I saw the light.

October.

Four days of spelunking in Beiarn.

We stopped on the mountain so A.J. could see her first snow

The First Day

We hiked up into the mountains to the first cave. 

In general, I'm quite fond of spelunking. Except when spelunking in caves that are filled with raging rivers. 

We crawled on our bellies on the ledge above these rather turbulent waters. 

This was fine, until Øystein and Henning started scaling the wet cliffs on either side of the waterfall,

 in the dark. 

*Begin instant revaluation of placing trust in the crazy Norwegians*

I was not inclined to climb up after them, but Lars threw me an eyebrow that said I'd better follow him.

Once I was soaking wet it was delightful.

"If you don't grow, you won't be able to offer anything."

photo: Lydia Palsdottir

Caves are gorgeous. Marbled and starry wet ceilings.

We popped up between them in green mossy places full of bright sands, ferns, and waterfalls.  

I led us down a narrow passage back to the water. 

Underground bouldering. Dark silence soaking. River wading. Dew licking. Fear swallowing.

Back down the mountain, filthy and frozen, to find the coziest Norwegian cabin waiting for us.

Even the Northern Lights came out to play.

The Second Day

Clear mountain morning and a long run through farms and forests.

Snowy paths. Southern gospel singing. Kitchen dancing. 

Golden hour tromping back to the hills. 

Those stark, snowy mountains smiled down on us with their wide, rocky grins.

Lunch and fire in the snow in our classiest of caving clothes.

In the last 15 minutes we could feel the wind. We turned out our lights and followed it.

The light came in all green and gold. 

With colors so wet and warm they could quench your thirst.

Curry dinner. Sauna. Milky way. Story telling with Tegan.

The Third Day

Morning. Coffee. Isaiah. Heather Pink Sky. Hymn whistling. Gracious receiving.

Mirjam. Jon. Lars. Christophe. 

There should have been a rope leading to the exit but it was rotted away. I climbed into a tunnel in the ceiling that led us down a new passage. Then we came to a chasm that fell into the river. Lars was barely able to swing himself over. The rest of us had to drag ourselves over the ledge and drop down on the other side. 

It was deliciously terrifying.

Fortunately, there was an exit to our tunnel since we would no have been able to return that way. My excitement at finding it was suffocated by the discovery that my hips would not pass through. Even if they did, I had the smallest set of hips in our party. Magically, they managed to slide out of that unmovable granite birth canal as did everyone else's. 

Belly laughing. Bruised hips. Bruised shins. Bruised elbows. Chapped hands. Cracked lips. 

After, Mirjam wanted to see the top of the mountain. 

Papa sure loves us.

I truly didn't think the day could have been anymore perfect 

but that was before we found...

Unrestrained delight. 

Jon and I filled our helmets full.

 At breakfast, the next morning, we made the most beautiful potato chanterelle scramble.

Muddy, sandy head. Tired body. Peaceful spirit. Joyful heart.


We are oh so blessed.

rain or shine

Weekend.

As it happens.

Yesterday, our long traveling day, was perfect.

Today was...less so. 

Pouring rain and driving winds. We went hiking anyways. 

Endless mountains grow behind our house. Olga. Åge. Christophe. Lars.

It was wet and muddy. I fell over. Lots.

Lars-"Rachael, What are you doing? There are no herbs here to pick!"

The storm tried to blow us away, freeze our fingers, and swallow up the view.

But it was lovely.

And we weren't stuck indoors. Cabin fever strikes often and it strikes HARD.

The sun says goodnight before three.

We sloshed down the side of the mountain to find the cozy, mossy-roofed, Nordtun Cabin.

There we sat the rest of the afternoon, 

giggling in our wet woolens and sipping cocoa by firelight, 

till it got to dark to see each other's faces.

Then we went home.

Free time. 

Less blogging. More THIS.

La La La La Latvia

Lars, David and I were part of a short term missions project, RISK, which sent a Norwegian based team to every country in Europe for the weekend.

