viking.com | 67
W I N T E R I S S U E 3 0
Back on the ship, Maddie and I realise our
clothes reek of stockfish. We change to
attend a lecture on Viking culture and learn
the delightful word olfrit, meaning fear of a
lack of beer. We celebrate the journey with
Aquavit, a Norwegian spirit, and toast each
other with a "skol".
END OF THE WORLD
Reindeer have begun appearing on either
side of the bus, horned and muscly, grazing
on the grey grass of the Honningsvag tundra.
We are driving to Nordkapp (North Cape),
considered the northernmost point on the
European mainland at 71 degrees of latitude,
where royalty and explorers have long
stopped for a traditional glass of champagne
to toast their arrival at the final frontier.
The famous globe monument, erected in
1978 as a symbol of the North Cape plateau,
sits on the edge of an impossibly high cliff.
The wind is fierce (it can reach 250kmh in
winter) and I dare not stand at the fenced
edge too long. Looking down more than 300
metres, out into the endless water of the
Barents Sea, I think about how this, to
early explorers, would have felt like the
end of the world.
GETTING THERE: The 15-day Into The
Midnight Sun voyage sails from Bergen
to London (Greenwich) or in reverse.
N o r t h
S ea
Bergen
Reykjavík
Honningsvåg
Tromsø
Leknes
LOFOTEN
Geiranger
Oslo
Kirkwall
ORKNEY ISLANDS
London
Lerwick
SHETLAND ISLANDS
Edinburgh
N o r w e g ia n
S ea
ENGLAND
SCOTLAND
NORWAY
A
R
C
T
I
C
C
I
R
C
L
E
–
Cruise
••
O vernight in Por t
VIEW
VOYAGE
And it is. Beyond the cliffs there are only
islands home to puffins and cormorants and
beyond that, Svalbard and the North Pole.
This is where the Arctic and Atlantic oceans
meet, home to orcas, whales and Greenland
sharks that are said to grow seven metres
long and live for up to 500 years. We join the
throng taking selfies in front of the globe
sculpture and I send a postcard home from
the post office in the visitor centre, a
delightful tradition from the end of the line.
The larger-than-life reindeer occupying the
treeless plateau belong to the indigenous
Sami people, semi-nomadic reindeer herders
who thrived across Norway but have been
driven over time to the north. We pass a Sami
camp, a reindeer tied up next to a tent, and a
man wearing a traditional red and blue
costume waves at us.
That night, we meet North Cape again, but
this time from the ship—hundreds of metres
below where we photographed ourselves
earlier—and peer up at the globe from its
post on the cliff. How many ships has it
watched over? How many adventurers?
Viking Jupiter's horn blows, long and low:
we are here, we have made it to the world's
edge. The sun is shining. Not as harsh as in
Australia, but it is the same sun, glowing day
after night after day, like a lighthouse
illuminating the sea ahead for our passage.
Further north is a journey for another day—
we are determined. There is so much more to
see on this Earth, to cherish. But for now, we
close our stateroom curtains against the sun,
shut our eyes and dream of adventures. I've
never been so far from home, and then our
boat turns around—such a long arc we don't
even notice—pressing on through the ocean
to take us back. Back into the night. Back to
our lives. Back home.
Reindeer, Norway
