Week 12: A familiar face and a faraway place

Warning: this is a long one!

After 2 and a half months Sarah comes to visit. We started planning this so long ago, April to be exact. At that point, Budapest seemed a lifetime away. I had so much to do and so much to see and then suddenly I’m sitting in a cafe in Budapest seeing one of my oldest friends walking towards me.

Me and Sarah met when we are about 11 in a climbing competition, since we have done many stupid things together. It is her fault I dreamed up this trip, we are in a competition to see who can visit all the European countries first). When she said she wanted to come out it was when I thought I would be easily hopping from capital to capital. We settled on Budapest and Bratislava, I let her do the planning for this bit.

And now we are in Budapest and she is melting in the heat of mid-summer in central Europe and I find that I’m pretty used to 30 degrees now and we are joking and laughing about how I’m so excited about finding cheddar in a supermarket and everything feels so good.

We get to the apartment and she almost has a meltdown when she can’t get the key to work as it is hot and she is tired and I laugh and take it from her. We get the aircon working and she half climbs into the fridge to cool down. We laugh and I love the feeling of not having to do the introductions with someone new. I have loved everything I’ve done, I’ve met amazing people but 5 days with an old friend feels like a treat.

We get confused over Hungarian currency then cause a queue at the ticket machine for the tram as we can’t work out what tickets to buy. I force her to walk through the city to the supermarket in the heat to buy food and then we go back to the apartment and I cook us dinner and she does the washing up and everything flows.

The next day we do a free walking tour, the guide is obsessed with art nouveau which gets a bit much after a while. We eat lunch in a traditional Hungarian restaurant and find a water misster that sprays you to help you cool down. We sit by a fountain and then head to a bathhouse where we do walking races across the pools which Sarah wins and endurance competitions in the cold pool that I win.

That evening I manage to fuse the lights and the aircon in our room. We laugh and improvise. The next morning Sarah learns I will sleep through everything but my name being said. After breakfast, we head out into the city again and find our way to the musical fountain on Margaret Island and we sit getting splashed watching the water show.

The next day we take a very hot train to Bratislava. It’s 34 degrees outside and there is no aircon only an open window to keep us cool. She does her colouring in and I write my journal and knit. We reach the city and our accommodation and Sarah gets stressed out with a key again. We dump our stuff and then head into the old town for a walking tour. This one is better the guide is really good and we both enjoy it. We find dinner then head back to the apartment for a quiet evening.

The next day we do a city game (a bit like an escape room but running around the city). We enjoy it but there are a few bits that seem to have a got a little lost in translation and we way over complicate it at the start. By the time we finish we are both crazy hungry and so get pancakes followed by icecream and by the time we finish our ‘lunch’ its 5pm. We sit for a while in a square and then head home via the well air-conditioned supermarket where we spend ages hunting unsuccessfully for peanut butter.

We say we will get an early night but instead, I keep us up looking at trains and planning another part of my trip and getting overwhelmed by train timetables and then it’s almost midnight and we need to go to bed. I’m on a train to the High Tatra mountains and Sarah is going home and I can’t believe our time together is over already.

The journey is pretty easy, I each Poprad and take a risk by going to the supermarket before getting the bus but manage to time it perfectly and only have to wait 5 minutes before a bus to Zdiar comes. The driver doesn’t speak English and it’s a little hard to communicate but I manage. I overshoot the stop I want and have to walk 1.5km back to the village. I get an incredibly warm welcome when I reach the hostel and even though I don’t eat Pizza I go out with everyone that evening having cooked and eaten first.

After dinner, everyone sits out on the porch chatting. I plan with Megan and Rachel to go to the Polish lakes the next day. It’s a very relaxed atmosphere and I can’t remember how it comes up but I end up telling Rachel that I’m autistic. A few of us chat about it for a while. Rachel is a psychologist and is researching into autistic girls. There are some teachers there as well and it’s really interesting to talk to them about their experiences and share my own. It’s funny how things work out.

