The Last Days

Hi All,

As you know already, I managed to get around Nordkapp, but the days leading up to the moment hold wonderful memories for me. The morning I left Hammerfest and said good-bye to Sture, I was on my way to the town of Havoysund. Specifically I was looking for a row of houses on the right side of the channel after the bridge. My mantra for the day, as I often forget the little details, was “the red house on the right.” The sun was out, the whitecaps were starting to pick up, but at least they were rolling in from the right direction, slighty over my right shoulder. It was a reasonably simple trip involving a couple of 10-12 nautical mile or so crossings; with the wind to aid, I made good time, so when I found the red house I walked up the steps and knocked on the door feeling strong but also hoping for a good cup of coffee. Palmer, Sture’s wife’s brother’s cousin — or something like that — is a wonderfully kind man. A bit large and suffering from a shoulder disability that took him off the fishing boat a few years and into the home of his parents, where he lives alone but isn’t lonely. The night I visited, we spent a good deal of time with a friend of Palmer’s, who while still in his 20′s is the first mate on a 90-foot fishing boat. Johnny was happy to look over the charts with me, talk about the sea, the state of the economy, the lack of work ethic in the young (I had to smile at that), and the weather.

Later that night, Palmer’s older brother came by to talk, share cognac, tell stories about his days as a sailor on a merchant ship and his favorite ports of call in Lousiana and Texas. His English was rusty and my Norwegian, sad to say, still only has about five words in the vocabulary, but we had a great time. Surely though, my strongest memory of that night is Palmer’s generosity with meals. When he cooked dinner, it was literally a mound of food, sausage, eggs, on wheat buns piled to over flowing. I still marvel at how much I was able to eat.

The next day was meant to be an easy paddle, only about 10-15 nm to a small town of Gjesvaer — a beautiful village surrounded by mountains, and small islands, it is the place Sture grew up and the home of his good friend and fisherman, Johnny. What should have been a relaxing day turned out to be a real challenge. The wind grew strong and never helped me. I was struggling by the time I rounded the headland that should have given me a small bit of shelter as I made the final approach to town, but the wind wraps around these places and accelerates. I found myself paddling straight into very strong gusts, easily in the range of 30-35 knots. In times like these, after my mind runs through an internal dialog that begins with my favorite obsenities,  I settle into catch phrases like, “…well there’s no choice,” “…pull to the horizon,” “…let’s get this done.” I finally pulled into what seemed like the small boat harbor which should have had a narrow inside passage through to the main harbor, but turned out to be blocked by a road that had been there for 50 years! Johnny came by, showed me where to paddle to, which only meant another 1/2 hour of paddling, but the reward was worth the effort as I landed at his dock and was shown to the apartment he rents to German tourists who come all the way to the top of the world for fishing holidays.

I was told over and over by Sture and Wenche to “listen to Johnny.” Here was a man about my age, maybe a little younger, who had a couple of boats, a small crew, a successful business, and he knew and loved that part of the sea. When we looked at my plans, he seemed to appreciate that an accomplished sea kayaker could handle challenging conditions and he knew the areas that would potentially be dangerous, shallow seas where the swells would steepen and break, strong currents, etc. He wasn’t overly cautious, he carefully considered and advised. Between us, we determined that the weather would be good, the best time to depart to catch the currents, and where to avoid the hazards. After hearing the word “dangerous” so often, I had harbored a small wish that he would simply say it was too risky and I should go on the inside. So it was with a mixture of relief and anxiety that I departed Sunday morning for my finale, the northernmost point in Europe.

Nordkapp is a strikingly dramatic headland and is a historic place, but the headland just prior to it, Knivskjellodden, is actually about 1,500 meters further north. When I got here, the wind was slightly behind me and I could feel the tide moving me along. There was Nordkapp, unmistakeable and beautiful. Trying to relish the moment, I paused to take some photos. The unencumbered swell here was very large from the east, where the wind had been coming from for the past several days and the clapotis reflecting back off the cliff face carried a half mile offshore or more, making this section a bit exciting. After passing Nordkapp, my thoughts were strangely focused on two things: “I’m heading home;” and “Where can I land to take care of mother nature?”!

