Towards the light

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

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At 09:19, the sun slowly rises above the horizon and greets us with its wonderfully soft light. The small wooden church in the cemetery shines in a golden glow, just as if the Holy Spirit had entered it. The sky is light blue. Only a few fine veil clouds adorn it. The bad weather of the past few days has blown away, at least for the moment. “Compared to our current location, the sun at Saltfjord rises 20 minutes later and sets about 50 minutes earlier,” I say, writing down my log data. “Really? The Saltfjord isn’t that far from here,” wonders Tanja. “Three days’ drive and around 650 kilometers north of our location. That’s about 10 minutes of daylight per 100 kilometers. Amazing. It’s already been permanently dark at the North Cape for eight days. Even at our stone fjord on the island of Senja, the sun should no longer rise above the horizon line,” I think aloud. “I’m glad it’s getting brighter again. I love the daylight. It’s somehow life-affirming and refreshing,” says Tanja. “Yes, that’s true. I would still have liked to experience what it feels like when it’s permanently dark. For me, this darkness also has something romantic about it. It goes with Christmas, snow and reindeer.” “You’ll get the chance to enjoy the dark to the full on one of our upcoming northern tours. I’m quite sure of that,” Tanja replies. “I hope so. Apart from that, for now it was a great experience of what it feels like when it’s only light for a few hours.” “Exactly, and now we’re heading towards the light again. That’s a very positive thing, isn’t it?” “It has. I feel the same as you in this case. After the long dark and gloomy days, it’s a relief to get more daylight with every kilometer southwards. It makes you appreciate what brightness means,” I reply cheerfully.

On today’s trip we experience a landscape that, as is so often the case in this country, is difficult to describe in words. The play of light between the fjords, the lakes with their smooth water surfaces reflecting the impressive firmament, the rivers on which a slightly steaming cloud of mist floats, the mountains waving down to us with their snow-covered peaks, the delicate, constantly changing clouds that absorb the most diverse light reflections of the sun’s rays and the rising mist that settles like a crown on the head of a dense coniferous forest seem to be out of this world. It has something mystical, something magical, delicate and fragile at the same time.

Around midday, the sun is just a few meters above the horizon line and squints through the valleys and hills into our driver’s cab. Their oblique rays transform any object into something invaluable. They awaken the land around us into a world of fairies and fairytales, a world of trolls and mythical creatures that have their home here in Norway. Tanja and I glide over the frozen streets in our Terra Love and fall into an amicable silence. We enjoy the moment, which is so sensitive that any word, however softly spoken, could end it.

In the last light of the day, we follow a narrow frozen dirt track until a dense forest literally swallows us up. “You’re getting more and more daring,” Tanja admonishes me not to drive Terra too deep into the wilderness. “I’m just following the trail ahead,” I reply a little excitedly, because I don’t know where this little adventure will take us. A narrow wooden bridge suddenly appears in front of us, connecting the banks of a mountain river. “Looks like Uomin the ghost’s son,” I say. “With whom?” asks Tanja. “With Uomin the ghost’s son. I read a book about him when I was a boy. As far as I remember, he lived by a river in the middle of the wilderness that steamed in the last light of day just like this one.” “And was it a good book? Did it have a good ending?” Tanja wants to know, as the scenery around us seems to radiate something that is more likely to be found in a world between worlds. “I don’t remember how the book ended. It was too long ago, but I can remember this scene exactly.” “But the bridge doesn’t give the impression that it can carry 6 tons,” warns Tanja. “Not necessarily. Let’s get out and take a closer look,” I suggest and climb out of the driver’s cab. “And what do you think?” asks Tanja after we have looked at the construction. “Hm, who wants to know? I could imagine that it’s carrying us, but as we’re not on the run, trying to use it to get to the other side is out of all proportion to the risk.” “Does that mean we turn back?” “Yes.” “Good decision,” says Tanja, visibly pleased that I’m not trying to persuade her to continue the adventure.

Just an hour later, we roll along the edge of the village of Velle, on the shore of the innermost part of the Trondheimfjord, and find a wonderful spot for the night next to the village sports field that is hard to describe…