Stay longer than planned

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

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It’s a gloomy morning. The sun is hiding behind low-hanging clouds, which have conquered the bay again after yesterday’s clear night. The white splendor that had covered the landscape the day before has been blown away by gusts of wind, at least in the valley. “Off to Skaland,” I say, starting the engine and engaging the gear reduction. “Can we get up there?” asks Tanja, because the gravel path leading up to the asphalt road is icy. “No problem,” I am convinced that our four-wheel drive with its rough off-road tires will take the treacherous surface in its stride. Minutes later, we overcame the first obstacle almost effortlessly. However, the narrow country road is also icy. Is Fynja, the old lady from the end of the bay, right about not clearing the road here? Or are we on the road before the gritting service? Carefully and soon at walking pace, we approach the tunnel that connects the bay with the other side of the mountain. Roooaaaaar!, echoes the sound of the engine from the dripping rock faces. As soon as we enter the dark tube, the ice gives way to an expanse of water that becomes drier with every meter. After 1.3 km, the dragon’s dwelling spits us out. “Unbelievable! There’s no snow here!” says Tanja happily. “Yes, really crazy. The weather is completely different from one side of the mountain to the other. But we’ve often experienced that in Norway,” I reply. “Yes, but it hasn’t been that extreme yet,” says Tanja. 10 minutes later we reach the small supermarket in the village of Skaland. We park in the empty lot next to it, leave Terra Love and enter the small, relatively well-stocked store. While Tanja fills the shopping cart with all the necessary items, I ask the store manager if the market offers access to free Wi-Fi. “Unfortunately not, but my son might give you a hotspot via his smartphone,” she offers kindly. “Where is your son?” I want to know. “At the checkout.” Oskar is a likeable 21-year-old, 1.90 m tall Norwegian. “I’d be happy to help you,” he says with a smile. “I need to upload a few podcasts to our podcast website. I think it will be 300 or 400 MB. How much will that cost?” “Nothing, I have a contract with no data limit.” “Great, brilliant. You’ve fallen from heaven,” I thank him, set up my laptop next to the cash register and connect it to Oskar’s smartphone. When I think about how technology has overtaken itself in the last 30 years, I am always surprised. While data can now be sent around the world via fiber optic cable or satellite, we used to have to send our films and texts by post. This was expensive and sometimes took several weeks. In the worst case scenario, such a valuable parcel has disappeared on the long journey and all the pictures taken have been lost forever. If we needed to send a short text during our travels, sometimes lasting several years, we used the fax machine. The transmission was via a telephone line. This was very expensive and cost us US$ 3 per minute of transmission. Today, we are able to send images, films and texts in digital form from almost anywhere in the world to almost anywhere in the world in the shortest possible time. Simply brilliant.

While the broadcast is running, I talk to Oskar. “Aren’t you bored working in such a remote place in the world? There’s no disco here, no movie theater, no restaurants. Nothing where a young man like you can have fun.” “I am indeed bored, but I’m only doing the job temporarily. I’m helping my mother out and earning a good living, and as you’ve already noticed, the opportunities to spend money in Skaland are very limited. I think I’ll work here until Christmas, then I’ll go back to the mainland.” “What are you doing with your money? Do you have any particular goals?” “I’ll do like you. I’m going to go traveling again. When the pandemic is over, I’ll fly to Southeast Asia. I particularly liked it there. I love the tropical climate, the people are friendly and the food tastes delicious,” he replies with a laugh. “As a Norwegian, you must like the cold, right?” “Absolutely not. I love the summer.” “Well, it’ll be a few months before then.” “Yes, it will. The worst thing for me is the annoying dark time. It kind of gets on my nerves,” says Oskar thoughtfully. “I can imagine, but I’ve never experienced that. I don’t have the experience.” “How much longer are you staying in Norway?” “I don’t know, we actually have to head home soon. We’re supposed to give a talk at a trade fair. But maybe the fair will be canceled and we’ll stay until mid-December.” “Oh, then you’ll experience the dark season.” “Only partly, as we have to travel south to Senja bit by bit and the dark period only exists north of the Arctic Circle.” “That’s true, but if you stay here for another week or two, you’ll get a good foretaste. The days are getting shorter and shorter now.” “Yes, it’s interesting. We’re over by the Steinfjord. The sun only peaks briefly over the high mountains and when it’s cloudy, we already have the feeling that it’s no longer really daylight. That’s not a problem for me as I’m busy writing every day. Apart from that, Tanja and I love the solitude.” “There’s hardly anyone there at this time of year, is there?” “That’s right, except that we occasionally bump into a few locals who sometimes go for a walk on the beach. Tanja has made the acquaintance of a few elderly ladies while walking our dog. So we’re not completely alone.” “How far are you?” asks Tanja, suddenly standing in front of me with a full shopping cart. “Oh, that’s it. The transmission is through. I had such a good chat with Oskar that I didn’t even notice how time passed.”

Before driving back to our bay, we fill up at the only petrol pump next to the supermarket and stock up on 200 liters of water behind the house, then we head back. When we see the Steinfjord at the end of the tunnel, we feel like we’re back home. Once our supplies are stowed away, I grill salmon and shrimps on our small grill while Tanja cuts the vegetables for the salad. Then we enjoy a few cans of Danish beer. “I love eating in our mobile home. Somehow everything tastes better here,” I praise Tanja’s cooking skills. “Maybe it’s the camp atmosphere,” Tanja suspects. “It could be. If it were up to me, I could spend years here. You don’t need a big house to be happy.” “You mustn’t forget that we rarely had so much luxury on our travels.” “You mean when we traveled by bike, camel or horse?” “Yes.” “Hm, that’s true, but you can’t compare the two. The other trips were more like expeditions, whereas here, despite our documentation work, I feel more like I’m on vacation.” “It’s all about finding the right balance,” says Tanja as my laptop announces an incoming e-mail. I immediately jump up to have a look. “The fair has been canceled,” I read aloud. “Now you’ve got what you wanted,” says Tanja happily. “Yay! Great. That means we can stay here for a few more days and enjoy nature,” I cheer…