The swell gathering at the next headland was even more impressive, at least 4 meters from the trough to the top. Fortunately, as far out as I was, the waves weren’t breaking, though they still took my breath away and this was a “quiet ” day there. Looking at those hills of water barrelling down on the shore was eye-opening. There wasn’t any way I was going to attempt to land that fully loaded kayak on the last day of my journey through surf that big. This was to be a 30 nm day, and in 4 hours I had done more than 15-20 of them, but then the day caught up to me. Maybe it was a general fatigue, or the wind or current, but my last crossing –to the Helnes lighthouse– took over two hours and the trip from there into Honningsvag took over 3 1/2 hours. I was exhausted and hungry and a little lonely, but Johnny had given me good directions about where to land. I found the floating dock very near where the coastal steamer would depart at 5:45 the next morning. Now I simply had to find out for sure where to carry my kayak and gear to get on that boat, and also where to sleep for the few hours left to me.

At the top of the gangplank I came around a corner and found a taxi stand where, once again, random strangers took me under their wing. This time it was an entertaining taxi driver who was proud to be Finnish man. He showed me where to take my boat and gear, steered me away from the expensive hotel that had caught my eye and drove me instead to a local hostel for a third or less of the price. The ladies here were marvelous, preparing a meal, helping me with laundry, pointing me to the showers and the room. It was a nearly perfect end to this phase of the journey.

The next morning came much too quickly, but my driver arrived promptly at 5:30, we saw the ship arriving as we pulled up and I was on my way home. Traveling by steamer along the same sections of coast that I had earlier paddled was bittersweet. I was delighted to see them again, amazed that somehow I had actually paddled that distance, and sad to be leaving them behind. But I could relax, reflect on the trip, write in my journal, eat too much, and walk around. It’s a fantastic way to travel.

It also gave me a chance to see the Lofoten area, which I missed on my way north. Norway is a stunningly beautiful coastline that could take a lifetime to fully appreciate. So after 2 1/2 days on the fery, and a full day on the train, I can now relax and visit with my friends Erling and Sonja in Stavanger. As it turns out, I’ll be here to help celebrate Norway’s national day. So I’ll be saying good-bye in a a spirit of celebration and sharing the moment with very special people.

I’m nearly home, and I’m excited to get back to Bar Harbor, to see friends and family, and to continue with Mel to live the adventure.

Thank you again to everyone for your interest and best wishes.

Cheers from Norway,

Mark

The End

May 11, 2009

I’m on a  ferry headed back down the Norwegian coast, having rounded Nordkapp on Sunday. Well actually, I’m once again sitting in the library at Hammerfest, where just a few days ago I was composing my last post. Just down the block, the MS Nordkapp, a coastal steamer from the Hurtigruten line, has let us disembark just long enough for a bite to eat, giving me time to jump on a computer.  The trip from here held many memories and places that I want to share. From the people and their stories, to the conditions and excitement I experienced rounding the most northern tip Europe and seeing the famous Nordkapp. The day I rounded it was a quiet day and the swell was easily four meters high, the clapotis was exciting and I was thrilled. It was literally seven hours before I even spotted a place I could have landed safely, so it reinforced a hard judgment call I made to end this phase of the expedition following a rounding of Nordkapp. I talked with many people, including local fisherman, local kayakers, and Mel. The coast to the east of Nordkapp is extreme and, at this time of year, particulary hazardous. With very long crossings, unpredictable weather, and rugged coastline, and me paddling solo, I made the decision to end the journey after Nordkapp. To go further, simply for the sake of reaching Kirkenes, would have been more risk than I as a solo paddler wanted to take. I’m very proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish in the expedition to date, and making this decision was actually easier than I expected. Sometimes judgments have to be made to alter a course or trip and we always caution our clients about the dangers of “destination-itus” or focusing on a destination while ignoring the changing environmental conditions. Goteberg to Nordkapp is an accomplishment I can look at with fondness and without an ounce of regret.