The next day I’m up early to get a bus that ends up not existing. Megan, Rachel and I stand at the bus stop for 45 minutes in the end but we do get to the Slovakian border and from there we walk to the national park on the polish side. It’s busy, it’s a Saturday and this is one of the most famous lakes in the area. The first bit is just on a road, my blood sugars try to go low a few times but I manage to avoid a proper Hypo.

The first lake we reach is so crowded. It’s nice but there are so many people. I find it harder to appreciate nature when it’s that busy. We sit a while and eat a little but then head off for the next part of the walk, this takes us away from the crowds and is much more interesting. It’s a long day but we all enjoy it. On the way back, we meet a Polish lady and her daughter, they have been coming to the area for years but haven’t met any English speakers before. We chat as we walk. We are all tired by this time and so it’s nice to have another conversation.

We say goodbye when we hit the main path back. The three of us try to figure out the best way to get back to the hostel, we have missed the bus we wanted and the next won’t be for a few hours. We walk the 2km back towards the border and try to hitchhike but to no luck. Then a car pulls up in front of us and a familiar face pokes out, it’s our Polish friends and they dive us all the way back to the hostel.

We all shower then head out again. There is a beer festival in the village and everyone else from the hostel is there. It’s not something I would normally go to but the hostel is such a nice place and the people so welcoming that I feel comfortable enough to go with them. I eat and drink tap water while everyone else tastes lots of beer. It’s a little noisy but I enjoy myself. As things start to wind down a band is playing outside and everyone is out there. I go outside too but the noise and vibrations from the music is too much and I return to the shelter of the building.

I see Rachel looking around for me but I can’t go outside to tell her why I disappeared. I feel embarrassed that I can’t be outside. I want to be with the others but I can’t be in that noise. Even though they know I’m autistic it’s still not fun to have to say I can’t join in because of something everyone else enjoys. I think about going home, but I don’t want to go. It’s a situation I have been in a hundred times before, the longing to join in fighting against the overwhelming stimulus that makes me so uncomfortable I have to flee from it.

But people come inside and when I explain Rachel and Megan stay inside with me until it finished and we all go home. I don’t like making people choose between being with me and being in the environment I can’t tolerate but they didn’t seem to mind and they choose me.

The next day I take it easy, sleeping in and eating nice food. I chat with Rachel about her research and manage to do some writing. It’s nice to just sit and relax. There is a thunderstorm in the evening and I sit out on the porch in the pouring rain watching in.

On my last full day in the Tatra’s, I join two Aussie sisters and we do the saddle hike, it’s the one everyone who goes to the (https://www.gingermonkey.eu) does. The scenery is amazing and I’m pretty pleased with myself once I’ve done it. After 4 years of not hiking my fitness isn’t as good as it once was but after my time in Lofoten it’s getting better and I enjoy the feeling of pushing myself.

That evening after dinner it’s movie night and so I settle down to watch slumdog millionaire in the living room. It’s been an amazing 4 days in a part of the world I hadn’t even heard about until it popped up on a Lonely Planet post on Facebook.

I’m sad to leave the next morning but I can’t help but look forward to what the final 2 months of the trip will bring.

And as a reward for getting thought all these words, have some lovely pictures!

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I hope you have enjoyed this episode!

With Love

The girl with the braid in her hair xxx

Week 11: Complications

Whenever anyone asks me I’m always gushing about how much fun I’m having and how good this trip is. It’s easy to talk about the good things, the people you meet, the things that you do. It’s easy to tell people how much you are enjoying something. It’s easy to make it sound like everything is easy. It’s what you are supposed to say. But what about the times when things get to you and when your body is rebelling and you want it to just stop?

Traveling with diabetes has its own fun. Firstly there is the logistics of traveling with meds. Insulin has to be kept cold, I don’t need very much, one of the good things about having funky diabetes, but I’m still trying to keep several vials cold in the central europian summer. Insulin aside there is my Dexcom (blood sugar meter). I honestly wouldn’t do without it. Having information at my fingertips has made the hiking and complete lack of routine much easier.

