A Wandering Spirit

A Wandering Spirit

This is my PINK ORCHID 2024 Story

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Chapter 1 - A Kiss with Intentions

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I was staying with my friend, Brenn, in Trondheim. I met Brenn at University and we have been close friends ever since. But unlike me, Brenn has a permanent job, a house, and a boyfriend. I prefer a more wandering lifestyle, enjoying nature, traveling, and earning just enough to 'get by' from vlogging, writing travel adventure stories, leading small group travel tours, and ghostwriting. But 'getting by' in Norway, one of the most expensive countries on Earth, means being unable to afford either a house or a flat. Instead, I spend my life visiting friends all over Europe. In exchange for providing me with food and lodging, I cook meals for them, help with cleaning, and even pick up a hammer or paintbrush now and then.

While Brenn was at work yesterday, I was doing laundry. I reached headfirst into the front-loading washing machine to retrieve some errant clothing. Then it happened. Brenn's boyfriend came up behind me. "Nice arse!" he said while rubbing my bum.

I retreated from the washing machine without my prey and turned to face him. He stepped closer, grabbed me behind my neck, and kissed me! I'm fine with someone giving me a quick peck on my lips or cheek, but this was what I call a 'kiss with intentions'. I couldn't believe it, because Brenn is really fun, outgoing, has beautiful long dark hair, and has a fit body. Perhaps I lingered a moment too long before pushing him away, but my eyes conveyed my displeasure, and I followed it up with, "Don't ever do that again." He laughed. I didn't. I made an excuse to go out and pick up some groceries, then grabbed my coat and left the house. I stayed away until I was sure Brenn would be home, debating what to do. Should I tell Brenn?

The food was hot at supper, the conversation less so, and afterward, I spent the evening in my room claiming to do Internet work. Instead, I weighed my options. If I told Brenn what her boyfriend had done, would she believe me? Or would he lie and deny it? What if she believed him? instead of me? Would Brenn get angry at me and suggest I was leading him on? I valued my friendship with Brenn but if she defended him, I might lose her as a friend. After much thought, I decided it would be best for me to leave Trondheim. I was certain her boyfriend would stray again, and afterward, I would get a tearful call from Brenn announcing they were breaking up. At least, I hoped so.

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Chapter 2 - A Wandering Spirit

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I needed to find a place to go, and hopefully pick up a freelance story to cover my travel expenses. I emailed my friend Toivo to see if he had any stories in mind. Toivo runs a Scandinavian outdoor travel blog from Finland. His blog is popular enough to attract advertisers, and he is smart enough to supplement his work with stories written by other authors, like me. Best of all, he pays for those stories. Not much, but where else can you be outdoors, doing something you love to do, and find someone willing to pay for it? OK! OK! Get your mind out of the gutter! Perhaps I should re-word that.

Toivo speaks perfect Norwegian, but responded to my email in Finnish, "I don't understand your language. Please write back to me in Suomi."

Norwegian is one of the Germanic languages, with similarities to languages in other European countries. Because of that, I am fluent in six languages and comfortable speaking four others. But Finnish, known as Suomi, is a language left behind by visiting aliens! The words themselves look and sound different and are full of double vowels. Suomi is a genderless language, a single pronoun is often used for both male and female. How can you tell which? You can't. And even after you learn the Finnish word for something, odd suffixes may appear depending on the usage within a sentence. I replied with a flurry of all the Finnish curse words I knew, then switched to Norwegian. Two years ago, I spent five months in northern Finland with Toivo, helping him with his sled dogs in Rovaniemi, and we fell in love. Even with daily exposure, my mastery of Finnish, and my relationship with Toivo, both failed.

Toivo gave in, this time, and told me in Norwegian he knew four ice climbers were waiting in Geiranger hoping the Seven Sisters waterfall would freeze solid. One of the tallest waterfalls in Norway, and perhaps the most beautiful, Seven Sisters rarely freezes due to the warm waters from the Gulf Stream. This year, intense Arctic cold settled over Scandinavia in early January. The last time the Seven Sisters waterfall completely froze was in February, fourteen years ago! Toivo was willing to pay me reasonable travel expenses for a story about winter kayaking in Norway, even more, if the waterfall had frozen, and quite a bit more if I could get photographs of the ice climbers. He provided me with their contact information.

