© on this book, disk and video reserved by Eva & Jean-Paul Van Belle

73 Highway, 7975 Fish Hoek, South Africa

It all started in bed on a hot South African night in January.
"Jean-Paul, what are you doing? It's three o'clock!"
(a pause of 3 seconds)
"I'm just looking at the map of Europe; measuring the distance from North Cape to Gibraltar." That distance turned out to be 39 centimetres.
"Uhh... Gibraltar? ... Why would you want to do that?
"Eva, you don't want to know." This always works.
(a pause of 5 seconds)
"Yes I do." It works.
(a pause of 7 seconds)
"You see, I've got this crazy idea of running from the most northern point of Europe to the most southern point, Gibraltar; I know it's a sort of sudden but it shouldn't really be too bad; I reckon if I do about a marathon each day, it could be done in about four or five months; and I could take leave; and you could come along, with the kids; and it would also be a nice way of seeing Europe, especially those areas like Scandinavia and France and Spain which we have never yet visited; and we would have a nice family time; and if we travel in a motorhome we would be completely independent; and if I run once in the morning and once in the late afternoon, we would have practically the whole mid-day free. So, what do you think?"
(a pause of 31 seconds, then)
"Well, if we are going to do it, we must do it before Anneke goes to primary school in two year's time. Now go to sleep."
And so she did. I didn't.

Yes, when Jean-Paul starts twisting and turning, grunting and groaning and scratching in the middle of the night he is in labour: the birth of another Great and Crazy Idea...

And somehow I knew right from the start that I could not talk him out of this one! Some ideas, once born, just grow, especially when fed by the milk of all the books he was reading about all the other long-distance lunatic attempts. My marital vows came to mind strongly: through health and sickness, wealth and poverty, good times and bad, and from the north to the south of Europe? Somehow I couldn't remember that part!

Not that I never had my doubts. Would his health stand it? Was he an experienced enough runner? After all, he had only been running for two years. The safety of the trip also concerned me: we would spend many hours on the road, Jean-Paul running and I driving what looked to me an impossibly large vehicle - and that on the "wrong" side of the road. At home I happily zoom about our small town in a Mini... and what would we do in the case of illness or injury?

I stood in Jonathan's tiny bedroom, and tried to imagine the four of us living in an even tinier space for five months. I couldn't. What about the children: would they become ill or impossible? Another big concern was leaving my parents for five months. Anneke and Jonathan are the only grandchildren that live nearby, and we all are so important to them. I knew that they would worry about us: they did, but typically stood behind us every step of the way, making jerseys and jackets, managing our "home affairs" and helping in a myriad other practical ways.

The "strip map" of the proposed route looked impossibly long. Using ten kilos of 1:200 000 scale maps, the strip came to thirty meters. It took us an entire evening just to talk through it...

In spite of those moments of quaking heart and cold feet, the enthusiasm for our incredible adventure grew - perhaps fuelled too by a need to do something out of the ordinary, to make a small but realistic contribution to the needy people of this land. We had decided to raise funds for SANTA, an organisation combating Tuberculosis in the Western Cape, as it is reaching epidemic proportions here. Our fundraising would go to a pre-school centre in Elsies River: kids are so much more susceptible and need to be given a chance. I am very grateful to God for my two healthy children and that we can give them all they need - now we could give some of that to others. A very real knowledge of God's blessing and protection also helped when doubts arose. In any way, I was in it, boots and all!

June, July, August: three months in which the impossible was achieved. Jean-Paul was away for three weeks in June, to a conference in Portugal and to do some logistical preparation for the trip: getting maps, looking for a camping van. Only in June did we get the go-ahead from SANTA to fundraise: soon I was buried under boxes and boxes of begging letters, spending hours on the phone to organisations to insert these in their newsletters, fulfilling speaking engagements, writing thank-you notes...

All of us needed warm clothes. My trusty sewing machine whirred till the small hours of the morning, bits of material littered the house as warm pyjamas, tracksuits and long-sleeved T-shirts slowly filled the cupboards.

A lessee had to be found for our house, and was in fact found only at the last minute. So the house needed a springclean too, and all cupboards emptied. An irrigation system had to be installed in the garden - I had to ensure that my beautiful mountainside fynbos garden withstood the Cape's hot, dry windy summer while we were gone. I still organised a birthday party for Jonathan, and an enormous goodbye party just before we left. Press interviews got squeezed into all of this - and then, of course the ordinary housework of cooking, cleaning, washing and caring for the kids still had to happen too. The "still to do" lists seemed to grow in stead of diminish! Sometimes we wondered whether it was all worth it.

Jean-Paul was under a lot of pressure too - doubling up on his lecturing to finish in time for the trip, the endless - and largely fruitless - search for sponsors, the long and frequent training runs. We hardly saw each other, yet needed to work together as a team, and give each other the love and support both of us needed.

But the incredible did happen.

Jean-Paul still had to go to Varsity the day we left, and arrived late for our trip to the airport. We hurriedly packed a notobook computer (the bottom of the box collapsed at the airport!), Jean-Paul pushed a batch of unmarked examination papers into his hand luggage and we were off. At last!

"From now on we would only have to worry about running", two exhausted people told each other on the plane. Little did we know....

SUNDAY 12/9/93

MONDAY 13/9/93

A cold, grey dawn slowly crept over Nordkapp. The rest of the family was still asleep, so I had a rare moment to myself. It was 5 o'clock and I hung the washing rack out on the back steps. Brrrr! It was good to get inside our cosy warm home again, and cuddle under the blankets.

Our preparations in Belgium had been chaotic. Within five kilometers of driving the van a window blew off our rented camping car onto the freeway - little fingers had opened it. We were all upset. It was going to cost us a lot of money, but at least it did not cause an accident. The rest of the packing and the shopping was delayed by Jean-Paul attempting to fix the window. Packing the van wasn't all that easy either. I realised that I had brought too much clothing for everyone. Mom-in-law was a great help in supplying pots, pans, cutlery and sheets to cover the seat cushions to keep them from getting dirty. I blessed her many times for the latter, even though I seemed to spend half my time putting them back on the seats! But mom-in-law's help meant that there was another body rummaging about in a very confined space, and I am afraid tempers flared at times...

The rest of our journey up was uneventful. We visited my brother and his family in Holland, and met up with Gerard Wanrooy there too - he was the enthusiastic organiser of the Dutch leg of the run. For the rest it was just hours and hours of driving. We were impressed by the distance: it seemed impossible to run from Norway to Belgium, never mind to Gibraltar...

But now we were here at Europe's most northerly point: Nordkapp, 71° 10' 21", to be exact. Yesterday Jean-Paul ran to Knivskjelodden, the real most northerly point, but supposedly inaccessible according to our guidebook. There is a cairn-marked trail, so accessibility is a matter of opinion! I had to call Jean-Paul back as he bounded off enthusiastically - he had left his map behind. An hour later a lady emerges out of the wilderness, who said she saw him, running "swiftly and beautifully".

It is beautiful here. Nordkapp is on an island situated about two kilometres from the mainland. Apart from the fishing community of Honningsväg it is wild, rugged and empty, with bright lakes, soaring cliffs and herds of reindeer grazing on the moss. Nordkapp itself comes as a bit of a disappointment: a huge parking place, a monument and a tourist building where they charge KR49 just to enter.

Now our journey really began. After all the talking and hectic preparations, Jean-Paul would at last start running. I take my Bible and my reading for the day is Psalm 61:
"Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.
from the ends of the earth I call unto you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I."

From the ends of the earth I call unto you... Here I was, at the "ends of the earth"! And how I needed God's guidance, his protection, his presence, his Spirit to keep me strong, loving, patient and courageous. I was humbled and awed by his presence and his ability to meet my needs yet again, and I worshipped him there - at the ends of the earth.

But there was work to do. At 6 o'clock it started raining, and I took the washing inside again. Anneke had wet her bed: unpleasant at home, a catastrophe here! I could use the ablution block of the tourist building to wash, was grateful for the hot running water, but not quite aware yet what a luxury it really was. When I returned the family was waking up: a vanful of bodies, pyjamas, a potty and breakfast in the making! After breakfast Jean-Paul tidied up while I took the kids out for a walk. That meant another new routine to get used to: boots on, jackets on, mittens on, scarves on - and Jonathan, have you done a wee? And then a late and totally disorganised start to the run. Boy, did we have a lot to learn! No photographs were taken of the momentous occasion, and we had not even agreed on a meeting spot. At least I did remember to ask some German tourists for a signature for our witness book. The Guinness Book of Records required us to have two signatures per day, and to acquire these fell largely upon my shoulders - a task which taxed my linguistic abilities considerably!

So off we went. I noticed that the tape recorder did not work - probably the work of little fingers. Jonathan, what else are you going to wreck? We passed Jean-Paul and waved enthusiastically. He waved back - or so we thought. Our signalling had to be worked at!

At eighteen kilometres I tried to find a parking spot - none. So a little further I parked rather precariously on the side of the road in the wide verge, only to be met by a cross runner: " Why didn't you stop when I signalled you to?" We had a break, and then continued to Honningsväg, where I promptly missed the turnoff to the ferry, struggled to turn in the town, got my finger caught in the door and had to be cross with Jonathan, who had opened a window yet again. And with all this I missed Jean-Paul, who was by now despairing about his wife's capabilities as a second. A fine start: it could only improve!

We parked at the local post office to buy postcards, stamps and do a little shopping. The parking place was deserted when we came, then suddenly ten cars arrived! I was just rummaging in the back - half my bags out, trying to find something - when a policeman arrived and told us politely to scoot. So we went back to Nordkapp to take photos. On the way there I discovered why the tape recorder did not work: it was full of coins. Jonathan!!!

We posted our postcards in the northernmost postbox of the world, took our photographs and had tea. The region has a plethora of "northernmosts". Because of the warming influence of the North Atlantic Drift the climate is considerably milder than, say, Alaska or Siberia. What is more difficult to grasp is that the people living here don't see the sun for two and a half months: how do they survive the darkness, even if it is compensated for by the Aurora Borealis? As our visit almost coincided with the equinox, the day/night balance was boringly normal, although the slowness of dawn and dusk was noticeable.

Back to Honningsväg to catch the ferry to the mainland - we were getting to know the island pretty well! I videoed the scenery sitting in the open doorway while Jean-Paul drove, which took some nerve. And a bit of luck on a day when a lot of things went wrong: we just made it for the ferry! So minimal time loss enabled Jean-Paul to start running again at 19:15.

Another ten kilometres - I stopped in a layby with a hut approximately 100 meters away. Jean-Paul had really urged me to try and get a signature, so I dressed myself and the kids and set off on the slippery moss and seaweedlike growth into the near dark, coaxing and encouraging to make it seem like an exciting adventure for two tired children. No one was home. We trudged back, Anneke bravely singing "my Lord knows the way through the wilderness"...

We arrived back at the van much the same time as Jean-Paul did. And then I treated my family to pancakes in the failing light of the motor home, with them peering out amongst the wet washing draped everywhere - mmmmm, pancakes with chocolate spread!

TUESDAY 14/9/93

We woke up to a bright, clear day - wow! Jean-Paul parked the van a little way back by a delightful stream. Spirits soared with the sunlight, even though Jonathan was having a fit of two-year obstinacy. He insisted on walking on some slippery rocks sloping down into the stream and refused to hold my hand. OK boy, you go inside. A major tantrum followed. All had just settled down when he fell off the ladder. Eventually the two children settle on the top bed, playing mommy and daddy with doll and monkey. I did the housework - or should one call it vanwork? A small area lived in by four people gets filthy very quickly, not to mention the fridge that needs daily cleaning. Instantaneous mess just burst into being as soon as my back was turned - not to mention being avalanched by articles falling from the overfull overhead cupboards.

We had learned from yesterday's mistakes: Jean-Paul was going to do a cross-country short-cut, and we carefully pinpointed the spot on the map where we should meet. I still drove past it twice before I located it, the coast being full of little bays. It was a lovely spot with the still, sunlit sea on the one side and the moss covered hillside on the other, with a track leading up. Anneke bounded off, eager to explore. Jonathan bounded off too, immediately on the road. He started collecting stones for papa and put them on a big flat rock - his table. Anneke played bunny in the tall grass, hiding away. And we waited. We had something to eat. And we waited. The kids discovered the mud and got filthy. And we waited. At least my washing was drying nicely in the sun. I got anxious - it was past 13h30 and there was no sign of Jean-Paul. I stopped cars to ask if they had seen this funny running guy in blue and yellow. No. Jean-Paul, where are you? I tried to walk a little way up the hillside with the kids, but this did not work with Jonathan, as he wanted to cut every stem of grass with the scissors. 14h00 - I decided to go looking with the car, wrote a note and left it on Jonathan's table, but first I wanted to flag down one more car, which did not materialise, traffic being rather sparse in these northern parts, and regulated by the ferry to boot. What did materialise was a shout on the mountain, and my funny yellow man came galumping down - from the wrong direction! He had got lost on reindeer tracks. Oh, the relief, the sweet reunion... The kids loved the reindeer horns he had found.

Jean-Paul was exhausted, so I took the bicycle and went cycling with the kids. I cycled with the wind to Repoväg - then turned round and realised we were terribly underdressed. I cycled back as quickly as possible and put on our warmest clothes, and then pedalled about seven kilometres in the opposite direction. How much more can be seen from a bike than in a car! The reds and golds and greens were brilliant in the bright, low sunlight, the piles of worn schist looked like ancient books, here and there a stunted birch added to the enchantment. Anneke and I made up stories, but what fascinated Jonathan the most were the reflectors placed on poles one meter above the ground so that the edge of the road is visible after snowfalls. We saw three reindeer from really close by, the youngest of which stared curiously at this funny three-headed animal on wheels. One of these became "the old wise reindeer" which featured prominently in stories for the next couple of weeks.

I returned to the van rather tired - that was a stiff twenty kilometres' ride. It gave me respect for Jean-Paul's achievement. There were two tunnels on the stretch ahead, and I got tunnel vision trying to film him at both ends: while I rushed through the tunnel I forgot to take the steps in and left the supper on the stove. No damage was done, but the food had spilled everywhere.

The next tunnel was a tunnel too far: let's retire to eating, washing, bedmaking, getting the kids to sleep - we had thought that we would have early nights on this trip! The electricity failed again, and we needed to start the engine to get lights and the water-pump going. We discovered that the heater also did not work, and cuddled a little closer for warmth...

WEDNESDAY 15/9/94

This was the first day that things really went smoothly - we were getting into the run of things, to coin a pun!

We woke up to a chilly, wet motorhome. All the walls, including the inside of the cupboards, were covered with condense water. This was going to be a continuous problem: the daily housework included drying all the walls, especially those above the top bunk, as the water would otherwise seep into the mattresses. Clothes had to be stored in plastic bags and the cupboards were also dried out daily - even so our clothes were always damp. But we did not realise this at that point in time!

Yet again it was a glorious, sunny day. We were off for an early start, the "warm-up" being in the cold, dark and dripping Skarvberg tunnel, three kilometres long. First we drove halfway to film Jean-Paul running in the tunnel, then returned to the entry point, were I filmed again, drove through and filmed him at the other side. Talk about tunnel vision!

I drove along the bright, beautiful coastline to the fishing village of Oldenfjord - with all this light around, it is difficult to realise that in two months' time the sun would not even rise here. I stopped at exactly the right spot in Oldenfjord - at a closed ice-cream kiosk. So I treated the kids to some of the melted ice-cream from our fridge, whose freezer compartment does not live up to its name. There were mudflats close to our parking spot and the tide was out. I took the binoculars out and scanned it, hoping to find a puffin, but no such luck. Lots of gulls though, looking very much like the black-backed gull back home, and I thought I saw an arctic skua. Black crows were also in abundance. The rest of the bird life had most sensibly packed and gone South long ago!

The kids ran around in the weedy fields. Jean-Paul arrived exactly on schedule, in a buoyant mood: he had covered the first hundred kilometres! We ate something, then the kids and I disappeared on my bicycle despite severe saddle pain on my part. We found an interesting but derelict playground where the kids got very filthy. When I had enough of their mud games, I braved my bicycle again and rode about eight kilometres along the coast, wishing I could paint: fishing boats, the steep fjordsides dotted with golden birches, and this all reflected in the still water of the fjord. There were still surprisingly many flowers: bluebells, something purple, something white, a lovely creeper with bright red berries, fluffy cottonlike seeds that shone in the sun in marshy places. I wondered whether the berries were the ones that the Same (Lapp) people eat. The wooden houses, many sporting reindeer horns, were all painted in bright colours - to offset the dark of winter? Outside many of these houses fish was left to dry on wooden racks.