But it’s still not easy. I can’t eat the ‘normal’ traveler foods. Bread, pasta, rice, etc are off the menu in the evenings and low carb can be hard to find. Blood sugars also react to heat, stress, activity, sleep, timings of when you eat, water quantity and pretty much everything else you can think of, making it super easy to maintain good control whilst living with no routine at all.

The thing I have found hardest is hiking. In Lofoten I had a few times when my sugars got really low on the hill, it took me a while to figure out that I needed to not take any long-acting insulin for the day when I’m going to be walking. In fact, often I won’t take any insulin at all until I get back from the walk. I wish there where hard and fast rules I could hold on to but often what works one week can cause me to go really high the next.

I try not to get annoyed by it all but sometimes it feels like a disruption I would rather live without. It also means I’m a bit wary about going out with other people, I don’t want to hold then up with my blood sugars getting low. For the most part, it’s been manageable but I felt like I’m fighting a losing battle some days when I go out.

Then there is the fun on the Chronic Fatigue. If I’m honest I’ve been really pleased with how my body has reacted to everything, As long as I sleep well at night very little has been too much. I have been getting tired, but often a quiet day has been all I’ve needed to recover. But it can be hard to have that quiet day, there is so much to do and so much to see that not going out is hard. And so by the 20th of july, I had pretty much run myself into the ground and needed to stop for a while.

Through necessity I booked myself an Airbnb in Vienna a crashed for a few days. I didn’t go out that much and In slept a lot. And after 5 nights I did feel much better.

I knew I was likely to need to take a bit of time out, 5 months is a long time and for the most part, I have simply been rejoicing in being able to be out in the world doing these things, but sometimes it’s hard.

I want to be able to eat normally and not having to think so far ahead with my insulin and food. And I wonder if there will ever be a time when I don’t have to take so much care with sleep and rest? It can be hard to accept to myself that despite everything I can’t quite travel the way I want to, but every time that thought come up I remind myself that a couple of years ago all this would have been impossible.

Sure there are complications, but I would rather live with them than not try at all.

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With love,

The girl with the braid in her hair xxx

Week 7: To the Fjords

When I was getting ready for this trip I indulged in many google maps and hostel world sessions trying to find places to go and stay. Normally I would get excited at about half 9 in the evening when I got home from work and then forget to go to bed as I was too busy looking up hostels and cities. When planning the Norwegian leg I knew I wanted to go to the Fjords after I left Lofoten, I didn’t really look into how to get from one to the other I simply set my heart on doing so and then stumbled across a perfect looking hostel, Eplet, in the village of Solvorn a mere 1300km away, 1700km by public transport.

I had given myself a few days to get from Lofoten to the Fjords. I left the farm on the 16th and hitchhiked to the town of Å, the end of the road in Lofoten. (Literally, the road doesn’t go any further.) I camp out overnight by the side of a lake and wake up to watch the clouds pour over the mountains at the other end. I spend a day exploring the town then hitchhike to the ferry terminal only to discover I got my timings wrong and have 5 hours to wait for the boat.

It’s cold and there’s nowhere inside to wait, just some picknick benches and a slowly growing line of cars and campervans. There is a woman with a bike waiting as well and we chat a bit but she leaves to get warm and see if she can find alternative accommodation, I pace up and down in an effort to keep warm, tiredness seeping into me. I want to sleep and be warm, I envy the campervans and the cars the ability to choose whether to be outside or in. It’s too cold to sit down and read or knit but pacing makes the time seem to drag by. Thankful kindness comes to my rescue in the form of a German lady in a camper van offering me coffee, it’s the kindness more than the coffee that makes the difference and the time seems to speed up.

