A Wandering Spirit - Sex Stories

A Wandering Spirit

... it on. I resumed paddling and entered the maelstrom. I was immediately pelted with a mix of snow and sleet. Visibility dropped to mere meters. The light from my headlamp reflected right back at me, like an illuminated wall, and seemed barely an arm's length away. Useless, I turned off my headlamp.

Not wanting to run into a large piece of fjord ice and risk flipping over, I slowed even further. I grew scared and hoped this was only a short-lived squall. I kept paddling but found no relief from the storm. I checked the time and saw I had a new enemy. Soon, it would be dark, and I realized I would be unable to reach Hellesylt tonight.

As the mist and snow swirled around me, small sections would briefly clear, and then close again. Those brief moments brought me no joy or hope, as they revealed the intensity of the precipitation. But the ice was slowly coating both my kayak and me, just like an ice mushroom! I felt like Anna, from the Disney movie, as she slowly turns into solid ice! I began to wonder if I would suffer the same Fate.

I needed a place to beach my kayak, hopefully one with trees for shelter. Checking my chart and GPS, I saw too few options. Nothing promising appeared on the chart, meaning the chart maker considered any place nearby to be too small and insignificant to be worthy of a spot on the chart.

I heard a chattering scream above me, looked up, and saw a large falcon swoop down over my kayak and fly toward the shoreline. I hoped the bird was, ...

... like me, looking for a place to land. I turned in the direction the falcon was headed, and followed its call, kak-kak-kak-kak, through a misty veil, to reach a small, pebbled beach. It would do.

Exiting the kayak, I pulled it onto the shore. I was happy to see a grove of spruce trees behind the beach, climbing steeply up the mountainside. I retrieved two Dry Packs and carried them into the trees. Removing a large tarp, I set it up between two trees, leaving enough material on the ground to shield me from the wetness. I gathered wet twigs, then crawled under my home for the night. It was going to be a very cold and exceptionally long night.

I removed my ice-coated PFD and my Dry Suit and wished the Dry Suit were more like the insulated wet suits worn by divers. I had my warm base layer and a mid-layer over that, but no real jacket or coat. I reminded myself of a phrase echoed throughout Norway, 'There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing'. Spreading out the sleeping bag, I slipped my tired body inside.

I reached out and touched the wet twigs, and knew it would be useless to attempt to start a fire using them. Beneath the spruce trees, I could locate other drier materials to start a fire, but that meant leaving the tarp and getting my few dry clothes wet. Shivering, I quietly nibbled on a dinner of three energy bars. I checked my cell phone, not expecting to find a signal, and I was right. I played a song I had downloaded, and smiled, for a fleeting ...