We cycled to Smrfjord - about six houses guarded by a fierce but chained arctic dog. Smrfjord became Smurf-fjord: these tiny blue fellows were dancing about everywhere. Mommy couldn't see them, of course: she's a grownup. (Sometimes she just caught a glimpse of a white cap disappearing in the grass) But two of these tiny creatures managed to hop right on to the bike and climbed into Anneke's pocket, where they were snug and warm. They came into the camping car and wanted to travel with us...

And so began our relationship with the smurfs. They took the place of Anneke's playmates, had their own place to sleep, their own names and characters, got up to mischief (when anything was amiss in the van the smurfs had done it!) and entertained us endlessly with their adventures. Sometimes, when Anneke cuddled close to us, she'd confess that the smurfs were not real, but for most of the time they were. In every country we would find some more smurfs - but they all spoke the same language so that didn't matter. In France, for instance, they sat on the mileposts and jumped on Daddy's shoulder when he passed. They went with us on our countless bicycle rides and, at the end of the trip, went with us on the plane to South Africa. Here they faded fast: Anneke was at school again, involved with her peers, and did not need them any more. Then suddenly, three and a half months later Anneke came to me and said in a sad little voice,"The smurfs are packing. They are going away"...

Back to Oldenfjord. I stopped at the local shop before returning to the van. We bought caviar (cheap) and ultimate luxuries like grapes and apples, some big fish sealed in plastic which one was supposed to eat as is (neither of us could stomach it) and sausages, which were very good, according to Jean-Paul, the kids and the smurfs. As my shopping also contained eggs I did not want to risk mounting the bike and decided to walk the fifty meters to the van, which resulted in a loud and a sit-down-and-don't-move protest from Jonathan - Anneke had to summon help from the camping car!

Jonathan loved the caviar - good taste, my boy! He called it toothpaste, as it came in a tube. The name stuck. The grapes were delicious! But it was high time for Jean-Paul to be off again - he left at 15:45.

I went back to Smrfjord to take some pictures, then filled up with diesel and water and washed the car. The latter was certainly not a luxury and the longhandled brush which fitted onto the hose ideal, except that my hands needed defrosting afterwards. I then followed Jean-Paul to Skaidi, right into the slowly setting sun, and met him halfway, exactly on schedule. We got rid of the waste water (all these operations were still new and we fussed about them) and carried on. I parked at a cross-roads in Skaidi itself, rejoicing in a level parking spot. I had discovered how difficult it was to cook, eat, wash up and sleep if the van was at a slant! As I cooked pasta, the power failed yet again. Luckily I had bought candles, but they did not pump the water up! Jean-Paul went to bed with the kids, satisfied after a good day's run. Anneke wouldn't sleep, not even with the most repetitive of stories about the man on the moon. At last she succumbed, and I switched the engine on to get some light to write by, but no. Bedtime.

THURSDAY 16/9/93

Jonathan woke up at 6am - his mother was decidedly less enthusiastic about the dawn of another day, and his father just played dead. So he kicked and squirmed until ma could stand it no longer: there was only one thing to do in these circumstances and that is to get up. I coaxed Jean-Paul out of bed with a cup of steaming coffee - with two kids it is impossible to drink it in bed anyway!

Again, there was no power, no heat, and, to our surprise, no water. We had filled up the day before with 150 litres - what had happened to it? We froze and the place was wet, wet, wet: hurrah for modern technology! But if I did not keep my spirits up, who would?

After breakfast Jean-Paul got going.

I dressed the children, wondering when they would learn to keep their socks and footwear on - I seemed to spend the entire day reshodding icy little feet! While I did the housework the kids ran around on the parking lot/tourist centre outside. It was cloudy and cold, but dry. I called out several times to them not to make such a noise, and suddenly I realised what I had been subconsciously missing since we came up north - children. Where have all the children gone? As an aftermath of Chernobyl there may well be fewer children, and they might be mostly at boarding schools or have extended school hours in winter. But even the ones we saw are so subdued - I kept on telling my boisterous scallywags to keep quiet!

Of we went again, the car heater going full blast to try and get rid of the moisture I had not managed to towel off. We met Jean-Paul at a beautiful spot with a hanging bridge over a turbulent and strangely green stream. Anneke walked across it fearlessly and was very proud of herself. Jonathan, as ever clutching his beloved monkey, found it very scary. The vegetation had also changed: instead of tundra, there were forests of dwarf birches: beautiful gnarled gnome trees two to four metres high. The rocks were covered with moss and a creeper with black berries. Jean-Paul went on and we had fun playing hide and seek there, and when it got too cold we treated ourselves to hot chocolate milk and the remains of the pasta before we drove on. I wasn't concentrating and forgot to look at the oedometer - when I did I was two kilometres too far. I had to drive on until I found a suitable spot to turn, and met Jean-Paul at exactly 22 kilometres - phew! And then I remembered that I had forgotten to switch on the boiler for Jean-Paul's shower while we were at the bridge. Jean-Paul was cold and tired, and I was in hot water.

We drove 90 kilometres to Hammerfest to see this fêted "most northerly town" (personally I feel that Honningsväg should take that honour, but it does not have town status). Our main reason for going there was mundane: to find a laundromat, as our laundrybag weighs about ten kg already. It was a beautiful drive, twisting and turning along the sides of the fjord, which we crossed at one point via an impressive bridge. The weather was noticeably colder and there was new snow on the mountains. We saw lots of reindeer from really close by - I hauled out the camera and of course they ran off. We got to Hammerfest: a long stretched-out town with a harbour, colourful houses clinging to the hillside, with snow fences above them to stop avalanches. Jean-Paul disappeared with the kids, and I tried to locate a laundromat. When I found a woman able to speak English she told me that it was on the other side of town, two kilometres on...

So I got the bicycle off the back of the van, but forgot to undo one strap and was left wrestling with the heavy bike above my head, half on and half off the rack, with no way to reach that illusive strap. To my chagrin a man entered the parking place, got in his car and drove off! Luckily the next passer-by was not so rude, and we quickly got the bike down. Back inside to collect the washing and - oh, the luxury! - change into clean clothes. I packed the bulky bag onto the bike. It fell off. I tried again. It stayed on, but there was no place for me to sit, so I started walking. Along the way I met an elderly gentleman walking in the same direction. We got talking - he told me that he had been in Cape Town 30 years ago with the navy. It was a pleasant chat, but only after he left did I think of what I really wanted to ask him about daily life in the northerly town. What I did gather was that family and community life are very important.

Ah - at last, the laundry! I crossed the road - there was a little notice in the door. Stängd. Closed. Hey-ho, and back we go, the bike, 10 kgs of washing and I. At least I got back before it started to rain. I put the sheets back on the seats, and drowned my sorrows in an apple, wondering how much each bite cost.

I gave the laundry bag a kick for good measure. Jean-Paul returned with the kids, who had both wet their pants because of the cold. Wet pants, wet underpants, wet socks - and I burst into tears. We fetched water at the garage at the entrance of the town, and what did we find? Coin-operated washing machines, tumble dryers, basins. However, it was 17h00, very cold and the weather was worsening. Finding the facilities and having no time to use them was the cherry on top of an unpleasant afternoon. But we won't let the washing get us down, will we? "Lead me to the rock that is higher than I!" Even higher than the pile of washing...

We drove back to Skaidi, back to where Jean-Paul had stopped running that afternoon . It was 17h30, almost dark, windy and cold - I wished he did not have to go. The road was dark and lonely - at least I had the reflectors shining at me when I drive. Jean-Paul was out there and he had nothing. I parked ten kilometres on in a side road, and two friendly chaps stop to ask if I need help. "Yes please, sign the witness book!"

I cooked cabbage, onions and potatoes, and the luxury of meat for Jean-Paul. We all seemed to eat more, but especially Jean-Paul. I peered into the darkness often, but still jumped with fright when Jean-Paul suddenly stuck his hand on the window. The children asked for drinks the whole time - please, kiddies, no wet beds!!! Jean-Paul reluctantly got out of the warmth and cosiness of our little home to face the darkness again. I carried on cooking, then repacked everything into the cupboard so that I could drive. The reflectors on Jean-Paul's pants winked at me after driving ten kilometres. He signalled me to stop: he had had enough! The kids were asleep already, and Jean-Paul looked exhausted. I gave him his food and plenty of TLC, and he was asleep by 19h30. I had heated up the boiler this time, so had a shower and washed my hair. "Shower" was actually not the right word for that trickle of water of variable temperature that came from the tap - and afterwards the water needed to be sluiced out, the volume corresponding to the slope of the car. (If I ever have to design a motor home it will have a drain in each corner of the bathroom!)

After coaxing Jonathan to do a wee, I filled the hot water bottles, made myself some tea, and sat down to write until I was shivering so much from exhaustion and/or cold that I had to give up. At least our electricity lasted longer after our long drive to Hammerfest and back!

FRIDAY 17/9/93

It was a cold, wet, rainy start in the middle of nowhere: a straight road through a desolate and featureless plain. We drove back and forth to determine the exact spot where Jean-Paul stopped the night before - after much driving back and forth I eventually dropped him. A miserable spot in miserable weather. Ahead the features changed somewhat as the road cut through some low hills, and suddenly became gravel: road under construction. It would have been an interesting exercise to determine what percentage of our travels was on road works. The rain turned to sleet, the sleet turned to snow on the top of the pass. There was a parking spot here next to a rough wooden construction that looked like connected paddocks. A good spot to wait for Jean-Paul. Anneke immediately got out of the car to try and catch the snow. Although she had been in snow before, she had never seen it fall.

Five minutes after I had stopped another car arrived, and a man got out and scanned the countryside with binoculars. As he could speak some English I got talking to him. Mathis Haeta - for that was his name - explained that he was looking for reindeer, which, when found, were herded into the paddocks using tiny tractors. I invited him in for coffee. I asked him why I saw so few children here - he grinned and said there were not enough women. Trekking after the reindeer was a hard life! I have the feeling, however, that it was not the full explanation....

Suddenly the man's whole family arrived and piled into the car, which turned into an impromptu - and free - café. We were excluded from the conversation in that they all talked their own language now. My children got a lot of attention, which they did not really want. When the big Mathis Haeta suggested to Anneke that she should stay with him and learn to herd reindeer, she was really terrified. Jean-Paul came and went, but the Same people stayed. The older woman still wore the beautiful traditional dress: a high red embroidered hat with earflaps, a blue dress with a circular skirt, gathered at the waist with a belt, worn over trousers and boots. The dress and belt were richly embroidered with black, red and white as the main colours. She did not come into the van - just the men. Eventually I chased them out: I had to meet Jean-Paul!

I waited for him about eighteen kilometres north of Alta - the snow had turned to rain again, and when he arrived he was very wet. After a quick lunch we went to Alta - according to Mathis Haeta there was a campsite there with washing machines! And there it was, and not too expensive either. We decided to spend the night there, and I loaded the first machine. I drove back to drop Jean-Paul and as he got out of the van it stopped raining. Wow!

Jean-Paul had wanted to run past Alta in the dark, and had explained to me where I could pick him up. I drove back to the campsite, cooked the food and showered with the kids under a real, hot shower, loaded some more washing and went in search of Jean-Paul. And got lost in the dark, trying to find his shortcut, wandering in and out of lanes, my prayers and tears getting more and more desperate - what if I did not find him? Anneke bravely sat next to me, praying as well. After what seemed hours I suddenly saw his reflectors and was filled with relief and thankfulness as a tired Jean-Paul climbed into the van, admitting that the road was difficult to find in the dark.

Runner's Law No.5: Never assume that your second will be on time. Make that a definite no when she's travelling with kids.

We went back for a well-deserved supper. I was busy with the washing till 23h30 - The washing machine did not spin-dry very well and the tumble-dryer was very slow, gobbling my KR10 pieces. The washing cost us about R70!

SATURDAY 18/9/93

In the morning I dropped Jean-Paul on the road to Kautokeino. Things seemed a lot clearer in the daylight! I drove back to Alta for the chores of the washing and cleaning the van. While I was occupied in the laundry the kids strewed onion peels all over the van I had just cleaned. Grrrr! I then strolled to the public phone to contact the press. When I was a few metres away, a youth arrived in his car, jumped out and got into the booth just before me - and proceeded to hog the phone for 45 minutes. There I stood, knowing that I needed to go to Jean-Paul. It started snowing, the kids were cold and restless. I knocked at the glass several times, but the boor just ignored me, as he did when he eventually sauntered out of the phone booth. Boy, was I fuming! Needless to say the newspaper offices were closed by now. I drove up to meet Jean-Paul, much too late of course. The canyon he had been running through was magnificent, with patches of snow increasing in frequency. Finally we found an exhausted, cold and angry Jean-Paul sitting by a roadgrader. Sorry, my dear man....

We had lunch amidst the wet washing still hanging - at least the soup warmed us. Then I left Jean-Paul to rest while the three of us went cycling. I had the choice of downhill and against the cold wind, or uphill and the wind at our backs. I chose the latter, with Jean-Paul coming to pick us up after an hour. I enjoyed riding through the wilderness beside huge, shimmering lakes. We stopped at a patch of snow so that the kids could play, and Jean-Paul met us there.

SUNDAY 19/9/94

Phew - our first well-deserved rest day! Had we really only been running for a week? It felt like a month. We spent the day "resting": reorganising our cargo, giving the van an extra good clean and doing another load of washing. By the afternoon the kids were crabby and we were all tired, so we went for a drive: 200 kilometres along the coast winding in and out, doubling up frequently, seeming to make no progress. Were we glad we were not running this coast, with its fjords and mountains! The Swedish coast was a lot straighter and leveller by comparison.

There were some road works along the way - we saw with interest that apart from a thin layer of soil, what the machines were moving was permafrost. Roadmaking could not be easy here! We took the turnoff to the Jkelglacier, drove to the end of the road without finding it and asked some locals, who pointed behind us...oops. Apparently this is the only glacier in the world that calves into the sea. After admiring it I brewed some tea and then decided to try some cross-friction on Jean-Paul's tendon. It was agony, but seemed to work. We drove the long way back. I tried to photograph one of the lovely churches in the dark - the local boys on bicycles were fascinated by my attempt and eager to try out their three and a half words of English. It was already 21h30 when we reached the spot where Jean-Paul had to start running. The kids were excited and the parents exhausted. It took some time before all settled down to sleep...

MONDAY 20/9/94

The show was on the road again! Jean-Paul's tendon still hurt and I followed him closely. At five kilometres I made some heel inserts for him out of toilet paper while the kids played in the snow. We had our lunchbreak at the river near a village named Máze. Most of the houses had reindeer hides nailed on them to dry. I got a witness at the local shop, where the shopkeeper spoke no English but apparently fluent Spanish! However, we managed to communicate. Again, the village had a beautiful church - I bought a postcard for Anneke, with a picture of all the Sunday School children in their colourful traditional dress. I cooked lentils and pasta in the van beside the river while Jean-Paul made a fire and the kids clanged pot-lids around outside. I had forgotten to pick up Jean-Paul's juice bottle that morning: I had given him some juice on the run and told him to leave his bottle for me. So I had a rough uphill ride to a little plastic bottle which I found mounted on a stick. Although Máze lies in a pretty valley the countryside consists of endless stretches of browning birch trees six to eight metres tall: not very exciting. There was ice on the smaller ponds.

I returned to the shop as I had forgotten to buy matches. Jean-Paul had bought a cheap no-name brand in Belgium, and we had not realised that matches could be of such bad quality. It took a great deal of miming and laughter to explain what I wanted - and the shopkeepers looked on with amazement when they saw me load the children on the bicycle and take off!

Yet another cross-friction session and Jean-Paul was off again, pounding the tar with his sore foot. I massaged it about six times a day then. About halfway Jean-Paul advised me to empty the toilet tank, as there was sandy soil here. I parked in a layby and dug a hole. As I could not dig very deep I had to dig very wide, and then I struggled to open the cap. But I got the job done, the hole covered, and was warm with the effort when I started van to drive off. The wheels spun helplessly in the sand. What now? Jean-Paul was ahead of me and would not know where we were if we did not pitch up. Another prayer session followed - this trip really boosted my prayer life! - and I gathered sticks to put under my wheels. I started the car, held my breath - and was off!

We spent the night in a quarry beside the road - as good a campsite as any.