I stay in a hostel overnight. creeping into my room at gone midnight and leaving the next day to board a train to Oslo. From Bodø it is an 18-hour train journey to Oslo. The scenery is amazing so the time moves quite well considering I’m cooped up on a train and I get a little break to stretch my legs at Trondheim where I change trains. I manage to sleep a bit on the overnight stint to Oslo and get into the city at about 7 in the morning.

Oslo doesn’t hold too much appeal for me so I skip it and head to the bus station after breakfast. I almost have a heart attack at the price of the bus ticket, I thought I had got used to Norweigain pricing but this one hit me. I enjoy the trip over the mountains and the bus is comfy enough. At the change point, I choose not to wait for the second bus and instead hitch a lift with a truck driver the rest of the way. By this point, hitchhiking has become my prefered way of getting about partly because it’s free but also it’s more interesting. The truck driver drops me at the end of the road the hostel is on and I got coffee and a chocolate biscuit during the ride.

My overnight stop is in the village of Flåm, the town itself looks like it was once a nice place. small wooden houses and a marina but it’s now a stopping point for cruise ships and as such is flooded with slow-moving tourists and souvenir shops. My hostel is quiet and out of the way, there is only two of us in the dorm and so it’s a perfectly good stopping off point. In the morning I walk to a local waterfall and then find a less busy spot on the marina to read my book and have lunch before getting a boat across the fjord.

The boat is really busy and it seems everyone wants to be out on the small deck to watch the mountains fly by. During the boat trip, I came to the important realization that I had fucked up my planning and had left myself with a night with nowhere to stay. The hostel I choose several months ago looks like paradise and I had wanted to stay longer anyway so I just hope they have room for me for another night.

I’m glad I’m only the boat for an hour before disembarking it’s too busy to enjoy it properly. At the small village, it stops at I debate taking the bus but it feels too expensive so opt to hitchhike instead. I get a left most of the way to the hostel I’m staying in easily and start to walk down the road to the village. I get part way down before getting another lift, this time with the ower of the hostel I’m staying in.

Eplet is a small paradise, there is a climbing wall in the kitchen and a slackline in the garden. The dorm room is small but comfortable and the whole place just feels friendly. After 4 days of traveling, I know the effort has been worthwhile. I’m able to get the extra night and so have 4 full days. On the first one, I sleep late then go to the shop 5km away and buy food for the week and cook. I enjoy having a slow day and I know my body needs it. While I’m stronger than I could have dreamed of being a few years ago I still need to be careful.

The next day I set out for a long bike ride down what is known as the dramatic road. The whole thing is 70km but I don’t go all the way. The road follows along the side of a lake, steep mountains rising up from the water. There are very few people about and for the most part, the only sounds are me and the crashing of water in the distance falling down the mountainside.

It’s a great way to spend the day. The weather is a bit unpredictable but I enjoy it and by the time I get back the sun is making a good effort to push away the clouds. I’m tired but in a way that makes me feel human and happy. For so long tiredness was a constant and now it comes after acceptable things, like 50km on a bike.

It’s hard to believe I’ve spent almost two months in Norway now, or that I will be leaving for Sweden on Wednesday. Time is moving so fast and things going so well it’s almost hard to make sense of. But time keeps marching on and by the end of next week, I will be on a ferry heading across the water to mainland Europe!thumbnail_file3-1thumbnail_file4-1thumbnail_file5thumbnail_file6thumbnail_file7thumbnail_file8thumbnail_file9thumbnail_file1064637992_2652570948087636_2420791645613064192_n64671082_2652570838087647_10914100309655552_n64774514_2652570398087691_515185016532107264_n64823121_2652570591421005_7875880761323159552_n64911465_2652570464754351_8852538796672024576_n65089188_2652570794754318_3015371327340019712_n65113140_2652570484754349_4503745402855489536_n65185414_2652570608087670_7988149239345577984_nthumbnail_file1-1thumbnail_file-2

Hope you enjoy the pictures!

