Norway!

Aside from the emergency plane landing, the blustery arctic weather, and calling search and rescue to find my missing daughter, the trip was great!

A friend recently asked me the best thing about the trip, and I said the bread. In the U.S., whatever they put in the bread makes me fall asleep. In Norway, they had a hearty brown bread that I'd slather with butter and salt. Soooo delicious! And I stayed awake!

The boat ride through the fjords was amazing, beautiful, and peaceful. There were ten people on the boat, including the skipper. Everyone had to take turns making meals, cleaning the kitchen, and help running the boat. The skipper could do it all himself if needed, but everyone was able-bodied (some more than others) and we took turns at the helm and hoisting the sails. One of my co-workers asked if I was fully trained to be a deck hand. Yes, not as much as Claire-Adele. She was one of the few people on board who would jump off the boat onto the dock to pull the boat in. My agility isn't what it used to be.

One of the most important things I learned was how to get along with eight strangers in tight quarters for more than a week. One woman told her travel companion to fuck off and they didn't talk to each other for the rest of the trip. Honestly, I wasn't surprised that didn't happen more often. But then again, being kind is a choice. In order to survive and have a peaceful holiday, everyone has to give grace when crammed together like a bunch of sardines. 

I am not going to talk anymore. I know you want to see pictures. Here you go!

The Boat

The Northern Lights. Photo taken by a friend from the boat

At the end of the trip without washing my hair eight days. Not too bad!

Cabin

Fresh catch

My new hat and fancy sunglasses.

We got to hike a bit, which was nice.

Our boat, the Draco.

The Draco again

Red was the cheapest paint color ages ago. White was the most expensive. Who knew?

Me and a boat friend taking a cold dip.

The orange one in the middle is the Draco.

Me before the trip, both excited and terrified.

Trollfjord

Hibernating and Water and Boat

 I've been back from Norway for two weeks, and I am still hibernating from the trip. I am not sure what is going on. I feel like I have cotton in my brain,

Today, I got back on the water with my paddle board. Green Lake is full of toxic algae, so I went to Lake Washington. It was so nice to be back on the water, floating and bouncing and riding the waves. 

One of the weirdest things about being on a boat is getting off the boat and getting on land. When I've taken fishing trips with Pedro, we stand on a float boat for hours along the Kootenai River. When the trip was over, I get back to the hotel and the room felt like it was swaying. One of the women on the Norway trip called the phenomenon "Boat" when you are on land but feel like you are swaying like you still on the boat. It means your body has adjusted to the boat, and rebels when you are off of it. Or maybe my body was missing being on the water.

Today, I was happy to be back on the water. I never thought that being on the water would be my happy place, but it is becoming that way.

Assumptions

August 28, 2025

First, everything is fine. I’m still in Norway and this story has a happy ending otherwise I wouldn’t be writing about it yet. 

Claire-Adele and I took a gondola up a mountain in Bergen for the view. It was great. From the top of the mountain, there are several hiking “trails.” I loosely use the word trail because Europeans “tramp” instead of hike. In the US, we stay on the path for fear of stamping on flowers or grass or whatever. Europeans are much more cavalier: they walk wherever they want - trail or no trail. 

Anyway, Claire-Adele and I took a gondola to the top of a mountain and went for a short hike. There is a bar and grill at the top of the mountain, and it looked like someone is hosting a corporate event here.

So we go for our hike, and we agree that will split off. It is about 6:20 p.m. She will hike ahead for about ten minutes, and I will stay and wait for her. When she comes back, we will take the gondola back down the mountain and take the bus back to the hotel around 7:15. We will go to an Indian restaurant near the hotel.

I wait for Claire-Adele. 

And wait.

And wait.

It isn'y uncommon that hiking takes longer that one thinks it should, so I am not alarmed.

It is close to 7:00, and I've been in the same spot for almost 40 minutes with no sign of her. I wonder where she is. I text, but no reply. I text her to tell her I am going up the trail a bit to see if I can find her.

I can't.

I text again. No reply. 

I text her on WhatsApp. 

No reply.

At 7:00, I wonder where she is.

At 7:15, I become concerned.

Around 7:30, I start to worry. I head back to the cafe to see if she is there. She is not. I ask a few people I saw on the trail if they saw a 25 year old woman in a white shirt and black pants. 

No.

Claire-Adele likes to hike and will take her time, but she has never been inconsiderate.

I tell someone at the cafe I can't find my daughter. There aren't forest rangers here -- just people who work at the restaurant. A woman listens, and looks alarmed.

"Someone died here three months ago," she said.

Now I am panicking.

"Would you like me to call the Red Cross search and rescue?" It is 7:45. It is getting dark and it is raining. By 8:15, I've talked to the police. They ask what hotel we are staying at, and if she could be there.