Now to head home. After seeing the Hurtigruten ferry so many times on my way north, it’s a simple pleasure to be on it revisiting many of the places I passed in the kayak. After cruising to Bodo, it will be an overnight train to Stravanger, then a day or so to sort gear and to visit with my  friends Erling and Sonja. Then it’s off to Oslo to catch a flight home to Duke (an over-energized English Pointer) and the love of my life, Mel. I do have a story to tell about the last days on the water and I’ll try to get that to you after I reach Stravanger.

Thanks to all of you, who been following this journey. 

Cheers, Mark

Back in Contact…

May 7, 2009

Hello from Hammerfest.

After leaving Jane and Glenn in Hessford, I had a pretty good, but challenging trip, covering 143.35 nm in five days.  That’s averaging about 28.7 nautical miles a day.  I have to admit that not paddling today is a relief  that my aging body is already thanking me for.

The coast is getting more rugged, but still is stunningly beautiful.  I’ve had long days, long crossings, and — in the last few days – strong winds that sometimes have helped, but more often have simply left me exhausted at  the days’ end.

Puffins in small groups have become an almost constant sight and they have given me quite close and curious looks.  We have puffins near home in Maine, so these guys are reminding me that I’ll be homeward bound soon.

One challenge is a direct result of the rugged beauty of this area where mountainous islands rise so dramatically from the sea – it’s hard to find a flat piece of ground to pitch a tent!  Often I’ve seen the perfect spot, but the landing is unsafe for a loaded kayak, then I’ll come to safe beach of sand or smooth rocks, but the tideline ends in a steep rise to the mountaintop.  My longest day of the week, 37.7 nautical miles, wasn’t so much an effort for a long day as it was a search for a campsite. But that persistence paid off, as I found one of the most beautiful camping spots of the trip.  It was on a small island called Hakstein across the water from the town of Skjervoya.  The island was a nature preserve and the meadow on the south side was perfect.  Watching the lights of the city, seeing the rose color of the almost-sunset above the mountains in the background are memories I still hold very clearly.

Another campsite held promise, but I made an unpleasant discovery.  On the western point of the island of Seiland is a narrow point of land with a little “V” shape on the end facing the sea.  When I paddled past, the meadow above the pebble beach caught my eye, so I stopped.  But the shape made it the perfect collection point for all the flotsam of the sea, large and small, a surprising quantity of trash, but at least there was a flat spot when I needed it.  Of course, as was bound to happen, I discovered on the next day’s trip that an hour up the north side of that Island were several absolutely pristine sites that would have been perfect, oh well.

Wednesday turned out to be more challenging than I hoped, as the strong wind made the 25-nautical-mile trip much longer than expected, but again the effort yielded a good outcome.  I was met about 9:00 pm by Sture and Wenche at the small boat harbor.  They are both enthusiastic sea kayakers and are my hosts here in Hammerfest (and beyond as it turns out).  Sture works for an energy company that keeps apartments near the marina for temp workers.  So they helped me carry gear to the apartment, got me settled, bought some groceries, including chocolate, and joined me for a beer and shared kayaking stories.  They both had kayaked in Hegeland and we had paddled to many of the same islands.  Sture is also making arrangements for places for me to stay between here and Honningsvag which is on the island of Mageroya, the site of Nordkapp.  In fact he grew up on the island in a town called Gjesvaer.

I have to say a special thanks to my friend, Nils, from the kayak club in Harstad, who made some calls when he found out I needed a respite in Hammerfest.  It was that effort that brought me to the attention of Sture and Wenche.

Another local paddler named Dag has spoken to me and told me about the strong easterly winds and large swells that are common this time of year.  He knows a local paddler from Gjesvar who can also help with advice.  I believe I’ve got a good strategy for getting around Nordkapp – now let’s hope Mother Nature is kind and lets things become quiet when I desperately need it.

Tusen Takk for alt.  (A thousand thanks for everything.)

Mark

Technological difficulties

May 6, 2009

Hi, friends and family of Mark;

If you keep track of Mark through his SPOT satelite signals, you might have got a bit worried as he did not send one out last night. Or rather, he tried but it didn’t go through. Just a couple of words to assure you that everything is fine. Last night he found a nice bay on a headland on the island called Seiland just southwest of Hammerfest. Today he is pressing on and will reach Hammerfest later this afternoon, he has around 20 km left at the time of writing. He asked me to let Mel know that yesterday his phone card for international calls did not work, which explains his silence.