With love,

The girl with the braid in her hair xxx

Week 6: Leaving Aalan Gard

I have settled into a comfortable routine, working, walking, hitchhiking wherever I want to go. Life on the farm is easy. I work from 9 till 3 with an hours break at 12. Everyone sits around the dinner table at 3pm for the main meal of the day chatting together. The goats wonder on the mountainside coming back each evening to be milked. The weather changes constantly, one-day brilliant sun, the next howling wind and freezing rain. It’s perfect.

I’ve enjoyed my work, being outside every day feels so good. I’ve mainly been working in the garden. It’s not something I would normally do at home but I’ve enjoyed it. When I first arrived in May the beds were covered in grass and the summer plants living in the greenhouse. Now the garden is full of new life. I dug up and re-planted a huge bed of peppermint plants single-handedly and I know I leave behind a much nicer space.

I’ve spent days picking birch leaves in the wood. It’s been one of my favorite jobs despite the bitter rain on the first day I did it. Being out there filling an old fashioned basket with leaves for tea was immensely satisfying and relaxing. On the last day, I was out in shorts and a t-shirt, the sun beating down on me, my hands covered in sticky sap and a smile on my face.

On rainy days when the wind has been blowing fiercely, I’ve worked inside packaging herbs and tea mixing. Everything is done by hand, from drawing flowers on the bags to pulling apart the paper ribbons to make them look more attractive. It’s not hard work but it’s so time-consuming it’s easy to understand why they have been having volunteers on the farm since the late ’80s.

I lived in an old, small house, built to accommodate the many children Knut’s (the guy who owns the farm) parents had. There is nothing modern about it at all but despite the flooding on rainy days, and spiders in every corner I like it.

If I’m honest there is little about life here that I don’t like, chasing Klara the pet pig, out of the garden is I think the most stressful thing I have had to do. The price of food is crazy but I haven’t had to buy much and it has reminded me how much I take for granted.

London has everything near at hand, you want chocolate you go out a buy it, run out of milk? no problem there’s a shop open till 11 round the corner. Here you see how simple life can be. It’s 8km to the shop too far to walk for me after work, to get there I have to get a ride with visitors to the farm. Vegetables are few and far between and my main foods become eggs from the chickens and goats cheese.

When I leave the valley to see a different part of the islands I’ve been hitchhiking. And I’ve often been asked why I choose to come to work on a farm here. My initial reasons were to do with how expensive Norway is and that it was the only way I could get to spend some proper time in Lofoten but it’s become more than that.

My hosts live in quite a traditional way, it’s a small farm and all of the family are involved with running it, even the young grandchildren show people around and work in the shop. I’ve tasted food that I would never have chosen if given the choice and enjoyed most of it.

The goat meat was from young goats slaughtered by Knut on the farm. The dried fish was difficult to eat but tasty (you have to de-bone it yourself, the family are all experts and after the 10mins of work ate without coming across a single bone, I had one every mouthful despite taking twice as long trying to get them out). The moose mince was nice and fish tounges a little gooey but tasty. I wasn’t a fan of milk dinner, which we had every Saturday, a tradition in the north of Norway. And whale meat was hard on my conscience but it was already cooked by this point so there is no point letting it go to waste.

I’ve spent 6 weeks submerged in Norwegian farm life and I loved it. In some ways, it’s hard to say goodbye to Aalan Gard, but I know in many ways the adventure is only just beginning.



I hope you have enjoyed this weeks post, next week everything will have changed!


The girl with the braid in her hair xxx

Week 5: A girl that I used to know

Being ill teaches you a lot. For me, one of the main lessons was to learn to define myself not by what I did but by the choices I made. It wasn’t an easy lesson. For years I saw myself as a climber, a mountain girl. That was where I was happiest. That’s where I felt most at home. But suddenly I couldn’t do these things I couldn’t be that girl and if I wasn’t her who was I?

But I learnt and I adjusted. I learnt to choose to be happy and make the best of the life that I had. I missed the mountains but I could be content without them. For 4 years I lived in London, with little outdoor space and crowded streets. I learnt to be myself away from the environment that I loved, but when I started planning this trip, mountains were a big part of the itinerary.

