Well... yesterday was a bit of an adventure. The day started off fairly well - we set off for a hike up to Morkris-dalen shortly after breakfast. It's a fairly easy hike that follows alongside a powerful river as it passes through deep and rocky gorges up to a waterfall surrounded by beautiful mountain meadows. It was an absolutely idyllic spot; looked perfect for a week of camping and contemplation. We took our time getting up there, and then had an hour or so to spend some time alone with God. It was a good hour... I sat down near a luscious blueberry patch, so I feasted on delicious berries while spending some time in prayer and reflection. It was a bit of a challenging time, too, because I felt like God was questioning my plans for the end of the summer... whether spending a month or so tooling around the country was my personal dream, or what I genuinely thought would be best for the kingdom. I wasn't sure even at the end of the hour, which kept me in thought for most of the hike down.

Once we got to the bottom of the trail, a little before 3 in the afternoon, I hopped onto the bike I had ridden there and headed back to the hostel. There wasn't enough room for everyone in the two cars we had available, so I had volunteered to ride there and back... it was only about 10 kilometers, and I always love a good bike ride. I had grabbed one of the junkier bikes because I thought others would be riding, but as it turned out I was bad at math and ended up riding a real clunker for no good reason. So anyways, I started pushing it on the way back, thinking that I'd try and make it back before the cars did since I had a bit of a head start. A little over halfway back, I was on a nice smooth, straight section of road, and I was really cranking (as best as I could on this particular bike), standing up in the pedals, feeling the wind rush through my hair, singing at the top of my lungs out of sheer joy at being on a bike riding through a beautiful valley in Norway....


and then suddenly, the chain slipped off


My right foot slipped off the pedal on the downstroke and hit the ground, which sent me into a forward vault over the handlebars and slightly to my left. Somehow I managed to tuck my head in (I wasn't wearing a helmet) and tried to throw my shoulder into a roll, but in stead I pretty much planted my left shoulder into the pavement at full speed, and stopped. I slammed my hip into the pavement pretty solidly too, and also bumped my head on the pavement. I knew as soon as I started to fall (everything happened in super-slo-motion) that I wasn't going to get off easy this time and be able to walk away.

I lay in the road, all crumpled up with the bike on top of me (insult to injury!), for what seemed like forever before I summoned enough courage to stand up and assess the damage. I knew as soon as I hit the ground that I broke something in my shoulder area; I thought I might have dislocated or torn something too, but managed to move my arm around enough to assuage those fears for the moment... and then the pain set in, and I decided that moving my left arm was a bad idea and should be avoided at all costs. I grabbed the bike with my good arm and flung it into the bushes, giving it a kick along the way for good measure (and a muttered curse as well, I must admit). I started walking back, thinking to myself that I wasn't about to let a stupid bike keep me from making it back to Elvheim under my own power. I actually let the first of the two cars pass me on its way back without trying to flag it down, I was so stubbornly set on remaining in control of the situation and staying tough. However, once the adrenaline from the incident started to wear off, the pain started to really kick in... and with a vengeance. So, when the next car came by a few very loooong minutes later, I flagged them down and humbly asked for a ride back.

Once I got back to the hostel it was obvious because of the pain level that I needed some medical attention, so Darrell called the nearest doctor (in Gaupne, about half an hour away) and arranged for me to be able to see him as soon as we got down there. Everyone was super-concerned and really supportive... it was really humbling to be the center of everyone's concerns, prayers, and focus. Cayley put her nursing training to good use and gave me a quick once-over to make sure I wasn't concussed, and also cleaned up a pretty good scrape on my leg that I hadn't even been aware of. The Darrell's (Senior and Junior) volunteered to escort me to the doctor, and Joshua came along for moral support as well. After a quick prayer, we piled into Olav's car (thank goodness we had a vehicle!) and took off for Gaupne.

It was a brutal ride; I felt every curve and bump, both of which there were plenty of. I just hung on to the Jesus prayer for dear life, and even though I didn't really feel any relief (either physically or emotionally) as a result of it, it did help me stay slightly more relaxed and focus on just making it to the next moment. Once we got to Gaupne (just under half an hour away, although it felt much longer) the doctor took a look at me, had me describe what happened, cleaned and bandaged my hip and shoulder (I wasn't even aware until that point, but I had managed to gouge up my hip pretty good), gave me some medium-grade painkillers (tylenol with codeine; a step up from ibuprofen, but not quite what I was hoping for).... and sent me to the hospital in Laerdal, another hour away. He was pretty sure my collarbone was broken, but couldn't tell if my shoulder might also be slightly dislocated, so he figured it would be a lot easier to have an x-ray taken to know for sure instead of manipulating and moving my arm to test for (and possibly correct) any possible dislocation. I was definitely a fan of not moving my arm at that point, so it sounded like a brilliant plan.

So, the Darrell's and I (minus Joshua; he wisely caught a bus back to Skjolden from Gaupne when it became clear that it was going to be a longer trip than at first expected) headed off for Laerdal, which was a little over an hour's drive from Gaupne. The medicine took the edge off of the pain, but it still made it's presence known for the duration of the ride. Darrell Jr. kindly got me a hot dog and coke on the ferry ride, which at that point in the day tasted absolutely divine. If hot dogs and coke always tasted that amazing, I would eat nothing else for the rest of my days. Even though the circumstances were less than ideal it was nice to be able to spend some concentrated time with the Darrell's. I really respect and admire both of them, and value their friendship and leadership a lot. I feel like they're both always trying to grow and take their faith to a deeper level, and they're so good at trying to pull people along with them for the ride.

We eventually made it to the hospital in Laerdal, and then had to wait for the radiologist... and then wait for the doctor... and then wait for another doctor to confirm the diagnosis. It was a longish wait, but everything got sorted out in the end. Turns out I broke my collarbone (which I pretty much already knew), but there wasn't any other structural damage - my shoulder wasn't dislocated, I didn't have any apparent nerve damage, and all they needed to do was throw my arm in a sling and send me on my way. It was a very long day; by the time we got back to Elvheim it was almost 1am, and I was so tired by then that I didn't have much trouble falling asleep once I managed to crawl into my bed.

I think that the hardest part of the day was the uncertainty that it created, especially regarding my travel plans once I get back to the states. I've had this dream for a while of buying a cheap moped out in Oregon (I'm flying straight there for my friend Jesse's wedding once I leave Norway) and moseying my way back to Maine, or if that option failed than either buying a train pass or hitchiking across the states and stopping in to visit friends I have scattered across the states. Given my current condition, especially my inability to shoulder a backpack anytime in the near future, it's looking like bumming my way around and across the states isn't a viable option anymore.

So now I'm not really sure what to do... I suppose I could just buy a plane ticket back to Maine fir right after Jesse's wedding (no way am I going to let a bum shoulder keep me from making it to that event). But plane tickets, especially at such short notice, will probably be prohibitively expensive, and that also won't allow me to visit the friends I have scattered across the U.S. More than anything, I think I was looking forward to being free for a while, even if only for a month or so. No job, no commitments, only me and the open road. Now it looks like that dream is, once again, spiraling down the drain and fast disappearing. So, I'm a little frustrated, a little disappointed, and still in some pain, which I'm sure is clouding my outlook. Apparently this is God's way of closing the door pretty firmly on that particular dream... I only wish that He had given me a chance to decide for myself that I should head back sooner rather than later. Maybe He's giving me a way of bailing out of my stated plans without looking like I chickened out - having a broken collarbone is a pretty good reason to head home early without appearing weak. Maybe I'm reading too much into a simple accident. Maybe I need another dose of pain meds... yeah, that must be it.