Today is our last full day on Lofoten. After a sparse breakfast of eggs and a few slices of speck (we ran out of bread yesterday and there is no point to buying another loaf) we try to decide what to do with our day. Our first thought is to try out a hike that Dawn read about that is not far from Henningsvaer. We hop in the car and head that way… but the parking pull-off near the trail is already pretty full and is also full of young adults acting-the-fool so we decide we can find something better to do. Dawn’s plan B is to try and find another Pøbel street art piece that’s on a part of the island that we haven’t been to yet. It’s not that far of a drive so we head that direction and are rewarded with some great scenery along the way (as if that wasn’t going to happen on this island). When Dawn was programming the car’s GPS she looked at a map on her phone and placed a pin on the car’s map in about the same spot. When we got there the car announced “your destination is on your right” exactly as we pulled up the old house… on the right. She was dead-on accurate.
After locating some art on a remote part of the island we decided to head back towards Henningsvaer and Dawn found another hiking trail that we could try out. One of her secret goals for the trip has been to climb a mountain. Something about island living brings out the mountain goat in Dawn. Our first pass at finding the trailhead was a failure because when we got to where it should be on the map we were driving through a tunnel. Dawn realized that the trailhead must be on top of the tunnel and we turned around and took another stab at it. It’s not uncommon for the locals to turn old mountain-pass roads into trail once they’ve been replaced by more direct tunnels for cars. That’s what happened here. We hiked up the old road between Henningsvaer and Svolvaer and then, over the tunnel, Dawn found the trailhead for a trail that went further up the mountain.
Up we went. The path when from gradual climb to steeper climb. Every time it looked like we were getting to the top we’d come over the rise to find that more trail lay ahead. Eventually we got the penultimate summit and decided that was top-enough for this hike. The tippy-top summit looked like more work than we were interested in. While hanging out at the top of the mountain, looking out across a bay on one side, and into a fjord on the other side something snapped in my brain and triggered my fear of heights. My brain proceeded to treat me to non-stop montage of all the horrible ways I could get off this mountain and the vast amount of blunt force trauma they would include. I kind of freaked out. The first thing I did was ask Dawn to step away from the edge. She claimed she wasn’t on the edge… but she looked perilously close to me.
After we caught our breath and took our photos came the part that I had really started to dread. Getting back down. Ok, here is the situation. There is the reality of what’s going on, and what my brain is reporting to me… and even in the moment I was smart enough to understand that they two weren’t matching. We’re we passed with families we small children making the climb in both directions? Yes. Did some of the families have dogs with them who were making the climb with no problem? Yes. Was one of these dogs a pomeranian? Oddly enough, yes. That’s not to say that there weren’t steep parts, or that we weren’t high up… but by Norwegian hiking standards… this was a bunny slope.
I slowly started to make my way down, being very careful to pick very sure footing. Dawn’s footing slipped a few times on the way down which released waves of anxiety in me. On the way down we were passed by a Norwegian couple jetting down the path at a clearly reckless pace. Eventually we made it out of the steeper portion of the climb in onto the more gentle incline and my brain switched off crazy mode and I started to relax. My stomach muscles were aching from some kind of crazy clenching I must have been doing. While it was a great view, and something that I’m happy that I did… I was very glad it was over. Also, I think the people with the mountain pomeranian were off their rocker. That trail was too steep for a dog that size.
The rest of the afternoon was a stroll around Henningsvaer to find the last Pøbel piece the was created three years ago. We saw it from the water while kayaking and Dawn figured out where we’d needed to walk in town to see it up close. Meanwhile, we also did our last load of laundry. One of the benefits of this AirBnB is that is came with a washer and dryer. That allowed us to wash our clothes in the middle of the trip which made for lighter packing.
For dinner we tried a new restaurant that appears to only be open on the weekend. Klatrekafeen is a climbing themed pub that was a nice way to close out dining in Henningsvaer. There was a chill in the air and this place was warm and inviting atmosphere. They had a small wood burning stove going. There was a giant fluffy cat sleeping on a bench next to one of the owners (who kept asking everyone not to notice the cat… probably for the normal reasons animals aren’t allowed in restaurants.) Every place we’ve eaten in Lofoten has pretty similar menu. Fish soup is mandatory, and it’s a creamy chowder-like affair. Sometime the menu will also have a fish stew and another then another cod-based dish. Lastly, there will normally be a hamburger for the poor sucker who visited a fishing island and does not like seafood. Dawn and I both ordered the fish soup. It was simple, but took the chill out. At the end of the meal we were both content. Content with our day, and I think, content with the time we got to spend on Lofoten.
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