norway

Life out at sea, very knoteworthy.

I’m afraid if I keep posting about these amazing, flawless trips of mine you will begin to question the authenticity of my posts. Perhaps I am embellishing, falsifying, exaggerating. Well, this post should prove to you doubters out there that I am in fact being totally honest. This past week I spent 6 days at sea, traveling to Scotland’s Shetland Islands on Norway’s biggest and oldest sail ship. And because I am being 100% honest here… I will admit I was a little disappointed. My expectations had been so high it isn’t much of a surprise they were not fully met. Parts of the trip were less than stellar, but other aspects were great! If I were rating this trip like Grace Helbig, I’d give it 3 GraceFaces.

I’m not quite sure how to tackle embodying this trip in a blog post. Starting in the beginning, let me pose a question to try to set the scene for you. What’s grosser: seeing people vomiting in every direction you turn, hearing the surround-sound chorus of puke splattering against the deck, or smelling the never-fading scent of people’s regurgitated meals? (Hint: It’s a trick question.) They are all equally as gross.

I feel as if I should follow up the former glum pictures with something that will rock your boat. If there is one thing that this trip was full of (other than vomit), it was beauty. I thought the waves were just swell (pun intended.) I found myself starring out at sea for hours. The sunsets and sunrises were truly amazing. On the cloudless nights we were graced by the presence of a full or nearly full moon. In fact, it was the brightest and most beautiful moon I have ever seen. Shout out to my love back home, Brenna Monk. On the fourth night we were surrounded by distanced oil rigs, appearing as just glowing dots sitting on the horizon. As I continued to stare out in the distance, time passed. My eyes became so strained the sky began melting into the sea, creating a vast void of darkness. The oil rig sat in the center of the darkness seemingly dimming until I could no longer see it. The ocean and sky had this mesmerizing effect on me the whole week– perhaps because of a kind of vastness and openness I am not used to.

The ships itself, the Statsraad Lehmkuhl, is breathtaking. I admired all of the vertical lines of ropes and wire, which is why I got a little carried away with perspective in some of my photos. I’m sure if I had not felt so nauseous, the 700 pictures I took would have been closer to 1,000.

I don’t have much to say about Shetland. It was very grey. It pretty much acted solely as a solid ground– a much needed break for many.

If there weren’t 140 of us to dilute the workload, life on the Statsraad Lehmkuhl would be tough. A lot of the work had to do with ropes– tugging ropes, tying ropes,  climbing ropes. On the second full day on ship I had kitchen duty. I had to stay under deck all day… yay. Despite the sea sickness I enjoyed the day because of the kitchen lady, Annika. She was quite a character, and had many stories from the 8 years she had worked aboard the Statsraad Lehmkuhl. Annika is the type of person I’d love to write a book about. The food was quite good, although eating was not my top priority because of nausea. To my delight we had lots of fruit and vegetables! Apples, bananas, oranges, potatoes, and luckily no leeks. (Boat puns, can’t get enough of em’)

Climbing up the rig was more scary than it looks, and it probably looks quite scary to a lot of you. You are not actually attached to anything during the climb. It isn’t until you reach the platform or sail when you hook yourself in. Good thing no one fell, right?

By the last day, I was definitely counting down the hours to shore. Life at sea was beautiful but I was ready for solid ground. As we reached Bergen I  had a mini sailabration. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) Regardless, the pure beauty and experience of the sail trip made it worth it. A memory, I will never forget.

A pocket sized Michael Stratton would be nice.

When I am surrounded by so many gorgeous geographical features I often find myself wanting a pocket sized Michael Stratton to explain why things are the way they are.

Also, the different rock formations are so beautiful I often find myself thinking: “I want a kitchen countertop made out of this.”

Trip to Molladalen: Color isn’t needed to reveal the true beauty

Hi guys.

I don’t have the time or energy to do a full recap of this last trip, so I will do something a little different. The following excerpts are the exact digital versions of what I wrote in my journal during the trip. Enjoy.

