Airport Camping

A day later than planned, I'm finally settled back at home after initially being taken under the wing of my youngest brother and his family in the States, and then by my eldest son, who somehow knew that I needed time in the mountains. He was so very right about that. Thank you Forrest. He boldly planned a camping trip to Norway, from Sunday to Friday in order that he wouldn't miss a game of cricket. 

First, the time with Darren was precious, connecting as kindred spirits after many years. It was delightful to get to know Kindreth better, and also their two young boys. I was saddened to realise how astonishingly little I remember of my own experience of that time, when my boys were between three and six. That period of life is filled with so many daily joys and frustrations, thousands of little moments that are not consequential enough to get recorded  - or perhaps we're programmed not to store those memories to prevent us from deterring our kids from giving us grandchildren. Only joking ... kind of! I'm trusting that I've now established a relationship with my nephews that I'll be able to continue building as they grow up into young men.

That long overdue trip to see my brother was bookended by periods of feeling quite unwell, one explicable and responding well to antibiotics, the other quite inexplicable, but responding well to the mountain air and sunshine of the last week. There was a brief time when I didn't think I'd be able to make either trip. I'm familiar now with having a wonky head but it's unusual and rather disconcerting for my body to go wonky on me. 

Forrest looked after his old dad well and proved himself to be fitter than either of us had anticipated. I enjoyed getting a whipping when he kicked off uphill as training for running quick singles. He was up for every challenge and they built as the trip went on, culminating with an ascent of Mount Skala, Norway's highest mountain in terms of ascent directly out of a Fjord - all of 1848m. It was a breathtakingly beautiful trail, still covered at the top with copious amounts of winter snow.

It was an amazing high to finish on and I warned Forrest yesterday morning that there is usually a high price to pay when the universe delivers in such a spectacular fashion. My experience is that it takes away in equal measure to balance the karmic books. I was only half joking when I presented this piece of folk wisdom to my son. It simply happens far too often to be written off as coincidence. 

And so it unfolded as predicted. I plunged from way up high to deep down low, continuing to ride the big rollercoaster I've been on in recent weeks. The full details are too complicated and too raw to relate right now. The degree to which events conspired against me was so improbably malicious that the only explanation is that the universe set itself against me. In saying that, I'm fully aware of Occam's razor. That's the principle I'm using!

We arrived at Bergen Airport a healthy three hours before our flight. Forrest got on the plane. I didn't. Neither did his carry-on bag, which stayed in Bergen with me. The whereabouts of our checked luggage (all the camping gear) was uncertain for quite a while but that never flew either. Forrest arrived home on his own in shorts and a T-shirt and nothing else except his wallet and keys - and a wilful passport. It's a very long and convoluted story. I had to find another way back home with all our combined luggage. That's another long story. Honestly, you couldn't make this up. It was madness - and not wholly mine, I hasten to add.

Despite everything that went wrong at the end, it was a totally amazing trip. Forrest and I had a wonderful time. And I've fallen in love with Norway. I can only describe it as the Alps meets Cumbria. It has all the drama and prettiness of the former and all the intimacy and lakes of the latter. And the charm of both combined. Plus the fjords. There are fjords everywhere. Fjord after fjord. Slartibartfast was a genius.