Dangerous sledging over icy mountain roads

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

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Shortly after 8:00 a.m., a pink ray of light flashes through the windows. Even if we are not standing in our desired secluded spot, the view over the awakening, 60 km long and 517 meter deep Andfjord is breathtaking. “Over there to the northwest is the island of Andoya,” I say, pointing to a snow-covered mountain range in the rising sun. “Are you sure?” asks Tanja. “Absolutely.” “Looks close enough to touch.” “I think it’s only about 35 to 40 kilometers as the crow flies.” “I’ll never forget our Potwaler experience,” enthuses Tanja. “Yes, it was great. It was also interesting to meet the Swiss emigrants Nathalie and Stefan. I wonder what they’re doing now?” I ask myself. “I hope they enjoy their first winter in the far north.” “I hope so too.” “Shall we set off to find our dream spot?” asks Tanja. “Sure, let’s go,” I reply, full of zest for action.

Even though we follow the Fv232 road again, which took us to the south-western end of Senja yesterday, the landscape looks completely different to us today. “It’s crazy how the perspective changes when you follow the same route in the opposite direction,” I realize as we drive along Lake Kapervatna, Lake Åndervatnet, Lake Kvaenvatnet and Lake Kapervatnet. “Somehow I didn’t really notice this beautiful lake landscape yesterday,” Tanja confirms. The side road Fv232 rejoins the slightly wider 86, which we now take northwards. Only 18 kilometers further on, we follow another smaller road with the number 862. “Why are you turning off here?” “Because this is the road to go around Senja,” I reply as we start to climb. Just a few minutes later, winter has the landscape firmly in its grip. The little road disappears under a blanket of snow, which turns into a mirror-smooth ice surface in a flash. “Wow!” I startle, because the Terra starts to lurch slightly as I step on the brakes. “Watch out!” warns Tanja. “I thought it was warmer here than on the mainland because of the Gulf Stream,” I say, engaging the gear reduction. “We would have needed chains now,” says Tanja. “Maybe,” I say meekly. “Just drive slowly.” “I am, but if we drive any slower, we’ll get stuck. A certain speed is important now,” I reply, concentrating. The small Botnvatnet lake, just a few meters to our right, lies steaming slightly in a hollow surrounded by snow and ice. The harsh mountain world around us, frozen with cold, seems hostile and almost threatening. In front of us, the mountain road is swallowed up by a black hole. “The Skaland Tunnel. Hope the road on the other side is ice-free.” “Why should it be ice-free?” asks Tanja “As we know, the weather can change from mountain range to mountain range. Maybe we’ll be lucky. Besides, it goes down on the other side,” I reply, pointing to the navigation system. “Oh God, and without chains,” Tanja replies nervously. Shortly before we enter the 1,894-metre-long tunnel, which bores through the second highest mountain in Senja, a car comes towards us. “If he can do it, we can do it,” I try to create a good atmosphere. “What if he’s driving on studded tires?” “Please don’t panic now. If the road on the other side is also icy, we can still turn back,” I say, but I notice that I’m starting to sweat. And then it is suddenly dark. “I wonder if the lighting has failed?” “Maybe this section of the tunnel has no lighting? Never mind, with our headlights we don’t need artificial light,” I say. The sound of the engine echoed back from the angular, rough rocks of the tunnel. “A real dragon tunnel,” I break our tense silence, because in our imagination a fire-breathing dragon lives at the end of the most rustic and archaic mountain tunnels in Norway. As if a monster were actually spewing its deadly fire at us, a bright, blinding light suddenly appears in front of us. We are blinded for a few seconds, then the dragon’s lair spits us out into the open. “Didn’t I say so!” I rejoice, because the road on this side of the mountain is completely free of snow and ice. “Phew, thank goodness,” Tanja groans with relief, because as soon as we’ve passed the tunnel we’re already heading downhill…