Kayaking in the North Atlantic

Four days in the North Atlantic.

Unlike EVERY SINGLE OTHER OUTDOOR TRIP 

we had no visits from ice-rain gale hailstorms. 

But rather, perfectly clear skies and 15 degree weather for the first night.

 Hiked to the top of Bolga.

I proceeded in my chacos and had many a skeptical glance from the Norwegians.

Partly because of the lack of "trail" in these parts.

Crawling precariously over moss covered boulders is considered "hiking" here.

It was perfect.

Teams Canada, New Zealand, and America provided the s'mores.

Incidentally, we had introduced them to the Scandis, last week.

I took great delight in watching them gingerly lick their sticky fingers with furrowed eyebrows.

We slept under the balmiest and creamiest colored sky.

Well, we slept eventually.

The sun doesn't set anymore.

Next day,

We kayaked to the farthest western skerries on our little edge of the Atlantic.

We discovered:

Sunken shipwrecks, bright turquoise inlets, and great swathes of edible seaweed.

Our destination was unfortunately covered with international garbage.

 Compliments of The Gulf Stream.

I scavenged an intact eagles skull but the dog had a roll about in it.

Tegan and I introduced "Kumbaya" to our Scandis. Adorable.

Martina, my Swiss friend, sent me off with chocolate and tea.

Treasure!

Also, we adopted a new friend.

Us girls slept on the heather, which smelled like dead animals.

It is appropriate to burn your toilet paper in the Norwegian wilderness, 

opposed to the pack out method we use in North America.

Regrettably, the wind picked up and I lit the hilltop on fire. 

Then I fell into a pond whilst trying to put out the flames

 and was rescued by a gallant Swedish man.

Who thew himself, selflessly, into my toilet paper inferno.

That's how Rachael almost burned down "Garbage Island"

The rest of the second day Tegan, the Canadian canoe queen, taught me how to paddle. 

Canoeing on open seas and following Lars on a wild hunt for our next campsite.

Jon, the saving Swede, and Lydia rowed like champs and gathered trees for the fire.

Wikings.

Our next camp spot was perfect.

 Øystein boiled a pot of fish, on the rocks, and we had fresh fish soup with rice.

Thunderstorms spilt up our campfire and made for soggy woolen pajamas.

Wild seas and thick, low clouds greeted us in the morning.

My precious chaos betrayed me, whilst bathrooming, 

and I ended up with a barnacle gashed backside. 

Lars led us into the open, white-capped ocean.

We spent the rest of the day fighting and surfing over the huge waves. 

It was delicious.

We regrouped on Bolga. 

Christophe and I commandeered the base boat and took off for home 

while everyone else waited for the ferry.

It was insane.

I sat in the bow of the boat, as we slowly motored home along the raging fjord.

 The sea threw salty kisses and towering waves at us. 

It was a glorious.

My fingers were frozen, icy claws for the rest of the day. 

In other news, North Norway now comes in shades of brown, grey, and GREEN.

Much applause to the leaves that decided to show up (finally)

My life seems to be taking me on a tour of all the beautiful, created things.