For the first time on this trip — so, just over a month in — melancholy has set in. I’m really missing Alaska this morning.
The feeling was undoubtedly set off by our morning motorsail northeast from Å. There, the mountains along the coastline rise steeply from the sea, with a narrow strip of land at the base that provides just enough room for a road and several small villages scattered along that road. The mountains themselves taper from the white of snow at the peaks to the slate and gray of rock forming the upper third, and finally the emerald of lush vegetation covering the lower flanks. Streams and waterways have cut fjords and valleys that provide glimpses back into the heart of the island.
It all recalled Alaska so much that I started thinking about what and whom I’ve left behind, and what I gave up to come chase this dream. So much so that I even started thinking along the specific lines of, “Well, when I get back to Alaska…” and “I shouldn’t have done that” or “I should have done this.” It’s true: I was second-guessing some of my recent choices to the point where it seemed that I was about to test my theory that I’d rather regret doing something than not doing something.
Not that I have regrets. Yet. I’m still very much into this voyage and I’m happy about the direction my life is taking right now; I remain optimistic that the boldness of my actions is creating opportunities and situations that are where I need to be going at this point in my life. And I’m very happy here in the Lofoten Islands, which are truly spectacular (think: outer coast of the Kenai Peninsula or the northern coast of Prince William Sound…only there are fantastically picturesque little villages, a la Halibut Cove, scattered here and there).
It’s just that I miss Alaska and all that my life there entailed. The visual cues of this faraway place put my mind and heart back in my homeland.