A chain of events

Section 9 of the Lofoten Long Crossing
Dirt Road to Svolvær

Audiobook of the day: ‘The Impossible First’ by Colin O’Brandy

I miss: A glass of crisp white wine

I heard two "plop" sounds and looked back over my shoulder; my phone and my knife had both fallen into the water and were sliding down a large, smooth rock. Panic set in as I stood there frozen for a moment. Then, I quickly pulled off my fanny pack and jumped into the water after my phone. I caught it just before it disappeared into the dark depths of the lake. I turned around, grabbed the knife, and waded out of the water. Thank god for waterproof phones these days.

Before this whole ordeal, I had already had a rough morning. The trail started out nice enough; I was listening to a podcast and cruising along until I met a couple who were packing up their campsite. We chatted for a bit, and the guy asked if I had heard about the mud section ahead. Of course, I hadn’t, and at that moment, I wished he hadn’t told me. We said goodbye, and I made my way over a bridge, and there it was; a massive flat area with no trail, just a vague direction to follow. Sure enough, it was the muddiest section I’d encountered so far. The mud reached up to my knees, and at one point, my shoe got stuck. I eventually made it out alive and started climbing up a hill. If I had to name it, I’d call it "Mud Mountain." It was incredibly slippery, but I still couldn’t resist stopping for tiny berry breaks. I’m pretty sure I ate about 500g of cloudberries on the way up; not even kidding.

At the top of the hill, it was windy, and there was no trail in sight. I picked a general direction again and started making my way down until I reached the infamous lunch spot where I almost lost all my means of navigation. I thought the worst was behind me when, all of a sudden, I found myself standing above a massive pipeline that went straight down the mountain at an ultra-steep angle. I had to follow that? How on earth was this considered a trail? I was holding onto two ropes, abseiling myself downward next to this huge pipeline. I clutched both ropes because I didn’t trust either one; if one snapped, at least I’d have a backup. All I kept thinking was, "If it were raining now, I’d be in serious trouble." But luckily, it wasn’t. I made it to the end of Section 9.

Finally, it was time to hitch a ride down to Henningsvær, where my family had rented a cabin. First, a big guy in a tiny car picked me up. He was a local dog breeder who drove me to the next town. Then, Sven stopped; he was a bar owner from Svolvær who happened to live in Henningsvær, so he took me all the way. If I had waited for the bus, I would have been two hours late. I love hitchhiking. Next stop: shower and then to the bar. Time for wine.