Hammerfest used to be known as the world’s northernmost city, I don’t know if that still holds true. It’s far north anyway, at almost 71 deg N. Population is around 10,000 but more importantly — Mark is offered to borrow an apartment where he will spend two nights to get a bit of rest. Today has been windy, so when I last spoke to him he was looking forward to putting down the paddle for the day. After Hammerfest I guess that he’ll have three more days to get to Nordkapp!

I guess I am not the only one who are impressed when I unfold the map to see what distance he has covered so far. I hope things are going well with Mark’s sister.

All the best, and many regards from Mark.

 Erling Brox

May 3, 2009

Memorable Encounter

I’ve had a memorable encounter.  Yesterday, May 2nd, was a great day for paddling. In fact, in the sun I was over dressed but loving the warmth. There was little wind, which made it a virtually perfect opportunity. An opportunity that took an interesting twist. I had a choice of routes and the more direct route took me south of a large island called Reinoya heading towars the town of Skjervoya, but you’ll see by the satellite tracking that I took a turn north along the island of Ringvassoya. During my time in Tromso, I received an irresitable invitation to visit a local kayaking family in the small village of Hessford. Jane O’Dwyer, her husband Glenn Jensen, and two charming children Lea (4) and Evan (10 months) asked me to drop by for coffee, or to spend the night. My intentions were for coffee, but couldn’t resist to take the full offer. Glen paddled down the sound as I was paddling north and we met about 2 hours away from his home. He’s only been paddling for a couple of years, but he’s learned to move his kayak at a really good clip —  I was tuckered out from keeping up as we hit the beach. About a mile out, I could see a little fire going on the beach and it was here we met the family. Fresh rolls, coffee, and hotdogs were on hand for a lovely picnic outing. That was it, inertia set in and I couldn’t resist a longer visit. After an excellent dinner of cod, Glen drove me across the island to see the neighboring islands on the outside and the lake on the interior. Signs of spring were everywhere, as the streams were flowing strong and the ice on the lake was visibly thin, though this didn’t deter the lone ice-fisherman we saw out there. This reminded me of home actually.

Jane is from Wales, Glen from an island even further north of here called Vanna, where his father owned a hunting/fishing camp for tourists. They met while Jane was working for the polar institute on a research voyage to Antartica. That fateful meeting was actually in Cape Town, South Africa, where they met the ship. Glen is an electrian and was on board to provide technical support to the vessel. Now she’s a nurse, he works for the power company, traveling to all the outer islands to keep people with power, and they raising a wonderful family. Today is a rainy day, but very light winds, so I’m happy. After a bit of wind tomorrow before noon, it’s supposed get sunny again and have the winds drop. I’m facing some long crossings, so that’s a forecast I like. After Glen and I looked at the maps last night, I’m figuring 4 or 5 days to Hammerfest and then another 4 days to Nordkapp. Then it’s time to head east for the big push for Kirkeness and home. I’ll do what I can to keep you posted.

Cheers,  Mark

May 1, 2009

Hard Paddling and Holidays

Most people who know me know that I’m not a morning person, which is why paddling this time of year in the Arctic is such a wonderful experience. I can get on the water somewhat late by many people’s standards, and then paddle until 9 or 10 pm or later. Knowing I had a bit over 30 nautical miles to cover to get to Tromso, I was confident that I could get on the water by 9:30 or so and be there by 8 pm or so. Of course after getting up a bit late and having that one last cup of coffee it was 1010 before I was paddling away. The route to Tromso from Finnsness is beautiful and sheltered, but the narrow fjords come with a price–current. Up until now, I’ve been lucky with the currents, but on April 30th, I literally paddled against the current all day. Most times, it was barely noticeable, except for that extra ache in my obliques and lower back. Often I was able to paddle in the eddies next to the coastline, but the result was that I didn’t get to the kayak club buildings until after 9 pm. I was very tired, but in some ways proud that I managed. The one tricky bit was past a pretty island called Ryoy where I was warned not to stop because a herd of musk-ox lived there and were very agressive. The island restricts an already narrow passageway, so the currents can get very strong. When I arrived and saw the way the buoy was leaning against the current, I knew I had a challenge. But the eddies were nice near the rocks of the island and it was a quick ferry glide over the top of the channel when I got there.

