DAY TWENTY-SIX: The Best Title I Can Come Up With Is "Norway, The Ocean, Great Britain, The Ocean"
Norway to the Atlantic Ocean
After a loud night of protesting in France, followed by an even louder night of bombings in Ukraine, last night's camp next to a Norwegian fjord was mercifully quiet. This morning, however, the peaceful silence had been replaced by a crazy cacophony of clucks, cackles and honks.
I got out of my tent and prepared to kick the asses of the noisy campers who invaded my private space. To my pleasure, it wasn't rude campers at all. It was a chorus of Norwegian ducks, geese and swans. I made a video of the event, but really, all that was needed was the audio. Crank up the volume and enjoy.
I sat and listened to the birds for about an hour. I got lost in the music of nature until, suddenly, I remembered I still had to pedal a few hundred miles to the pickup point I had pre-arranged with Captain Skull and his crew. It was necessary to go that far south because their pirate ship was not able to sail into my fjord as it was iced over.
I texted Captain Skull with my estimated time of arrival, and he replied that he'd be waiting there for me. I pedaled like crazy because I really hate to make people wait.
Sure enough, when I arrived, the pirate ship was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, I managed to kill a little time riding around the Norwegian village of Gjudsverkheimlund. It was a cute little town with its own Scandinavian charm. I stopped to take a picture of a typical Norwegian family.
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I was running out of things to see in Gjudsverkheimlund, so I rode back to the harbor to see if my transport to England had arrived. Boy was I happy to see Captain Skull racing up the street to greet me.
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Captain Skull embraced me with his bony arms, and we joked around and laughed for several minutes. He apologized for being a little late.
"Aye matey, sorry we wuz a mite late, but we got sidetracked by a Norwegian cod fishing vessel. It was the first ship we've been able to pillage since rounding the west coast of Senegal."
"Oh yes, no problem," I empathized, "I only wish I had been there to help with the pillaging."
"We did miss your plundering skills, but we did okay. We robbed those sissy seafarers of every cod on board. We've got enough fish to feed you all the way to Great Britain and beyond!"
"Suweeeet!" I exclaimed. "Now let's get down to the harbor and set sail."
"Hold on just a second there, matey. Considerin' how I've been transportin' ya far and wide across the seas, I wuz hopin' maybe you'd let me try out that bike of yours."
"ABSOLUTELY!" was my answer to that unusual request. Then I added, "and I don't just let ANYBODY ride The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong. In the ten years I've had him, you will be only the third person ever to climb up onto his saddle."
I think that made Captain Skull feel pretty special.
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I don't know who was happier to be on board the pirate ship--me or Captain Skull. The crew was excited to see their leader, and they were happy to see me too--except for the First Mate. He seemed a little aloof. He didn't say so, but I think that's because I broke the lucky icicle he gave me before I started riding in Antarctica.
It wasn't a particularly long voyage from Norway to Great Britain, but Captain Skull found many laborious tasks for me to perform--more scrubbin', more varnishin', more plunderin', and more kitchen chores--all part of the romantic life of piracy.
By noon, I was deposited on the shore of northern Scotland.
The fog was horrible, but I rode in it anyway. I had a couple of things I definitely wanted to see in Great Britain before Captain Skull picks me up on the west side of the island. I can't tell you how many Scottish Scotch Whiskey delivery drivers swerved around me at the last second and then swore at me like a Scottish sailor.
Eventually, the fog burned off to reveal a nice sun-shiny day. I saw a Scottish farmer walking his little horse. It was so quaint. (Oh oh, depressing flashback to The Banshees of Inisherin.) I asked the gentleman for directions to Loch Ness.
I don't think he understood my Minnesota accent because he pointed both ways and said something unintelligible in an unusually high voice.
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The orange horse nodded his head in the direction I should go, and that's what I did. The horse was right. I got to the shores of Loch Ness within a mile.
I started searching the lake for the fabled Lock Ness Monster. Some folks say "Ol' Nessie" is a myth. Others say they've seen her with their own eyes. Formerly, I agreed with the myth idea. Now I can say I've seen her with MY own eyes.
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1 year ago
WOW! WHAT AN EXPERIENCE!
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I still had to ride to the other important thing I wanted to see in Great Britain. That would be Big Ben, which is supposed to be a very cool clocktower in London, England. The traffic was harrowing in that city, but The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong and I kicked & elbowed a few cars out of the way and made out way to the famous clock.
From Big Ben, I followed the River Thames to the Atlantic Ocean. Captain Skull and the boys were waiting for me. I wheeled my bike up to the pirate ship and settled in for several days of rest and relaxation while cruising the high seas with my pirate comrades. It wasn't exactly like a Princess, Viking or Disney Cruise with all of the luxury and well-stocked dinner buffets they have to offer, but at least I had my own straw bed and all the cod I could possibly eat.
As we pulled away from England, Captain Skull asked if he could get a selfie with me. Um . . . HELL YEAH!
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1 year ago
1 year ago