2019-11-01 In The Moment

(John Hannent) #1

Pho


tog
rap


hy^ S


ara


h^ Ba


xte
r


escaping


“The turquoise water was so deliciously clear it dared you to


jump in – I had to remind myself this was the Arctic”


my legs mildly buzzing from the hike up, my brain
soaking up the serenity and the splendour.
I was staying at a handful of different hotels in
the region, and that evening took me to the village
of Mefjord Brygge (mefjordbrygge.no). I couldn’t drive
further – it was the end of the road on its particular
arm of the island. And I didn’t want to continue
anyhow. From my bright, light room, I watched clouds
swim about the mountains and Arctic terns dive for
fish in the shallows. After a delicious dinner – seafood
soup and fresh cod, rounded off with lingonberry
panna cotta – I headed out for another stroll. Why
not? It felt early, despite being well past normal
bedtime, the perpetual sunlight like a shot of Mother
Nature’s Red Bull. I saw a couple in walking boots and
backpacks setting off from the door, despite my watch
reading 2 3:3 0.
I did get to bed eventually, and slept well thanks
to all that fresh air and exercise, and a decent set
of blackout blinds. So, fully refreshed, I went out
to explore more, scrambling over rocks to reach

a headland, where an enormous white-tailed eagle
was being mobbed by ballsy gulls. Then I bounded
through swampy grassland, bowled over by the
mountains and keeping a look out for reindeer. It
was a shock to return to the main street and hear
a rubbish truck making its weekly collection. I’d
almost forgotten what reality sounded like.
I gradually wound my way along the island’s
incredible roads to find Hamn i Senja (hamnisenja.no),
a historic fishing village that’s now a hotel. I say hotel.
It was more a haven: a cluster of wooden cabins
edging a little harbour, where a handful of boats
bobbed on turquoise water so deliciously clear it
dared you to jump in – I had to remind myself this was
the Arctic, not the Med, and it might be a touch nippy.
I went out on one of those boats instead, zipping
around the Bergsøyan archipelago, a scatter of small,
rocky islets that could have passed for Thailand were
it not for the temperature. I could look down, through
the pellucid blue, to coral reefs and jellyfish, while
perfect beaches fringed the coves. On one stretch of
sand, where we hopped off for coffee, the vertebrae
of a sperm whale – washed up years ago – sat upright

Soaring mountains form
an icy backdrop to the
village of Mefjord Brygge.

A haven on the harbour:
the perfect spot to watch
as the light changes in
Hamn i Senja.

102 CalmMoment.com
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