Arriving in Lofoten I was tired from 2 days of travelling. I sat in the car on the way to the farm trying to look in every direction at once to take in the scenery around me. Despite my exhuastion, I felt happy, I was back in the mountains.

4 and a half weeks later I decided that I need to sleep out on the hill. I prepare for the night by naping that afternoon and eating a good dinner. All day the weather has been perfect but as I start up the path, the clouds come in and it starts to rain. I keep going, I enjoy the feeling of being out in the elements and I have a tent with me. I enjoy the walk, the higher I get the heavier the rain becomes and the more the wind blows. I reach the top at about a quarter to 11 and find a good stop to pitch my tent. The rain is getting heavy and I’m looking forward to getting out the wind.

I don’t get very far before the only pole the tent has snapped, at this point, I give up. I’m getting cold and the tent will no longer stand up. I do my best to pack up but the pole won’t come out the tent so I roll it up and head back down the mountain.

The next evening I’m tired from my late night, I finish a phone call home and am heading to the house. The clouds are really low, so low that you are walking through them but they have this unearthly light to them. Everything seems bright but shrouded in cloud. I had been shown pictures by my housemates here of a night they went up the mountain a time the clouds where low.  The pictures are amazing and I know I have to go up and see if I get the same experience.

It’s half past 10 when I set off. I’ve had mountain safety drilled into my head since I was a kid and so going up on a day the clouds are this low feel a bit odd but it doesn’t take me long to get above the cloud line. Despite a late night the night before I feel awake. My feet seem to carry me effortlessly up the mountain and I can’t help but marvel at how much fitter I am now compared to when I came. The first time I walk the path the Vetten I had to stop every few meters to catch my breath and my heart was beating so loudly I could hear it in my chest.

I reach the top energized and feeling more alive then I have done in ages. The clouds sit low in the valley hiding the houses and lakes from view, as far as I can see it is clouds giving way to mountains.  I wait atop Vetten till midnight, messing about with my phone taking pictures and marveling at the beauty around me. I make my way down but I don’t want to go home. The night is too perfect to give it up now, I need to carry on. I reach the small gully between the mountains and follow the path up the other side, my legs carry me onwards full of a joy of their own.

I walk upwards, abandoning the part at times to get a better view or to clamber to a high point. The more I walk the more I am filled with a sense of complete happiness and peace. I feel like the girl I was before I got ill, the one who always had to walk at the front, who never seemed to get tired. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world as I walk those mountain tops alone.

It’s 3am when I finally reach home. I’m tired but happy. Being up in the mountains alone at midnight, walking above the clouds, seeing the world brilliantly lit by the sun at 2am and feeling a joy that can only be found in nature its something I will never forget and an experience only Norway could give me. I know I will pay for it in having a few tired days but it was so worth it!


I hope you have enjoyed this episode! and of course the pictures!

With love,

The girl with the braid in her hair xxx

Week 3: The kindness of strangers

I often feel incredibly lucky, something that other people seem to struggle to understand. And yes medically I haven’t done too well in many ways and I would never wish my lovely mix on anyone else but all the same, I feel lucky. This feeling normally surfaces after interactions where people show the better side of humanity, the one the newspapers and media seem to forget about or just don’t want you to see, the times we are good to each other for no reward, the times people have gone out their way to help me out. It happens more often than I would expect.

Maybe some of the feeling is because in London everyone is always in a rush and more often than not plugged into headphone or scrolling through their phone and yes when I’m commuting I have often been guilty of the same thing. Sitting on a crowded tube is hardly anyone’s idea of fun, plug in and get it over with. But it’s more than that, in London I often feeling like nobody has got time for each other, The constant grind of city life takes over and we are all cogs in this much bigger machine.

