8:30AM. Sky is still black. For the third time, the piercing sound of my alarm clock rings out trying to awake me from lethargy. I dread the moment to come. Leaving this warm cocoon made of three layers is the daily torture
Once upon a time, off the coast of Vesterålen, floated a Little Island. On the top of this island stood a lighthouse. A long time ago, people used to live on the island and there they built a village. But in time the People of the Island left their houses and fled to the continent.
I love it when a book finishes with a grand ending and am thrilled when an album ends up with an endless epic track filled with heady melodies; as well, I am lavished when one of my trips concludes right after memorable moments – if not the best.
I am slowly awaking from slumber. Night has been quite cold and I am waiting for this gale to end before getting out of my tent and pack everything as quick as possible – the next gale is never far away. As I slowly open the zip of my shelter as a child would open a christmas gift, hoping for an hypothetic miracle, a surprise unfolds.
October 7th, 2013: Day 13
- The uphill slope to the beach, as well as the downhill one, are dreadful. I am wading in mud and sliding on wet rocks. I can see the beach in the distance, surrounded by two mountain ridges after a consequent boggy area.
Of course, it could not be so simple. Great weather, clear night skies and auroras for my first days in Lofoten, … “Come on! Did you really believe it would last like this for ever? Wake up boy, you’re above the Arctic circle, and furthermore in october”. Then The Almighty Weather decided it was enough easy moments
Sleeping at Oslo airport has been nothing but a delight. I must have spent something like one hour in the kingdom of Morpheus, sitting between two darned snorers, trying to fall asleep with some music while my head was falling on one side or the other. Anyways, I eventually reached the flight to Bodø from which I took the – almost empty – ferry to Moskenes, Lofoten.