TUESDAY 21/9/94

Kautokeino, here we come! Jean-Paul's achilles tendon was giving him a lot of trouble, so I gave him a lot of cross-friction. I tried to get a signature from a local woman, kids (kids!) staring at me from behind her, but no. She didn't understand and was very suspicious. We met another Belgian camping car on the road, and invited the two men in for coffee - a warm, friendly meeting. After Jean-Paul's first run we drove through to Kautokeino. We had lunch, then I went shopping with the kids while Jean-Paul would try to fix the heater. There was a market there: a very colourful and very expensive market. I bought some local berries and eyed their padded mittens longingly. My hands get cold on the bike! I then made a hideously expensive photocopy of the diary to send to my parents and lugged the children to the supermarket, which was at least a kilometre away - a long way to drag Jonathan! I found mittens in the shop at half the market price and a lovely rag mat just the size of our van floor. I have always wanted a rag mat and then we really needed one, the floor being icy and the kids' feet being bare for a lot of the time! I could not believe that it only cost Kr40. I also bought some reindeer meat - Kautokeino is the centre of Same culture reindeer husbandry, and I felt we had to try it once. We walked back via an outdoor museum with the original Same houses where the kids enjoyed playing, and I tried to envisage spending an arctic winter in a teepee-like structure covered with turf.

I trudged back to the car, laden with shopping and Jonathan, only to find Jean-Paul in an equally bad mood, being unable to fix the heater. We drove back to drop him. His final run was very painful. At least we finished the day with a good meal: the reindeer meat was tender and succulent and the berries had a slightly bitter taste but were full of flavour. We were parked in the town centre and there were a few noisy cars about, so we decided to park at the church, situated on the outskirts of town on a rise - we needed our sleep!

WEDNESDAY 22/9/94

We woke up to the sight of snow softly falling: a white world outside and a cold and wet one inside, including a wet bed. The snow turned to rain later on: a dreary drizzle. Jean-Paul's tendon was very painful, but he decided to run in spite of it. When he was gone I searched for a campsite to do the washing, but found none. I filled up with diesel and water - the latter was a delicate manoeuvring operation as the garage's tap was right next to an enormous construction hole! The children and I returned to the church where we had spent the previous night. The first thing I saw was a sign forbidding overnight parking! The church was made from honey-coloured wood and was painted brightly inside. A hallowed atmosphere wasn't really possible with Anneke and Jonathan, but we sang a few songs and had a little talk with God before we were on our way to Jean-Paul.

We found him sixteen kilometres along the way, with a sore foot and sore spirits. He really could not run any further, so we decided to return to Kautokeino and find a place to spend the night. All the accommodation in the town was either full or closed - a strange combination! And that not even a month after the tourist season is over! We don't really look that scruffy, do we?

After showing Jean-Paul the open air museum, we went to the nearby ethnic craft shop and admired the beautiful work, tastefully displayed: Same costumes and baby cribs, leatherwork from reindeer hides, exquisite sculptures and woodwork. They also sold the local fabric - braids in all colours and widths occupied a full wall! I could not resist them in spite of the price, and chose three one-metre bits with difficulty. We saw another holiday bungalow site nearby. At first I got no reaction, then reluctantly the door opened and begrudgingly we were allowed to rent a one-roomed cabin for the night. It cost Kr200, was beautifully carved, tiny and had no running water - but we were out of the van for a day and in a place with a heater. There was also a washing machine I could use - for Kr30 - and I loved the fact that it was situated in the men's ablution block. Woman's lib!

The kids enjoyed the extra space and we all enjoyed being warm for a change. Jean-Paul spent the afternoon enduring his loving wife applying cross-friction. He found an electricity plug and rigged up the cd-player, and we enjoyed listening to the first music we heard since Jonathan wrecked the car's tape recorder. It also meant that we could recharge our video-camera's battery. As the room boasted only one extremely slow hot-plate, I cooked soup in the van: yet again in the dark. We went to sleep early, our cabin decorated all over with wet washing.

THURSDAY 23/9/93

So after a leisurely breakfast we burst into activity, as we had to tidy up quickly, pack and drive to the starting point. I decided to accompany Jean-Paul on the bicycle for some moral support, so dressed myself and the kids and rode to meet him. Jean-Paul had adopted the "Kautokeino shuffle" to keep going: very short strides, lifting his feet as little as possible. It wasn't very elegant and resulted in lots of wear and tear on his shoes, but he was moving! It was also important to prevent a compensatory injury on the other leg and foot. The countryside still consisted of endless plains and small hills, the birch trees covering them becoming browner by the day. We found a piece of rope and took it with us - it could come in handy! One of the attractions of Scandinavia was that there is just about no litter anywhere. We saw a large wooden sleigh standing by the side of the road - the children were fascinated by it. I left Jean-Paul after six kilometres, pedalled back to the van, manoeuvred the bike into the van (there was no way that I could get it on the bicycle rack on my own), passed the potty round and managed to lose the keys - Anneke was sitting on them. Still, I got to Jean-Paul in time.

I had stopping for Jean-Paul taped by then: when I saw that yellow figure in the distance, I
1. checked that there was no one behind me
2. hooted
3. slowed down gradually - in the beginning it was always too fast. I found out that a motor home wasn't a Mini!
4. Was at the receiving end of instructions: hot drink, cold drink, or stop in two kilometres' time!

It was not always so easy to find off road parking at the exact spot. A parking spot would present itself - 600 metres too soon, so I would drive on, only to discover that there was nowhere to park for the next five kilometres! Occasionally I nervously stopped at bus stops - usually at very forsaken spots. If there was a huge lorry behind me there was no time for sudden manoeuvres. I was getting quite good at turning the van, as I had to do it six to ten times a day.

Another strange phenomenon was that the van seemed to attract other vehicles. I would park at a forsaken spot, eg. a quarry - and a huge truck would turn in straight after me. This type of thing happened many, many times during our trip!

We drove back to Kautokeino. We are getting very tired of the town by now - we didn't seem to be moving on! Jean-Paul organised a mechanic to help him open the heater from below so that he could reach the illusive wire where the insulation had burnt. In the meantime, I went to the open air museum again, this time with the video camera. By then the kids were bored with the houses. One cold hour later Jean-Paul returned - Hurrah!! the van had a heater that worked!! We decided to carry on to the Finnish border. Jean-Paul was feeling strong again: I was glad for that half day's rest and the fact that cross-friction (and prayer!) really seemed to work.

Surprise! Eva had asked the two customs officials to sign and stamp the witness book. They were very friendly and interested and Eva had explained all. Twenty minutes later, while Eva was cooking, the handsome, tall, blond guy (okay, they all look like that in Scandinavia) offers us? her? the use of their sauna ... at least, that is Eva's explanation ... hey, if I can feel a teeny weeny bit jealous and tease her about it, I can't be feeling that bad any more.

FRIDAY 24/9/93
Finland, here we come! We felt good at being able to tick off one country we had run through. Jean-Paul's tendon felt much better too. During the course of the morning we encountered the first fir trees, which made a welcome change to the everlasting brown birches. The birches seemed taller too.

The morning run took us to Leppajärvi, where getting a signature was confounded by confusion. Not only did the people not speak English, but all the people in the six-house village were called Leppajärvi too. We drove to Enontekio for change, a map and pancakes, and found a shop that sold absolutely anything - again a lot of craft material, though not as ethnic as the shop in Kautokeino. I tried to buy ink - the shopkeeper really did her best to understand me, even hauled out a dictionary - but no. No black ink. We found the people in Finland much warmer and outgoing than the aloof Norwegians - we needed that bit of friendliness! After a lovely pancake meal we drove back to Leppajärvi. A miracle occurred: both kids were asleep at the same time! Jean-Paul tried to snooze too, and I wrote my diary and studied the map of the nature reserve Jean-Paul planned to run across the following day. There were five types of swamp marked. I puzzled over the fact that trails were marked across broad rivers, then saw that they are snowmobile trails - in winter the rivers are iced over! How I wished I could venture into this wilderness with Jean-Paul!

Time to go again. Although it snowed lightly at Leppajärvi, the sun came out along the way - we treasured every moment of it! It glowed on the snow-covered fell ahead of us, and nearby the colours were full and golden and warm, contrasted against the dark firs.

In Enontekio, the kids had a wonderful time waiting for daddy - just running in and out of a ditch in front of the municipal buildings was enough to entertain them. At least, I thought they were municipal buildings - Finnish is an impossible language with long, long words, the letters resembling randomly strung beads on a piece of string. I learned the words for "Hello" and "thank you" - and dared not venture further! This particular region is also multilingual: the town, for instance, has four names!

We slept in a forest outside the town that night, on a tiny little track. To our surprise a car passed us in the middle of the night: what was it doing here? It might have asked the same of us...

SATURDAY 25/9/94

Jean-Paul and I both woke up early, and had a lovely intimate time together as the dawn crawled slowly into day. After breakfast Anneke was off into the forest, collecting some gnomes to add to her smurf collection. We drove back to Enontekio - the previous day Jean-Paul had arranged with a local lad to boat him to the other side of the river to the start of the nature trail. We roused a very sleepy boy who had obviously revelled till the early hours of the morning!

We walked down to the river - I was laden with camera and video camera to record this "cheating" - but my fingers were so cold I could hardly operate them. Jonathan was very distressed to see his daddy disappear in a boat.

Meanwhile, we went shopping in the local supermarket, pleased to find the prices slightly lower than in Norway. The language was a bit of a problem: which was butter, which margarine?

We then had a whole day to ourselves, as Jean-Paul expected to arrive at the other side of the nature reserve at about 17h00. Our drive there was a typical "bus-stop" drive. After a few kilometres we stopped - kids needed toys. Drove a few kilometres - Jonathan needed to do a wee. Drove a few kilometres - all the toys were on the floor. And so it continued...

We eventually turned off into a little forest road to Kajanki, a small farming community, and stopped by the last house, as the track beyond that did not look driveable. It was cold and windy, so I spent most of the time inside, entertaining the kids. Tremendous fun can be had with an empty muesli box: you can draw on it, colour in the picture and letters, cut it to pieces, reserve it all for granny and grandpa. One thing our trip has taught us was that children do not need lots of expensive toys. Anneke and Jonathan had a satchel of books and a satchel of toys, and were sent outside whenever possible. Most of the time they were happy.

I saw a youth practising javelin three houses away, and went to him to try and get a signature. He spoke just enough English for us to communicate. He was very interested in our attempt, as his sister had just run her first marathon. He looked derisively at his javelin, "I made it from a birch - would love to have a real one." His sister joined us later - she was on her way to be with another resident who had just had a baby. It seemed a small, close-knit community. The boy told me he had been to St Petersburg on holiday - "there are more people there than in the whole of Finland". When I asked how the winter was here in this remote spot, the answer was "Beautiful. Although it is dark the snow shines - and we have the stars and the Aurora." It gets about minus 40° C though - I cannot imagine that temperature!

As I left them to go back to the van, I felt blessed after the contact with those two young, courageous people, living in a remote spot, and loving it. May such strength remain, and stand them in good stead!

I decided to go for a bicycle ride after all, as the kids were getting restless with being cooped up in the van. So we put on all our layers and set off to meet daddy. Phew! No wonder the boy said the track was impassable on a bicycle. It was very sandy and very hilly: a mega-push uphill and a downhill speedy plough, trying hard to keep my handlebars straight. We met a horse and cart along the way, laden with children - Anneke and Jonathan were very excited, but I noticed that the road surface became even less rideable. I met another cyclist - he was pushing his bike even though it did not have two kids on it! I bravely carried on until the sand became marsh. Jonathan had fallen asleep on the bike: a tiny sleeping bundle, face just sticking out among hat, jacket and scarf. Anneke and I drew hearts on the road for Jean-Paul, and waited to see if he came along, but no Jean-Paul materialised and it got very cold, so we turned back. We drew some more hearts along the way - whenever I needed a breather! [Shame! I never saw any of these hearts.]

At last we arrived at the van - it was already dusk, the kids were moaning with cold and I was very tired, and a little bit worried about Jean-Paul - he should have been here an hour ago. I started cooking spaghetti and the gas ran out. I tried to change the bottles but the bottles were too heavy for me: I had a neck problem and re-injuring it then would be a silly thing to do, even if it irked me not to cope by myself and being unable to present Jean-Paul with a heated van, hot water for the shower and hot food for his tummy. Jean-Paul arrived at 18h30 - it was a relief to see him again. He was in high spirits after a long, tiring but beautiful run through the nature area. We parked our van under some trees, had supper and went to bed early after a long day, looking forward to the next day: a rest day!

SUNDAY 26/9/93

We woke up once more to softly falling snow, and had a leisurely breakfast. Leisurely? Well, with changing the bed to a breakfast nook, dressing ourselves and the kids, getting the meal ready and tidying up "upstairs", where all the bedding and toys are kept, it was always pretty chaotic. We went to a sand quarry for the weekly toilet tank emptying - a process oh so interesting for Jonathan: "car must do a pooh." And then to keep him from running into it...

On the map it looked possible to drive to within 3 kilometres of the idyllic hut Jean-Paul visited yesterday, and we decided to walk there. We spent ages looking for the road though, and then it was an endless bumpy ride. I was upstairs with the kids keeping them entertained with Noddy, and was thoroughly shaken at the end. But it was worth it - a beautiful walk though the silent forests. All the birds had flown South so the silence was really overwhelming - until the Van Belle kids arrive! The moss was thick and soft, and we balanced carefully over logs placed in the swamps. Oops, there went Anneke! Oops, there went Eva! We both had a boot full of freezing mud, but made a big joke of it as we sloshed along, and tried not to think of how we were going to dry the stockings. Anneke was fantastic: she didn't complain at all, and walked a good steady pace there and back. Six kilometres is a long way for a four year old! It was in fact difficult to get her to stop when we had to wait for Jonathan. At the same time she was observant about the world around her, or we became immersed in stories: ones I told or the ones she invented.

The hut was lovely, situated in a little clearing of golden grass. Jean-Paul quickly made a fire and we had tea and lunch. The parents were very drowsy afterwards and wanted a snooze - a sure way of ensuring a burst of hyperactivity in the children! I took Anneke to the hanging bridge. It wasn't as spectacular as the one in Norway, but still lots of fun!

All too soon it was time to go, so we cleared the debris of fish and yoghurt off the tables and set off. It was much warmer, and we did not need our jackets or gloves. Up to now the temperature has been around freezing: a little bit above during the day and a little bit below during the night. Because there was hardly any wind it was bearable - but dress up when you cycle!

After the bumpy ride back we went to Muonio for water and some take-aways - I certainly did not feel like cooking that night. There was a big batch of new snowmobiles standing outside the garage. In South Africa you wouldn't see unguarded, mobile property parked like that! I tried to phone my parents from Muonio, but did not have enough change.

Feeling good after a lovely day together, we drove back to Kajanki for a good night's rest.

MONDAY 27/9/93

A day neither of us wished to repeat!

It started off cloudy and cold - and with another wet bed. After Jean-Paul left, I did the washing, messing with buckets outside - the dirt road soon turned to mud, which the kids all walked inside the van. They ran over a newly ploughed field and got filthy, then discovered a swinging bench in a garden where I had to chase them away. To crown it all, Jonathan fell flat in the mud I had created with my washing, and he did not find his mother overly sympathetic! I wrung the washing out as best I could, but it was still dripping all over the van. It went in and out of the van about ten times a day and took three to four days to dry: I now look at my washing machine and washing lines at home in a new and appreciative light!

I drove to Muonio, met Jean-Paul briefly along the way, who requested that I buy a map for him for the next cross-country stint. In Muonio I tanked diesel, went shopping - no maps there however. I then dragged the kids through the town, trying to locate a place that sold maps - and finally found them at the garage where I had tanked! After waiting my turn to be served and careful scrutiny of the maps offered for sale, I had to turn back empty-handed after all: only two kilometres of the track Jean-Paul wanted to run was on one map, and they were terribly expensive. We eventually got back to the van again. I put the washing inside and drove off to the bridge over the Muonionjoki that forms the border between Finland and Sweden. On the way there I picked up my first and last hitch-hiker: it was 11h30 and he was as drunk as a lord and making advances. I literally kicked him out of the van!

