Spilled Ink

. . . And I'm back. Incessant beeping, long bridges, souvenirs and aloe vera, strange skin diseases, striped rocks, stone birds, fat poets, dandelions, pink upholstry, European pepperoni, Svalbardbrod and all, we reached home safely last night.

While I have little to say for life on a boat, northern Norway testifies incredibly to God's creative power. The entire coastline (and the Lofoten islands in particular) is stunningly, austerely beautiful, yet for centuries few people ever saw it. I can only marvel and point to Job 26:14: "Indeed these are the mere edges of His ways, and how small a whisper we hear of Him! But the thunder of His power who can understand?"

Mother and I flew up to Tromso first, above the Arctic Circle. We spent a rather long afternoon and evening there, ate at the world's northernmost Burger King (I'm not sure whether to call that pathetic or cool), and no doubt provided the receptionists in the hotel lobby where we hung out with not a little entertainment. I think both Mother and I prayed for a glimpse of the northern lights, but the hours dragged, and we saw none. When at last our boat came, we grew bored and left the hotel earlier than we had planned, hoping the Hurtigruten opened early for incoming passengers. Lo and behold, we stepped outside, and there were the northern lights, dancing across the sky. Like green and purple and white flame, they flowed across the night sky for several minutes, only disappearing as we reached the Hurtigruten. An answered prayer.

Our days on board passed uneventfully with reading, picture taking, and endless games of Set. We saw the northern lights again the next night--a much larger, but paler and more inactive display. Dad apparently spent most of the time in our absence watching our progress online and text messaging Mother. Stops in various fishing villages broke up the monotony of the voyage and gave us a chance to stretch our legs. But by Monday morning I had almost had my fill of snowy mountains and readily welcomed the advent of the Male Folk in Trondheim. They came up by train and met us there, instigating somewhat of a cabin rearrangement on the ship. I betook myself down three floors to share a room with the boys for our final night on board.

Tuesday afternoon we disembarked at Bergen, looking more than its usual lovely self under some glorious sunshine. A ferry took us from Bergen to Stavanger in a truly amazing ride, more like an amusement park ride than anything else. The wind was up, and the ship hit practically every wave head on. Or so it seemed. We had fun, though, and even got a tour of the ferry's cockpit at the end of the day. Samuel sat in one of the drivers' seats and has now decided that, if a chap must have a job involving the sea, said chap could do worse than get a job with such a comfy chair.

Anyway, we reached home safely, glad that our sojourn was and glad our sojourn was at an end. We saw the northern lights, left the boat with all our faculties present and accounted for, retained the use of both limbs and mind, and saw a little more of God's most glorious world.