The water

It is about 7 am, and the fjord is perfectly still.  The water is so glassy and so clear that the mountains are perfectly reflected in it.  I've attempted some photos, but I do not have a wide angle lens, and the mountains are so high that I can't get the full scope of them and their reflection.  My ducks seem to have abandoned me, but there is a white gull that is the only movement in the place right now.

Today I will go on a kayaking adventure.  It has been awhile since I've gotten this big body in the cockpit of a kayak, and I am apprehensive about  those fat woman things--life jacket and wetsuits that don't fit, needing help in the kayak, the look on the face of the guide when s/he sees me and immediately assumes I'm not up for the trip.  I know I am strong, but I can't claim flexibility, and if these are two person kayaks, weight balancing will be a problem.  So I am fearing the ultimate humiliation of being turned away with my 695NOK in hand.

I have another, odder apprehension.  I have to keep myself from thinking about where I am.  I have never really had a fear of water--respect, yes, but never fear.  Somehow, though, knowing how deep this water is, seeing the mountains and knowing the water is in places as deep as they are high, gives me a little vertigo.  I know it is not rational; on top of the water it doesn't matter how deep it is.   One is as likely to drown in 20 feet of water as 200, a bathtub is more dangerous, I can swim, etc etc, but there is something about not knowing where the bottom is that gives me a little wash of fear every now and then in the boat, and I imagine it will be the same in the kayak.

I can't stop looking out the windows at the water and the mountains.  But, to be honest, it was the same at Bruce Lake.  Water is endlessly fascinating, calming, compelling.  This view is spectacular, but at this point it is my view--it greets me every morning like the view between the two perfectly spaced trees in front of Mom and Dad's cabin at the lake.  I stand here with my coffee as I stood there, I feel myself quiet here as I did there.  OF course, there is no sound of dice on the table or cards being shuffled behind me! 

The distance across this water baffles me too.  It looks like a lake, maybe not bigger than Bruce, which was only about a 250 acre lake.  But the end I look toward is actually about 12 kilometers away (about  miles), and when I am on the lake in the boat I travel and travel and it never seems  to get closer.  The mountains create the illusion, I guess, and I assume the mountains ahead of me are higher than the ones immediately around me, as there is snow on the far mountains but not in the mountains directly over Flåm.