This summer, Erin and I took a short trip. Picking up from where I left off two years ago, we paddled 55 nmi from Ornes to Kjerringoy just north of Bodo.
The usual sorts of things went wrong. We started a week late because the airline lost my luggage. I closed the garage door on my paddle, crushing it just before I left. Nothing out of the ordinary.
And the usual sort of things went right. We dined like kings on delicious fish, mackerel and others, almost every night, and we paddled under sunny snow-capped peaks throughout our days.
We rescued a woman who fell off her sailboat, and got no thanks what so ever, but received warm welcomes elsewhere.
We shivered and shook when when we changed out of our dry suites at the end our days, hands so cold they could barely grasp a zipper, and smiled with ice cream headache joy after rolling.
We had a grand old time. I wish it could have been longer, but life presses on.
I'm working on my phd now, so who knows how long before I get back out there in earnest, but that day will come. And in the mean time, I'm still paddling and teaching locally, so if you're in the neighborhood, be sure to look me up and we'll go for a paddle.