Soup in the rain and in the tent

The morning at A... erm, in Å starts quietly, how could it be otherwise. We pack our bikes and somewhat reluctantly leave "our" small, warm house to head north in cloudy 13 degrees. After just a few meters, this pleasant feeling of freedom spreads. The cool wind blows in our faces, the lightness of our gravel bikes rolling along the coast is transferred to us. We feel free and light, like the seagulls that fly a few meters with us now and then. The red Rorbuer houses of Reine are pretty much covered in fog today and the dark clouds don't yet know whether they are coming or want to stay in the mountains. We make the decision for them and wait in a nice café with cinnamon roll number 2 and chai latte. In the evening, after a fairly easy 56 kilometers/660 meters of elevation, we found a great, secluded place to spend the night on the fjord near Ramberg. The dark clouds are already peeking out from behind the mountains, warning us. We quickly put up the tent, get out the mats and sleeping bag, and cook something quick. Not fast enough. The rain clouds are laughing at us. We move the cooker, sausages, and soup into the awning, where the sausages are floating in the soup, and we eat half the bread out of hunger. Well, half-warm sausages are almost a luxury when you're hungry. But eating the soup in the tent goes completely wrong. Anja manages to get the soup on her trousers, Peter's sleeping mat, sleeping bag, and the tent floor. Grand prize! So Peter is not only wet from outside, but all around. A great feeling for the first night in the tent. It's midnight, bright as day, and raindrops tapping on the wall of our tent mean freedom and happiness for us... and a rather wet night for Peter... I'm really sorry... A.
The next bar of Freya chocolate is on me... :)