 May 1st is a national holiday here, and with a good weather forecast a lot of people have headed out of town.  But the local kayak club came to my rescue  let me bunk down in one of their boathouses along the shore. Then a wonderfully patient man named Georg rallied at 10 pm to bring me a key for the building, take me to a grocery store and restaurant, and deliver some very detailed maps that were left by a club member named Bernt who works for the Norwegian Arctic Institute.

The morning brought a number of kayak club members heading out for the day. I think I startled the first couple when I stumble out of the attic looking a bit rough, but it’s always great to talk with sea kayakers. My intention was to continue paddling on May 1, but I was feeling a bit under the weather so I took the day to recuperate and get strong for a good push into Finnmark, that northern part of Norway with so many of the challenges and mysteries I’ve been thinking about for weeks. I’m also trying hard at this point to be able to fly home to my family a little bit sooner.

I may or may not be able to update this blog for a while, but follow my progress on the satellite tracking page. Wish me good luck and good weather (little or no winds!!).

Mark

April 29, 2009

After the challenging days leading to getting across Vestfjorden to meet Mia in Lodingen, I’ve had several fantastic days. The trip up the Tjeldsundet from Lodingen to Harstad was about 35 nautical miles and couldn’t have been a better day. The wind settled down, the tide was right, the company was excellent and about two hours south of our destination, we had another delightful surprise. A paddler joined us in a greenland-style boat, using a greenland paddle. His name is Ola Loftingsmo and he’s a kind and interesting man, a lieutenant commander in the Navy, he is very much in love with being here north of the Arctic Circle. As it turns out, a lot of the inspiration here in greenland paddling and technique comes from two deserving individuals. One, Karl Markusen, is the owner of the camp I stayed at. He actually competed in Greenland a few years ago and raced against Dubside. He knows our friend (and greenland champ) Alison Sigethy, her husband Tom and friend James. Another example of the world being small. We arrived about 8:30 at night and he showed me the cabin, where a pot of a traditional Sami stew made with moose meat was waiting for me. I ate until I nearly burst. This, I found out, was the product of his wonderful wife’s work, a women who is also a budding artist. The next day Karl ran me into town where I visited a great kayak shop, bought a tent, wrote postcards home and just relaxed. That evening, we drank beer! A group from the club got together and we talked. About the trip, about Nordkapp, about greenland paddling, about politics. Imagine a group of fanatic paddlers drinking beer and telling war stories…that was us and it was perfect. Karl then told me that his very good friend,Orgen Karlsen, was going to join me Wednesday morning to paddle to a town called Finnsnes. Orgen is an artist in the true sense of the word. Descended from a Sami, he has an interest in the arts and crafts of indigenous peoples. His east greenland boats are beautiful, his paddles are excellent and he also builds traditional bows and arrows. He’s tanned reindeer, made Sami clothing, used to race sled dogs, and builds didgeredoo’s that have been recognized by Australian aborigines for his work. When a group of Australian aborigines were Europe on tour, they had their instruments stolen. Knowing that Orgen built these instruments, a friend who collected them donated the instruments to the performing group, saving the tour. The musicians recognized the quality of his work and invited him to visit them in their home. So Orgen spent a month living in the bush playing didgeredoos with aboriginal peoples. Karl and Orgen both have lovely families who took me into their homes and made me feel welcomed. Our paddle together was somewhat short, but very relaxing and again, it was the personal connection that was my reward. As I move further north, I’m told to expect a more exposed and remote area, nature more “naked”.

The trip is moving now into a new and possibly final phase — less contact, longer crossings, more challenge. I feel strong and up to the challenge, but that’s the result of very many elements coming together. First and foremost is the love and support from home, my loving partner and wife, Mel who encouraged me in my darkest hour. My father and sister who are such strong cheerleaders, all of the sponsors who’ve given their trust and equipment, and the wonderful network of Norwegians, kayakers and nonkayakers alike, who’ve provided hospitality, shelter, advice, and interest in this project.

