Hurricane

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

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“Do we need to worry?” asks Tanja in the middle of the night, when the Terra is suddenly shaken by violent squalls. “If it doesn’t get worse, I don’t think so,” I reply, listening to the terrifying noises caused by the storm. “He’s late,” I say quietly. “Who was late?” “Well, the storm. According to the weather forecast, it was supposed to sweep across the country yesterday.” “Did the app tell you how strong it was going to be?” “Hurricane force.” “Hurricane force? You’re joking, right?” “No, I’m not joking, but I don’t think that’s a problem for the Terra,” I try to reassure Tanja. “What does hurricane force mean? What wind speeds are we talking about?” “Up to 120 km/h. That’s a force 11 storm. We’ve already survived wind speeds of around 100 km/h in the past few weeks without any problems. The Terra weighs a good 6.2 tons when fully loaded. They won’t be blown over that quickly.” “And what if flying parts hit us?” asks Tanja nervously. “What parts? We’re right on a beach. Apart from sand, nothing flies here. And if it gets worse, we can hide behind the toilet block. I looked at that a few days ago. It looks very sturdy and has obviously survived the odd storm without any damage.” “The little toilet block is supposed to offer us shelter? You don’t believe that yourself.” “It breaks the wind, so it will definitely provide shelter in a worst-case scenario.” “I don’t know where you get your confidence from, but I trust your judgment,” Tanja replies. “Nothing will happen to us. I’m sure of that. Let’s try to get some sleep.” “Sleep? With all this noise and constant rocking?” “You can sleep anywhere, anytime, or have you forgotten that you slept soundly even in the next room of a Russian karaoke bar, from which extremely loud yowling echoed all night long, making even our beds vibrate?” “Can’t remember that. I was asleep.” “Ha, ha, ha, good thing you never lose your sense of humor,” I reply, amused. Whhhooouuu!, another squall slams into the valley from the mountain ranges behind us and hits us with full force. The Terra groans, tilts to one side under the hard blow and straightens up again a fraction of a second later. “That was intense,” I say, crawling out of bed to look outside. It is pitch dark, no aurora borealis, no stars or moon illuminating the otherwise picturesque-looking bay. Apart from the eerie-looking blackness, nothing is recognizable. I concentrate. Was there something bright? As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see it, the white spray racing across the roaring sea like a wild spirit. “Can the sea flood our pitch?” Tanja’s question startles me. “I don’t think so. The beach is a bit deeper, but if the water comes in, we’ll get out of here,” I reply. “Why not now?” “You mean we should leave the square right now?” “Yes.” “Don’t think it’s a good idea to drive up to the coast road in gale-force winds. Who knows what might come down from the mountains. That could be much more dangerous than sitting out the storm here. Regardless of that, we don’t know where we should seek shelter. It’s pitch black out there and we don’t know the area in the slightest. The only thing I could think of is driving up to the tunnel to hide in it. But we’re still safer here than anywhere else,” I say.

Hhhchchschsch!, I hear the bright, constant hiss of the sand rushing over our mobile home. It feels as if the Terra is being sandblasted. “I hope the paintwork isn’t damaged,” I think to myself. I go back to bed. Sleep is out of the question. I listen attentively and on high alert for every sound. Whhhooouuu!, we are hit by another hard gust of wind. Hhhhchchschsch!, it roars fractions of a second later. The wind is now hitting us from both sides. From the mountains behind us, the downpours hammer into the valley and in the north, in front of us, we are hit by the gale-force winds that race in through the bay from the open North Sea. The high mountain flanks to the left and right of the Steinfjord seem to act as a kind of amplifier for the squalls, as they narrow the access to the land. One of these gusts suddenly hits us with terrifying force. The Terra bends briefly to the other side, where it is immediately bent again in the opposite direction by a gust of wind from the mountains. Nervously, I jump out of bed again to look outside through the panoramic window. The strong beam of light from my headlamp is reflected by the rising waves. They don’t seem to be trying to conquer the beach. On the contrary, they are constantly hit by gusts of wind from the mountains, which literally tear them apart in the air. What a natural spectacle, frightening and fascinating at the same time. Huuuiii! Huuuiii! Humming, buzzing and singing, new sounds mingle with the intermezzo of noises. They are created when the wind hits the swinging power cables, which sway on their poles about 50 meters away from us. Even though I want to leave Tanja with a relaxed impression, I’m insecure and scared inside. Will this hurricane harm us? Will we be a victim of the forces of air? Will the nightmare I had a few days ago come true and the Terra tip over? So far everything has gone smoothly on this trip, but Norway is a country with a merciless nature and the storms at this time of year are notorious. Wom! Dong! Dong! Dong!, it booms deeply and makes the ground tremble. “What was that?” asks Tanja nervously. “Could have been an avalanche of earth or rock,” I suspect. “Maybe it’s a good thing we stayed here after all,” Tanja ponders. “If we get away unscathed tomorrow, it was good,” I reply.