At the border I met a furious and frozen Jean-Paul - I was twenty minutes late. In response I burst into tears - this was the last straw, after trying so hard to do everything well. So we found a quiet spot along the river to have lunch, and afterwards Jean-Paul took the kids out on the bike - he needed to reconnoitre the route anyway. This was my first break alone for three weeks. I was discovering what being a second is - you are definitely not a first! The sun broke through and warmed up the van - I read the Bible and messed a little with water paints. I had had dreams of developing my water painting skills during this trip, but realised by now that this would be impossible. All too soon the family returned, Jean-Paul in a hurry to start as it was 16h00 already. He wanted to follow an old snowmobile track that ran along the river, and was much shorter than the roundabout route the road took. Although it was marked on the map, the local population was very vague about it - not an encouraging sign. Snowmobile tracks also tended to be very marshy, but none of this deterred Jean-Paul. I dropped Jean-Paul at the border, went to the last spot where I could meet him - an impossible parking spot - got a signature from a young couple whom Jean-Paul had asked advice about the track and cleaned the fridge. Saw Jean-Paul briefly, then he was off again: "Don't worry if you don't see me tonight, I'll stay in a hut!"
Very reassuring!

I did a bus-stop route to Parkenäs. The kids, who are normally the best of friends, were fighting all the way. Parkenäs turned out to be no more than a farm at the end of a dirt track. I felt a bit bad about parking there, but luckily four men arrived to investigate and I could explain why I was here in very broken Swedish. They agreed to me staying there. I took the kids out for a walk to cure their bickering spirits. A frisky spaniel puppy accompanied us to the delight of the children, with much high-pitched squealing: an embarrassing amount of noise if you have just been granted hospitality by total strangers!

I cooked supper - we ate, I washed the kids and put them to bed. Jonathan loves sleeping on my stomach lately, which means that I have to do some careful squirming to extract myself. As I washed the dishes the light failed once again: I just managed to shower when the power finally gave in. So I mopped up in the dark and crawled into bed. Not that I could sleep. The moon was almost full in a clear sky. Was Jean-Paul attempting to run in the dark? Yet again, I committed my foolhardy husband to the Lord - quite a task, looking after that one!

I must have fallen asleep as I was startled into confused wakefulness by the sound of a car, and headlights. It was 12h20, and Jean-Paul was arriving! What a run, what a story. I just held him very close and thanked God that he was safely in my arms again. Although we were both tired neither of us could sleep!

TUESDAY 28/9/93
After the ordeals of the previous day we declared it a rest morning. We went to a picnic spot Jean-Paul had passed the previous night. Scandinavia really has wonderful picnic spots - tables, benches, fireplaces, tourist information, toilets, sometimes chopped wood and a "raststugor" or rest room - all more or less clean and in good condition. This site even had a pit latrine for the handicapped! Jonathan was very keen to make a fire - as it was very cold, Jean-Paul obliged. I gave the van a good clean, including removing the mattresses from the top bed. Although the heater was now working it was still very damp, especially "upstairs" above the cab. Jonathan had wet his bed again - we would have to return to the use of disposable nappies when we could buy them somewhere! I certainly did not need this added stress. Our lunch consisted of assorted crackers, and then I took the kids for a bicycle ride so that Jean-Paul could get some rest. We found a steep sand bank to run down and crawl up, and then a potholed little forest road that just went on and on. It was full of reindeer tracks - we looked hard but didn't see any reindeer! There was something magic about these tracks, compelling one to carry on and on. The fir trees here were the normal size: north of Enontekio they were still dwarfs. The forests were a feast for the eyes: the contrast of golden birch against dark fir, all set in a carpet of moss in many hues of brown and green, adorned by bright red creepers. Clearings of yellow grass here and there created islands of pale light. The children were also fascinated by the many types of toadstool that grow here.

I felt invigorated after the ride and the kids were both asleep. Jean-Paul decided to go for a short run - and I cheated him out of a kilometre by waiting for him too early! We ran out of water that night - didn't have a drop left!

WEDNESDAY 30/9/93

It was a good day. The children were generally impossible for one day, and then really good for about four to five days. They had adjusted very well to living in a camper van: always on the move, with little space to call their own and no peer group to play with. Although everything changed around them the whole time, the family remained constant and we had a daily routine, which gave them the stability they needed. Both had their quirks: Anneke, for instance, refused to use the camping car's toilet and preferred the potty. Washing sessions were disliked extremely, but a real shower at a campsite was a treat. At night, our sleeping arrangements varied. We tried to let the kids sleep upstairs and Jean-Paul and I downstairs, but very often it ended up with a parent and child in each bed or even four in one bed! Jean-Paul often got into bed with them while I did the washing up - to get the kids to sleep, he explained. He was usually the first "child" to be asleep! And the stories that were told while they were cuddled together under the blankets entertained me as well while I was cluttering about with the dishes in the semi-darkness: "The reindeer who could not stand the cold", "The river who could not find his way to the sea", and many, many others.

But there we were, parked at the side of the road, with no water. I tried to get some at a nearby campsite. The owner offered me everything: a hut, electricity, everything except water. I washed up in river water and stopped at a picnic site along the river for a coffee break. Jean-Paul had found a rear-view mirror and a triangular reflector along the road: the latter became Jonathan's dearly beloved toy for the entire trip! I drove past Aareavaara to our first stopping place. Anneke loved the name of Aareavaara - so many "A's"! Jean-Paul had spoken to a lady in the village who had been washing her car, and she had obliged by giving us some water. While I was filling the car - it took ages - I tried out my newly learned Swedish, and found out that everybody except we had switched over to winter time! That gave us an hour to play with. We went back to the picnic site by the river for lunch. Jean-Paul settled down for his siesta while the rest of us went on another idyllic bicycle ride. Even though the bicycle had cost us quite a lot (380 dutch guilders for a gearless, second hand bike and two kiddie's seats) I was so glad to have it. It gave Jean-Paul an opportunity to rest, it enabled the kids and I to get out of the claustrophobic confines of the camping car and I got some exercise too. But even more important was that it brought me in contact with the world around me in a way it cannot happen when you are behind a windscreen. I travelled slower, stopped to look at things, could use my ears and my nose as well as just using my eyes, could look around me more and venture up small tracks - my bicycle rides recharged my mental batteries!

Jean-Paul started late on his evening run - it meant he had to run in the dark. I overshot a parking place at the limit of the day's run, and tried to turn in a tiny run-off too near to a bend in the road. Shucks, there comes a car! I rushed the reversing - and one rear wheel was off the tarred surface. I tried to pull up, but one back wheel just did not give enough traction to pull a large van up the hill. So what could I do but pray, stick my hazard lights on, get out the car and wave my arms? And behold: the first car stopped, the man spoke reasonable English, got a chain out of the boot and pulled me onto the road again. I thanked him profusely while he signed the book, but I still had the shakes. All the time Anneke was calling from upstairs: "Mommy, look, I've cut a twirly!" For once Mommy was not interested in her creations!

I parked the car and when Jean-Paul arrived we drove back to a little hut we had seen by a river. It was a "Grillstugor": a lovely little hexagonal log cabin with a fire-place in the middle, camp chair and even a wrought-iron candle stick. Jean-Paul got a fire going while I finished cooking pea soup. I hopefully arranged the three-day old washing by the fire. Unfortunately Jonathan had been supplying me with a plethora of wet pants, probably due to the cold. We had a warm, satisfying meal by the fireside, after which I got the kids into bed and did the washing-up while Jean-Paul still enjoyed dreaming by the fire with a glass of wine...

THURSDAY 1/10/93

It was a lovely day again, and Pajala was within reach. The distance indicators for Pajala had started at the Swedish border, and the distance marked on them was decreasing slowly. We ran through it and past it in the morning, and returned to do some shopping. Jean-Paul went shopping while I played with the children on a playground with the most amazing spherical jungle gym, full of hoops and balls and spiral connections: a bit of sculpture in its own right, and very inviting to clamber on. Jean-Paul came back empty of pocket and full of shopping. We parked by the church and enjoyed the afternoon sunshine in this quiet town. Peace radiated from this place - but it was probably very boring to live in! Our two noisy children ran up and down on the lawns, then enjoyed an ice-cream on the steps of the house of the Lord. All of a sudden the afternoon was over. Jean-Paul only started running at 16h30, which meant that most of the run was in the dark again. I saw that his reflector belt was really no good - we had to buy a new one somewhere. In Sweden most pedestrians wear a reflector at night, and all children's overclothing have a reflective strip. An idea to promote in South Africa, where there are so many pedestrian accidents. A reflector attached to a cord and pinned to one's clothing should not cost that much!

I parked in a layby and cooked supper. When I cooked, all windows of the van were open despite complaints of the cold to try and avoid buildup of condensation. We remained in that layby for the night, but could notice that the traffic density was higher than up north. Every time a truck roared by the van shook. Next time we would look for a quieter spot!

FRIDAY 2/10/94

We woke up to thick mist, and it stayed misty throughout the day. Our routine was established by then, and the days flowed into one another. The weather was chilly, but not too cold. We were starting to acclimatise, and when we saw a temperature display we were surprised to see that it was only one or two degrees. It definitely felt warmer than further north!

We had tea at what seemed a deserted road maintenance camp, but with some interesting features: traditional turf-roofed houses. There was a strange little house, the size of a large dog kennel, built on poles. Steps made out of a single tree-trunk led up to it. The children had a wonderful time climbing up and down!

Lunch was at another idyllic spot: a picnic site by the river just north of the little sawmill village of Teurajärvi. Jean-Paul made a fire while I made some soup and the kids explored - including the very soggy snowmobile track nearby. It was a good feeling, enjoying our togetherness at beautiful spots like these.

After lunch the kids and I were off on the bike again. In one of the gardens of Teurajärvi someone had carved a whole family out of treetrunks: a taciturn granny and grandpa, two rather harried-looking parents and a whole brood of kids. Brightly painted, they seemed to pose for a family photograph.

I chose a little forest track - had I known that it was a hefty uphill climb I might have reconsidered! It ended at a lake. The golden birches whispered softly among the dark and silent firs. A little dinghy was moored on the side of the mirror-still water, and the distant shore was but a soft suggestion of more trees in the mist...

One the way back a footrest broke off Anneke's seat, a rusty second-hand number. We just had to do without it for the rest of the trip! Jean-Paul treated the kids to ice-cream with chocolate vermicelli and conjuring tricks. Anneke was very impressed with the fact that her daddy can cut through a piece of rope and fix it again!

We carried on. I stopped at the shop for bread, a camera film and a signature, and noticed that my Swedish was improving slightly. The kids got a little box of juice each from the friendly shopkeeper - a very big treat.

We parked away from the road this time in a little forest clearing that looked too risky to me. I did not dare to venture onto it with the camping car, but Jean-Paul gave it a chance: over the sticks and through the mud!

SATURDAY 3/10/93

The mist was still there, but a chilly wind made it a lot colder. Nevertheless we were excited, as we were going to cross the polar circle at last. It was the kids' "impossible day" again, which was only aggravated by the fact that Anneke's favourite smurf glass broke. She was inconsolable, and we promised her that we would try to find another pretty glass for her in Överkalix - smurf glasses could only be bought in Belgium! By the time Jean-Paul reached the van for his morning coffee break I had renamed it "the scream mobile" and was trying very hard not to scream myself. We carried on to the polar circle (a big blue noticeboard in a parking place) and dutifully took some pictures and a video. We had run 707 kilometres to get there, and were both impressed by the huge expanse of land north of it. Even though the area is sparsely populated, there are still so many people who live and work there; ordinary lives lived in a land of summer midnight sun and winter darkness. We were glad to have been there, and glad to move on - there was still so much ahead of us!

On the way to Överkalix we passed a rubbish dump, and backtracked to dump our toilet tank contents there. A friendly man arrived in a tractor full of kids, and proceeded to make an enormous fire. Jonathan was enthralled - a tractor and a fire!

The man told us that the year before the snow was thick at this time of the year, so we were lucky. We seemed to be running just ahead of the winter for some time already - how long are we going to keep that up?

In Överkalix the parking lot/campsite was full, and the price exorbitant. As there was a market in town it was full too. However, it seemed to be the only parking lot in town. We sauntered through the market and eyed the wares that were much too expensive to buy, then went to the local supermarket for necessities - which included disposable nappies! At last the nightly stress of fiddling with shifting waterproof sheets and the tension of expecting a wet bed was over, and Jonathan does not seem to have developed any deepseated psychological problems due to shifting back to night nappies. We did not find a glass for Anneke, nor a good reflector for Jean-Paul's night running.

Exhausted from dragging the kids through the market and shops, we decided to go to Jokkfall to see if the campsite was open. Jokkfall lies just north of the polar circle, where the Kalix river tumbles down into a gorge. A bridge spans the waterfall: looking down onto that seething maelstrom was truly impressive! The campsite was closed. Both of us were tired, so Jean-Paul decided to give me a siesta after lunch. Never again: he returned exhausted, and still had to run! We drove back to the polar circle and Jean-Paul ran to Överkalix in the dark. I didn't like it, but couldn't convince him to give it a miss and run the next day, which would be a rest day anyway. Little did I know that he would run in the dark every day for nearly the rest of the trip!

As usual, I stopped halfway, cooked spaghetti while the kids, under my feet as usual, cut "spaghetti" out of the cardboard box. I got the kids washed and pyjama'ed despite severe protest. Jean-Paul emerged out of the dark for a sit-down, a quick cup of coffee and a snack and was off again. I repacked the food in the cupboard and the dishes in the sink and drove off to Överkalix. Luckily Jonathan fell asleep - one less to worry about! I parked in the campsite/parking lot: there was no "no entry" sign, and as long as we don't use the facilities I assumed we could stay here. Anneke fell asleep quickly after some food and a story. I took a shower, and for once the power held out. I got the bed ready for Jean-Paul, and he literally fell into it as he arrived. His utter exhaustion proved to us how important his siesta was - he was not allowed to skip it again in a hurry!

SUNDAY 3/10/93
Ahhh - after a long week we all needed that rest day, just to relax together and have fun. But what could one do in a one-horse town such as Överkalix? All tourist attractions were closed. We toured the surroundings, looking for an open campsite with a washing machine, but found none. A bit discouraged by it all, we eventually found a tractor museum that was open - right up Jonathan's street, we thought, but in actual fact he was overwhelmed by so many tractors. The enthusiastic owner showed us round, and demonstrated noisily that they were all in working order, even his oldest model from 1910.

We found a pretty spot along the Kalix river to make a fire and have lunch, re-organise our food cache and other little jobs. Jean-Paul connected a plug he had bought in Överkalix to the CD player - at last we had music, even if the connection was of a very tenuous nature! I did some essential washing, as we obviously could not rely on campsites. We drove to Kalix by the sea to look for a laundromat, but even this sizeable town did not have one. In Sweden everyone is rich enough to own a washing machine - laundromats don't exist, even though the word occurred in my phrase book. We did find a good fast food place though, tastefully decorated too. Chips were the order of the day - Sunday seemed to be designated as our junk food day! The children both got a box with a balloon and a puzzle, which kept them entertained while we drove back to Överkalix. We decided to change our parking spot for the night, and parked outside the church - it was much quieter there too!

We had been wondering the whole day why a small town such as this should need parking meters everywhere. Now we went to investigate and found out that the "parking meters" were in fact electric sockets - to keep your car's radiator and engine block from freezing in the middle of winter! Needless to say, they were locked.

MONDAY 4/10/93

Jean-Paul wanted to run to Töre - that was 54 kilometres away: a long way, but having reached it, we would be at the sea at last! After the rest day he felt strong again, and ran 25 kilometres in the morning. At our halfway stop I took the children for a little walk in the forest. Jonathan was fascinated by the falling leaves. Jean-Paul arrived for coffee and was off again: I sometimes felt like a fast food van!

Jean-Paul discovered another perfect lunch spot by the river, away from the road. Soon we had a fire going and all our goodies spread on the table, with nothing or nobody to disturb us: life is good! Anneke amused herself with the strange, spherical fungi that grew here - if stamped upon, they released their spores in a little yellow cloud. Jonathan was frightened by it initially, then started stamping wildly too, but rather disillusioned that the ground didn't smoke under his feet. Jean-Paul settled down for his siesta and I saddled up with the kids. The first little track I chose was impossible to ride, and the second one very hilly and potholed - but we enjoyed it. The track was so covered with leaves that I could not see the potholes. The bumps delighted the children no end, but I was a little apprehensive of developing a puncture. Not only would it be a long walk back to the van, which would subsequently make us late, but we didn't have a puncture repair kit yet. The track ended at a farmhouse - and just there it began to rain. Uh-uh, more wet clothes... at least the kids had their rain pants on! We were really wet by the time we got back, where I woke my dear husband up from a deep sleep and took the washing rack inside, complete with vert wet washing.

