We drove to Lofoten under mediocre, overcast skies. Past memories of birthdays past, through the tunnels, past the scene of last summer’s best photoshoot, past ancient abandoned houses and antique fishing boats, still in use. We drove to Kabelvåg, stumbled sleepily into the street in the fresh ocean air and evening sunlight. Marveled at the sweeping peaks rising behind the seaside town. Tor Edvin rolled into view on the bicycle he won from the national radio, Natasha balanced haphazardly behind him, and life burst into a colorful blur of inspiration, storytime, and the hilarity of nothing at all. We laughed until we cried, we ate fish soup and tiramisu, we huddled in Tor Edvin’s beautiful hippie apartment and stared wide-eyed at the impressive products of a year’s study in film. We slept that night in a rorbu, a refurnished fisherman’s cabin, looking out over the sea and distant mountains, breathing in the ocean air and the warm smell of the wooden buildings. And then we took to the sea.
After the first two days of pouring rain, I don’t think anything has ever been so beautiful. Peaks and palisades of pure velvet green, white coral beaches, fields of blooming wildflowers, the crystal clear turquoise of the seawater. The splish-splash of our paddle strokes amidst the silence, the reflection of the sky in the water, the heat of the northern sun, the bright colors of the sky in the nighttime, the taste of fresh fish for dinner, the simple comforts of sleeping in tents and eating every meal on a beach. It was himmel på jord, heaven on earth, the ultimate adventure of summer 2010.