As we descend into Bergen we slice
through thick layers of cloud. Rain falls like an icy monsoon
and we’re herded onto the ship determined to wave goodbye to a disinterested
coastline. Through the porthole, fog suffocates the horizon and mountains gasp
for breath. Hundreds of waterfalls cascade into the fjords and I smile as they
remind me of thread veins on a thigh. Distracted, I bravely stagger onto deck
enticed by fresh air and the stark view. A chirpy announcement warns that a storm
named Hilda is on its way, and I scuttle back in for shelter as debris jovially slides across my path. During the night we cross the Arctic Circle, and the ship
sails calmly on to Tromso as we feast on fish patties and hot chocolate. Still no sign of the Northern Lights, we arrive disappointed only to be cheered by the yapping and howling of three hundred
huskies. The mood is buoyant as our journey ends, and excited cheers punctuate
the air as our Captain manages a dramatic three‐point turn in the narrowest of
harbours. Whilst I long for dry land and a view that isn’t water, I disembark
content to have tried something new.
The view at sea |
Beautiful fjords |