September 10th, 10:00am, Base Camp (2,495ft altitude)

“Sometimes when you’re sleeping in some place other than Richmond suburbia, such as Guatemala, you’ll wake up far to early to the sound of crowing roosters or barking dogs. And sometimes when you’re camping, or perhaps even in Richmond Suburbia, you have to worry about raccoons or foxes getting into your left over food and trash. And when your dog has ran away from your suburban house, you don’t have to worry because a man’s best friend always comes back. Well when you’re in Molladalen, it’s the sheep and their bells that will wake you far too early. It’s the sheep that will manage to eat everything in sight. And you betcha, it’s the sheep that keep coming back, no matter how many times you chase them away. So when Jonas says ‘I don’t see the benefit of doing this now,’ in reference to cleaning the dirty dinner pans of leftover food… don’t listen to him.”

11:45am, Snack Stop

“This is the kind of hiking/ climbing I like to do: up the steep side of a rocky mountain– no trees to hide the progress we’ve made nor the ground we’ve covered.”

12:30pm, Lunch stop, (4,114ft altitude)

“Being on top of something so gigantic, surrounded by things just as enormous, makes me realize how small I really am.”

2:25pm, Mountain top, (4,595ft altitude)

“This is the coolest view I have ever seen. I’ve also decided it is my life goal to do a headstand on top of a mountain like this. Janie Therese requests that I wait at least a year unless I want to give her a heart attack.”

3:15pm, Quiet Break, (3,623ft altitude)

“This is what silence is. Never before have I experienced such a natural silence. There is a far off sound of water, so faint I’m not positive it exists. Even this scratching of my pen is seemingly disturbing the force of this silence. There is an occasional chirp of a singular bird that works as a reference to how quiet it actually is.

I’m laying here, fit perfectly into the side of the mountain. My body is contorted in order to fit within the natural crevasses and dips of the rocks. The fog is rolling in and as it’s getting harder and harder to see I feel as if I am melting into nature.”

September 11th, 10:42am, (3,232ft altitude)

This is our last snack break before we begin climbing up the steepest part of the mountain– so steep we will not be able to take any breaks. As I am sitting here on top of a rock, watching the fog roll out and writing in this journal, I’ve realized it’s September 11th. 9/11, a day that cannot pass without stopping and thinking back to 2001. A moment of silence for the people who lost loved ones on that day, for the war that began, and the soldiers who have died fighting.”

12:30pm, Mountain Top, (4,361ft altitude)

“The sun is so bright, it’s glorious!”

2:31pm, Bladet time, (4,182ft altitude)

“Climbing is comparable to solving a puzzle…that’s why I enjoy it. The best part about the Bladet: in the end you get to stand on top of it, on a rock so high but no wider than a size 9 shoe.”

7:16pm, Quiet Break, (3,153ft altitude)

“We are almost back at base camp but stopped to have a quiet 10 minutes. Once again I am watching the fog roll in, but this time it seems to be hovering right on the line where we set up camp.”

September 12th, 5:31am, Base Camp

So this is what they call an alpine-start. We’ve eaten our breakfast, packed our lunches, our shoes are on, the suns shining… wait, no, it’s still dark out. Regardless, you get the point, we are ready to go!

9:24am, Base Camp

We are back from our last hike on this trip. We hiked up a mountain, took some group pictures, and managed to make it back to camp all before 9:00am! Pretty cool. My cooking team is all packed up and ready to start the trek down to the busses.”

11:17am, Bus Parking Lot, (619ft altitude)

As we approached the bus each and everyone of us let out a sigh, perhaps out of relief that we could now sit down. I am happy with the hike down from base camp– it wasn’t as difficult as hiking up to base camp. Mostly because my pack was three logs, a bag of food, and two oranges lighter in weight!

3:00pm, Nordfjord, (273ft altitude)

The bus ride to the trip was filled with thoughtful conversation with Jonas about his redefinition of ‘love.’ The bus ride back home was filled with… Zzzs. And now, the tent is hanging up to dry, and I will begin the unpacking process. By the time I am done, I will start packing again for the next trip!

*As my camera was on low battery at the start of the trip, I didn’t capture as many photos this time. Once I get ahold of some other’s from the rest of the group I will share more!