© 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?