The sound of raindrops on my tent

Published 09.09 in category In the Footsteps of Nansen

It’s the 9th of September. I’m lying in my tent on the Nordmøre coast and in a fine mood. The day before yesterday I reached Trondheim; Ålesund is another 120 kilometres south of here – and I expect to reach that town sometime tomorrow evening.

It fascinates me how the dialects keep changing as I tread south along the Norwegian coast. I’ve left the characteristic dialect of Trøndelag behind, and when I see people now I am surrounded by the very different sound of the Nordmøre dialect. Each fjord seems to have its own distinct music.

We can safely say that the weather could have been better. It’s been raining virtually every day since I left Bodø just over a week ago. Perhaps it’s strange – but you become used to that as well, even though I must admit it feels miserable when I start in the morning. After a couple of hours, I’m fine. Now I’m lying here listening to raindrops pelting the cloth roof of my tent.

There’s no reason for complaint. I’m making steady progress. A few spokes broke, but I had that fixed in Trondheim. Otherwise there is nothing exciting to report, and that’s good news.



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