But for three weeks now I have been away from it all. A small farm 4km from the main road in Lofoten is about as far removed from life in London as you can get, and I’m LOVING it. It’s no surprise, I love mountains and lakes and being outside, I’m not a city person, and, for the first time in years, I have been able to do something totally for myself without having to worry too much about pesky illnesses.

My time in Lofoten is the first stage of 5 months of traveling, most of which, I will be on my own. Before I left for this trip and was telling people about it one of the questions I was most often asked was who I was going with, many people seemed shocked that I was going alone. But I love traveling solo. To me it’s easier and much more freeing than going with someone else, I am the only one my plan has to suit, no one else needs to be consulted, no compromises need to be made, this trip is entirely for me.

And it’s not like I don’t enjoy the company of other people I do, I just perfer to travel on my own. The other thing I find is I’m more confident when I travel. Part of this is having no one else to rely upon but a bigger part is knowing I can be utterly myself at all times because the interactions that I’m having with other people are all short term. I don’t worry about making the right impressions as often in a few days it won’t matter anyway.

I have always been an open person, often it seems in daily life too open. I don’t always censor what I say the way that is expected, I talk about subjects that are still, in some places, seen as taboo without even considering that it might not be appropriate. This has got me in trouble at times but I find when your traveling openness makes like easier and gives you opportunities that would otherwise be left undiscovered.

On my flight from Oslo to Bodo, I chatted a little with the man sitting next to me. He seemed a little surprised to find an English girl on her own going to Lofoten in May but quickly became my in-flight guide, pointing out mountains of note and glaciers out the window. Due to the stress of having my original flight canceled I hadn’t really looked into how to get into Bodo city center from the airport or where the ferry terminal was.

As we chatted I asked about the best way to get to town, he told me where to get the bus from, a little later he turned to me and asked if I wanted a free ride into town in the taxi that his group was hiring. Yes, yes I did. The taxi driver was a little surprised when he took my bag to put it in the trailer, 10 men in their mid-sixties (I think) on a fishing trip and a 20 something English girl with a giant backpack, it looked a little odd. They made a few jokes about me called me ‘free seat’ but I was happy enough, it certainly beat the bus with two backpacks.

I quickly settle into life at the farm, on the second week I get an opportunity to go to the shop a buy a little luxury food for myself and hypo supplies. By midway through the third week, these are starting to dwindle, I had planned to cycle to the shop by the bikes are too big for me to use. It’s 8km away a bit too far to comfortably walk there and back again but just going one way seems ok. On Tuesday, after a sunny morning working in the garden I sit down to my dinner outside by some visitors to the farm, they are American and seem friendly.

One of the ways of getting about advertised here is simply to ask visitors if they are driving your direction and if they can give you a lift. It seems a little cheeky but I thought it was worth a try. I chatted with them for a while and then asked if they were going in the direction of the shop and if there were could I get a lift. They didn’t know where the shop was but offered to take me anyway. I was delighted and when they said they could even drop me home again I was in so much shock my mouth dropped wide open a just hung there a moment while I reveled at my good fortune.

It was a fun outing, Chatting with my new friends and pointing out local landmarks. The scenery around here is pretty much always spectacular and the biggest problem is knowing which way to look.

On Monday we get a helper at the farm for the day, she is a Swedish lady who is traveling in her van and camped out at the farm overnight. We work together on the peppermint bed and chat about travel, climbing and a load of other things. She tells me about Henningvaer. A small fishing town where a lot of good climbing can be found. Having done no research into climbing in Lofoten before I came I’m eager to get down there, at first it looks like she might be able to give me a lift later in the week but this ends up not being possible.

But I still want to go. The best alternative, hitchhike. There is a part of me that is not overly convinced with the idea, how easy will it be to get picked up? Will I just end up standing at the roadside for ages, what if I get to Henningsvaer but can’t get home again? But this trip is about getting outside my comfort zone so I decided to try.

Tove is heading out so gives me a lift to the main road. I stand watching for a car to come for a few minutes (this is the main road through Lofoten but it’s hardly busy). I hear one coming around the corner and thinking ‘here goes nothing’ stick out my thumb. To my utter astonishment, it stops and I get a lift all the way to the turning to Henningvaer.

