On a motorcycle trip to the Arctic Circle...
Once you get to the only road that crosses the line, there's a small cairn field and a six-armed statue holding aloft a globe which marks the Arctic Circle. A truly bizarre place where, for part of the year, the sun never sets and at the other end of the cycle, never rises. The trees and vegetation just... stop. The ice holds the land in the north in its death grip. Nothing lives. It's a truly wonderful landscape - one that'll stay with me for the rest of my life.

Anywho, sub sixth-form levels of lazy, faux-dramatic sentence construction aside, there's also a monument to the Norwegians killed in the Nazi invasion and occupation during World War II.

As I walked past this, on the way back from the somewhat secluded Arctic Circle marker, three German riders, who'd travelled around 2500 miles on Harley Davidsons to the spot asked me to take a photograph of them in front of the marker. The wrong marker.

And so I did. I took a photo of three German gentlemen grinning and giving thumbs up while leaning on a statue commemorating the wartime dead and didn't say a word.

Gulp. Satan has a nice, sharp pitchfork picked out ready for me...
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Thu 26 Aug 2010, 15:38, Reply)