We drove back all the way to Svartbyn to photograph and video Jean-Paul running over the bridge before carrying on to Töre. The worst time of the day hit hard again: it was dark, raining and the road was fairly busy. Jean-Paul was somewhere out there, but I had to concentrate on my driving with two fretting, tired kids next to me, then find parking and conjure up yet another meal with the kids getting more tired and more fretful by the minute. I fed and "watered" a wet Jean-Paul who arrived out of the dark, fed and washed the kids and continued to Töre.

In Töre I stopped at a garage to refuel and ask for water, and got my hand and sleeve covered with diesel in the process - more washing. Jean-Paul arrived and manoeuvred the van to the tap, which is often a tricky business. I directed him and forgot to look up, and the top of the van bumped into the roof gutter. We shamefacedly went inside and apologised profusely, but the owner waved it off. We parked at a playground: instant entertainment for the children the next day! That evening I treated Jean-Paul to a good massage...

TUESDAY 5/10/93

We were woken up by the steady patter of rain and rhythmic banging and thudding, and discovered that right next to us was an enormous construction site. Cranes, lorries, front end loaders: more entertainment for the children, who wanted to go outside straight away. Thank goodness I had made all that raingear before we left! The kids stood there, hand in hand, and watched in awe as a lorry dumped sand nearby, after which a front end loader flattened it - and left them glorious mud at the side to play with. We have found that our kids are very involved with the elements: give them earth, fire and water, preferably in some sort of mixture, and they will be happy for hours.

We had breakfast, which was the usual chaos of yoghurt and crackers and coffee. To our surprise the rain stopped! Jean-Paul got going, which always took some effort in the morning. I cleaned out the van and let the kids play outside a little more - they were having a glorious time on the playground so I settled down to write. Then we went shopping. We found some basic necessities like over-ripe bananas at 5Kr/kg, but no reflector. I bought some coffee mugs - we only had small cups in the van, which both of us found rather frustrating. On the way back to the van I saw a card-operated telephone, but the shop that sells the cards only opened at 11h00. I really longed to phone my parents, but had to be off to meet Jean-Paul . The E4 highway turned out to be one massive construction site, and quite busy. Once we crossed the polar circle we really hit civilisation with a bang!

Oh dear: in front of us was a big red arrow, telling me to detour. I was unsure what to do - taking the detour might mean missing Jean-Paul ! Just then a car approached from the other side, convincing me that it was passable. There I went - mud, rocks and machines all around, and one foolhardy camping car. No Jean-Paul however, which caused the tension to rise: where is he? Should I have turned off? The kilometres crept on and approached 20 and my desperation grew. Aha! At last I spotted the familiar yellow dot in the distance, running strongly, running well. I stopped at the end of the road bypass: Jean-Paul decided to stop for the morning and jumped in. We had lunch by the river in Råneå. The sun caught the little village church and brilliantly highlighted the gilded cross on the spire against a backdrop of dark, angry rain clouds - almost a prophetic vision. The kids and I explored the town on the bicycle, looking for a playground, postcards and a reflector belt. We only found a playground, where the kids had fun on a roundabout they could propel themselves by means of a lever, while mummy felt awful with tummy cramps - too many cheap bananas at lunchtime! There seemed to be a lot of elderly people in the town, and the town planning and architecture was certainly geared for less able people. Many elderly people make use of a two-handled device that looks a bit like a triangular child's scooter, and they certainly get around with them. I watched one old lady zoom downhill on one with quite a speed. Watch out guys, here comes granny!

We cycled back to the van, backtracking through as many pedestrian tunnels as possible. Oh yes, Jonathan insisted that I must ride with the light on - more exercise for mummy! We went back to the E4. The construction works were over, but the road was busy, with little opportunity to stop. At eight kilometres there was an information board by a picnic site where I photographed the birches against the evening sky, but Jean-Paul wanted his coffee break at eleven kilometres. Unfortunately the next layby was at seventeen kilometres ! Jean-Paul was exhausted when he finally got there - luckily he had only four more kilometres to run. This time I met him at exactly the right spot. There was a turnoff: I turned in to stop and pick him up, but lo and behold, a tanker turns in after me. I was exhausted, and almost drove the car in a ditch as I parked the van for the night - never could see well in the dark. At least the food tasted good!

WEDNESDAY 6/10/93

We had been living in the camping van for a month, and all was well except for the washing. The bag bulged again and I did my best to ignore it, looked at my clothes and wore them for another day, even though my jersey smelled of diesel!

A very positive factor was that we were all healthy, despite the cold and the damp. Not a sniffle was heard in the camping car! It just proved that colds are spread by contact with people, not walking barefoot, draughts or anything like that. I still could not keep Jonathan's socks on, although he now insisted on having his boots on before going outside.

The day dawned bright and sparkling, the low sun conjuring up a million diamonds all over. The moss was beautiful: bright green, grey green and dark green predominated. There were puddles outside, and the kids had fun with a spade and bucket. Anneke came in with wet, muddy feet and wet pants in spite of wearing boots and rainpants - how did she do it? I was about to scold her when she said,"Mama, ben ik nu zielig?" (It does not translate well: "Mummy, am I to be pitied now?" does not have the same pathos.) Both parents had a sudden fit of the shakes...

We went back to the E4 - the awful highway that runs along the coast of Sweden, that we would still have to follow for an awfully long time. I found a good parking spot at 12,5 kilometres - puddles included. I washed the back of the van which was no luxury after driving through muddy construction sites. I stopped Jonathan from chewing bits of wood he found in a puddle. Jean-Paul arrived and found a funnel, which we took with us - it would be very useful in Spain! We all enjoyed the sunshine. I even felt hot! It was about 7° C... Then it was time to carry on again.

I could not find an suitable parking spot again, and stopped 1,5 kilometres too far at a lorry checking spot, where I asked the (same?) policemen to sign the witness book. I turned and drove back slowly, to meet Jean-Paul at exactly the right spot - "howzat!"

We went back to Luleå. Anneke loved the name, and kept singing hallelujah! We tried very hard to find a launderette. I asked in my best Swedish "Vär är snabtvätten?" only to find out that there had been one there two years ago...

We tried the campsite, miles out of town. The owner was a runner himself and very sympathetic, and allowed us to use the laundry facilities free of charge. After we spent ages trying to figure out how the washing machine opened, Jean-Paul disappeared to town to try and buy reflectors and arrange a newspaper interview. There was just too much washing - it would have filled four or five loads so I did two-thirds by hand. At least I had hot water on tap, and I could spin-dry it afterwards. The kids disappeared to the playground and I yo-yo'ed in between, scared to leave them without supervision. Eventually the pile of washing was done, but not dry. The kids got hungry and tired and subsequently naughty, causing havoc in the adjacent ablution block. I was hungry and tired too, and the sun sank lower and lower. At last Jean-Paul arrived and we rushed out for him to do his evening run. He set off at 16h30: at least he had good reflectors now! During our first stop I did my best to reduce a pile of damp washing into washing hanging out to dry - I had to be pretty creative in finding "hanging spots". Our van looked like a second-hand clothes shop on wheels - MMI T-shirts going cheaply! (Our local car dealer had given Jean-Paul some T-shirts and a tracksuit for the trip.)

I cooked yet another spaghetti meal and did all the other "first evening stop chores" before we moved on again. At least Jonathan fell asleep on the way!

[A quick aside: Jonathan had mastered climbing up the stairs to the top bed, but not down. So he sat on the edge of the bed "counting" as a prompt that he wanted to be lifted down: a very insistent "un-tun-tun-tun-dee!", the length of the "tun-tun-tun" in direct relationship to the urgency at which he wanted to get down. After which he would often ascend the ladder straight away again...]

At 23 kilometres' distance I could only park away from the road. I was afraid that Jean-Paul would not be able to see the van in the dark, so walked back to wait for him. He arrived at 19h30, and was very glad to see me - and I him! We drove around to find that elusive quiet parking spot without impinging on anybody's privacy, and decided at last to park at the church at Norfjärden. A lovely custom of the Swedes is not to draw their curtains at night. In stead they have decorative curtains with one or more small lights hanging in the window, which gives a warm, friendly look to the villages and towns we passed through.

We ate, I massaged Jean-Paul and he was soon snoring away, while I sat up bleary-eyed, performing my duty as chronicler and rehanging the washing over the heater every now and then...

THURSDAY 7/10/93

I woke up early, and used the time to write something in Jonathan's diary. The rest of the family woke up and we leisurely watched the village come to life: the post arriving (all the lifting and carrying was done mechanically by the postmistress), and a leaf-sucking machine driving round and round. After the glorious weather of the day before it was cold and windy, and soon started snowing. While we were having breakfast there was a knock on the door: an enthusiastic lady pastor form the church where we were parked came to greet us, and stayed a while to talk to us. The human contact warmed us.

We drove back to the E4. It was awful weather to run in, but at least Jean-Paul had the wind at the back. I needed to fetch water again - at the first garage the tap was frozen, at the second I had to use watering cans: the slow and heavy method! We also needed to get some cash, and did so at a very child-friendly bank, that provided a Lego-table for the children. I could hardly get them to leave with me!

Jean-Paul was going to take a side road just before Piteå. There was a confusion of road works at the turnoff, and no indication as to which was the real road, so I take a wrong turnoff. It took me three kilometres along a potholed road to realise that the sea was on the wrong side...

I turned in a impossible spot, drove back and this time chose the right road amidst the confusion. The rest of the way was not so easy to find either, but I drove through Piteå and carried on and on, wondering what I had to do if I did not meet Jean-Paul . Was I pleased to see my yellow runner through the trees on a side road! He was very impressed with my navigational ability for once. To be honest, I believe that some guidance from above also helped! There were times when it was difficult being driver and navigator as well. I could not stop at each intersection to consult the map without endangering myself and others.

After re-victualising Jean-Paul he decided to carry on for another four kilometres . We spent lunchtime in a deserted holiday centre with the most amazing playground: slides and tubes in all shapes and sizes, turrets, climbing frames, little dexterity games hidden away here and there - too much to take in, and it all was linked into one amazing structure! It was a pity that it was too cold and wet to really enjoy it.

We went back to Piteå. Jean-Paul took a rest, and I searched the shops to find a photocopier, a post office and a telephone - it was getting imperative to contact my parents. I was directed to a special "telebutikk", where I could phone South Africa. The quality of the line was terrible - I tried twice, but my parents' voices appeared and disappeared. The children were getting very restless after the buildup of speaking to Granny and Grandpa. And I almost fainted when they charged me Kr220! But the most important thing was that I had been able to contact them and tell them that we were well, and vice versa.

I cycled back to the van, and Jean-Paul went off to buy some additional reflectors. By the time he came back it was dusk, so the evening run was once more in the dark and the rain along the busy E4. I parked the van in an impossible spot again - even Jean-Paul wondered how I got in there! Not surprisingly, there was great reluctance on his part to go off into the rain again. I waited for an hour and drove on slowly. The new reflecting vest could be seen from very far: the two bright bobbing stripes would become a familiar sight. We drove off into a little country lane to find parking for the night. And throughout the night it dripped, dripped, dripped...

FRIDAY 8/10/93

It had stopped raining! On our way back to the E4 we were yet again held up by road works, but this time we were all entertained by the versatility of a digging machine. It dug, stamped and scooped to prepare a place for us to pass through - which we did soon enough, with a friendly hoot and a wave to the operator! Thus the morning's entertainment was supplied again.

Jean-Paul was not long out of the van when the sleet started again. Anneke was in a creative mood - at our stops for the day we were entertained by finger puppet shows, and after reading Noddy to her she did a fair drawing of the little guy. After the morning run we went through to Skellefteå: Jean-Paul to find a map and new connections for our gas bottles, and me to shop and try and arrange a newspaper interview. In Scandinavia the gas bottles are different to those in Belgium, so we could not obtain gas here with our present bottles. Hurrah for European unity!

Going shopping with my two children was often an ordeal. Why were there no other noisy kids in Scandinavian supermarkets? To them everything was new, different and exciting, thus worth squealing about as Mum hunted among the unfamiliar shelves looking for affordable wares. If it rained, a shopping trip was their only outing after being cooped up in the van all day, so they would be extra lively. I had my fill of baleful stares! The supermarkets tended to be overheated too, with the result that the kids started to undress, so I would arrive at the till with a bundle of jackets, jerseys, boots and socks among my merchandise - often none too clean! But the hardest trial would be if the supermarket provided kiddie trolleys. They would zoom off happily, Jonathan bumping into shelves and other customers, refusing my guiding hand - one quickly learns to apologise in many languages! They would argue over what purchases must go into which trolley, packing and repacking. Jonathan, mind the eggs! And this all in an unfamiliar shop, where I would still have to locate the bread and cheese. Never did I think I would ever be homesick for my own familiar stores at home...

Believe it or not, yet again I survived a shopping trip. I loaded our purchases into the van and then traipsed off to the office of the "Västerbotten Forum". The journalist was very keen once he had got the gist of the story. The children were very good at first - all Jonathan did was take off his boots and socks, which was quickly followed by my explanation that for most of the year kids go barefoot in South Africa. Then the children became bored: Jonathan started putting the hydroponic clay nodules into the plant's watering system, then they started crawling under the conference table. The interview ended quickly! And I was glad for it too, as Jonathan wet his pants just as we got back to the van - it would have been the cherry on top if that had happened in the newspaper house! When Jean-Paul returned after a fruitless search for gas bottle connections he also went for an interview, and returned with journalist and photographer for a photo session. The van looked as if a storm had struck but the children look angelic - a pity we never saw these photos, as we had run out of the area by the time the article was published.

It was getting dark already and Jean-Paul had missed his siësta, so we rushed back to the E4. I parked the van after twelve kilometres and started making pancake batter with the kids. The road was very busy, probably as it was Friday evening, and also very wet. Presently Jean-Paul arrived, exhausted, wet, and really scared of the traffic. Normally Swedish drivers were consideration itself, but on Friday night they wanted to get to their weekend destination and put their foot down on the accelerator. When Jean-Paul saw that I was making pancakes, it even added more motivation to quit for the day. We search for a quiet spot - anything as long as it is away from the E4! A van-sized clearing along a dirt road served us fine, and it was not long before we all turned in...

SATURDAY 9/10/93

No dripping noises on the van when we woke up, which cheered us immediately. Jean-Paul was keen to make up for the distance he had not run the previous day, so wanted his first stretch to be longer. I parked in Skellefteå at a plethora of big shops and garages, and filled up with diesel and water. Yet again there was a non-compatible hose connection, so I got very wet holding two bits of hose together. I parked the van and went in search of the "Norbotten Kuriren", the newspaper with whom Jean-Paul had an interview in Luleå. I dragged the kids about for an hour, and all I got was wet feet.

Jean-Paul took ages to arrive at the agreed meeting point, too: he had taken a "short cut" through a residential area, which proved to be the long way round...

After we had consumed the remainder of the pancakes, Jean-Paul left and we trekked past all the garages again search of the playground he had recommended. It was worth it: there was a wooden train with a real bell. The grassy slopes and the pedestrian tunnels under the adjacent road were also a big hit. On the way back Anneke fell into a very muddy puddle - I had to take a muddy, wet child with muddy, wet clothes back to the camping car!

I met Jean-Paul just past Långviken - he was running really well! We drove back to the other side of Skellefteå, where Jean-Paul showed us some prehistoric burial mounds: heaps of slippery stone lying in a misty forest. After lunch we went back to town to try and find a one-hour photo developing place and a "Norbotten Kuriren", but we had no luck at locating either. Yet again it was getting dark and Jean-Paul had missed his siësta, so we drove off on the road to Burträsk. It was good to be away fro the E4 for a little while, back on quiet country roads!

I dropped Jean-Paul . Although we were tired, there was excitement in the air - that evening Jean-Paul would have run more than a thousand kilometres ! A fifth of the journey was covered - it started to look impressive on a small scale map of Europe. We were doing well despite the tendon injury in Kautokeino, from which he had recovered completely, and other minor and major discomforts. But there was still a long, long way to go!

A disadvantage of the little country roads was that there was little off the road parking available, so I guiltily sneaked into a bus stop near a farmhouse, presuming it would not be in much demand on Saturday night. I went to collect food from our cache in the back, and noticed that the dark was very, very dark. How did Jean-Paul run in this? When Jean-Paul arrived he went to ask for a signature at the farmhouse, as I had felt a bit embarrassed about asking for one with the two children on tow at night. Jean-Paul stayed inside for twenty minutes, and came back with the farmer and his son, who were both very interested in our effort. We offered them some rooibos tea, which they said they liked, and then we continue. Jean-Paul ran off, the farmers went back and I waited a little while so that I could meet him halfway. He was running in the pitch-black, but running strongly. To my delight a parking spot presented itself at exactly the right place. When Jean-Paul arrived we drove to Burträsk and parked near the church, on the shores of the lake, and there celebrated the successful completion of the first thousand kilometres with spaghetti (what else?) and a bottle of alcohol-free champagne, so that the children and I could join in!

