Working away at our Workaway

If I'm not woken up in the morning by Adelaide talking in her sleep (last night she said "wow! Oh, wow!" with such awe in her voice that I was dying to know of what she dreamt), if I'm not woken by her, then the rooster crowing or the ferry chugging into our bay will stir me from my slumber. Which makes sense since the name of this Norweigan farm/campground that we find ourselves on is Sjobakken, which roughly translates to 'sea land.' Or so I have been told. But it makes a lot of sense given that the vivid green land slopes gently into the ocean; a small bay off a larger fjord. Sjobakken is also a farm and my children are forever exclaiming about all the farmyard animal poo they encounter. So far we've recorded chicken, cat, sheep and horse. The depositors of which we have seen free ranging around the open fields and campground. Sea and land.

We've been here a week and have but a few days more before we've committed to heading off. None of us want to go as the cabin we have is cosy but spacious enough for four and there is always something interesting going on here. Our arrangement is such that Mountain Dad volunteers his skill and expertise for five hours a day in exchange for free accommodation for us all. We set this up through the Workaway organization where typically you would volunteer five hours a day in exchange for room and board. Given that I wasn't sure how much time I would have to volunteer with the mountain kids at my heels, we offered Mountain Dad as our breadwinner and our hosts, Andre and Anette, accepted. Though friends, lets be honest, five hours of Mountain Dad's time is like ten hours for a less skilled worker. 
Unless it's paperwork. 
Or building a shed. 
When time drags into eternity and we have but naught to show...

Shea's project is to help our hosts re-insulate their ceiling and turn the attic into habitable rooms. He's enjoying the work though is disappointed he won't be able to see the project through to completion. Today he hit his already blackened thumbnail with a hammer and, though I wouldn't have thought it possible, has grown the amount of bruising under there. He sits now, reclined on the couch, with his arm elevated, feeing very sorry for himself. On the positive side of life, however, he does now have socks. Every day in fact. He stuffs his sock-covered feet into his old Mammut shoes. You know the ones that he warrantied and they said that once he showed them a photo of of the shoe-tongue cut out, they would send him a credit for a new pair? And he did, but, in true Mountain Dad style, he cannily only cut the tongue down either side, leaving it attached at the toe. In this way he has managed to salvage the old pair AND acquire a new pair. He's brought BOTH pairs traveling with us; the old pair brought with the express purpose of being used at this Workaway stint. The old goat had the crafty idea of disposing of them once our stay here was done. A clever way to have work shoes with him for this period of work, without the encumbrance of travelling with them for the next umpteen months. 

You know what comes next, don't you?

He doesn't want to throw them away. At least once a day we have to have a chat about what he could do with them to avoid trashing them. He happily reported today that our hosts will accept the old shoes, tortured tongue and all, as spare shoes for future Workaway volunteers. Mountain Dad is happy with this outcome but not completely satisfied as he still wonders if he may be able to use them himself at some stage in the future. Maybe? 

While Mountain Dad works through the morning, the mountain kids and I embark upon the roller coaster ride called Home Schooling. Here I apply what I like to consider is my skill and expertise as a teacher towards the education of my darlings. Oftentimes I find my skill and expertise are left wanting, as I snap irately at one to "stop banging the table and just focus," then turn immediately to the other and fire off a "that's enough, just mind your own work," and so we go backwards and forwards. And only very slowly onwards. 

In the afternoons we set forth on some adventure in the mountains or on the ocean. We've hiked down a beautiful secret peninsula that was bathed in yellow autumnal light. We've trudged through wet grass to find a deserted German fort. We've taken the ferry to nearby islands and ports. We climbed a mountain to wonder at the myriad of islands and fjords below us. Or, if you were a mountain kid, you climbed a mountain in order to be pumped full of gummies and chocolate the entire way which was the only way we could get you up there. 

And on that note, I will sign off to go brush my teeth. I leave you with the sound of the last ferry for the day thrumming at the dock across the bay as it loads its final passengers. God Natt.