In order to get to some of the smaller towns up in northern
Norway during the winter you have to take a tiny propeller plane. Of course,
what makes this even more fun is that the weather is usually windy and fowl
during the winter. The first time taking this little plane was not so bad. The
views were spectacular. Even as the sun disappeared over the southern horizon,
tiny houses built into the mountain walls of islands still stood out in the
shadowy blue dusky light. Although my first flight involved some slight
crosswind landings, I still found the experience quite charming and exciting.
However, my second time turned my stomach a bit more.
I recall getting on the tiny little propeller plane and
being blown about by wind on the walk over to the plane. The flight was delayed
for some reason that involved the plane being checked by technicians. I was
given a 30 second translation by another passenger because all of the
announcements were in Norwegian, so I didn’t have a great idea of what was
going on. All I knew was that technicians had checked the plane out and we were
ready to fly. Everyone boarded the plane, and after a very turbulent takeoff,
we had embarked on our short 45 minute journey.
Things were going smoothly, and after about 15 minutes in we
got a very long announcement from the pilot. Since it was all in Norwegian, I
had no idea what was said. It’s not that no one speaks English, but more that
they might assume no tourists would hop on a tiny plane up to northern Norway
above the Arctic Circle during the winter months. I flipped open a magazine and
started reading the Norwegian words as if that would somehow help me to
understand the announcement that had just been made. The pilot came on the
microphone again and continued with the announcements. Another passenger told
me, “Its windy where we are landing. We are going to try and land at our
destination, but if it is too windy we’re going to land in a town that is a bit
south. Then the airline will pay for a taxi ride to the final destination.” I
nodded. I really hoped we wouldn’t have to take the taxi. There is no direct
route, and the drive would add several hours onto an already long day with four
flights.
I continued flipping through the magazine. Another
announcement came on. It must have been about our descent because the plane
started heading down and the turbulence started. This was not like the little
bumps in the United States flights where the grouchy flight attendants yell at
you to buckle your seat belts. This was quite a bit more intense and it was
picking up. I looked in the seat pocket to make sure there was a vomit bag.
Check. Then I gazed around the plane to see what other people thought. Many of
the passengers were laughing and making woo sounds every time we hit a rougher
patch. “Are these people crazy?” I
thought as the plane continued bumping as if it were an old rickety roller
coaster. The other passengers must be used to this kind of flight. The pilot
made yet another announcement. We flew over the island and out towards the sea.
I asked another passenger if we were flying to the other town.
“No, the pilot is just trying to land against the wind.”
I looked down at the ocean and its crashing waves getting
closer to us. That long taxi ride didn’t sound like such a bad thing at this
point. The plane made a sudden sharp turn toward the island while still losing
altitude. The engineer in me told me I would be fine, but my creative side kept
thinking back to all those times I had thrown balsa wood airplanes into the
wind, and the horrible things that happened to those little planes.
The water got closer. The turbulence got worse. Finally the
plane completed its turn and started heading back towards the island against
the heavy winds for a turbulence grand finale. We landed and I sat, dumbfounded,
as the plane swayed slightly in the wind while stopped on the runway.
