After a solid night's sleep in the living room shelter I continued up the fjord into a headwind.
I crossed Folla, the mouth of a large fjord, at an angle. The distance was about four nautical miles, and into a headwind and it took me about an hour and a half. The kayakers from Namsos warned me that sometimes Fola was rough, with funky currents and strong winds from strange places that made kayaking unsafe. It wasn't, there was just the steady ever growing headwind.
I arrived at the peninsula I was aiming for and cut under a bridge not much wider than my paddles beneath a small village spread over a few low island hills. From there I left the mainland and cut into an archipelago of tiny islands. Many had white sandy beaches between rocky shores and grassy wildflower crests. The grass and the wildflowers bowed south and waved to me with the wind.
To the west I saw the windmill silhouette of another kayaker. It was out of my way, but I was lonely. I blew my whistle. The paddler didn't hear me, so I changed to a pursuit course. As I got closer other kayakers came into view and I eventually met the group of five on a sandy beach with most of them taking a snack break on the island.
It was a Norwegian single women's kayaking group heading in the same direction I was for the next few weeks. They were happy to have me along even though I didn't meet all of the qualifications since we were going the same ways.
Wait, no, that's not it. It was a mixed group from Trondheim on holiday. Their cars were parked nearby and they were driving around to exciting day paddle spots. We chatted for a while and then I set back out into the headwind.
The water between a couple of the islands was too shallow, I didn't want to gorilla scoot over the white sandy bottom and seaweed on account of the water being cold so I hip thrust my way through. The bottom of the plastic kayak had so many scratches in it that a light sanding might do it some good anyways.
Despite all of my internal whining about a second day of wind, I transitioned from the tiny island archipelago into Rorvik's fjord without even realizing it. Rorvik is a town with a guest marina and all the associated amenities. It was very likely I would find a hot shower there. Besides me, however a small fishing dock with a hose and boathouse offered nominal shelter. I was exhausted and Rorvik was still a mile or two away.
I parked and looked around. The small boathouse was unlocked, full of fishing gear, and reeked of fish. I weighed a cold shower against another mile into the wind and a likely hot shower.
Back in my boat I turned turned around the corner of one last island, through intense multi directional currents, and beheld across the channel Rorvik. It spread along the coast in a way that refused to reveal the location of its guest marina so I asked a man fishing with four small children in his tiny fishing boat.
He directed me to the marina and also told me that if I wanted an amazing sea gull sighting all I had to do was go around the island just to my north. Seagull crap stuck to my deck and I wondered what an amazing sea gull sighting looked like.
I never found out since I cut straight across the channel towards the marina. Strong currents whirl pooling and eddying about rushed me one way than another in the wide channel. I was totally unable to make rhyme or reason of them, but had a fun time with the jostle.
In the marina I found a hot shower, an invitation to spend the night on a couch, and the friendly sailors from Kristiansund! It was the first time I'd ever met the same friendly sailors twice and I was as happy to hear how their family adventures had been since we last met as they were to hear about mine.
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