The words 'reasonable expenses' and 'Norway' do not belong in the same sentence, and reaching the remote town of Geiranger, in the middle of winter, was not going to be easy, or cheap.

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Chapter 3 - Escape to Arendelle

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For my escape, I flew the next morning from Trondheim to Ålesund, a town with a rich art heritage, located on the Norwegian coast. There I met with my friend, Ellie, and together we drove to the town of Stranda in the interior of Norway. Ellie has a short-term lease on a one-bedroom flat and works as a ski instructor at the nearby Strandafjellet Skisenter. I met Ellie two years ago when we were both kayak instructors during the summer in Geiranger. Her flat was messy, which perfectly fits her personality, and I expected nothing else. She is a bit of a wandering spirit like me, and her flat had little furniture and scant decorations. There was an odd-looking circular drawing hanging on the wall, and Ellie told me it was a Viking calendar, often pictured as a wheel.

I reviewed my float plan with Ellie, including my intention to paddle into Geirangerfjord, take the requested winter kayaking photographs for Toivo, and then return the same evening. Ellie was willing to lend me her kayak, a recreation kayak about 4 meters in length. Shorter and slower than a touring kayak, it was very stable, and I would make do. Ellie cautioned that due to the unusually cold winter, there was some ice in the fjord, but I should be able to work my way through and around it. In addition, because this is Norway, and it is winter, she helped me pack a tarp, sleeping bag, and extra food and water, just in case.

In addition to the Seven Sisters waterfall, other magnificent waterfalls can be found in Geirangerfjord, which is considered by many as the most beautiful fjord in Norway. With the steepest cliffs of any fjord in western Norway, it is quite narrow with almost no shoreline. It so impressed the animation team at Disney that they took inspiration from Geirangerfjord when they created Arendelle - the kingdom over which Elsa the Snow Queen rules. The emerald waters, magical waterfalls, and sheer mountain slopes towering 1400 meters above the water make it a popular summer tourist destination.

Ellie was willing to share her large bed with me, and after looking at the old sofa, that option was appealing. I have a bit of a modest nature, so I went into the lone bedroom first, put on the base layer I would be wearing tomorrow, and got into bed. Ellie turned off the lights in the living area and entered the bedroom. A single nightlight seemed suddenly brighter as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Ellie began undressing, dropping her clothing to the floor. She was not as tall as me, stockier with wide hips, and had something I lacked - real breasts. Well, mine are real, but because of their small size, they are difficult for others to notice. I watched Ellie's breasts dangle as she removed her leggings and guessed they were a C-cup. I wondered to myself what they must feel like, but it was not a question I dared to ask. Ellie slipped beneath the warm down comforter, completely naked, and whispered to me, "Good night."

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Chapter 4 - Small and Insignificant

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I woke to a pleasant Thursday morning, cool, but sunny and with no wind. A good day for paddling and for taking photographs. Ellie drove me and her kayak south to the waterfront at Hellesylt, and I pushed off into Sunnylvsfjorden. I had to cross a section of this fjord to reach Geirangerfjord, which branches off Sunnylvsfjorden. Geirangerfjord itself is only about 15 kilometers long, or about 9.5 miles. I estimated I could travel between 5 to 6 kilometers per hour, and since Seven Sisters is just over midway into the fjord, I should have adequate time to reach it and return the same day.

I had never seen Geirangerfjord in winter, and now, with abundant snow on the mountains, often draping down the steep mountainsides, I was in awe. The angle of the low winter sun deepened the shadows hiding in the dark grey rock, and the air was crystal clear. Unlike summer months here, winter was vastly different, and wonderful. I was alone. There was complete silence except for the splashes from my paddle. I loved the feeling of being small and insignificant in this fantastic wilderness. Geirangerfjord was designated UNESCO World Heritage Site, and I was thankful for the chance to see it in winter.

As expected, there were no other kayakers in the fjord, and indeed, solo kayaking in winter is not without its dangers. But I know how to Self-Rescue, and knew it was up to me to deal with anything that came up. I would stay within my limits and depend totally on myself. A good feeling.

In summer, Geirangerfjord is full of cruise ships, boaters, helicopter rides, kayakers, pesky seagulls, and high-speed Rigid Inflatable Boats known as RIBs. As a kayak instructor in Geiranger, at the head of the fjord, I would take novice kayakers out and spend hours to reach one waterfall and return. The RIBs made the same trip in 45 minutes.