Hooouuu! Hooouuu! Hooouuu! I hear a different, whistling howl that fluctuates up and down depending on the wind speed and comes when the strong gusts hit the edges and crevices of the toilet block behind us. Wanting to seek shelter behind it was an initial, naïve thought, because compared to our Terra, the building is rigidly anchored to the ground. It can therefore not give way like the shock absorbers of a vehicle, but must withstand the hard blow of gusts of wind. Who knows if it won’t just tip over? Apart from that, the gusts now seem to come not only from the mountains and the sea, but from all sides. As if we were in a washing machine of uncontrolled air masses, our expedition vehicle bends and twists in every conceivable direction.

It’s 4:00 in the morning. The hurricane rages on unabated. We lie there, eyes wide awake, listening to the general roar with its irregular roar, which builds up to furious climaxes at rhythmic intervals. We hear the terrible howling of the wind, which stirs up the ocean waves and destroys them at the same time. We hear the sand pelting down on our beloved Terra. We feel the rocking back and forth as if we were not on land but on a fishing boat on a stormy sea and are happy to have escaped unscathed so far.

At 10:00 a.m. the hurricane calms down for the time being. I cautiously open the cabin door to peer into the tormented world. A cheeky gust of wind, which has swept down from the mountain as a straggler, snatches it out of your hand. Bang!, she bangs on the cabin wall. If I hadn’t let go of her at the last moment, she would have thrown me out of the vehicle. “I can’t believe the power of this wind. If it had been a gale-force gust, the door would have been broken and I would certainly have been injured,” I say, stepping outside. “And how does it look,” Tanja asks, putting on her shoes to follow me. “No change,” I reply, shivering as a cold wind blows in my face. The toilet block is still there. Only the door was torn open by the hurricane. Fortunately, no gust of wind caught inside the wooden house and blew it up. A light snowfall gives the landscape a touch of white, which is immediately carried away again by the wind. The sand on the beach is still there despite the gale-force winds, but it looks as if much of it has been carried into the mountains or out to sea. The roaring waves have subsided as if by magic. As if nothing had happened, they spill calmly onto the maltreated beach. Thousands of shells have been exposed by the wind and cover the ground. Tanja takes Ajaci for a walk on the beach while I check the Terra for damage. The paintwork doesn’t seem to have suffered, at least I can’t detect anything. The cabin’s electric windows can barely be opened. Fine sand sits in all the cracks in the rubber seals. I rinse it away with water and resolve to clean everything thoroughly on the next trip to Skaland.

In the afternoon, as a wintry rainbow lies over the bay, we are visited by two elderly ladies. It is Fynja who lives at the end of the bay with her friend Elan. “We were really worried about you and thought about how we could evacuate you with our neighbors. Are you all right? Hopefully you survived the night of the storm reasonably well? Aren’t you getting claustrophobic in your vehicle?” they bombard us with questions. “We’re doing very well, but it was a wild and scary night,” Tanja replies. “Maybe you should park your vehicle alongside the beach instead of across it. That way the gusts won’t hit you so hard,” suggests Fynja. “The problem is that the wind is constantly shifting. It doesn’t just come from the sea, but also from the mountains and sometimes we had the feeling that it was battering us from all sides,” I reply. “Yes, that’s right, sometimes it comes from all directions. The downdraughts from the mountains are particularly dangerous. That’s why many house roofs in this valley are anchored to the ground with steel cables,” explains Elan. “Anchored with steel cables?” I am amazed. “But yes, take a close look at the houses. My husband and I secured our house this way. If we hadn’t done that, the hurricane last night might have taken it down again.” “Again? Has that happened before?” “Yes, some residents in this valley have lost their roofs in the past. We were hit so hard once that we had to leave our bedroom on the second floor and barricade ourselves in on the first floor. The storm simply smashed or shattered some of the windows in our house.” “Wow, it looks like we were really lucky yesterday.” “You were, but your heavy vehicle seems safer than a house.” “Maybe, it can at least move thanks to the shock absorbers and thus take the force out of one or two gusts.” “We were wondering how you can stand it for so long in such a small house? Don’t you get cabin fever “Cabin fever? No, we feel very comfortable here. It’s a small, luxurious apartment on wheels. Why don’t you come in and have a look at our home?” Tanja offers the two women a tour of the interior of Terra Love. “Oh, I’d love to,” they say, climb the steps and enter our home. “It’s really cozy at your place. Wonderful. Almost nicer than my home,” says Fynja. “And how pleasantly warm it is with you. I wouldn’t have thought that possible in this bad weather. Now I understand that you don’t get cabin fever here. I could stand it here too,” says Elan enthusiastically. “Do you know where you can fill up with gas on the island?” I want to know, because the fuel gauge is running low. “There is no LPG filling station on Senja. You can only buy gas cylinders in the few small supermarkets here,” answers Fynia. “Is that a problem for you? Will you freeze then? Surely you heat and cook with gas?” she asks. “We do indeed need gas for cooking and heating. But we can also heat with diesel. From now on, I will only heat with diesel and use the remaining gas for cooking. I think that should last us a good two weeks,” I think aloud. “Good, we’re glad you won’t freeze to death here. Do you like waffles?” Fynia changes the subject. “Waffles?” asks Tanja excitedly. “Yes, waffles. I have a waffle iron and sometimes I make hot waffles for me and my friends. If you like, I can bring you a couple tomorrow,” she offers…