In Pursuit of Sun

The dried grass scratched my palms as I kept crawling further. The sun peeked out from the clouds, warming my back. The waves crushed steadily on the rocks beneath the cliff. I made the last move and froze — the deep blue abyss spread before my eyes, as I hanged from the edge of the rock. But, most importantly, I found them. Tiny birds with black and white feathers and red beaks dotted the rocks. The grey inanimate surface sparkled with colors — puffins were everywhere.

I had lived in Norway as an exchange student for half a year already. This meant that at least three months I saw the sun only for two hours a day, if saw it at all. The giant fjord blocked the shining star, casting an internal shadow on the town I lived in. It made a dank and cold winter even more dramatic. Unwilling to surrender to darkness, I thought that if the sun couldn’t find me, I would find it myself, so I decided to chase it.

However, as every good story, mine had an obstacle. It’s not a secret that Norway is one of the most expensive countries in the world. Besides, most of the beautiful spots are unreachable by public transport. Fortunately, I found a friend among passionate sangria-makers and together we started planning the trip. We raised some money from collecting the used beer cans, cooked some tortilla and drew the map.

Next day we packed our few possessions, filled up a tiny blue Van and headed to the West. The isle of Runde, a hidden gem of the Atlantic, awaited us. Runde, being home for only as few as 100 people, met its true habitats only at the end of February. Birds came to Runde for the nesting period that lasted till August. Dozens of different species flew there, but we were particularly interested in that one — we wanted to see puffins. Those rare marvelous creatures returned back home at the end of April carried by monsoons, wild Atlantic winds.

So, on late April’s morning our crew of five people parked on the Atlantic shore, the foothill of the Runde’s cliff. The first thing I felt opening the car’s door was the salty air. Then I heard the rustling of waves and, finally, saw it — the infinite blue surface spread far beyond the horizon, breathing calmly.

In anticipation, we grabbed our backpacks, left the van and hurried to ascend on the steep slope of the cliff. The winding path ran forward into the sky. The bushes of yellow grass were everywhere, creating an impression of a giant endless field. After a long and dark winter, Runde felt like a different world: there was so much sun there, so much air and so much freedom.

When we approached the last ascension, I started running on top, unable to resist my curiosity — the birds were close. With heart pounding in my ears, I clasped the tiny yellow bushes to climb faster. My breath was heavy and hoarse. Finally, I made my way to the summit and stunned. I stood on the very edge of the windswept cliff, with the blue abyss of the Atlantic Ocean spread before my eyes. Seagulls soared in the distance, dancing above the water. The sky hovered low above my head, so I could almost touch it. Yet I couldn’t see the puffins. I turned around to make sure that no one was watching and lied on the grass, intending to check the last place where the birds could hide — underneath the cliff.

When someone’s hand grabbed my ankle, I shuddered. I was so occupied with watching puffins, so I didn’t notice how my crew climbed on top as well. Unwillingly, I turned away from the birds to stumble on the worrying eyes of my friend, Charenshe. Probably, in thrill, I didn’t notice how I hanged over the cliff too much.

My friends decided not to risk their lives to see puffins, so they just took off their backpacks, took out the food along with hot chocolate and relaxed. They looked silently into the eternity waiting for the birds to show up. I tried to join their philosophical investigation but I couldn’t sit steadily at one place, driven by the desire to explore. So when Charenshe nodded to the neighbor cliff, I happily jumped from my comfy place.

We grabbed some pieces of tortilla and wandered around Runde island, traveling from one cliff to another in pursuit of little puffins. Once, when Chare turned away, I walked the edge of the cliff, spread my arms and silently called the birds. I pictured me as one of them, lifting off the ground and soaring. Though, I had to land soon, as he noticed me.

In a while, the sun started to approach the horizon. The whole world froze in time, illuminated by the golden rays. Somewhere inside I knew that puffins would like to bid farewell the sun, so I waited for them.

In the depth of the backpack I found a small speaker and turned it on. In a moment the instrumental tune “The Arrival of the Birds” resounded in the air. Charenshe looked me in the eyes and stepped closer. He embraced me carefully, and we started dancing slowly along with the sounds. The Atlantic Ocean raged under the rock, the sun gradually sank in the water, while we dissolved in the world with every move. The tune seemed to carry us away in a magical whirlwind. Now we were the two birds dancing wing to wing in the skies. The sun called us to cherish its last rays.

As the melody ended, I opened my eyes and stared at the horizon. The sky was filled with puffins. Tiny birds flew above our heads, sparkling in the sunlight. Their red beaks colored the sky. United by the divinity of the moment, we, humans and birds, were infinite.

— — — — — —

Alexandra Khrustaleva is a third-year student at the American Univerity in Bulgaria. She is in love with the world and traveling is her infinite passion.

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