Tusen Takk! (a thousand thanks) Mark

Saturday, April 25

Call it karma, but after a great start, I’ve run into a tough stretch. 

One day crossing a fjord called Folda, I got hit by a breaking wave I didn’t see coming and suddenly was upside down.  At least I found I can roll a fully loaded kayak in very rough seas.  It was frustrating more than anything, but the adrenaline did kick in, as I had four more miles to go on that crossing.

The next day, was beautiful paddling and I made about 30 nautical miles, but when I set up camp, both of my tent poles snapped.  Of course, that part of the repair kit was what was missing.  I managed to jury rig a repair using a finger-sized sam splint.  At least it stayed up during a windy night.  Of course, at about 5 a.m. I woke to a load pop and discovered yet another break.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I had to stay in camp another day due to high winds.  But on Saturday morning, I decided to head to Lodingen, where a kayaker named Mia had graciously offered to rescue me from my plight.  The weather forecast was for light winds in the morning and strong breeze (21 knots or so) by midday.  I doubted the tent would stay up in that wind so I thought I’d get an early start.  Turns out midday meant 8:15 a.m. as I started into very strong wind.  Mostly it was behind me, but I paddled for nearly eight hours without stopping in seas often as high as 10 feet from trough to wave top.  It was the single hardest day of paddling I’ve ever done.  Really, I shouldn’t have been on the water, but I was without shelter…it was a tough call and I had some scary moments, but thinking about Mel pulled me through — I wanted to get home to tell that story!

Got here to Mia’s about 5:00 p.m. and jumped right into a shower followed by dinner shortly afterward.  She paddles an Anas Acuta and is going to accompany me to Harstad tomorrow, where a kayak club member named Karl is going to put me up in one of his cabins and help me “solve my problems!” 

Once again, the Norwegian kayaking community has opened their hearts and homes to me and it’s simply overwhelming.

None of this would be possible if it weren’t for the constant support and friendship I’ve gotten from Erling Brox.  If it weren’t for his weather updates by text, his phone calls to check my spirits, his calling and e-mailing ahead for folks like Mia and Karl, I’d never be able to achieve this adventure.  He’s invaluable and I can’t thank him enough.

Mark

Tuesday, April 21

Honestly, the past couple of weeks have been a blurring mix of adventure and challenge.  We’ve battled winds over 30 knots and had the same winds come behind us and push us with delightful (and adrenaline pumping) force.

We’ve seen gray seals, porpoise, dozens of sea eagles, sea otters, snow-capped mountains and countless islands.  I’m glad to have had Jeff push the pace so that I’ve put miles in I never thought I could accomplish.  We recently had two days in a row near 45 nautical miles each day.  Of course, the trip continues to be a wonderful series of encounters with amazing people.

Shortly after my last post we were hosted by a gentleman and his family. His name is Ingvar Hals and he picked us up at the end of a long day, brought us to his home for a delightful visit.  We gave a presentation for his kayak club that was very well received.  I even got the chance to talk with a greenland paddling enthusiast.  Ingvar also was able to track down a very nice tent for me to use as I continue on during my solo portion.

Leaving Ingvar, we next encountered a wonderful host, who didn’t know us from Adam.  We landed at her farm cold and tired from battling strong winds.  We were to meet a local for another presentation, but before he could get to us, she brought us into her home, had us hang all our wet gear, in her living room, fed us and even offered a room.  It turns out that her farm being so close to the outside of the island attracts paddlers and adventurers.  Just last year, she had a random encounter with a group of brothers rowing an open traditional Norwegian boat from the tip of Norway south for the entire coast.  The man who took us in that night is a club member in Trondheim and paddles a folding kayak, uses a greenland paddle, and is going to be studying boat building with a Norwegian master in a couple of weeks.

From there it was the big push to get to Bent and Inga’s sea kayaking B&B. They own Havnomaden and their website is http://www.havnomaden.no

This is a very special place in Hegeland and nestled in view of the Seven Sisters,  which is a series of tall mountains that led in large part to the myth of trolls in Norway’s mountains.  I’m sitting here now gazing out the window at this amazing setting wishing I could share this moment with my loved ones.