The was goal was to bring Jesus to all of Europe.

 But, of course, He was already waiting in Latvia.

:)

Accommodations 

We contacted YWAM Riga and stayed in one of their apartments in the former Jewish ghetto.


YWAM Riga doesn't have a "base" but rather several different apartments throughout the city.



A DTS from another Latvian base was also staying in the building for a week of teaching.



Our team joined them for the afternoon and we handed out free bread with The Baltic Bread Project.
The bread is from the bakery under our unit.

We wandered the streets and gave away fresh, hot bread as an expression of Christ's love.

occupation museum 

Latvia was occupied for over fifty years by the Soviets and Nazis.

Latvia declared its independence in 1991.

Although they are a free nation, oppression still hangs in the air.

When they took the bread from our hands it was like their somber faces cracked off.


The real, joyful, glowing parts peeked through.



We live off bread in Norway.

David and I had the pleasure of introducing Lars to such culinary delights as beets and acorn squash.

It was like taking a three year old to the zoo. 

"I've never had anything like this! IT'S AMAZING!"

I'm an international kitchen wizard!

Dal with spinach and feta.

We ate incredibly well during our stay.

We joined the DTS to watch Latvia vs Malta

Hunting down ingredients in the Central Market.

We were invited to make dinner with Elise (one of the leaders of YWAM Riga) on Saturday.

However, she had a party late that afternoon so she gave us free range of her kitchen as well as directions to the bi-monthly Slow Food Organic Market.

We visited the Central Market first for fresh produce

The Menu:

Roasted Acorn Squash with herb butter and honey

Balsamic grilled Portabella mushrooms with caramelized onions and red pepper

Beet salad with avocado, feta, raspberries, walnut, and radishes with chili and honey dressing

We could not, for the life of us, find the illusive organic market. 

We were just about to give up when we turned down a side street and found it in a secret alley.

Oh man.

We bought a loaf of heavy, dark, sweet bread. It weighed more than my cat. DELICOUS!

Apples. Squash. Fancy hat. Can I take you home?

It was the most amazing market, ever.

I wanted to eat everything.

Then we found the eco-catering booth and I just about died.

Beet and bulgur salad, venison and wild boar burgers, cranberry creme brulee

aaaand mouthwateringly beautiful pumpkin soup (we don't have pumpkins in the arctic)

"Is that PUMPKIN SOUP?! Oh, it's breaking my heart!"

"Try it! Let it break your heart."

*taste taste*

"Is your heart breaking?"

"Totally"

David and I ate the most satisfying burger we've ever had.

Venison. Ciabatta bread. Cranberry chutney. Caramelized onions.

I'm ruined forever.

When you arrive at YWAM Riga's rundown apartment building you wouldn't expect to find the perfect oasis of a home that Elise has made. 

Her hygge nest is filled with paintings, exotic spices, medicinal tea and a jungle of herbs.

She has unique collections of pottery, instruments, and art from everywhere she's "pitched her tent".

From Oregon to Australia to Russia.

Elise is a beautiful expression of Papa's heart for hospitality.

Faithful footwear

"WHAT IS IT?!"
"It's a didgeridoo."
"A WHAAAAT?!" 

Koselig kitchen

The eats.
By the way, Lars loved and ate most of the squash.
Poor deprived Norwegian.

Josh Garrels. Enter the Worship Circle. Twinkle lights. Fancy glasses. Fellowship. Excellent.

Latvian dessert.
Peppermint coated cranberries.
Unworldly.

Such a blessing

I'm a lousy evangelist. I just want to feed people.

House church.

Dave from YWAM Riga leads a house church in another area of the city.

We had a lovely, sunny walk to his home on Sunday morning.

So inspired by that encouraging family of believers.

Lars and I went walking in the graveyard at golden hour.
"You are feeding me so many new words! Misty. Asphalt. Gloaming!"

