Twenty four hours of day light

Senja, Norway. June 2014

Norway was a surprising dream for 10 days continuously. Even the little I knew about it before coming- was still surprising.

As esthetic as a place can be, with crystal clear visibility, perfect colors of nature and towns and very friendly people everywhere we went. I personally never planed to come over here yet here I was…. 2 days in Oslo and 5 days of paddling in the Fjords of Senya Island. Guided by Jeff Allen.

Among Norway's endless surprises was the light. When they tell you that beyond the Arctic Circle the sun never sets during the summer time one would think it's just a saying but you can fully believe it. At about midnight the sun almost touches the water but then it starts rising right back. By 01:30 am, there is soft pleasant light of sunrise again. 24 hours of light. I have died and gone to heaven.

 

As quite an energetic person that always feels like the day is too short, 24 hours of light are a dream and Norway handed me that dream generously. The minute my feet touched Norway's ground, I was filled with unbelievable energy. After all- the length of the day was depended upon energy and only that. As a short time visitor it worked well.

 

And so every night, after day's kayaking, dinner and organizing what was needed for the next day I would set to see more. Very often the only indication for the time of the day would be the quiet villages around or the street light that at some places automatically turned on at times that one might expect dark.

 

 

At the first night after Kayaking I went to look for a good place to photograph the midnight sun above the village Husoy. I didn't find any spot to see beyond the bay but I found that I wasn't the only person who wanted more of that day. And so, every night we would wonder around for more that day.
At that night above the village Husoy, we just went 'for a short one' as Vered put it. We found ourselves in the center of the quiet village at 01:30 am.  Suddenly we heard a whisper coming from the football field. The synthetic grass and the ball were calling us to play. Then the swing and the slide wanted attention at this bright night as well and we politely gave every single one of them what they had asked for. Only after almost waking up the entire village and after pilling off some un needed lairs of clothing we went uphill to a fantastic view point and there we sat on the soft wild grass, spreading the sounds of laughter into the silent night. We have returned to our camp at 02:30am under the full light.

 

 

 

 

 

The next night after paddling, our feet took us for another 'short one' above the village Mefjorvaen. We walked on the soft trails up into the natural amphitheater created by the glaciers.  In these places you never find yourself walking on bare ground. Everything is covered by a soft green blanket of ferns and wild berries and it is very soft under your feet. Under us was the big bay to which we were to paddle the next day, we could hear the sound of the ripples playing on the beach. Above us was the great sound of snow melting into the alpine lakes. And the sound of Jeff's flut added to that perfect harmony and walked us through the labyrinth of alpine lakes. Vered's 'short one' turned into a another beautiful sleepless night.   

The third night some of us were just too tired. Only Dror and I climed up above the sleeping village of Skalant above the clouds and the beautiful islands of that area. 'Senya's Caribbean' they call it and in the sunrise light at 01:30am, the color of the beaches below us can turn in the reason for the name. The road up is quite wet with water running from the patches of snow. As we look down, the view is closing up and thin fog is covering the mountains around us.
'Zohar Habla' (Zohar my big sister in Turkish) I suddenly hear Mehemet's voice coming from the fog.
'You do remember not to play with the fog!'
Mehmet is my dearest Turkish 'brother' and in the past 1.5 years he has been recovering from a terrible climbing accident.  Well use to guide trekking trips up the Turkish Kackar mountains together and he had taught me basically how to guide these trips. Not fooling around with the fog was the 'mountain's law' that I remembered well and I told that to Mehmet but I also said it's not such a thick one.
'A fog is a fog' he replied and I did as much as I could to hide the conversation from Dror so he will not catch me talking to myself. As the view started to clear up and the Islands below us were clear, I saw Mehmet's worry clearing up as well.
We went down into the silent village quite late that night and left to ourselves very little sleeping hours.

 

 

We spent many hours exploring Senja from the Kayaks during the day time and walking during night time. In the last night on the Island we went for the last walk with Jeff. We didn't want to wet our shoes so we walked on the road. Jeff remembered a tunal leading to the Devel's Jalws, a beautiful mountain ridge that we paddled around. And a view point over that area. And he remembered well and all was in did there, but not as close as he remembered and we had quite a long and wonderful walk together.

 

The next day we paddled our last day in the beauty of Senja and sooner then we wished we were walking in the town Tromso, and much sooner then we wished we found ourselves waiking up after a dark night, and went to paddle in our normal medeteranien paddling environment.