The visitors

Note : post published December 12th 2022

Embarking on my own, but with a swift reinforcement, we found ourselves two as we exited the airport. Then, finally, three Campeadors.

Campeadors ? Perhaps more humbly just visitors in quest of souvenirs. Those memories that prove our existence and define who we are.

Okay, let's be honest the last sentence isn't mine (thanks, Yasmine). Enough with the philosophy, put on your best puffer jacket and grab a backpack because here we go, it's as if you're there already.

---

The crossing

The first Campeador arrives late at the airport. Five minutes might not seem like much but it's enough to miss the last bus of the evening. The tone is set, it's going to be a walk to what I can now call "home."

It's just a glimpse of what awaits us because we plan to cross the mountain to the east of Tromsø, from Tromsdalen to Oldervik to be exact.

We're in quest of memories and these memories will be crafted in the Norwegian mountains of the Arctic Circle.

After purchasing semolina, cans of tuna, and tomato sauce we set off the next day for a four-day adventure in nature. Now proud member of the Norwegian Hiking Association, I've obtained the key that will unlock the doors to all the shelters along our path. My journey so far would have been much easier with this precious passkey but probably much less flavorful.

Snow and cold quickly join our adventure, followed by blizzard and freezing rain. The experience is authentic. Well, more or less authentic because the Norwegians are clever, they don't venture out when the weather turns sour. Let's say it's a unique experience. But we're hunters of memories so nothing stops us. Not even the ascent of Tromsdaltinden which reminds us that crampons and ice axes would have made us feel more secure, nor the slow progress through the thick snow that makes us regret not having brought snowshoes, nor the marshes that cling to our feet once the rain/snow limit is surpassed, and certainly not the crossings of raging torrents into which one wouldn't want to fall.

It's these obstacles that make memories unique and even more vivid. Regardless of the weather, we know that in the evening we'll have a good hot meal by the fire accompanied by a carefully packed whiskey at the expense of more varied food. To warm hearts and spice up discussions because yes, a good hot meal is still only semolina with tomato sauce.

Our return to civilization is illuminated by the last visible rays of the sun. The battle between the dawn lights and the twilight colors grows shorter; soon, the polar night will reign and the sun won't rise anymore.

After an unsuccessful attempt to hitchhike back we patiently wait in the cold for the bus that will take us back to Tromsø.

Now that both of us can check off our To-Do list the winter hike in the Arctic Circle, the encounter with a herd of reindeer and the contemplation of the Northern Lights from a remote mountain cabin, it's time to prepare for the next step. The third Campeador is about to arrive and he is also a memory hunter. We'll need to make it count, especially since his stay is short.

---

Tromsø never sleeps

Now complete, it's only natural that the discussions about the upcoming days begin over a few beers. As usual our topics quickly drift and we don't plan much; the pleasure of being together takes over organising.

To mark the occasion the first experience we choose to etch into our collective memory is an indoor mini-golf. Well, maybe there could have been something more authentic to do after covering 3000 kilometers but you know... Surprisingly the place is popular among the city's students who come to stretch their legs before embarking on their nightly adventure.

The game is intense. Every stroke matters, tension rises. The game quickly turns into a competition worthy of the Ryder Cup and I must eventually concede victory by a mere point to the only communist golfer I know. What a match.

We quickly agree that to get acquainted with Tromsø, the Paris of the North, it would be a shame not to explore the multitude of bars lining the main street.

The visit is at least as eventful as the trek of the previous days, so much so that *censored anecdote*. What better way to make our mark in Tromsø ? Obviously, the story doesn't end there; we then embark on *censored anecdote*. The three musketeers strike again.

As you've understood, we are tireless, ready to give it all in our pursuit of new memories even if it means leaving a few feathers behind.

---

Free Willy

Finally, the time comes to play the tourists, after all that's what we are. So, after the Northern Lights, the reindeer herd, the mini-golf, and the *censored anecdote*, we set off in search of whales.

Nothing adventurous this time, we join an excursion organized by a tour operator like dozens in Tromsø. At least the boat is very comfortable, perfect for a nap.

We all agree that rest is well deserved : we had quite an evening the adventure the night before and anyhow, the clouds are hiding the scenery. Wise decision.

After a few hours of sailing we cruise along Vannøya, the island where I had settled a month ago (see post 👉 Treasure Island). I try to show them Giulia, José, and Evuad's house located at the tip of the island, but with the fog, it's impossible to see anything. Back to naptime.

And finally the captain's voice announces "Hoist the mizzen ! They're here, the lords of the northern seas." As dark as the sea and with that characteristic white mark, we recognize the orcas peacefully swimming alongside us. It's even a family of five just meters away from the boat. The moment has something magical for the memory hunter in me, and at the same time...

At the same time, I can't help but wonder what I'm doing in the middle of this forest of cameras aimed at the innocent family. Shrugging to get the perfect shot of the fins coming and going beneath the surface, to immortalize the moment in poorly framed photos that they may never look at, the tourist equipped with his third eye is a mass hunter. I don't feel like I belong here. Me, who has taken care until now to stay away from tourist attractions, finds myself right in the middle. Because we're not the only expedition tracking the orcas; around us two other similar boats and three Zodiacs are following the mammals.

Norway has established clear rules on the number of boats and distances to observe whales, rules followed to the letter but that still alter the experience. The economic reality of the tourism industry sits at our table.

And did we ask the orcas for their opinion ? They were calmly on a Sunday stroll, probably discussing the increase in herring prices with their family, when the army of 12 monkeys eager to save these images into their memories arrives. Well, you got it, more likely onto the SD cards of their cameras.

Revolted, somewhat cowardly, and silent I don't take any photo. As a good memory hunter that I am, I won't forget this moment perhaps for reasons other than the spectacle of nature that presented itself to us.

While my companions doze off on the way back I make a promise to myself to never do this kind of attraction again. I would love to be on the team of good hunters. But is there really a difference between a good and a bad hunter ?

---

To become memorable, an experience remains only if it possesses that unique quality that sets it apart from the rest of our experiences. That's why a dog fetching a stick generally doesn't leave a significant mark in our memory, but a dog playing the piano does. - H.R.

Well said, Henri. There may not be a piano-playing dog in this story, but the memories are as equally unique when experienced with valuable people in the cold of the great North of Norway.

Thank you Eliot and Zacharie, for leading this quest with me. The hunt is now over and it's time to return to reality.

Let's not forget we are just mere visitors.

To infinity and beyond 🚀

---

Bonus

Waiting on the couch for the socially acceptable time to go have a beer

🎶 Vivre - 47ter