Sunday, September 13th, 2026
Distance flown – 2,668 kilometres (TOS – FRA 2,258 kilometres / FRA – PRG 410 kilometres)
When I woke up, it was raining. After 18 consecutive days, most of them spent in far more, superficially, hostile environments, without hardly seeing a drop, that was a bit of a surprise. The party was obviously over for the weather too. All we had to do now was to fly home.
We went for breakfast. Scandic hotels always have the widest possible range of goodies available and this one, the Scandic Ishavshotel (Fredrik Langes gate 2 ), was no exception. Everything you could think of and lots of things that you would not think of, were on offer. My attempts to prevent unnecessary food waste, scarcely scratched the surface.
It was still pelting down with a vengeance. I had thought of visiting the Troll Museum, a mere 500 metres away, but such was the downpour that an Olympic sprinter would have been drowned before he got there. There were no bridges in sight, but we all know that sheltering anywhere, in areas where there are Trolls, is to invite disaster if not consumption. We retired to our room to wait it out.
The direct to the airport bus, not part of the local bus service Svipper, stopped right outside the front door. The cost of an individual ticket was 125 NOK (12 EUR, 10 GBP, 13 USD at time of writing), payment was on board. Svipper by the way, has quite a good App, through which you must pay, no cash is accepted.
Because the airport bus was a little infrequent, we went quite early to be on the safe side. It wound its way through the city to places close to all of the major hotels and then trundled slowly to the airport where we got off right outside the terminal. A road safety video was playing which basically detailed the multiple ways that the Norwegians have drained all of the fun out of driving. The speed limits are incredibly low and the penalties for any infringement are incredibly high. Almost everything is regulated and in a downward direction. Eleven words would have done it – DO NOT HAVE ANY FUN AT ALL WHILST DRIVING – OR ELSE.
We were checked in already, but the security procedures were very stringent. We had to drink our teaspoon of water, waggle our cosmetics to the X-Ray machine and take off our boots and I had to remove my braces for the scanner. A girl in front of me who, although clothed, was effectively naked (her leggings were so tight as to enable a casual observer to discern the pattern on her thong) set it off with the eyelets of her trainers. It was a bit of mayhem though, as all this caused queues where there should have been none. Then we were through.
We went to our gate and enjoyed another of our Norwegian “must dos”, a Kvikk Lunsj candy bar.
If you have ever had a Kit-Kat you will know exactly what this is. Oddly, in a world of often pointless corporate litigation, Rowntree’s, the English firm who makes the Kit-Kat has never taken on Freia, the makers of Kvikk Lunsj in the courts. I would defy most people to be able to tell the difference and there has even been a short documentary about it on television.
The flight, it was Lufthansa, arrived and departed on time with the usual Teutonic thoroughness and, three and a half hours or so later, we were once again enjoying the slightly suspect delights of Frankfurt airport. Even in Frankfurt, if you discount the ten kilometre drive in a bus from where the plane parked to the terminal, the two kilometre long walk to the gate and, obviously the ten kilometre bus ride from the gate to the second ‘plane (and then a twenty kilometre taxi to the runway), all went smoothly. We even found time to eat a couple of pretzels, which Lucie loves.
My lovely wife always knows how to spring tiny surprises that make me smile. Even if you were paying attention when reading the third part of this sorry saga (August 22nd) you probably will not remember that Lucie bought some sweeties from a Slovak girl in a rural store. Now, she began groping amongst the goodies in her small rucksack. I did know that this contained a lemon that we took with us to prevent it going off and which still had not. What I did not know was in there and thus was surprised when she produced it, was a Cinnamon bun – from the sweetie shop which she had been carrying for 22 days ! We ate it in 22 seconds and it was delicious.
We landed a bit late, if the bus to the second ‘plane had just kept driving, we might have been early. In Prague, it was sheeting with rain and it felt warmer than northern Greenland, but less hospitable. Luckily, our dear friend had more or less insisted upon collecting us and we were conveyed smoothly to our front door. One last hike up the stairs, Chloe would have been proud and we were home. Journey’s end.
Well, not quite. When we left the Antarctic, we brought a couple of cookies from the Plancius – and ate them at home. You know by now how much I like little “traditions”. Lucie had two cookies in her bag from our latest trip (at least I hoped they were from our latest trip !) and, before bed, we ate them with our coffees.
Then it was off to my very own bed – not many beds can beat your own – and I began to dream about where we could go next ………..