Bent and Inga’s place was a focus for Jeff and me because it’s here that the expedition entered a new and challenging phase.

As I mentioned, I’ve continued on solo while Jeff has returned home for teaching commitments and another series of very challenging and historic projects. In any case, this is the year for me to give it my best shot and the support and interest I’ve received from family and friends both in the U.S. and here in Norway has been very humbling.

 

So far on my trip from Bent and Inge’s to here in Bodø, I’ve held my own reasonably well, which means I haven’t gotten lost and I’ve managed on most days to get out of that warm sleeping bag in time for a good day’s paddling.  I’m feeling strong, lost some weight, and my confidence level has settled in.

The scenery continues to delight and intimidate.  These snowcapped mountains so close to the water are stunning.  Yet they’re so large, it seems impossible that I’ll ever reach them much less get past them, yet somehow I do.  They do make judging distance a bit difficult, as they are often farther away than they seem.  There’s an interesting phenomenon where you get into the zone paddling, lost in thoughts and the mountain or headland never seems to get closer, then all of a sudden you come out of your reverie and you’re almost there.  Yet it seems that this last stretch of being almost there lasts forever.

Before I sign off I have to thank two more wonderful people.  On a beautiful rugged island of Rodøy, two days north of the Havnomaden center, I met a wonderful shopkeeper named Odd.  He saw me arrive, came down to greet me, took me in for coffee and let me refill my water.  His grandfather bought the shop in the 1930s and they’ve been running that business since.  His daughter is a kayaker as well and talked about rolling, forward strokes, etc.

What makes the story really memorable is that after leaving his shop, I got to the top of the island in a hard driving wind, nearly 30-35 knots with a sleet so painful I couldn’t look into it.  Rather than risk a crossing north, or set up camp in that wind, I took a chance and returned to the shop only to find it closed.  Spotting his van at a nearby home, I rang the bell and surprised him.  I asked for help finding a room (not too expensive) to spend the night.  He didn’t hesitate, he took me to the home of his uncle, which had an empty flat available and they let me stay there. 

Not only that, but he came up that night and brought me down for a very nice dinner of lasagna and beer.  The next day, I showed him our home in Maine on a Google satellite image and how to track my trip.

He then introduced me to a friend and sea kayaker visiting from Bodø.  We spoke shortly and said good-bye.  As it turns out, when I arrived in Bodø, that same gentleman was actually standing on the ramp to shake my hand. 

This was 3 days later as I took a day off the water for the wind to die down.

Finally, much to my delight, my host in Bodø, is a wonderful woman, Frøydis Grinstein, who is a Captain in the Norwegian Air Force.  She not only picked me up, but arranged for me to be able to stay at the Air Force

base.  Since I’m retired Air Force myself, there was a welcome sense of home and connection here, I couldn’t help smiling when I found out and I proudly showed her my retired military ID card. She also kindly ran me downtown, to visit a beautiful city, get some shopping done, and to spend time in the library catching up on e-mail and blog posts.

 

Tomorrow I’m off for a big push to try for Harstad which I hope to get to in four days or so.  Wish me luck.

Mark

The solo portion of the trip begins with sad news.

April 15, 2009

Jeff and I have made excellent time up the coast and he is leaving to rejoin Lizzie  today.  From here, starting today, I’m paddling solo, though I hope to have other folks join me from time to time.  It’s a bit scary.

But…I’m doing this in part in honor of my sister, Sandy Lonas, who lives in San Antonio, Texas.  I’ve just gotten word that she has been diagnosed with bone cancer and starts treatment this Friday.  I talked with her yesterday, and she said she doesn’t want me to quit the trip; she thinks it’s an exciting thing and likes following our progress up the coast.   So, for now at least, I’m continuing with the trip  and I’m doing it in honor of her.  

For all of you have sent your good wishes to me and Jeff,  thanks — and  please, keep them coming.  And send a few good thoughts Sandy’s way, too.

Thanks,   Mark