage for Marjorie. Whatever this Hammerfest, this northernmost town, would have to offer, I was ready to take it all in, celebrate it even. And find the post office as I was in desperate need to stock up the store of Marjorie’s food again, for which I researched the internet the evening before, actually found suitable food in a suitable quality that could be delivered to the post office there.
All fresh, smelling like lavender, smiling, the sun cheering us on, we made our two hour journey to Hammerfest along the E6. Beautiful vastness of land, countless reindeer, epic moon-mountainscapes passed us by. And it couldn’t have gotten better.
And it did not.
First the post office that was shown in Google Maps had closed and was now at a different address, integrated in a supermarket. So I had to write an email (and have not heard if it is even possible) to amend my delivery address for the dog food order.
That caused a bit of stress. Nothing serious.
Then I wandered around, determined to enjoy this brief reconnection with my roots, fellow humans, necessities and comforts that only a town brings, and yet I found the temperature too hot with no shade for Marjorie, no coffee shop that seemed inviting to linger, and not really any space where I felt I would like to sit down and sip even on a coffee to go.
Nothing.
Disilluionsing.
I want to add though that this probably has nothing to do with Hammerfest as a town. The people seemed polite and helpful. There were some spaces resembling a town square with a quaint fountain and some green spaces with benches. There existed coffee shops.
My head wasn’t in it, my heart neither and my soul wanted to fly over the top of the neat houses right towards the seclusion of the mountains again.
That was a bit of stress too.
The real stress though came from the arising questions of the reaction that my nervous system showed when confronted with people and towns again.
What is happening to me and why am I not able to belong even in the littlest, smallest gatherings of humankind anymore?
I was rested, I was presentable, I felt comfortable in my own skin.
Yes it was hot, yes I had minor issues with realising that 2000 NOK worth of dog food couldn’t be delivered to an address that is invalid, yes I dealt with unmet expectations. And yes, I also found out that the dog food would only be delivered between the 5th and the 10th of September, meaning that I would run very low and couldn’t be sure my supply would last until then, adding a pinch of extra stress to the cocktail of stress on the rocks, two fingers deep, neat, not shaken.
We arrived in Forsø, or rather near it, by late noon. About 15 minutes drive from Hammerfest. We drove off at about 8 am from our camp. It took me about two hours to get to Hammerfest. So between the hours of 10 in the morning and 1 pm I had been brought to my knees, internally. By 1:30 pm we arrived at a parking spot by a beach and some small paths leading to the rocky and cliff-like east coast of the island. At 2pm Marjorie and I lay somewhere sheltered from the wind, she in the shade, me in the sunlight, on bare rock, trying to regain some of our strength, some of our energy back from spending three hours inside a little town.
About 40 minutes into our recharging session we heard the approaching noise of a helicopter. And wouldn’t you know our spot was exactly the bay they were seeking out to do a training session. I was too tired to move, and the noise would have been audible from anywhere anyway. So I stayed, gave myself to the experience of witnessing a marine rescue mission training session, and felt like my head would explode about half an hour later when they were gone. By that time I had made up my mind that this was not the place to stay.
All was too much.
How can it be, is it permanent, what does this mean for the future?
Was I broken?
And also, I couldn’t stay here. I needed to go.
That calmed my nerves. But I still had the question in my head that what I was doing there right now seemed to be a coping mechanism and not a genuine, innocent, clean reason to explore. It was flight, not joy, that made me go back to the car in search of a different parking spot. And a spot that wasn’t too far to drive, because I felt exhausted, as well as a spot that wouldn’t be too far away in general because I felt like I couldn’t reach my destination, the Nordkapp, when I had to go back to Hammerfest at some point to collect the food.
Again, all was too much.
In short, I felt trapped.
I was trapped inside my head.
And I couldn’t deal with the revelation that minor setbacks had spoiled the whole day-in-town feeling I wanted to have.
And I was worried what that could mean and if I wouldn’t be able to be truly happy in any town ever again.
The hour is late, my loves, the day is still bright so far up in the North. I have stayed where I was. And from 4pm until 7 pm I did nothing else but read.
Adjust.
Calm the nervous system.
Silence the voices in my head urging me to go into action.
Settle back into rest and observation.
Apart from the birds on the mini island directly opposite me, there is no sound. Except maybe the breeze pushing through the open window of the car.
Glen Van Ben gave me shelter to recover. And I am glad I didn’t leave.
It wouldn’t have been right to do so.
I reconsidered everything and was able to sort out a couple of things:
The address of delivery can be amended, the guys at the supermarket that serves as a post office were friendly and considerate and assured me that my package most certainly will be delivered there.
The quietness of this bay was able to soften my inner turmoil and transform the antagonistic way I felt into a possible homecoming parking spot to come back to.
The surrounding area is full of possibilities. And how lovely to know of a parking spot that is deserted of other people, in a bay that is sheltered from the wind, directly by the edge of the water. We have a huge island with a full day’s hike ahead of us on Sorøya, accessible only by ferry. We have the Nordkapp that is only 3 hours away from where we are now. We have an official tourist road, one of those that one has to see because of its beauty. We have loads to explore around this little town called Hammerfest. Right to the point when Marjorie’s food arrives and we’ll be off venturing further East to the very edge of Norway, where it borders Russia.
Concluding thus that after this very exhausting day, that started so brilliantly and ends so calmly, I am now able to say:
And there I was, on the shores of the Norwegian Sea, somewhere on the island of Kvaløya, realising that there is such vastness to explore, places to visit in the proximity of the northernmost town Hammerfest, that within me settled the restlessness and transformed into the comfortable blanket of the knowing that all is well and all is as it is meant to be.
To all of you I sent form my heart to yours, all the love and all the light I have to give!
May you be given what you need…
… and a pinch of what you want.
Nadine
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