"I don't know," I said. "I didn't see her cross me on the path. I don't think she is there." I am convinced she is still on the mountain, lost or hurt or worse. She still isn't answering her phone.

"Should I go look for her on the trail? Should I go back to the hotel?" I ask the Norwegian police officer. 

"No," she said. "Wait in the restaurant." It is getting cold, and Claire-Adele isn't wearing a warm jacket. When we came to the mountain, it was 75 degrees. Now it is raining and in the 60's. I hang up with the police officer. She has my number to call me back.

I am lost be befuddled. I consider calling someone--anyone--stateside. At what point to I call Claire-Adele's dad to tell him she is missing?

I stare at my phone, waiting for something.

All of a sudden, I see her initials pop on her text screen.

"I'm at the hotel," she said. "Where are you?"

I burst into tears, sobbing. The cafe people call off the police to let them know Claire-Adele has been found. The help me down the gondola, and order me a cab back to the hotel.

"My phone died on the mountain," she texted. "I had 15% and then it died."

I meet Claire-Adele at the hotel.

"I am so sorry, Mom," she said. "You must have been scared."

She has no idea.

We discussed how we got our wires crossed. When she walked back, she didn't see me on the trail, so she assumed I was back at the cafe. She saw a woman who looked like me get on the gondola, and went down. It wasn't me, she quickly figured out, but it was too late. She waited for more gondolas, before she walked two miles back to the hotel. She plugged in her phone and texted me.

I assumed that since I didn't see her that she was still on the mountain. I also assumed her phone was charged and she got my texts.

It all ended well, but man that did a umber on my nerves.

On Top of the World

Aug. 18, 2025

I’m sitting right now north of the Artic Circle. I can’t believe it. It freaks me out a little bit to be so far away from home and to be some place so remote. I’m in the little town of Bodo (pronounced Buddha) which is mostly industrial until fifteen years ago when they decided to cater to tourists.

In a two days, Claire-Adele and I will embark on an eight trip through fjords of Lofoten on a fifty foot sailboat.

Right now, it is raining sideways, the wind is howling and the water is choppy. 

I am going to spend eight days on a boat in this shit?

What the fuck am I thinking? Why am I doing this? How come I didn't read the fine print or google where "Lofoten" was? I had no idea it was north of the Artic Circle. I thought the trip dipped north of the Artic Circle, but we are well above the line now, and the trip starts further north. My friend J did this trip last year and I thought it sounded super cool when J talked about it. I sent the link to Claire-Adele and let her pick the trip. Seriously. It was fine she picked the trip, but I could have read about what she picked. What was I thinking?

My friend Jen took a road trip in Norway last year at the same time and she said it rained every day. Not a little rain, but it poured. The videos on the website show people in bikini's jumping off boats. There is no way I would be jumping off a boat in this weather. No way. I doubt I'd die, but it would be really, really unpleasant.

Yeah, so I'm terrified. I am excited, but also terrified. Terri-cited, I think is what Glennon Doyle would call this.

I hope this doesn't suck.

Maybe it is better that I didn't read up about this before. I probably wouldn't have signed up.

Yes, I am north of the Arctic Circle.

Scandinavians know their pastries.

Defeated & The Scream

This morning I woke up in Oslo and had a new realization about my travel debacle from the day before: I felt defeated. I didn’t go into the city of Copenhagen because I didn’t want to inadvertently mess up an already exceptionally challenging travel day. My logic was particularly flawed: just because one thing got royally messed up (see: Flight 1438) doesn’t mean that everything else was going to get botched. I am a human, not a robot, and my emotions and level of fatigue do impact my level of performance. 

Overall, I felt defeated. I already had been through the travel wringer and I didn’t need to feel worse if I couldn’t connect with Claire-Adele. 

This morning, I saw Munch’s The Scream. What impressed me the most was the number of people who wanted to seen it, like it was the local Mona Lisa. Can all of these people so deeply relate to the angst and agony? Can I?

Flight 1438

First of all, I’m fine in Oslo. Nothing bad happened, technically. Just a scare where an abundance of caution took place. 

I had flown in from Seattle to Copenhagen this morning and was scheduled to take a flight from Copenhagen to Oslo. The plane took off, and when the landing gear pulled up, it made odd noises. Like, I’m not a pro when it comes to how an airplane should sound, but I’ve been on enough flights in my life to know that this rising of the landing gear was much longer and screechier than usual. 

After the gear went up, I conked out. I was exhausted from the international flight from Seattle. Plus there were two guys sitting next to me who I did not want to engage in conversation because I’m a judgmental snob. The guy next to me was sweating. Not a little. A lot. Like a sweating disorder kind of sweat. No one else on the plane was sweating. (There were also a couple of rednecky looking guys on the plane that I recognized from the Seattle flight who I also dodged.)

Halfway through the flight, the pilot comes on speaking some Scandinavian language and I understand “circling” and “holding pattern” and “Oslo.” I figured we were circling Oslo.