Geirangerfjord roughly follows an east-west orientation, with a slight curve. Heading east, I passed smaller waterfalls, with the ones to my right mainly in shadow and completely frozen. The ones to my left, on south-facing slopes, were partially frozen but still had trickles of flowing water. Since the Seven Sisters face southeast, I began to fear it would be in the same condition, preventing the four ice climbers from making their attempt.

I paddled more to the center channel of the fjord, staying about fifty meters away from the shoreline, which was jammed in several places with fjord ice. Fjords in Norway tend to remain ice-free due to the warmth of the Gulf Stream. But in a frigid winter, like this one, ice can form along the shorelines. Fresh water flows down the mountainsides into the fjords, gets trapped against the shore by the denser brackish water in the fjords, and freezes more easily.

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Chapter 5 - The Seven Sisters

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Rounding a slight curve in the fjord, the Seven Sisters came into view on my left. As I paddled closer, I could see a mix of ice and still trickling water. Even in this hybrid state, the Sisters were magnificent, holding my eye as I traced the water plunging nearly straight down for over 400 meters from brink to base. It was impossible to take a bad photograph. I took plenty of good ones. The ice mimicked the normal flow of the waterfall, only in a solid, unmoving form.

I spoke on the phone with the climbing team yesterday, and they were still hopeful the Seven Sisters would soon freeze solid, due to a strong cold front, forecasted to arrive, and remain for nearly a week. They needed the cold weather to cut off the flow of snow melt above the falls. They planned to arrive early in the morning at the base of the falls by boat, make the climb, and then rappel back down. Because the ice had frozen at various times, they were worried about the quality of the ice, and especially how it might vary as they climbed. Sections would be frozen solid, while others could be a bit airy and more fragile. During the past week, they checked three times, finding the same trickling water I was looking at now. They suggested I get close enough to see some magnificent ice mushrooms located near the base of the waterfall.

I had seen ice mushrooms before, and they do look like real mushrooms, but are made of ice! They form as water slowly drips or splashes onto a stick, a rock, or even on other ice. Layer after layer of water accumulates, then freezes, growing higher and higher into the classic mushroom shape. I paddled close enough to photograph the mushrooms right from my kayak using my zoom lens.

In early summer, during the peak snowmelt period, enough water is falling that it splits into seven individual streams, hence the name Seven Sisters, or De Syv Søstrene in Norwegian. Seeing all seven at once can be challenging. If the snow melts too fast, the volume of water is so great that two or more streams merge. Later in summer, as the volume of water slows, one or more of the streams may dry up.

I would lead kayakers to see the Seven Sisters and tell the tale of how the waterfall was named. Over, and over, and over again. Legend says that the Seven Sisters would dance and play as they made their way down the mountain and played along the shore. Directly across from the Seven Sisters is another magnificent waterfall, called 'The Suitor'. The Suitor would look across the fjord at the Sisters, and they would flirt with him. He fell in love and wanted to marry one of the Sisters, but they did not give in to his charms. The Suitor remains there today, still trying to woo them.

I retrieved my open-faced matpakke sandwich and ate it for lunch while looking up at the Seven Sisters. Sitting in my kayak, I would not trade my seat for one in any restaurant!

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Chapter 6 - Trouble on the Horizon

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As I took my final photo of the Seven Sisters, I saw clouds moving in quickly from the west. Stowing my camera, I pointed my kayak towards Hellesylt and began paddling in earnest. Weather can change rapidly in Norway, and the heavy dark gray clouds on the horizon appeared ominous. A chilly wind hit me in the face, slowing my forward speed, and worse, it had shifted blocks of fjord ice away from the shoreline into the main channel. I began to zig-zag around the larger pieces.

My arms, back, and abs growled their objections, and I began to tire from the extra effort. I thought back to summers here when I was on the water at least five days a week. Those well-toned muscles were now just a memory. The ones currently in my possession felt weak and ill-prepared for what I was facing.

A thick wall of swirling mist, laying low, right upon the waters of the fjord, moved towards me. I paused for a moment to prepare, retrieved my headlamp, and turned it on. I resumed paddling and entered the maelstrom. I was immediately pelted with a mix of snow and sleet. Visibility dropped to mere meters. The light from my headlamp reflected right back at me, like an illuminated wall, and seemed barely an arm's length away. Useless, I turned off my headlamp.

