A Rainy Day

We wake up shivering and notice that the rain is beating against the pop-up roof. The wind has allowed some water to seep in on Henry's side through the zipper. We quickly dry it and discuss what to do with the roof and the day. We actually wanted to explore nature in Skoleskogens National Park, which is nearby. That will probably not happen.

The rain radar indicates that the storm will continue. So we prepare for a day in the camper. We keep the roof open to prevent moisture from transferring to the mattress. The hope is that the little bit of water will dry quickly once the rain stops.

We pass the time with our supply of board games and the second season of Fargo, which fortunately holds up nearly as well as the first. Snuggled up comfortably, time flies by, and in the afternoon the rain finally lets up. We consider staying in the same nice spot but want to adhere to the implicit rule of 'maximum 24 hours in one spot' and move on.

The other campers seem to have had the same thought because when we reach our chosen spot, another van is already parked there. Further up the road, past more colorful houses, we find a spot where only two motorcycles are parked and decide to stay there. About 5 minutes later, the next camper arrives, decorated with wolf and feather motifs and bearing a Munich license plate (fun fact: in Munich, there are so many cars that the city has three plates: M; MU; MUC). The man who gets out looks very much like a hippie and asks if it would be okay to park alongside us. He says there’s no need to be tightly packed. Of course, he can! We chat a bit, and like everyone else, he wants to head north and has been on the road for six months. He would love to spend midsummer with Sámi shamans. Just as we are about to say goodbye and stretch our legs in a dry spot, another van with a French license plate arrives. The man (let's call him Andreas) jumps into his van in a hurry and backs up behind the newcomer, who also wants to park in reverse. Honking wildly, he makes it difficult for the French to find a spot, so they can only manage to squeeze into a tight corner - they certainly won't be staying there overnight! We quickly make ourselves scarce, hoping that the French can sense that Andreas is just a fleeting acquaintance for us.

While only the road leads to us, after a day inside, it feels like a blessing. When we return, the French are already gone.