The afternoon of the 25th, we flew (unfortunately) back to Tromsø, finding it hard to believe that we had to jet south to a city that was still so far north. While at the airport we met a wild character by the name of Joseph who paraded his 6' 4" body around with a small entourage, his flowing white/blond hair topped by an enormous, fur-fringed Cossack hat. He stood out like an immense dandelion and I was sure he must be some offbeat Russian oligarch.

During our second day, I planned to hike to the seed bank, but was told I need to take a rifle. This was protection from Polar Bears that often roam the area. I said that would be a bad idea. I’d probably end up shooting myself in my foot. My brother-in-law, Chris is a hunter and he said,”You don’t want to mess with polar bears. You don’t hunt polar bears. Polar bears hunt YOU. So we took a bus to the seed bank, something I had been curious about since I learned of it. There’s not much to see. We were lucky to find it open with a fresh supply of seeds from India and Africa coming in.

The more you explore Svalbard the more interesting it gets. Being at the top of the world was wreaking havoc with our circadian rhythms. At the end of October, the sun rises at 10:38 AM here and it sets at 2:34 PM. And the window of daylight closes more about 20 minutes every day. Soon Longyearbyen would be enveloped in shadow, hidden from the sun. It made you want to sleep late and go to bed early. The cold made you seek warmth which tended to make you doze. Something like hibernation was always on my mind. Was this some ancient gene that resided deep in my mammalian, DNA?

It takes an hour and a half to fly from Tromsø to Longyearbyen Airport, about 700 miles. Thick clumps of clouds hung low and smoky on white peaks as the small jet taxied for take off, but once in the air, scattered clouds gave me grand glimpses of the Arctic Ocean. When we landed, we would be standing above 78° latitude north. When you’re at 90º, you’ve reached the pole.

On March 3rd, 8 months and 12,000 miles earlier, we had been at almost the same latitude south, Zodiacing amongst massive Antarctic icebergs, humpback whales, surrounded by the great South Ocean and its unworldly, ice-bound continent. We had gone from the bottom to the top of the planet.

Tromsø is calm, restful town, which was just what we were looking for, but there was also plenty to explore. Excellent food, charming shops and several fascinating museums, including Norges arktiske universitets museum⁩ (covering the history of the Sami (Lapland) people and Norwegian-Finnish History), the Tromsø Center for Contemporary Art and Tromsø Public Library and Archives, whose interior stairs looked remarkably like one of those mind bending Escher drawings.

These mountains are the vertical variety, impossible to climb, and there is no evidence anyone here has tried. No trailhead or hotels or villages for tourists. Just wildness, forbidding and unforgiving. All I could do was blink in awe, and look on like a little boy stunned by the sudden appearance of Santa Claus.

We are well into the Arctic now and the balmy days that we had passed in Copenhagen and Stockholm are behind us. The bus stop was on one of Bodø's streets, only a couple of blocks from our hotel. No bus terminal for this ride. Past experience had taught us to make certain where to catch buses that weren't located in terminals, like this one. We had nearly missed several in Spain and Chile and Argentina and it wasn't fun.

I continued to plow on with my efforts to find us a way to Svalbard (aka Spitzenberg), the northernmost human settlement on earth, located just 500 miles up the frigid waters of the Arctic Sea from Bodø. Despite being relatively nearby, it is an exceedingly difficult place to reach, assuming, like us, you were not planning to take a jet to get there. Cruise ships will take you to the islands from England, or Portugal, even the United States, but finding a ship from Bodø was tougher than finding a democrat in Alabama.

Up and at ‘em our first full morning in Bodø (pronounced buddha), and work is on our minds. We purposely booked five days in the Radisson Hotel and snagged a fine room with an excellent view of the harbor. I spend the better part of day one trying to catch up on my notes. Then we undertake our explorations of this sweet little city hovering at the lip of the Arctic Circle: a stroll through the rain and chilly temperatures.

Trondheim sits deep in the interior of Norway, but Stillfjord’s long inland waters link the city to the Atlantic. Its location makes Norway’s longest train – the Nordline – a fine way to travel the country's rugged mountains and valleys if you want to make it to the Arctic Circle. We did and so we boarded the train at 7:49 AM and headed to Bodø (pronounced Buddha) and the tip of the world.

We emerged from Vesteralen gangplank into sleet and whipping winds. Winter was coming. During our 10 minute walk to the Clarion Hotel, we felt the solid tick-tack of ice pellets on our hoods, yet just a few minute's earlier the city’s wharf had been bathed in sunlight. Now everywhere the sky was black.

We were sorry to depart Ålesund even if it was pouring rain and foggy. It reminded me of a Norwegian Loreto (a lovely town in Baja, Mexico). Beautiful and embraceable.

We tramped three blocks to the Hurtigruten Terminal, awaiting the arrival of the Vesteralen, one of Hurtigruten's older ferries (but renovated in 2022).

In parts of Northern Europe, there is a tradition of creating living, outdoor museums. The idea is that they illustrate what life was like in the past; a way to preserve a time that has otherwise been obliterated. One of these is the Sunnmøre Museum about a half-hour drive from Ålesund.

Ålesund is a small city with an unusual history. In the early 20th century its old and cramped wooden buildings and homes were burned to ashes in a great fire. Kaiser Wilhelm, the German king and cousins to the Czar of Russia and the King of England whom he would drag into War World I, was a big fan of the region, often taking extended vacations there. When the city burned down, he paid, out of his own pocket, to have much of the city rebuilt. The result was a brand new city where streets were lined with lovely Art Nouveau buildings that make it one of the prettiest in Norway, if not Europe.

We drifted past one gargantuan mountain after another, rock masses as imposing as Lord of the Ring battlements with white water thundering from glacial valleys and peaks thousands of feet high honed to serrated knife edges by millions of years of wind, snow, and rain.

Our first stop was the village of Skerjehamn, tucked along side one of the fjords in this part of the world. That would be after sleeping overnight on our snug ferry berth. We pass through Norways Sognefjord, it largest and arguably most beautiful. I think the photos say it all. The excursion to Fløm takes 24 hours $100 each plus $100 each for meals.

Bergen is ancient, a 1000 years old, founded in 1070 A.D.. It’s a big harbor and always has been. In the 1300s it was Norway’s capital. And it was here that the famous dried cod was brought from high up in the north and traded to countries in Western and Central Europe, making it an important and wealthy city.

The train from Oslo to Bergen. Stunning autumn scenery through the mountains, a rainy arrival and prepping to explore this ancient city and Norway’s wild the West coast.

We walked down from the heights to the docks into an area clearly favored by locals and towards Aker Brygg Lake. The throngs seem to swarm here out of the pavement, filling the harbor and its restaurants with patrons. Hundreds lined up at food trucks or ferry excursions that would take them among the local islands. As we walked the quay, I heard Turkish, Arabic, English, Spanish, Norwegian, and German. Norway’s demographics, and Oslo’s in particular, have been changing fast and we could see it all around us.