Thursday 22 September 2022--My flight from Svolvær to Bodø is at 1:30. I don't want to be late, so I leave Henningsvær early, and get to the airport at 11:30. Give the keys to my rental car to the two guys sitting in the box in the parking lot and say, "I'm going to go shopping in the terminal now," which gets a laugh. I'm joking, of course, but I have no idea how much...it's the smallest terminal I've ever seen anywhere, except for Barra, maybe; a check-in counter, a security person, and a small and empty waiting room. There isn't a snack bar or even a vending machine--am I going to have to wait two hours here? But the 11:45 is still on the tarmac, and they put me on it, without even asking. Now I'm late, the last one on. As I walk down the aisle, I have a flashback to the little ferry to Ona, and think to say, "You're all waiting for me!" I swallow it--the faces I see are not so cheerful. "I'm really two hours early," I want to say, but there's no point. There are lots of empty seats, and I take the middle one in the back row. With the aisle in front of me, it's the most legroom I've ever had on a plane.

The flight to Bodø takes twenty minutes. I have a two-hour wait here now, instead of the originally scheduled quick change, but there is a restaurant, two shops, and a bar. I get a sandwich for lunch and watch people coming and going. Stay out of the bar--there will be better in Bergen.

The onward flight takes an hour and a half. Take the tram into town and check in at Hotel Neptun. Get a beer at Bergenhus Bryggeri and inquire about dinner; once again, it's too busy. I have pizza at Porto 13 instead, then go to Henrik, where I fall into conversation with the bartender and a couple of locals. I stay a little too late and drink a little too much. Some places just feel like home.