I met Kim while he was cooking a lamb he had just butchered out in the woods to the north of Unstad Beach in Lofoten, Norway. The story of the lamb is
a long one, better for another time and a few beers. However, the story of Kim learning to surf is the one for today, dear readers.

Kim had recently arrived in Lofoten with the intention of learning to surf. Unfortunately, he suffered some health issues after arriving and was forced
to rest instead. Ironically, his dreams of cold water surfing put on ice for a while.

I was in Unstad, staying at the Unstad Arctic Surf Camp (where I first met Kim mid-lamb roast) for the Lofoten Masters surfing competition. The competition
came and went (I finished 5th, which isn’t bad for an ex-pro bodyboarder riding a surfboard) and I had always planned to stay and experience more of
the place before heading back home to the south of Sweden. There were only a handful of us remaining after all of the competitors had left. Kim, meanwhile,
was staying in his tent out by the north forest.

With the competition over, us few travelers from different corners of the world could take the time to get to know each other better, building fires by
the beach and sharing stories as the northern lights danced far above us. During one of these times, Kim’s story was revealed and I decided to offer
some help.

The waves had dropped significantly since the competition, but the conditions were still perfect. I had brought along my bodyboard and fins in the off-chance
that some slabbing waves might be found in the area. With conditions this nice yet lacking any real punch, the idea of bodysurfing seemed like a novel
one instead. I mean, at least I would be able to say to my kids one day that I bodysurfed in the Arctic Circle. I was keen to strap on my fins and
catch a few rollers and I offered to introduce Kim to surfing from the best starting point I could think of – with the wave, bodysurfing.

We ventured down to Unstad Beach on a frosty morning that had my bones aching as I walked bare-foot down to the shore. The water was certainly fresh and
gin-clear, with the swell possessing enough energy to drag us along as they slowly approached the sandbar.

Kim is a viking, and proud of his culture and the Norse myths that his forebears subscribed to before Christianity swept across the fjords a thousand or
so years ago. In the frigid waters of Unstad, as we waited for the next swells to carry us away, I asked Kim if there was a Norse god of the sea who
we might be able to request a few decent waves from. He told me that

Rán was the Goddess of the Sea and that he didn’t know so much about her. I later did some research myself and read that she was known to cast her
net and capture unsuspecting men in the waters.

Judging by the stoke on Kim’s face as he bodysurfed the frigid swells, it looks as though Rán’s net has claimed a willing victim once again.