Arriving at the Arctic Circle (Photo: ribstothelimit)
Here we are at the start of the Arctic Circle. It’s not an easy tourist destination to reach, given that this monument is stuck on an island in the middle of the Norwegian sea and seems to be guarded by a pair of very noisy oyster catchers, but we have done it.
Nautical miles travelled: 950. Males travelled with: seven. Killer whales spotted: six. Times cried: three (I had a little weep when we made it to our final destination). Bruises on bottom: four. Injuries: zero, unless you count the nails I broke getting in to the dry suit every day. Minutes of dark encountered since leaving Scotland: none. Price of a beer in Norway: seven quid.
Seven quid!
What I knew about the Arctic before this trip was informed by a Bruce Parry documentary and some picture books I must have read as a child. I had expected polar bears and ice caps but – and this won’t please the Delingpoles out there – it has been boiling on the Lofoten islands and yesterday I enjoyed an ice cold beer while wearing some shorts, a vest,
flip-flops and sunglasses.
I am now the first woman to have gone to the arctic in a rib (that’s a rigid inflatable boat). This feels terribly adventurous, and isn’t something I thought I’d ever be writing. Back to the wilds of London now. Am not sure how I will cope without the seven snoring blokes I have had this incredible experience with.
A world away from London (Photo: ribstothelimit)
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