The Arctic Cathedral, a mountian meadow and the Northern Lights

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The sun shines on small farmsteads nestled among green forests as Voyager sails into Tromso. We’re out on the balcony again and our cameras are clicking. It feels like a return to civilization after a great adventure although we’re still in the far north of Norway.

We’ve chosen an excursion to include Kathryn so that she can enjoy some time on land. As we walk to the tour bus, a Sámi woman dressed in the royal blue colors of her native costume walks through the vendor tents set up on the dock. Kathryn asks to check out the goods when our excursion returns.

The city of Tromso is on an island, connected to the mainland by a bridge. Our Russian guide, a student at the university (Norway’s northernmost university), describes the area as the bus winds through city streets. We pass the regional hospital where our fellow passenger rests after his emergency evacuation near the polar ice. Word is that he is improving and will go home to the United States soon.

The bus travels across the bridge to our first stop, The Arctic Cathedral. Influenced by his climate, the architect designed this Lutheran Church with chandeliers representing icicles. An impressive stained glass window depicts the hand of God while the basement houses a bomb shelter leftover from the Cold War.

Then, the bus drives to the base of a funicular. Assisting Kathryn up the hill, we discover the building has many steps, something we didn’t realize. She’s a good sport but it’s slow going for her.

The car is almost too crowded to see the scene below as we pass over thick greenery with pockets of snow. At the top, there are more steps. Kathryn sits on the viewing platform while the rest of us fan out across the trails for short walks. We’re up above the tree line and paths wind through meadows with endless views of blue water and mountains topped with snow. I could walk here all day.

On our ride down, I’m close to a window and can see buttercups, violets and Queen Anne’s lace peaking through the grasses as the funicular travels down the hill. Lilacs bloom in the woods next to the pavement.

Back on the bus, our guide walks down the aisle counting heads. Someone is missing. As we wait over 30 minutes for the straggler, the bus driver turns up the radio. He is listening to a church service. The sounds of organ and choir drown out the grumblings from a crowd forced to wait on an inconsiderate traveler who never apologizes once she appears.

The tour continues to the Tromso Museum. Kathryn chooses to stay on the bus while our guide accompanies us to a film about the Northern Lights and a Sámi exhibition.

In the movie, various scenes of the Northern Lights are accompanied by music, a peaceful setting to soothe the grumpiest soul. The highlight is a snowy landscape bathed in red and yellow lights guarded by a full moon. Who cares how cold it is, I’m ready to come back to view the Northern Lights in person.

Arriving at the ship, Kathryn is too tired to browse the vendor’s stalls, a first for her.

Later, Alan and I sit in the Observation Lounge watching a fiery red sun sink into the sea, our own version of the Northern Lights.

To read more about baby boomer travel, visit My Itchy Travel Feet .

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