🛡️ Travel Journal: Day 2 The Longest Day After Landing

“Where the wind met the fjord and my thoughts ran wild and I did not run off the road.”

📅 Date:
July 10, 2025

📍 Location:
On the road to Borgund, nestled between glacier-fed estuaries, a Circle K parking lot, the meteorite-cracked spine of Nesbyen, and finally, the Borgund rest stop, just outside the stave church.

🌦 Weather & Scenery:
Cool, dry mountain air. Clear skies early, softening into golden haze by late evening. That long twilight glow stretched forever across the glacier flats and tree-lined hills.
The estuary scent hit me like a childhood memory — wet, muddy, familiar. The sky held its breath while the land whispered stories in pine, silt, and diesel.

✍️ What I Did Today:
I did a ridiculous amount of driving for someone who had just landed in Oslo at 5:00 PM.
From airport runway to rental car reality, I didn’t stop moving until almost midnight. Through winding valleys, moose-less forests, tunnels, and riverside roads — I chased golden light westward.
I had a moment of rage-laced zen with a honk-happy trucker who hated that I was obeying the speed limit.
Stopped at a Circle K for what I thought would be one hot dog — it turned into three, two more sausages, soft-serve with caramel crumble, and Norwegian not-KitKats. Zero regrets.
Also stopped at a SPAR, and when the cashier clocked I was American, they asked, “Would you like a bag?”
I pulled out my reusable bag like the seasoned traveler I am. Nope. I don’t need your overpriced plastic, thank you.
This may be my first solo trip to Norway, but it’s not my first rodeo in Europe.
I may be American — but I’m not a dumb American.

Saw a sign for a meteorite crater and realized I was near Gardnos — made a note to come back on the return.
Saw the replica stave church in Gol from a distance, then set my sights on Borgund and the Lærdal Tunnel.
I parked for the night in the rest stop, folded myself into the evil yoga version of car sleep, surrounded by bags and Solo bottles, listening to the car NOT beep for once.

🌟 Standout Moment:
The scent of the estuary — glacier silt mixed with tidal memory. It smelled exactly like Turnagain Arm in Alaska. For a second, I wasn’t in Norway. I was five years old, staring out over the mudflats with wind in my face and that weird, earthy ocean breath that’s part home, part ancient dream.

🎵 Song of the Day:
“Drive” – Incubus
Why it fits today: Because between the beeping car, rogue semis, and all the turns I made on instinct, I still chose this drive. Chose this road. Even when the road pushed back.

🗣️ Quote / Saying of the Day:
“I like big tunnels and I cannot lie.”

🔥 Daily Prompt:
What tested your patience today, and how did you react?
Your reflection:
Patience got tested by a truck driver who laid on his horn because I had the audacity to go the actual speed limit. It’s wild how people feel entitled to the space in front of you. I stayed calm. Let him pass. Let him fade into the distance like an angry mosquito.
I’m learning not every challenge needs an answer. Some just need silence... and sausages.

❤️ Gratitude / Silver Linings:
That first bite of the bacon-wrapped hot dog. The moment the car stopped beeping. The familiarity of that glacier-tide smell. My reusable bag smugness. Finding a safe, legal rest stop where I didn’t have to think too hard — just park and breathe.

🐉 Free Thoughts & Wandering Mind:
Why do some people drive like they’re chasing ghosts?
Why do I feel safest in countries where I don’t speak the language fluently?
My car talks more than most people I know.
That man at the Circle K looked like the truck driver from EuroTrip. I swear he whispered to the sausages.
Also, where the hell are the moose? I’ve seen more moose signs than actual moose. I demand antlers.
And how the hell did I drive that much on travel day? I got off a plane and straight-up Frodo’d across half of Norway in one night.
Bonus thought: Nothing feels more victorious than saying “No thanks” to a plastic bag like a boss in a foreign land.

🏕 Closing Note:
Today was chaotic and strange and filled with everything I love: old wood, weird food, glacial ghosts, and the kind of road that both dares and welcomes.
Tomorrow, I greet the stave church in the golden hush of morning. Let the beams creak. Let the stories echo. I’m ready.