SUNDAY 10/10/93

We were woken up by the church bells ringing. I read to Anneke, who very much wanted to go to church. I explained to her that we would not understand anything, so we read her Bible story book and prayed together for all her friends at home instead.

With embarrassment we noticed that our toilet tank was full and that it overflowed with each flush. We cleaned the street and went in search of that sandy, secluded spot, away from farms or running water... After emptying the tank Jean-Paul 's desire for breakfast was much abated!

We drove back to Burträsk and parked at a playground, where we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while the children played outside in the cold. We drove back to the church, where I gave the van its good weekly clean and did the washing, while Jean-Paul went cycling with the kids. During lunchtime Jean-Paul was tired and the kids squabbly, so we decided to go for a drive. Jonathan fell asleep quickly, but I had been reading "Noddy" for an hour and Anneke was still awake! We drove through the longest birch lane in Europe, but I am afraid it looked just like any other birch lane!

We parked at the site where the circular saw had been invented in 1920, and Jonathan woke up. Jean-Paul made a lovely fire in the fireplace and settled down in the van to write while I amused the children, dancing like a red indian round the fire. We were writing a letter to family, friends and supporters back home - as we had done a thousand kilometres it was a good moment to do so.

While I cooked supper, Jean-Paul amused the children with conjuring tricks. Supper was by candlelight - the power had failed once again. Anneke "conjured" her macaroni away - until we found it on the floor. When we asked her why she did not conjure it away by eating it, she said disdainfully,"But then I haven't conjured it away. It comes out the other side!" Some logic!

It was a lovely family together-time until Jean-Paul went to sleep with the children. I sat at the table, writing deep into the night, finishing the letter and bringing my diary up to date. The candles were burning very low when I finally turned in...

MONDAY 11/10/93

This was a day in which God's grace abounded in a bountiful measure!

We woke up to snow: no, not sleet or snow that melted as soon as it touched the ground, but thickly falling snow that turned our parking spot in the forest into a wonderland. After breakfast I took a little walk on my own (ahum - with toilet roll and spade) and enjoyed the silence and wonder of it. The kids came outside and we had fun, until they started howling with cold hands! The secondary road we were on did not get cleared, so we inched our way to the starting point just north of Burträsk. We had arranged to meet at a quarry about six kilometres away, so I popped into Burträsk for a quick bit of shopping, only to have to person in front of me at the cashier take 20 minutes. I also needed to fill up with diesel and water, which took longer than I expected...

What a morning! For the first time in my life I run through freshly fallen snow: I have walked, cycled, hiked, driven through virgin snow, but never run. What a feeling! Many times I stop just to absorb everything. I take a tiny farm track to bypass Burträsk. Every now and then some more light snowflakes drift down, but they seem to evaporate as they touch my tracksuit. Before I know it, I am at the agreed meeting point. Eva is not here yet, but she is probably driving extra carefully in the snow. I leave big and clear messages in the ten centimetres deep layer of snow.

After my shopping, I went back to the quarry. I slowed down at the quarry turn-off - and skidded in the snow. One wheel was off the road, and the van was stuck, but this time cars didn't stop. I tried to reverse, but nothing happened. We prayed. I tried to go forward: nothing again. We prayed. I tried to reverse, turning the wheel: yes, yes, yes! Thank you, Lord!

I inched my way carefully onto the virgin snow of the quarry, got rid of the tension, boiled water and tidied away the shopping while the children played outside. The snow was already much thicker than it had been that morning. I suddenly noticed a fuzzy set of footprints, and took out Jean-Paul 's shoe, which it seemed to match. I herded the children in the car to go looking for Jean-Paul - how much time had we wasted already?

I drove very, very slowly after the last scare, and each kilometre lasted forever. Ten kilometres passed and no Jean-Paul - maybe something had happened on the farm track he used to bypass Burträsk. I decided to turn around, and slowed down carefully. Not carefully enough though, for a heavy van with only four tyres on a snowbound road, and I skidded again!

There was no way to control the van. We slid all over the road, then the van ploughed into the verge and tilted to go down into the ditch. My children, my children! Cupboards flew open and strewed their contents over the van. Then, miraculously, the van righted itself and came to a halt - with all four wheels on the road. A deep tyre mark in the verge and my shaken spirits were the only testimonies of how close we had come to overturning into the ditch. How grateful I was that nothing had happened - and that the children were strapped in their safety seats! The only cupboard that had opened had been the clothes cupboard - for the rest not even a glass was broken.

But what now? Where was Jean-Paul in this snowy wilderness? When in doubt we had the ruling to stick to the last pre-organised parking spot - in this case the quarry. So turning very gingerly a little further on, I inched back, driving all the way to Burträsk to bypass the track he had taken a short cut on. We did not see him, so I drove past the quarry again to the next village in case he had passed while I was in Burträsk. I turned again, and drove to the quarry, where the snow had already obliterated our previous tracks. What now? I waited and anxiously studied the map. It is already past 12h00, and the end point of the mornings run was a little village called Bygdsiljum. I decided to drive there and ask at every shop whether they had seen Jean-Paul . Tensely I inched my way towards it - I was getting to know this terrible road well! I passed the skid marks again and gave thanks. I stopped at the first - and only - shop in the village, but before I could get out of the car a very anxious Jean-Paul opened the car door and hugged me tight:" You're safe, you're safe!" He had been sitting at the window of the local bar, watching the road all this time, wondering if he should contact the police and trying to envisage life without us.

I, true to character, burst into tears which released the morning's built-up tension. And then we decided to have a treat: a lunch at the local pub, with real meat! It also afforded us with an opportunity to recharge the video battery. During Jean-Paul 's siësta the children and I went to play in the snow, which by now was ten centimetres thick. It certainly added new aspects to conventional playground equipment! It was good to enjoy the snow after it had caused so much trouble for us.

Back to the camping car: an instant chaos erupted of children needing the potty, wet clothes and steaming chocolate milk. Jean-Paul had burned his glove in an attempt to dry it - it would mean one cold hand for the rest of the run. He left at 15h15 - a good time, but he wanted to follow another forest track and I insisted that it had to be light. I drove off immediately as well, and to my relief the road had been strewed. At the half-way stop I tried to locate Jean-Paul 's track without success. I also could not get rid of the waste water, as the bottom of the van was a thick layer of ice from the churned-up snow. Anneke was thrilled with all the icicles hanging on the van. Jean-Paul came, had some tea, tried the track I saw.

When offered the choice between 14 kilometres on proper road or only 9 kilometres on a forest track, which would you choose? But try as I may, I just cannot find the start of the track! Every little track I followed ended at a farmhouse. The more `wasted kilometres' I run trying to locate the start of this short-cut, the more I want to make up the lost time by actually finding this cursed track. But as dusk comes, the attractiveness of running nine kilometres in the complete darkness without back-up vehicle or other traffic is diminishing fast. So I decide to stick to the road after all, even though it is four or five kilometres longer.

His wife was very relieved, especially as it was pretty dark already! The next turnoff was a tiny uncleared road. I was glad there is little traffic so that I could drive as slowly as I felt was safe. The other cars here all had snow tyres, I had not - and was much heavier, especially since I had tanked diesel and water that morning. We spotted Jean-Paul 's reflectors in the distance - a reassuring sight! After that Jonathan amused us by mistaking road signs for Jean-Paul , shouting "There Daddy!" whenever one lit up in our headlights. I must admit I had mistaken a yellow postbox for him before: both mis-identifications left Jean-Paul extremely unflattered!

I drove on: slowly, tensely and carefully into the night, and stopped at the reassuring lamplight of a farm. I was too scared to park off the road into the snow, as I could not see what was underneath it, so just stayed in the cab until Jean-Paul came, to switch on my lights in case a car came. Jean-Paul parked the car a little further on, then had a shower while I prepared supper. He tried to defrost the waste water outlet with a candle, and even had some success.

We all turned in early that night!

TUESDAY 12/10/93

We woke up cold: the gas had run out during the night! So there was no coffee or tea for us during breakfast either, as this was the last of our Belgian gas bottles. Somehow we set off earlier than usual that morning - Jean-Paul had no reason to linger in our little home! We first investigated the tracks he wanted to run. It had not snowed more during the night and felt much warmer - the snow on the road was thawing.

As we waited for Jean-Paul just past the hamlet of Risböle the car started dripping as all the ice began to melt, punctuated now and then by the "clunk" of a chunk falling off. After Jean-Paul's break I continued to Bullmark, where there was hardly any snow. I quickly photographed the back of the van, although my snow-covered bicycle did not look half as dramatic as the day before. I did some shopping and obtained a signature at the little supermarket: bought a newspaper, but still there was no article about us in it.

As soon as Jean-Paul arrived we drove to Umeå, the coastal city we were scheduled to reach that night. We bought a local gas bottle, which put us rather out of pocket: Kr1000! We cannot survive without it unfortunately. We really appreciated our hot cups of tea and coffee during lunchtime!

Jean-Paul had his siësta while I took the children out on the bicycle. Much as I enjoyed our country rides, I hated riding in a town. I was terrified of getting lost and rode round in circles trying to locate the town centre. I needed to locate a telephone shop to phone Arie and Kirsi, my friends in Finland who had expressed interest in accompanying us for part of the trip. That done, I found out that the number for Helsinki was changed, and although my Swedish is improving it could not follow the jabber I got when I dialled the number. Luckily there was a TV in the shop that kept the kids more or less quiet! Eventually I got through to Arie, and we arranged to meet each other at the post office in Sandviken on the 26th October.

We found a supermarket to buy sugar and mince - Jean-Paul was not running strongly that morning, and expressed a strong need for spaghetti! He goes through sugar at an incredible rate too, putting three teaspoons in very frequent cups of coffee and sprinkling it copiously over his cereal. At home he needed to avoid too much sugar as it seems to cause skin infections, but with his high energy expenditure during the run it seemed to have no adverse effect.

By the time I emerged from the shop it was 15h15 already and I was anxious to get back. Although I took a few wrong turnings I found the van with relative ease. It was parked outside a bicycle shop: I noticed with interest that even bicycles had broad, nail-studded tyres for winter!

We drove to Bullmark again - by the time Jean-Paul started running it was already dusk. It was snowing lightly, but slightly nearer to sea level it was raining. The road surface was full of tears and potholes and I had my hands full trying to avoid them in the dark. At least there was a parking spot in exactly the right place! I cooked the requested spaghetti, then showered the children and washed their hair. It was good that the parking spot was remote, else I would have surely had someone knocking at my door querying child molestation! When the commotion had subsided I treated myself to a shower - I had not had one in days! I had never realised one could live without this necessity for so long. Normally I gave myself a quick wash at the sink, as it took too much gas to heat up the water for the shower and I reserved that privilege for the runner: after all, I had to sleep with him! We met Jean-Paul in the dark just before Umeå, had our spaghetti and went to bed. At least the rest of the family did: I sat up for another hour, listening to the rain clattering on the roof and brought my diary up to date.

WEDNESDAY 13/10/93

We woke up to the familiar sound of rain drumming on our roof. It was a very dark morning and hard to get going. The morning run would take us through Umeå and out the other side, where Jean-Paul had planned to take secondary roads once more. Jean-Paul really impressed on me very clearly to be there on time and not to get lost, so I set out rather nervously. To my surprise I found the route immediately - I am not so bad after all! There was even a parking spot exactly at the village where we had agreed to meet. And here we waited and waited and waited. I eventually decided to backtrack, but quickly acquired a signature and washed the back window first. Just as I started up Jean-Paul arrived: he confessed rather shamefacedly that he had got lost...

He had run an excess of four kilometres because of that, so just ran another six before he quit it for the morning. We reconnoitred a tiny, bumpy forest track that he wanted to run that evening, even though parts of it were inundated. I was definitely not keen on driving it, and would take the main roads. We did find a good spot to empty the toilet tank, then drove back to Umeå. Jean-Paul wanted to check in the library whether any articles had appeared in the newspapers, as well as find a one-hour photo lab for our two undeveloped spools. Unfortunately he took the kids with him to give me a break. I defy anyone to try and do some research in the library with a two year old around...

Eventually an exasperated Jean-Paul arrived back at the van, dropped Jonathan off and disappeared again, only to come back at 16h00. Although the weather had cleared somewhat it was snowing lightly and already dusk. Jean-Paul was tired and discouraged: he could not find any article about his attempt to run across Europe. Recognition by others is not that important to us, but it does give the morale a boost, which is what he needed then. At least the photographs were lovely. We drove to the starting point and set off quickly as the darkness crept in - the days were noticeably shorter already. I drove to the first meeting point, which was on the other side of a bumpy dirt road. As there is no off-road parking, I parked in a rather wide, long driveway, ready to move off if someone queried it. No-one did, although I got some funny looks. Jean-Paul arrived and decided to stop for the day, even though his evening run was not officially completed. I was relieved, as I did not like him to run forest tracks in the dark. He was really dispirited: I had not seen him that down during the run yet. We had been running for a month and a day, so the initial excitement had worn off and the strain on his body began to tell. The lack of recognition, the weather and the endless running in the dark also contributed to his negative feelings. I had expected him to feel that way sometime during the run, and was more or less ready to handle it. Unfortunately the meal was a rather unexciting one: eggs, potatoes and turnips. The latter were one of the few things which were cheap in Sweden (no wonder they are called swedes) and the kids preferred to eat them raw. We parked the van in a better spot and all went to bed early.

THURSDAY 14/10/93

I woke up early as well, and what a wonderful surprise waited for us: a cloudless sky. I hugged my secret to myself, wanting to surprise Jean-Paul with it when he awoke. It had snowed lightly and it was freezing: when the sun came out the whole world sparkled, as if it wanted to make amends for the previous day. Our spirits sparkled as well, rejoicing in so much beauty.

Jean-Paul set off on his run, and we set off immediately as well, as we had much further to go. I drove with the low sun blinding me, a disadvantage when running north to south. Still, I was glad to see the sun! We stopped at the little community of Bjänberget, where I went signature hunting once again. Jean-Paul arrived exhilarated after a beautiful morning run - how glad I was that he had not attempted to run it the previous night! Jean-Paul encouraged me to get out of the van on the bike and ride up the track. Boy, was it cold! Exhilarating and fun, we crackled our way through the puddles, stopped at a little pond to throw stones on and through the ice, admired the beauty of ice crystals on tyre tracks, danced on the puddles till they cracked. We could not get enough of it, but had to go back to find Jean-Paul! I manhandled the bike back into the van and did the necessary hurried pottying before we hit the road again - literally so, because it was riddled with the potholes. I met Jean-Paul at Orsbäck and he ran on to Brattfors. For our lunch stop we decided to go to a nature reserve we had just passed. It was a bit disappointing, as we had seen forests that were much more beautiful. After lunch we busied ourselves reorganising the van: tying the superfluous gas bottles on the roof, tidying up our one and only drawer that tends to become the receptacle for everything, and reorganising our bench chest.

Our bicycle ride took us against the icy wind - it certainly took our breath away! Anneke wanted to stop at every bit of ice to throw stones on it. I decided to turn around and cycle with the wind in stead, and stopped at the van to ask Jean-Paul to pick me up - it was on the way back to the road anyway. It did mean a trudge up a long, long hill - in spite of the sub zero temperature I felt as if we were in the tropics by the time I had reached the top! Jean-Paul met us soon, ready to run. I drove to Nordmaling to fill up with diesel and water. This time the tap had a hose, but it was less than a metre long. I manoeuvred the van as close to the water cupboard as possible, and then struggled to open the door of the cupboard. Taps at Swedish garages are stored in heated cupboards for obvious reasons. The filling took ages, and the kids were playing with the hooter - they could be very naughty when they knew their mother was preoccupied!

We were on the E4 once again, and found an excellent parking spot for the night, complete with picnic benches and toilets. Anneke and I tried an experiment and put two cups outside: one with ordinary water and one with salt water, to see which one would freeze. That night I worked till late, hunched over the kitchen sideboard by candlelight, trying to get our general letter ready for posting.

FRIDAY 15/10/93

We woke up to another beautiful, icy day. Anneke's first words at waking up were "I must check my cups of ice!" Both were frozen, so Mummy's predictions were fouled by the extreme cold. It was only with a knife that we could determine that one was frozen harder that the other.

