Hardanger, Norway
On a cold bleak evening , in the heart of the Swedish winter, I felt the intense urge to escape the monotony of my thoughts, which were persistently weighing me down. The plan was ridiculous at the start. I was ready to go alone to Stavanger, trek to the Pulpit rock, in the fag end of winter. Mind you, with no prior trekking experience. While the thought itself was frightening, my mind was fairly unfazed, Owing to my act first, think later personality. Well, the truth is, I would not have gone through with it. Even If I traveled to Stavanger, I would not have trekked to Trolltunga or Preikestolen.
Well, I am writing about it now, So I sure went ahead with the plan, not alone though. On one of those cold and bleak evenings, I would casually propose the plan to a friend of mine with no expectation or hope that he would join. A few weeks later, he called back and that moment marked the start of another friendship, its roots strengthened by cricket camaraderie and by an experience etched in my life’s timeline.
Norway is as fairytale as they come. The dark grey asphalt roads flanked by every earth tone that one could imagine, filled my field of view. The faint and warm yellow of dusk soothed my skin. The air had a balmy scent and was accompanied by a waft of profound pureness. The spangles of starlight during the night blinded my eyes. In the horizon were majestic peaks with glacial tops, their silhouette carpeted by a sea of stars and the occasional green hue of the northern lights.
The trek to Trolltunga was surreal. It felt like a dream to be embarking on such a journey. Never in my life would I have fathomed that I would find my self trekking a glacier into the heart of the Artic tundra. The trek tested my physical and mental fitness. On one hand, my mind was trying to comprehend the overwhelmingly scenic views, and on the other my body was contending with an overpacked backpack, elevation gain, thin air, drenched shoes, and soft snow. My mom would definitely disapprove of this, if she were to see how steep and dangerous the journey was. My friend on the other hand, was contending with all of this and a sprained ankle. Trolltunga itself was underwhelming, it almost seemed like someone had started a myth, and then this point was turned into a tourist destination. The journey was a rich experience.
The Norway trip bought life back into perspective. I remember, being in a reasonably happy space before going, but failing to look at life from anything but a first persons perspective. It was all about my life and the cards that I had been dealt with, which took precedence over the people in my life. A distinct moment was when I was lost in thought, drinking a coffee and watching the sun set over the mountains, when I got a call from a long lost person in my life. We had a lot of differences when we were younger, but I learnt to embrace the good times that we shared, and gave her the fair time and attention that she deserved. A bitter-sweet moment, bitter because of the people lost in time, and sweet because of new friendships found. It’s so easy for us to lose the people that we once cared for, to time. A considerable amount of people that you would have met and connected with are most probably not a part of your life right now, and most probably your paths will never cross. I wonder if it is so easy to lose people in our lives, then why don’t we fight for the people we love?