It was a cold May evening that I departed Lofoten, where I had spent the previous three weeks; arriving on an even colder April night in the middle of snow and wind and darkness. My destination was Trondheim, two days to the south traveling on the Hurtigruten, where I was then flying out the next day back to (warm) Germany. By May, being this far in the north, the days are nearly endless. Time becomes irrelevant, the sun is simply always there, or rather more correctly, somewhere behind all the clouds. As the boat gently rocked on its way to Bodø I found a nice couch in a quit part of one of the lounges to curl up on. By 4:00 the next morning I was up again, staring endlessly out the windows at mountains and snow and water and clouds and light. All day, the boat passed in and out of storms: Snow and hale and wind only to become a peaceful and calm sunny day a few moments later. As a storm would approach, I would put on every piece of clothing I had and head out to the outer deck. Blasted by wind and cold, any exposed skin would be numb in a few minutes. Then the storm would pass and I would squint into the bright reflections off the water, only to repeat the process again and again and again. I didn’t get much sleep those days…