It turns out hitchhiking around here is pretty easy. People seem willing to help and I have an easy journey. Reaching Henningsvaer I look around the town and then go for a long walk along the seafront by the mountainside. The sun is shining and it’s an amazing day. I take a long walk with a breathtaking view around every corner before returning to town to go to the climbing cafe and get some food.

It’s a nice place and I treat myself to a big dinner and actually spend some money. On the table next to me is an Aussie family. As they start to get ready to leave I ask if I can get a lift to the main road with them, they are happy to give it. They go for a walk first then come back to pick me up from the cafe. We chat easily and it turns out they are heading the same way I am and will go past the end of the road to the farm. It’s a great way to finish the day. They are lovely people and the conversation is interesting the whole way back, they even give me a massive pastry to take home.

Things like this are one of the reasons I like to travel solo. You have to take a few more risks in terms of human interaction and most often you come off richer from the experience. I have always believed the best in people and it’s nice when those beliefs are proved true.

Now please enjoy some of my pictures from Henningsvear!


Hope you enjoyed!

With love,

The girl with the braid in her hair xxx

Week 2: A quiet life

I’m sitting outside in shorts and a t-shirt writing this. The sun is blazing down and it feels like it’s 25 degrees outside, it’s not, it’s below 20 but sun cream is on and I’ve been working most of today in a T-shirt and even the accidental shower I gave myself with the hose was on the pleasant side of cold.

Right now I’m the only one outside, everyone else is having the post-meal rest. We eat dinner at 3pm here and every day, no matter how busy people are there is a lull of activity after the meal. Life here follows gentle rules, very little feels rushed, Everything is allowed to take its time. the only time I have felt at all under pressure is when Klara the Candian (not so mini) mini pig gets into the garden and I’ve had to try to chase her out.

I spent most of my work time in the garden. It makes a change to be working outside to the song of birds and the rustling of the wind in the trees. The valley the farm is situated it had a little over 10 houses, most are at the end by the lake the rest belong to the family of the farm and are scattered about the land a short distance away. The road has so few cars on it when they do come they seem as loud as airplanes do at home. On days the sun is shining I don’t think there could be a more idyllic place. No matter what I want to be outside here, it feels a world away from London.

I’ve been away for a little over two weeks but it feels longer, home and the routine that comes with it seems like another world, commuting an hour to work, the rush of people, the traffic on the roads, the sirens of ambulances and police cars as they rush past, it all feels like another reality that I have no desire to get back to.

I got used to the pace of life here easily, I take pleasure in the beauty of my surroundings and things like collecting eggs from the chickens every day make me smile. There is a simplicity here as well and the peace. Most of the food I cook for myself comes from the farm. The nearest shop is 8km away and I’m waiting for someone to help me adjust the bike seat before I can realistically get there on my own. At home, I’m used to being within 1o minutes of a shop at all time. Anything you want can be found easily. Being here has reminded me that some things that are so easy to take for granted are actually luxuries. Chocolate tastes so much better when it’s hard to get hold of and super expensive to buy.

After running in at 100mph the first week I have slowed down a bit, not I’m not going to see all of Lofoten but I will be awake enough to enjoy the bits that I do see. Last week Tove (who owns the farm) took me on a cheese delivery run to Solvaer it’s an hour in the car and the scenery is dramatic the whole way, while on Vestagoy the mountains shelter farmland on most of the other islands in the archipelago the mountains dominate.

I join the family on the 17th of May celebrations. The National day in Norway is taken very seriously, it’s not something I have witnessed before and I was surprised to find myself part of the local parade.

My time here is moving quickly, the end of May is already approaching and I’m over 1/3 of the way through my stay here. I’m as relaxed as I’ve been in a long time and there are still so my mountains to climb!


With Love,

The girl with the braid in her hair xxx