Nope.

The pilot came on in English and said one of three hydraulic systems were broken and we were circling Copenhagen, dumping fuel, preparing for an emergency landing.

That was not what I was expecting. 

I suddenly decided to be nice and chatting to the dudes next to me.

“You missed the flight attendants running to the cockpit earlier,” the sweaty guy said.

The flight attendants then gave us instructions on how to brace for an emergency landing. I saw the movie “Sully” where the flight attendants were yelling “Brace! Brace! Brace!” as that plane landed on the Hudson River.

“Prepare to brace,” the flight attendant said, “and prepare to evacuate. If we need to evacuate, we will yell ‘Evacuate! Evacuate! Evacuate!’”  

I have flown a lot over my life—mostly for work—but I’ve never had an emergency landing because the plane was malfunctioning.  

The flight attendant was standing next to my row, and the sweaty guy and his friend (both chatty souls from Wisconsin, god bless them) asked the stewardess what to do. She pointed to the bracing image in the safety card.

She seemed calm, but her hand was shaking.

Oh shit, I thought. This could be rough. There are times in one’s life where all there is to do is pray. That was all I had power over.  

Then I realized I could put my passport, phone and wallet in my pocket so if I did need to evacuate the plane, I could call people, get a hotel, and get back home.

Then I prayed for the pilots to land the plane safely. I prayed for the flight attendants. I prayed for the other passengers, including the sweaty guy and his 23 friends from the Wisconsin Norway Historical Society. I prayed for the rednecks.

The plane landed fine. Firetrucks and safety crews were parked next to the runaway. They checked out the plane before they let it back in barn with the other planes to make sure it wasn’t going to burst into a ball of flames at the terminal with a bajillion gallons of jet fuel nearby.

Back in the day when my ex was a medical resident, he earned extra cash by going on medical flights. Once he was on a Lear jet that prepared for an emergency landing when they thought the landing gear was stuck. The plane landed fine, but the fire trucks were waiting on standby in case something bad happened. Jack initially wasn’t worried about the landing gear or thought he was in danger until he saw the firetrucks on standby.

Planes have redundant systems for these exact reasons, and the good thing is that they usually work. I have a friend whose grandfather was a Boeing engineer. Decades ago, someone wanted to put in five redundant wing operations systems. That idea was scrapped.

“If you are in a situation where you need to go to the fifth system,” the grandfather had told my friend Lance years ago, “you are going to have a way bigger problem.” Like the plane would be heading to the ground in a ball of flames or something.

Once we landed, then came the challenge of getting a full flight of people to Oslo. I was supposed to meet Claire-Adele there at 12:50 in the afternoon. That wasn’t going to happen. I called her to discuss the situation. She had been looking up my flight information, but couldn’t find anything. 

One of the challenges Claire-Adele and I faced was should I try to take a flight to Bodo directly the next day, or should I swing through Oslo. I waited for a while to get an answer. The answer was no. If I changed my Oslo flight to Bodo, my return trip to Seattle would be cancelled, which would not have been good.

After this experience, I can see why rich people have private jets.

Then I was hungry and then I went to get my boarding pass.

Claire-Adele suggested I get out of the airport and go it to Copenhagen. When I was planning this trip, I had no plans to visit Copenhagen and I had no idea where to start. I texted my friend from high school who has friends and relatives in Denmark and the Netherlands. 

By the time the dust settled, I would have had two hours to explore, but I was fried. Let me put it into context how tired I was: I missed the Wordle today, not because it was a hard word, but because my brain was firing on 20%. I didn’t feel confident navigating a new city on the fly and have to make it back to the airport in time. Plus I was seriously afraid I’d get on a train, fall asleep, and wake up three hours away from the airport. I needed to rest. But believe me, there was lots of inner conflict: should I rest and drink hot chocolate and work on an embroidery project at the airport or should I have an adventure? Rest won.

My HS friend understood. “If we were there together and we got stranded, at least we’d be stranded together.” Yeah.

At the Oslo airport baggage claim around 11:00 pm, I saw the rednecks from the Seattle and first Oslo flight. I said hello. They were three guys from Bend, Oregon on a dudes vacation. They showed me how to take the train into downtown Oslo, which I appreciated. I was going to take an Uber, but they said the train was safe, fast and clean.

“It’s Norway,” they said.

I asked if they went into Copenhagen.

“It was awesome,” one of the guys said. “The Ironman race was going through town. There were 100,000 people out and about.”

I need to be nicer to strangers while traveling, especially my fellow Americans, no matter how annoying they might be. I should have befriended strangers before and after this chaos. Who knew that sweaty guy was actually kind to flight attendants, and got us good information? Maybe I could have joined another group on an adventure into Copenhagen when I was afraid to go by myself.

My treat for surviving the emergency landing.