Not wanting to run into a large piece of fjord ice and risk flipping over, I slowed even further. I grew scared and hoped this was only a short-lived squall. I kept paddling but found no relief from the storm. I checked the time and saw I had a new enemy. Soon, it would be dark, and I realized I would be unable to reach Hellesylt tonight.

As the mist and snow swirled around me, small sections would briefly clear, and then close again. Those brief moments brought me no joy or hope, as they revealed the intensity of the precipitation. But the ice was slowly coating both my kayak and me, just like an ice mushroom! I felt like Anna, from the Disney movie, as she slowly turns into solid ice! I began to wonder if I would suffer the same Fate.

I needed a place to beach my kayak, hopefully one with trees for shelter. Checking my chart and GPS, I saw too few options. Nothing promising appeared on the chart, meaning the chart maker considered any place nearby to be too small and insignificant to be worthy of a spot on the chart.

I heard a chattering scream above me, looked up, and saw a large falcon swoop down over my kayak and fly toward the shoreline. I hoped the bird was, like me, looking for a place to land. I turned in the direction the falcon was headed, and followed its call, kak-kak-kak-kak, through a misty veil, to reach a small, pebbled beach. It would do.

Exiting the kayak, I pulled it onto the shore. I was happy to see a grove of spruce trees behind the beach, climbing steeply up the mountainside. I retrieved two Dry Packs and carried them into the trees. Removing a large tarp, I set it up between two trees, leaving enough material on the ground to shield me from the wetness. I gathered wet twigs, then crawled under my home for the night. It was going to be a very cold and exceptionally long night.

I removed my ice-coated PFD and my Dry Suit and wished the Dry Suit were more like the insulated wet suits worn by divers. I had my warm base layer and a mid-layer over that, but no real jacket or coat. I reminded myself of a phrase echoed throughout Norway, 'There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing'. Spreading out the sleeping bag, I slipped my tired body inside.

I reached out and touched the wet twigs, and knew it would be useless to attempt to start a fire using them. Beneath the spruce trees, I could locate other drier materials to start a fire, but that meant leaving the tarp and getting my few dry clothes wet. Shivering, I quietly nibbled on a dinner of three energy bars. I checked my cell phone, not expecting to find a signal, and I was right. I played a song I had downloaded, and smiled, for a fleeting moment.

I was freezing inside my sleeping bag. Cold, wet, and miserable. I shivered uncontrollably, until I became too exhausted to even do that, then closed my eyes and drifted into the darkness.

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Chapter 7 - Return from Darkness

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"Hej!" cried out a woman's voice. I looked up and saw a cloaked figure kneeling over me, holding an old-fashioned oil lantern. "I saw your kayak. My farmhouse is nearby, with a large fire going, if you would like to come to my home."

From my time as a kayak instructor, I knew of several mountain farms lining Gierangerfjord. It was a difficult life, forcing most farmers to abandon them long ago, but one was restored, and accepted visits by tourists who wanted to learn about the early people who lived along the shore. I was not aware of a farmhouse here, but then again, I wasn't exactly sure where 'here' was.

The woman sensed my hesitation, then said, "I am here alone, like you. My name is Anna, and this is my family farm. We have owned it for a long time. I work at the University of Oslo and visit when I need a break from the city."

I felt better about going with Anna, and the thought of a warm fire melted away any remaining reluctance. Anna suggested leaving my kit and retrieving it in the morning. I was already wearing every piece of warm clothing I brought, so I ducked out from beneath my tarp into the snow and sleet-filled night.

"Follow me," said Anna. She led me through the spruce trees, their branches bowing low from the accumulated ice. We came to a small but steep slope, about 4 meters high. The rocky slope looked slippery with its icy coating. "You should go first," suggested Anna.

I began to climb, using any rocky hand or foothold I could find, and near the top, my left foot slipped. Anna's strong hand grabbed my foot, and she pushed upwards, allowing me to scramble over the crest of the slope. Looking ahead, I saw the outline of a small farmhouse, vaguely illuminated against a murky backdrop by a small lantern near the front door. Anna joined me at the top of the slope, and we walked towards the farmhouse.