This time we had no condensed water on the inside of the driving cab, but our windows were covered by beautiful ice formations which took quite some effort to defrost. We had an insulation sheet which we put up each night between the cab and the van - it showed that putting it up was really worth it!

Brrr, it was cold outside. Jean-Paul procrastinated about getting out, but eventually braved it. I met him at Sakuböle, where he wanted to run on a track parallel to the E4 and full of ancient ruins. There was a big frozen puddle there, strong enough for the kids to walk on. Anneke proudly "skated" on her rubber boots. Jonathan tried as well, but came short - he kept off the ice after that. I could not convince him not to eat the ice - up to now the only ice he had known had come out of the freezer. I did some washing: the outside outlet of our water tank was frozen and the shower was not working either, so the procedure took longer than expected and resulted in some very cold hands! Jean-Paul arrived and was off again. I drove to Grundsunde and circled around to find the right place to stop, but found it eventually. Jean-Paul and I marvelled at the beauty of the ice formations over the rocks at the side of the road, water still dripping underneath it.

On to Grundsunde then - a tranquil village with a lovely church, some parts of which are 12th century. Unfortunately the church door was locked. But the graveyard was beautiful, with elaborate carvings, the sun shining through the autumn colours and the frost. I hung the washing outside and my fingers almost froze - within minutes the washing had frozen as hard as planks. I then proceeded to give "upstairs" a good clean. Boy, did these kids make a mess! Everything slipped beside and between the mattresses, to become a soggy mess with the condensation. Just before we were in Kautokeino I had made the kids some playdough, which is a favourite toy at home. In the camping car, however, the mess was indescribable. I had thrown most of it away long ago, but still found patches of the pink gooey mess under the mattresses. Yuk! Playdough was definitely banned from then on.

While I was cleaning Jonathan was "assisting" me, and then I suddenly realised that Anneke was nowhere to be seen. I called and called, and eventually found her playing in the graveyard. She normally did not wander far from the van, but you can never know...

We drove to collect Jean-Paul and had lunch at the church, after which I took the children for their customary ride. The terrain was definitely more hilly here and I got some good exercise, especially as Jonathan still insisted that I must ride with my light on. We left almost as soon as we arrived. Anneke ran off to play at a picnic table she was at in the morning, and returned triumphantly with Jonathan's beloved monkey which had been forgotten there. Jonathan was overjoyed, and hugged and patted his favourite toy for over an hour. Oh, the trauma if he had gone missing...

We were low on essentials like bread and butter, so I drove off into the setting sun, trying to find a supermarket. After three wrong turns I eventually found one. I was turning the van on one particularly bumpy spot when Anneke piped up with "Mummy, shall I pray?" I did not know whether I should rejoice in her lovely childlike faith in God or despair at the lack of faith in her mother's driving, and decided it would be better for my spirits to do the former!

Oh dear, the supermarket had kiddie trolleys again...and we were quite late already. So we did our shopping as quickly as possible, loaded it all into the van, and went back to the E4 to find Jean-Paul. We located him but could only turn around three kilometres further, passed him again and desperately looked for a spot to stop. We saw one on a road parallel to the E4 but had to drive a kilometre on to get to it. By the time we reach the parking spot Jean-Paul has just reached it as well - good timing, but at the cost of some adrenalin!

There was a big fire burning across the road, complete with cranes and front end loaders, so the children had their entertainment on hand. We discussed at length where we should meet in Örnsköldsvik, and decided on the road to Domsjö. I prepared myself mentally for some city-driving, and did not come off too badly: one wrong turning and a momentary panic when the road was broken up, but I found the road to Domsjö. Örnsköldsvik is a modern city with many glass buildings and a very impressive ski-ramp on a hill just above the harbour. The kids were enthralled by such a big slide - now we knew what all the fancy slides in Swedish playgrounds are for: merely a preparation for the big one!

I decided to check out the campsite that was marked at Örnsköldsvik on the map, as our shower was not working (frozen?) and Jean-Paul really needed one. It was fourteen kilometres away on a dark, windy road - and it was closed. So I had driven 28 kilometres for nothing, and then panicked that I would miss Jean-Paul . Yet again we met at exactly the right spot - thank you, Lord! Our safety and sanity depended on this continual string of small miracles.

We tried to park for the night in the harbour lot, but found it too noisy, so went cruising through the city to find a playground. For once we were not successful, so parked at a block of flats in the visitor's bays.1

When visiting Sweden it is so easy to believe that life is rural and beautiful: lovely wooden houses, villages and farmsteads among the forests and lakes. In the cities one becomes aware that the reality is harsher, and that most of the people live in unimaginative rows of high-rise apartments, most without even a balcony. Nobody is really poor here, and it is a relief not to be constantly confronted with the agony of poverty, as one is in south Africa, but it is also sobering to become aware that many people are not as affluent as one would think in a rich country such as Sweden.

SATURDAY 16/10/93

We woke up to another beautiful day - how many of these were still in store for us? Before we dropped Jean-Paul I ran to the information office to get a map of the nature reserve just south of us, but it only opened at 10h00. I drove to Domsjö, where it took me almost an hour to fill up with diesel and water. The hose was only 50 cm long and manoeuvrability very restricted, especially when cars kept blocking my way. I was relieved that the post office went much quicker - at last our general letters were on their way! I drove back to Örnsköldsvik for a map, and walked to the information office with the children, only to find a "kommen strax" note on the door - back in five minutes! It was getting later and later... In my best Swedish I ask a lady for directions to a bookshop, and got directed to a Christian bookshop. Hearing "Father I adore thee" sung in Swedish, so far from home, was a great blessing to me, but it did not get me my maps, and the general bookshop was at the other side of town. Jonathan was getting very tired at being lugged about and Anneke wanted to stop at each shop window, but eventually we found our bookshop and bought the map, but by now it was past 11h00!

And hey, what is this? A marzipan factory? Do they have guided tours here? Do they have any job vacancies? I'm even willing to take the job of toilet cleaner. Where's your factory shop. Shucks! It's saturday. Closed.

We eventually got back to the car and drove to Bjästa. The route is very beautiful but I hardly noticed it. Where was Jean-Paul ? I got to Bjästa and drove slowly down the main road, wondering what to do, as Jean-Paul had not informed me of the rest of the route, when suddenly I saw Jean-Paul frantically waving at me! My love must have grown much stronger during the trip: imagine being absolutely overjoyed at seeing one's husband, and that about four times a day. It certainly takes the humdrum and the ordinary out of marriage!

We had lunch at a playground. Jonathan promptly took off his boots to play in the sand, and came in a few minutes later, crying that his feet were sore. Yes boy, when there's frost on the sand... Jean-Paul studied the map and decided to take the longer, coastal route through the Högenkusten National Park. The kids and I had a lovely, unhurried bike ride, as Jean-Paul would have left before we would come back: past geese, ponies and church ruins, over bridges and lots of hills and then a lovely stop at a little beach - this time Jonathan kept his boots on, even though he proclaimed the weather to be warm! Anneke suddenly came up with an inspired comment from the back of the bicycle: "Mummy, I found a new way to pray. I can sit on my knees, lift my head and lift my arms and talk to God." It was so sweet and innocent, so straight from the heart that I could not possibly tell her that people have been worshipping God like that since time immemorial!

Meanwhile, we got back to the van. I washed and tidied up while the kids played outside. Anneke wandered off quite far again, playing happily on her own, but stayed within calling reach of the van. We drove off once more, and found a good parking spot on the road to the nature reserve. Cooking was difficult with the bike inside, as it took up all the space. The kids were arguing over the bicycle pump and getting very greasy in the process. Yet again it got later and later, and Jean-Paul did not pitch up. It was difficult for me to judge when he should arrive as I did not know his departure time, but at 17h11 I decided to check the church at Docksta, our alternative meeting spot. Jean-Paul was not there either, so back we went, yet again praying for his safety. A little later he arrived, having had a beautiful run; and it was as beautiful to see him arrive hale and hearty in our little home! He showered - the shower was not frozen after all, but blocked by a broken toggle switch. Spaghetti and bed for all, but Mum still had to do the washing up!

SUNDAY 17/10/93

Who could wish for a rest day in a more beautiful spot? Again we were blessed with clear, frosty weather. I had a shower and washed my hair, then we packed some food and went off to the nature reserve. Jean-Paul and the kids went off with the van whiled I raced along on an unloaded bike - until I hit a 300 metre hill. Earlier, I had complained to Jean-Paul about getting flabby, and in suggesting I should ride he certainly did something about it! But the ride was exhilarating: the road white with frost, the sun just rising over the sea, bathing the houses and fields in a pale wintry light, and a horse whinnied his steamy greeting. I parked my bike at the van and walked on, quickly catching up with the rest of the family. Jonathan wanted to walk, so progress was rather slow. We emerged at a beach whose surf line was full of ice crystals shimmering in the sun - an unearthly beauty reminding us of crystals in caves.

Jean-Paul got a fire on the go and goes off to investigate the "skrevan": huge cracks at the top of the hill. Anneke was very mopy after he left, so I told her story after story, played around the fire with Jonathan, chatted to some people from Docksta who had arrived and became colder and colder, especially my feet. At last Jean-Paul came down - he encouraged me to go up while he took the kids back to the van and made some pancakes. I walked fast to get the life back into my feet, and enjoyed the invigorating movement and the crisp crackle of the frozen ground. I allowed my senses to take over, letting my whole mind partake in this feast: pink and grey rocks caught in a network of roots, delicate ice crystals, the cold air against my cheeks. The "skrevan" were two massive rock faces with dark shadow in between them: an enormous boulder sliced in two. The icicles of frozen trickles sparkled where the low sun could still reach them. The top of the hill was full of rounded rocks and little ice pools. Gnarled, twisted little trees managed to grow between them. The view stretched out over frozen lakes, forests and the sea, and my praises rang out to the mighty Creator of this all. I left with reluctance, but knew I had to be back by dark. On the way down Psalm 61 was with me again and became a song:"From the ends of the earth I call to you..."

I skipped and ran down in my exalted mood, which was not destroyed by the need to backtrack about 500 metres when I found myself with only one mitten. I arrived at the van just before dark, and was met by the sounds of wailing, tired children. Back to reality with a bump! Jean-Paul extended my time off by taking them somewhere while I finished my pancakes in peace - and very good they were too! We got the kids into bed, then washed up and sat down to work - I had to catch up on five days in my diary and we were writing letters to contact the local news media. So two tired people crept into bed once again, but we were very content after a glorious day - a breather we needed to face the trials of the coming week...

MONDAY 18/10/93

It was yet again a beautiful day - a bit warmer than the previous days though. We went back to the forest track to take some video of Jean-Paul running through it. I coaxed him into some dramatics:" Run through the ice, not round it!" The result was muddy running shoes, all in the name of art.

I went off to Docksta with a long "to do" list - buy groceries, make photocopies, send faxes to local media, buy stamps... it does not sound like much, but add two kids and a language you speak very little of, and the simplest task becomes a lengthy and complicated process.

The faxing would cost a prohibitive Kr500. So I scouted around for photocopies: at the third shop I tried, I asked in my best Swedish for 12 copies of each page. The shopkeeper nodded and disappeared, and I was jolly proud of my mastery of Swedish. Disillusionment struck when I had toddled halfway back to the van with the children and saw that I only had two copies of each page. Back we went! I had wondered why it was so cheap...

Off to the garage for water. The van was suddenly very smelly, especially in the driver's seat - was the toilet full? At the tap at the garage a guy was vacuuming his car, and would not respond when I asked him to move. So I waited, only to find out that the tap was disconnected. We drove to the next village. Again I waited for cars to move, but there was only 20 cm of hose and no space for manoeuvring. So we drove to the next village and waited for the cars to move - here I could only fill the tank with a watering can, and that was far too dirty. When I discover the cap of the water tank gone, I cried and wished for home: for taps that open and water flows, for toilets one could flush and forget about. I drove on in the stench until I met Jean-Paul, who was very sweet about it all. He would run on while I drove back to Docksta to look for the cap. 34 kilometres of roadworks there and back - but it was lying at the garage, so I felt better on the way back.

We met Jean-Paul, photographed a couple of the frozen waterfalls, had lunch and then the kids and I embarked on a very hilly bike ride - it is not called the Högenkusten for nothing! I was clinging on for dear life on a slippery dirt track going steeply downhill when it was suddenly covered with ice - I just managed to brake in time! So up I trudged again...

We get back about 15h00, and went in search of a toilet dumping spot. The fine weather had changed: it was warmer but overcast. In and out of little lanes we drove, but no luck, so Jean-Paul started running at 15h45, and I continued to scan the country lanes to no avail. I had just got back to the E4 when I met Jean-Paul standing on a heap of soil in a field next to the road, and he bravely performs the undesirable task in the dark. We found out that the system was blocked by toilet paper, which had probably caused the bad smell. Jean-Paul had just covered everything with soil when he discovered that the external cap of the outlet was gone. Strangely enough neither of us felt like dredging, especially as the cap was mainly for cosmetic purposes anyway!

We continue to Klockenstrand, then over the bridge to Lünde, where I find a petrol station with a long water hose but a low roof - with some effort I managed, and enjoyed filling up at last!

I cleaned up the van as best as I could, having lost my second little hand-brush during the trip. I started cooking pea-soup and asked the kids to sit in front and look out for Jean-Paul, who was soon greeted enthusiastically by Jonathan and his monkey. Jean-Paul was going to run four kilometres further, but Jonathan's welcome changed his mind. We parked on a quieter spot and settled down to our pea soup. As I washed the dishes I reminded myself of that comment I had made on the aeroplane, that we would only have to worry about running...

TUESDAY 19/10/93

The weather had definitely turned: it was cloudy with a nippy wind. We got going slowly, then videoed Jean-Paul running over the high bridge over the fjord. The children had a lovely time playing on a little train outside the "Folkshuset", while the playgroup children in the building eyed them curiously through the glass. We had a look at the local vintage car museum and went off to the supermarket, but that only opened at 10h00.

Jean-Paul had decided to take secondary roads to Fråno. It started out pretty well but soon became a bumpy dirt road. I missed the turnoff and landed in roadworks again, going downhill in thick, loose sand. I asked the way when I met the roadworker - he spoke very good English and was very interested in our attempt. So I turned the van yet again, but was very confused at the next T-junction, as none of the names corresponded with those on the map. Eventually I got it right. The dirt road is very hilly and slippery, and took all my concentration to drive. As Jean-Paul was not at our pre-arranged meeting place, I assumed that I was late and drove on. 20 kilometres further I hit the village of Gussjöbygden, and ask at the shop whether they had seen Jean-Paul . They had not, but were very friendly and would look out for him. I carried on towards Sundsvall - I know it was impossibly far for Jean-Paul to have run already, but after the previous week's experience in the snow I did not want to take a chance. I asked a roadworker whether he had seen him - also negative, so I turned around again. It was now past 11h00 and I was really worried. He had set off without a map, compass and security blanket on these confusing little roads - where was he and how could I possibly find him? All I could do was to pray and pray and drive all the way back again. Luckily the kids had fallen asleep, and I had no hassles from that department. At the village I asked again if they had seen him, and the kind people give me their phone number. Slowly I drove all the way back to the T-junction, but I saw no Jean-Paul . Surely he should have passed here hours ago! What must I do if I don't find him? I carried on, driving slowly, looking left and right, praying desperately...

And there he was, sitting in a huddle on a little side road! Tears flowed again as I greeted him and hugged him: he was safe. The Lord had been gracious to us again - he had only just sat down in the freezing, windy cold with just his running clothes on when I came along. Despite my joy and thankfulness it took a long time to get rid of the tension. The kids were aware of it too and were all over their daddy, who really needed to rest. We had a meal and a reconnaissance drive, after which Jean-Paul attempted to rest. At 15h00 Jean-Paul reluctantly got out of the warm car - it had started to rain as well. I drove on for twelve kilometres - the road was quite familiar by now - and started cooking. When Jean-Paul arrived for his break the gas ran out, so I dissolved a stock cube in the water I had started to boil for the pasta and added some vegetables to it: the only warm food I could give my children.

I stopped at the shop again to tell them that I had found my husband and to look for something to eat that would not require cooking. The shopowner spoke reasonable English, but his wife not at all. I was still chatting to them when Jean-Paul arrived. And then the miracle happened: They offered a shower, then a meal, and a little later even to do the washing! Ingmarie and Harry Lundkvist in the tiny village with the impossible name of Gussjöbygden offered us their home and their hearts. Angels they were, just when we desperately needed it! We sat down at their table in a homely kitchen. Jonathan was fascinated by everything, especially the coal stove and the real toilet. The shower was heavenly - and it was wonderful to have two clean little kids too! Unfortunately they had animals and both smoked, so soon I was wheezing and sneezing and trying very hard to hide it. We watched some of our videos, which were judged not too bad for beginners. After the kids were given an enormous helping of ice-cream on top of all the sweets they had already eaten they were bundled off to bed with an exhausted mummy. Jean-Paul followed soon after.

