Here I am in my cousin's back yard. Spydeberg.
I am there in the shadows.
Can you see me?
BLOGGER IS IN NORWEGIAN! HOW COOL IS THAT?
Flying across the polar route. Out my window there was a thin sheath of obscured magenta ribbon bordered by wide band of iridescent blue sky above and pewter clouds below. It was not dark it was dusk. It was not night. The orange ribbon widened slightly and then narrowed as I flew over the gulf of Boothia approaching Baffin island.
Earlier I thought of Holly Kennedy. I flew over Lake Athabasca which I assume is near the town of Athabasca. Funny how a name brings back the atmosphere of a book. Athabasca is where Holly grew up. Where Tommy and Max lived. Where the fire pit was. The clouds below are substantial as puffs of cotton or vapor blown out of a frigid mouth.
So where has my day gone? Wrapped up into the orbit of the earth? Sucked out of my watch and waiting for me until I return in three weeks?
It is still light. I have re set my computer.
7:49 am Norway time.
Altitude 35,000 feet.
Just over Sondre Stromfjord it occurred to me my geographic ability is less than stellar.
The names on the map.
They are stories. They are settings.
I try it on for size.
“I was born in Ungava Bay. My father lives there still.”
RE: AIRPLANE MEALS
I could live on SAS food.
There was even a menu so I will not forget.
I spend hours looking out my window. Now when I write about going over the polar route I will not leave out the most important part.
It is always light in May and dark in December.
And the food is fabulous.
Brilliance lies in the details.
I am in Norway.
And it is still light.