Gustaf visits Riga.
The "Norwegian" team

And then it was time to go home.

What a blessed time.

Thanks Riga for the fellowship, beauty, and encouragement!

Back to The North

Shelter

Four days of wilderness.

Backpacking. Solo camping. Shelter building. Tree chopping. Fire building. 

Camp

The first day.

We hiked to the same lake I visited with Lars and company last weekend.

After setting up camp everyone left for the mountain.

Rather than tackle the same peak I'd hiked two days before, 

I decided to stay at base camp and choose rest. 

Rolinke claims a spot for our tent

Staying behind allowed me to finally connect with Rolinke 

(Our lovely, dreadlocked, herbaceous, Dutch, base mama) 

We shared mutual passions and visions.

 Hostels. Travelers. Pilgrims. Community living. Big meals on the floor.

God is stirring up something wild this year. 

I'm really glad I stayed behind in camp that afternoon.

Choosing rest is such a struggle for me. 

I feel a feverish need to seize every opportunity.

All the time.

This last winter, my good friend, Collins, confronted me about this.

"Rachael, Most of the time it's an outpouring of joy, but sometimes, it's just restlessness."

What is my motivation? 

I shared with Martina that one of my goals for this year is actually to do less and to say no.

"Don't think of it as saying no. Think of it as saying yes to something better."

I can do all kine stuff, but everyting not good fo me. 

I can do all kine stuff, but dat no make nobody come mo strong inside. 

-1 Corinthians 10:23 from Da Jesus Book

Yes.

Ann J has never seen snow or been hiking.
She is a fearless woman of the wilderness.

Ann J's built her first fire. 

Day Two

Eight hours. Heaviest pack. Ridge. Peak. Valley. Peak. Valley. Peak.

It was a brutal day. Some of us almost didn't make it.

Outdoor trips here are intense.

They can sometimes teeter on the edge of un-enjoyable. 


By the time I get home I'll practically be able to float down the PCT.

The wilderness sure is gorgeous here, though.

Home in the distance.

We wandered all these hills and mountains.

The mountains never end.

It was a long day.

Here, we drink straight from the streams and lakes, without filtering.

It's apparently "safe" but some of us got a bit sick.

I chose dehydration. I probably drank 2 liters in two days. 
Ooops.

It poured freezing rain for the majority of the trip.

We rejoined the rest of our party who'd opted to drive most of the way.

They greeted us with fire and chocolate back at camp.

It was so nice to have a treat after working so hard to get there. 

All day, in the back of my mind,

 I knew we were having salmon soup for dinner and that was not motivating.

Oh, chocolate, you work wonders on a dampened spirit.

We shared raw and honest stories. 

I'm honored to live with these beautiful, messy, people.

Fire-start gathering.

The third day.

We were sent into the woods with a saw and a tarp and told to come back in the morning.

Shelter. Complete with hoards of spiders.

fish cakes

I enjoy being alone. It doesn't happen too often anymore.

Koselig

I crawled into my damp tarp shelter and watched the lights across the fjord. I was just about to turn in, when suddenly, illuminated in the candlelight, an enormous spider that crawled across the hood of my sleeping bag. 

The whole valley heard my unholy, murderous howl

(Think Westley's death scream in The Princess Bride)

He brought friends. 

Not okay.

The rest of the evening I spent, only exposing my nose from the sleeping bag 

and meditating on Psalm 91:10 

(My favorite psalm in the wilderness. Very applicable to spiders)

night

The fourth day

I woke up before dawn and decided to pick berries till I was allowed to rejoin at camp. 

One by one everyone met up in the forest. We were all pretty happy to see each other. 

We hiked back down to the vans and discovered that 
our drivers didn't leave the spare keys.

 We waited an extra 40 minutes to be rescued.

There was great exasperation.

Sometimes adventures are not so pleasant.

Thankful for a weekend of resting (and reindeer cookies)