WEDNESDAY 20/20/93

It was a chilly night without a heater, but we woke up to a beautiful morning yet again. We had breakfast with the Lindkvists, overlooking their valley with its green pastures bordered by trees. They told us that they sometimes see moose here. They have a strange life-style: the shop is open from seven in the morning till ten at night, for seven days a week. It is usually quiet, except in summer, when they also rent out chalets, and round Christmastide, as Harry also runs a flower business. They appeared to live in the shop for most of the time: a big cosy room where Harry created miniature wooden houses and Ingmarie read the paper and chatted to the customers.

Again they almost embarrassed me with their kindness. The dry washing was worth its weight in gold, but they also gave toys to the kids, food for along the way and clothes. At least I could refuse the last, pointing to my overfull cupboards. Harry had contacted some local newspapers and TV, and one team was going to meet me at the shop. I waited rather anxiously for them, as it was time for me to meet Jean-Paul. I photographed and videoed the Lundkvists with our kids while we were waiting - people like these must be remembered.

When the newsmen came we rushed off, and met Jean-Paul about seventeen kilometres further on the Sundsvall road. I parked on a dirt road that looked deserted, but happened to be in use by the local roadworkers, so again I was frightfully in the way. The reporters were enthusiastic and jovial - the photographer was a runner himself, which created immediate empathy. For the photo session I loaded the children on the bike and pedalled slowly after Jean-Paul, the photographer reshooting it about seven times. It was a good session - afterwards Jean-Paul felt buoyant enough to run another ten kilometres.

After lunch the kids and I mounted the trusty old bike again for a lovely ride through forests, over bridges spanning turbulent streams, past a restored medieval village and pastoral scenes with horses and cows. In the midst of this Anneke suddenly piped up from behind me, "Mummy, how do they make ship's windows?"

The high point of the outing was that the booms closed at a level crossing and a train arrived, laden with wood. We had not seen much railroad up to now, so waved enthusiastically: the driver even waved back! And when the train had passed Jonathan urged me to let another train come...

Our next stop was Sundsvall, and industrial city with lots of smokestacks, which Jonathan points out enthusiastically: "Fire, Mummy!"

I had three time-consuming jobs: to find a hardware shop to buy a new latch for the clothes cupboard, to exchange the empty gas bottle for a full one and to do supermarket shopping. Finding the hardware shop - and getting served in it - took the most time. We needed the latch as the cupboard kept opening as I drove, which meant that I needed to find a place to stop to close it again - a tremendous irritation!

By the time I had finished it was already 17h00 and dark - would I be too late for Jean-Paul again? I drove through the city at rush hour and managed to find my way back to the E4, but did not see Jean-Paul at the pre-arranged spot. I drove on, turned round at what I felt was far enough and turned back. I stopped at a parking lot to eat a banana and consult the map, then drive a little way up the junction where we had arranged to meet - no Jean-Paul. By that time it was 17h30, and I decided to drive on, struggling to watch the road, the traffic as well as look out for Jean-Paul on the opposite side of a dual-carriage way. I only turned when I had reached a point that was impossible for Jean-Paul to have reached, and wished for some way to determine if he were in front of me or behind me. All I could do was pray yet again. And yet again the miracle happened - on my way back I saw Jean-Paul running on the cycle track at exactly the spot we had arranged to meet! I would have never seen him on that track had I been on the opposite side of the road, neither was the cycle track continuously visible from even this side of the road. Great relief was experienced again...

...which was followed by the inevitable spaghetti. Jean-Paul went to lie down with the children, and he and Anneke invent the "Omiyup" together. With shining eyes Anneke added one impossibility after another. It had three ears, one eye and two noses, tails on its toes, was as big as an elephant and lived in the sky...

Omiyups are still alive and well today, a year later. They still live in the clouds and inflate and deflate the moon like a huge balloon, and great is the excitement if it is misty, because the Omiyups have come to visit!

Jean-Paul had run 56 kilometres that day, which is the length of a Two Oceans Ultra-marathon. The only difference was that he still had to run a marathon the next day, and the next, and the next!

THURSDAY 21/10/93

Anneke woke up in the middle of the night and would not go to sleep again. She complained non-stop: the traffic made too much noise, she had a tummy ache, she needed to go to the toilet, etc. Even lying down with her did not help. At home we would have closed her door, but in a camping car isolation is impossible. Eventually Jonathan woke up too. After several warnings we eventually acted on the ultimate threat, and put her outside. The poor kid: she was only dressed in her pyjamas and the temperature was below zero! Luckily there were no houses nearby to hear the screams. She was outside for less than a minute, but it did help. She had quietened down in my arms and Jonathan was almost asleep... and Jean-Paul got up, started the car and drove off. Since Anneke had started complaining of the noise of the nearby E4 it was keeping him awake as well! The only snag was that the unexpected midnight ride had woken up the kids again. Eventually we all settled down...

It was a straightforward day, following the E4: boring to run, but easy to second. It gave me peace of mind to know where Jean-Paul was! For the twelve kilometres "halfway break" stop I choose a muddy spot next to a river - perfect until a lone fisherman wanted to turn in! Why did another car or truck always want to use my parking spot?

After the morning run Jean-Paul arrived hot and sweaty, the temperature being a balmy +1° C. He had struggled to get going after the long run of the day before. We drove back to Sundsvall. Jean-Paul had some difficulty getting hold of the "Västernorrlands Allehanda", the newspaper with which we had had the interview, but eventually returned triumphantly with six copies. There we were, lovely colour photographs on the front page and centre spread! We were very pleased with the photograph with the bike - it featured all of us realistically against a backdrop of a ploughed field with a farmhouse, typifying the country we had been running through. We also found out that long-distance running is called "springen" in Swedish, which in Dutch or Afrikaans means "jumping". We had visions of Jean-Paul jumping from North Cape to Gibraltar...

We make some extra photocopies of the articles for friends back home - these were more expensive that the original cost of the newspaper! When we eventually set off the sun was already setting yet again.

I found a lovely spot for the twelve kilometres break - even though it was at 13.6 kilometres! (Sorry, Jean-Paul). It was an open spot in the forest with a few centimetres of almost undisturbed snow. The children had been in the van all day and I felt that the cooking could wait: it was more important to get out and play! So the snow was undisturbed no longer. We danced in it, made tracks with sticks, rolled in it, played angels in the snow...

We went inside again when we suddenly became cold and it got too dark to see. Jean-Paul arrived just then, having almost missed us. He was running strongly again - the newspaper article gave him quite a boost after so may disappointments with newspapers. He received his gifts of sticks and stones gracefully from Jonathan. If we had kept all the sticks and stones Jonathan had collected for Daddy, we would have needed a big truck when we got to Gibraltar!

Off we went again. I bought a bread in Gnarp - what an expressive name for a town! At last I remembered to tell Jean-Paul that his system of holding up a number of fingers indicating how many kilometres he wanted to run did not work in the dark, as I could not see his fingers. He raised his eyebrows in an exasperated way: we had covered 1471 kilometres, and now I tell him!

I parked at the next available parking spot after ten kilometres. When Jean-Paul arrived we drove off into the forest, away from the noisy E4. After his shower and his meal Jean-Paul was very tired, feeling the effect of a missed siësta. He went upstairs with the children, and still managed to spin a yarn about a bear that did not want to hibernate. I washed up, showered and settled down to write until I could write no more...

FRIDAY 22/10/93

Brrr - it was an icy morning: even the condense water inside the cupboards was frozen. The forests were magnificent with the frost sparkling in the sun. I stretched myself as I woke up, and promptly pull a muscle in my back. I was in agony and could not move, which was exacerbated by children jumping all over me. Jean-Paul massaged me, gleefully paying me back for all the cross-friction I had given him, and commented on what a good second I was - I even got the injuries! He prepared breakfast while I hung around helplessly. Jean-Paul drove to the E4 and procrastinated, as he did not feel like getting out into the cold. The rag we had used to mop up the shower floor remained an interesting ice sculpture even though it was inside. Eventually he ran out of excuses and hopped out, while I drove on gingerly, hoping that I would not be required to turn in tight spots as I definitely could not tug on the steering wheel. We were out of water too. Luckily the first garage where I stopped had a hose. But it all took a lot of time again, and I caught up with Jean-Paul at thirteen kilometres, where he was chatting to a reporter from the Hudiksval Tidnung. She had just caught him walking, a fact about which Jean-Paul was none too happy. We had coffee, chatted about TB and posed for a photograph and then she was off. Jean-Paul told me about a really nice playground at a shopping complex along the way and I set out to investigate.

Newspapers. The more local the paper, the more they seemed interested in our story. We never saw Svenska TV and Dagbladet, despite their promise to send a team down. On the other hand, it wasn't easy to track us down, either. They may have taken another road (e.g. the E4 when we were taking a "long-cut"). We got quite a few nice articles. But today will be remembered for its bad timing. Eva is late for my mid-morning run break, and I am not exactely running very well. So at the thirteen kay mark I start walking, waiting for Eva who is supposed to have been here about a quarter of an hour ago. And there drives the reporter past. Are you the guy who is walking from North Cape to Gibraltar. I have some explaining to do. She understands. Eva tells her that she had actually never seen me walk, yet.

The trip back was well worth it, even though the foofie-slide proved too much for Anneke. Even Jonathan dared to go on the frost-covered hanging bridge. I was very impressed with Swedish playgrounds: most of the equipment is made of wood and there is very little standard equipment. Each playground we visited was different: even slides come in at least six varieties. Swings are made from tyres, but the tyre is suspended horizontally, which increased its versatility by enabling one or two children to swing and assisting the action by giving momentum. Swings were always cordoned off in a separate area for safety.

The children spent another fifteen minutes happily shovelling snow into their buckets. When it was almost time to go I discovered that one of the shops was actually a "handverkbutikken"! I rushed through it and wished that I could take my mother there, who excels at several handcrafts. Most of the work was very delicate and strangely enough, all of it was in pastels. There was plenty of Bauernmalerei, candlemaking, pottery, watercolours, weaving and the most adorable gnomes Anneke immediately fell in love with. But - it was time to go!

I guiltily met Jean-Paul at 27 kilometres. We went back to the shopping complex after spoiling ourselves with some chips for lunch, and I videoed the craft shop. I spent another happy hour playing with the children, as my back was in no state to go cycling. Jonathan's favourite game was to come running into my arms at top speed, over and over again! I noticed again that our kids were very underdressed compared to the local children, who all wore snowsuits, caps and mittens, while mine were happy in a jersey. We played with some snow and stones and then went inside for ice-cream with chocolate, which promptly became snow and mud to the children.

We drove off rather late for the second run of the day, which took us past Hudiksval. I started cooking while watching the sun slowly setting over a frozen lake. The children were playing with an imaginary telephone, so I made them two cardboard ones, with which they played happily for hours, phoning their grandparents, Anneke telling Grandma about all the lovely handwork she had seen.

Iggesund was at 21 kilometres, and we parked in a parking lot in the town to enjoy our vegetables, mashed potato and egg, but moved off quickly when we realised that the local Friday night disco was being held in the "Folkshuset" right there! We searched a small road for a spot to park, and almost got stuck in the snow. For safety's sake a spot near a busier road had to suffice!

SATURDAY 23/10/93

My back was much better, but I still had to be careful. The morning was sunny and sparkling with frost yet again - how long would this weather last? Jean-Paul ensured that he was warm before leaving the van and I rush off to the next village to do the shopping and post my diary to my parents. At the till the checkout lady recognised me from the paper, so I knew we were in it. I went across the road to buy newspapers and envelopes, then to the post office where we were met by more smiles of recognition - a friendly town, Enånger! The kids both got a piggy bank from the friendly postmistress. All this business took more than an hour, with the result that I met Jean-Paul at sixteen kilometres in stead of the usual twelve. Quite a few cars had hooted or flashed their lights at him: the report had obviously been read! During this ride the cupboard door finally became completely unhinged, and the shoddy workmanship with which it had been attached also became evident.

After Jean-Paul had left I cleaned up - and Jonathan finally worked out how to open his piggy bank. I met Jean-Paul somewhere along the E4 - neither of us were exactly sure where we were. I videoed Jean-Paul running along the E4, so that we have a record of our travels along this seemingly endless road. I had just put away the camera when two moose cross the road. Couldn't they have done that a little earlier, so that I could have included them in my shot?

Jean-Paul was also not "a-moosed": a moose stood grazing by the roadside and did not bat an eyelid while trucks and other traffic roared by. Here comes a solitary runner, jogging along peacefully - and the moose takes to its heels!

We parked off the road in a little track, and had a relaxed, jolly meal during which Jean-Paul demonstrated some more tricks. My back felt well enough to ride the bike again, and we rode down a deserted forest track even though it had a sign saying "gäller behörig traffik" (only authorised traffic). Suddenly the forest was full of tracks, which all had street name signs - very odd indeed. No-one had been there since the frost started, as the puddles on the road were intact. Just then a car did arrive and the driver looked at me curiously - not that that is unusual, I had had many curious stares before, a woman with two kids on a bike somewhere in a forest - but I felt uncomfortable. Jonathan was keeping up a lively chatter but Anneke was complaining bitterly about cold feet, so turning around was the order of the day anyway.

We left immediately. My next parking spot was at Kungsgärden where I asked a signature of a girl busy with the seemingly infinite task of raking leaves. Jean-Paul decided to take the back road to Söderala rather than to go through Söderhamn, as it would be fun to be on little roads again. So without realising it we turned off to the right and left the E4 behind us for ever...

It was a hilly, windy road to Söderala - much more fun than the E4! We waited for Jean-Paul in the village, with Jonathan in tears as there was no train at the level crossing. We parked in a lovely spot in a little lane in the forest, and enjoyed out rice, meatballs and cabbage - and the prospect of another rest day the next day!

SUNDAY 24/10/93

After a leisurely breakfast I take the kids for a walk in the snowy forest while Jean-Paul marked the examination papers he had hurriedly stowed in his hand luggage before leaving South Africa. We had both forgotten about them...

Anneke ran along in the forest while I proceeded slowly with Jonathan. Every now and then the sun broke through the clouds and conjured sparkles on every thing. Anneke played hide-and-seek and was very difficult to find, as her jacket was a perfect camouflage - it was off-white with a floral pattern. The ice was fun too, but Jonathan was dead scared of it. As soon as he insisted that he wanted to be carried I turned back to the van. On the way back he wanted to eat every bit of snow off every litle twig, so our progress was even slower!

Back at the van we decide to find a campsite to do the washing and give the van a good clean. To our delight the first campsite we try was not only open, but boasted of two washing machines and a tumble dryer! We give the van a thorough clean, taking out the upstairs mattresses, which was really necessary again. We still found yucky pink playdough mess there!

Never underestimate the entertainment value of washing machines for young children, especially if the whole building shakes when they spin-dry. The children were fascinated for ages!

After lunch I took the children for a bike trip around the lake -"eight kilometres" said Jean-Paul, looking at the map. He obviously wanted some peace and quiet, as it was more like eighteen kilometres! But it was a lovely ride, during which both kids dozed off and Jonathan kept a running commentary while he was awake.

Back at home Jean-Paul was cutting articles out of newspaper and pasting them for filing. The kids joined in enthusiastically and Jean-Paul decided to quit. I gracefully allowed him to retire upstairs with our one and only novel while I tidied up the washing and baked pancakes. The light was failing so Jean-Paul read through the meal in order to finish the book. We both had not read anything for ages! So I spoiled him further by taking both kids for a shower: what bliss to stand under hot running water, and what chaos to have the kids with you! I get the last load of washing out of the tumble dryer and get the kids to bed. To Anneke's irritation I kept falling asleep while telling a story - she would nudge me awake with an impatient "and then?" I am afraid that the plot lacked cohesion that night...

Nevertheless I still sat up to write my diary by candlelight before I finally slipped into sleep, blissfully enjoying the feel of clean sheets and clean pyjamas.

Chapters 5 to 9 are available from us directly. Just send us a post card from your town and your e-mail address so we can e-mail you the electronic version. Even if you don't want to read the rest but you've enjoyed the chapters above, send us a card!

Eva & Jean-Paul Van Belle, 73 Highway, Fish Hoek, 7975, South Africa.

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