Thursday 15th June 2023

Late on Wednesday, when the ship came into range of the internet, I got news that a great fried of mine, Rob, had passed away.

I hadn't even known he was ill.

So, on our last day in Svalbard, I went to the the most northerly church in the world, and lit a candle for him.

Rob burned bright, the world is dimmer without him.

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And so for the last day.

We had packed the night before, and it all fitted into two cases, including the small rucksack, so one less bag to carry.

The early morning call was early, half six, with breakfast at seven. We dressed and went down to eat and say our farewells to the crew who had looked after us so well.

And then it was time to put on the life jackets for the last time and carry our hand luggage to wait to get on the inflatables to take us to shore, our cases were loaded onto pallets and taken the same way, all my hand.

Down the steps to the landing stage, and with a helping hand, onto the boat and sat down on the edge, hanging on as the bat weaved through the six other cruise ships, all smaller than you see in the Med and elsewhere, to the small jetty.

And that was it.

Last farewells to our guides, and news that a bus would take us to town, then pick us up at one where our luggage would be waiting, that was it.

All over.

We climbed on the bus when it came, the driver asking in that wonderful Svalbard infused English if passengers wanted to be dropped off at hotels or just the main car park.

Car/skidoo park.

We went to the main car park, just to check on timings, then set about walking up the hill to the church. The easy way there had been taken away wen the road bridge looked as though it had been washed away, so we found a footpath following some pipelines, over the river that tumbles through the town, splitting it in half, and then scramble up the hill the other side, past the old aerial ropeway, then up the narrow road to the church.

Inside it was all wood, so visitors have to remove their shoes, which we did, then went up the wide stairs into the nave, the painted altar looking through the chancel arch.

I took some shots, lit a candle for Rob, and after a sit down, we walked back via another path into town.

Where we met Kieran.

Kieran was stressed. Stressed about meeting those from the cruise and the flight out, as that is the only way he could get home.

He was medicating with beer.

We joined him and got him to talk, Jools asked him about his family and things did begin to calm down. When it opened, we went to the restaurant next door, Jools and I had a burger and fries, Kieran had two more beers, but was OK.

We shared a taxi to the airport, so to beat the rush when the bus deposited the other passengers from the six ships. Only problem was, our cases were not there.

So, we waited.

The van arrived and I helped unload until our cases were unloaded, Jools had checked us in, got baggage labels, so all we had to do was drop them in, go through security, and we were done.

Kieran came though, had another beer, but was calm, but then met others from the boat, including the tour leader, Ali, who told him the truth when Kieran asked what had happened.

Ouch.

As Ali said, you did ask.

We boarded, Kieran got on, we hung back as, why rush? And there was room still for my camera bag in the overhead locker.

Engines started and we taxied to the end of the runway, one last look at the desolate windswept hillside, and the engines roared and we rushed along, taking to the air, giving me one last look along the rugged coastline which rose quickly to mountains, before we passed through clouds and Svalbard was lost to sight.

Not much to say about the flight, really. Again we had to land at Tromso, where we and all our baggage had to get off the plane, and check-in and hand baggage rescanned, passports stamped, and we get back on the same plane. In the same seats.

We had to queue for each thing, the longest being immigration, thanks to Brexit, where one guy was checking all non-EU passports. Our bags were waiting, we had to put our bags on one belt for scanning, then queue to put our hand luggage through a different scanner.

Last call for our flight was announced, and we got through, out onto the pan and back onto the plane, the doors closed and that was that. All rather pointless.

Apparently, Svalbard is a separate state or something, so separate passport checks are needed on entering and leaving.

Hmmmmm.

We flew south for 90 minutes, passing over endless snow-capped mountains and glaciers. Last time I made this flight, the lakes and rivers were still frozen, they were flowing yesterday.

It was 3 degrees in Svalbard, then in Tromso, and a balmy 25 in Oslo. The farmland around the city was green and lush, the increase in temperature was a shock.

Once off the plane, we had 55 minutes to get to the other side of terminal, get through more immigration and find the gate.

And we were hot and getting hotter.

We passed lots of lovely looking bars and restaurants, but no time to stop, we seemed to go round in a huge circle, but came to the "F" gates, a short queue for immigration, and two minutes further on was the gate, where there was still a huge queue to get on.

Phew.

We waited to get on, but this time had been upgraded to Business, which meant we got an inflight meal for the 110 minute flight.

Dinner was smoked salmon salad, but it was good; well seasoned. And there was fancy chocolates for dessert too.

We landed in London just after nine, maybe we could be on the road by ten?

As usual, there was the long hike along endless corridors to immigration, but that was quick, but then to wait for our bags, not knowing if they had made the 55 minute transfer at Oslo.

They did arrive, so we rang the parking people and they would bring our car to the car park next to the terminal.

We had to wait 20 minutes, but the car came, we put our bags into it, thanked the guy and were off.

Thinking we were on the last leg home.

Highways England had other ideas.

First of all the onramp to the eastbound M25 was closed, we had to go north.

Then the M25 was going to be closed at the next junction, but we were travelling quicker than the guys putting out the bollards closing the road, so got through that.

Two more sets of roadworks saw the four lanes narrow to one each time, with jams at each, but then the section from the M11 to A12 was closed, so we saw what the sat nav would suggest.

Down the M11 to the North Circular, along to the A13 then out to Darford.

But there were roadworks still on the A13: what now?

The Blackwall Tunnel, it seemed.

We drove through east London to Greenwich, then under the river, good thing at this tunnel is that it joins up with the A2 as it snakes though SE London, so was fairly easy to follow.

With just about all routes onto the M25 either closed or jammed, we cruised under it into Kent.

With just one more set of roadworks, we thought we were home free.

But.

At Whitfield the A2 was closed, and even to road down the Pineham was closed too.

We called in at McD's for supper, then drove into town, past the castle and onto Deal Road to home.

It was ten past two.

We ate supper, but did nothing else, then took our tired asses upstairs to bed. I got to lay down at ten to three.