Pinocchio legs
Section 3 & 4 of the Lofoten Long Crossing
Kjerkfjorden to Fredvang
Audiobook of the day: “Passion for Limits” by Reinhold Messner
Song stuck in my head: "Kismet" by The Beaches
I miss: Clean socks
I barely had my thumb out when a car pulled over. The driver, an older man, quickly stubbed out his cigarette and tried to tidy up his car. He had a friendly, weathered look, likely from enduring harsh island winters. It turns out he was a retired artist and social worker, and we had a nice chat. He dropped me off right at the Reine ferry terminal, where my boat was leaving in an hour and a half. It was a good thing I arrived early; people were already lining up.
The ferry cruised through Kjelfjord, and I disembarked via a steep ladder. That’s when the real challenge began. I'm not used to hiking 8-10 hours a day anymore, and my legs were screaming, especially my thighs—walking downhill was pure torture.
As I came over the hill after leaving Kjerkfjorden behind, I finally saw my first Lofoten beach. Imagine Thailand but with cold. Absolutely gorgeous. My descent, however, was less than graceful. I looked like a stiff-legged Pinocchio. It took me three hours (3!) just to loosen up enough to hike at a decent pace. And then there was that fall… I had lost the trail for a second and thought it went over a rock face, but it didn’t. But I did. I slipped and slid down the surface for about three meters. As I was sliding, I thought to myself that this one could potentially end badly. When I landed, I was covered in wet moss. I checked my elbows and thighs but ended up with just a few big scratches and a bruised ankle.
After that, lunch was a highlight: a big piece of smoked salmon (like big big) and dark rye bread on a large rock overlooking cute Norwegian farmhouses. It was so good, I could eat it every day. Then it was back on the trail, over a pass to reach two more beaches—Horseidvika and Kvalvika. I debated with myself—should I stay here? It wouldn't get better than this: white beach, good weather and the sound of the ocean. But it was only 6 PM, so I decided to push on. I scrambled up Ryten pass, where I could see Fredvang and a campsite by the ocean, far away in the distance. I hesitated, not wanting another windy night after my last one and it looked so exposed from afar. I spotted a lake nearby, contemplated if it was smarter to stay here instead of going closer to the ocean. But something felt off about the whole lake situation, so I kept going and as most of the times; it was the right call.
The campsite was calm and perfect, though the receptionist was as rude as the reviews had warned. Despite that, I set up my tent, took a shower, drank a can of Solo, and had dinner-noodles (the usual) on a sandy white beach. Everything felt just right.
