''Show me what you've got, byatch!''
- Ned Gerblanski, through a voicebox, with one arm, in a boxing ring, in South Park's ''Tweek vs. Craig'' Episode (sorta) (more sound, as an .mp3 or zip)

The promise of more bread and brown cheese for breakfast on Wednesday morning triggered Shannon's resourceful side, and we resolved along with him to head to the store to procure a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs. A number of the group made the hour-long trek around the fjord to the grocery store, only to find out the next day that a five-minute jaunt in the rowboats would have sufficed.

Those who joined in agreed unanimously that the food was worth the trek. We'd enjoyed Tom and Shannon's delicious breakfast, the weather had taken a turn for the better, and by the time we were finished, Cabin 25's inhabitants were among those keen to head out on the Wenche for some deep-sea fishing in the afternoon.

The Wenche itself was stacked to the gills with fishing equipment, and she was big enough to bounce over the waves and make us all feel just a little bit queasy. We chose to hang on up at the bow of the boat even during the most bumpy parts of the ride. The captain stopped at three different fishing spots for us.

Here we are at the first spot, all fishing off the side of the boat. Shannon nailed the first fish, which also happened to be the only cod we caught that day. ''It's fitting,'' he pointed out, ''that a Newfoundlander caught the cod.'' (Several years ago, a moratorium on cod fishing was imposed off the coast of Newfoundland after the locals fished their cod stocks to the brink of extinction.) Many of the others were dragging in the massive coalfish that were going to become our dinner.

Here's a shot of Nadia fishing towards the back of the boat. She managed to land quite an impressive catch for dinner.

Meanwhile, at the stern, Espen was eviscerating fish - breaking their necks and slitting their throats with his bare hands and a knife. He seemed to be really enjoying getting medieval with the fish, and so I made a mental note never to make Espen too angry. Amy, Paul and some of the others had taken to calling him Åspen, the name of some Chemical Engineering software they've developed a love-hate relationship with back at university. By now, I think I will call him Sir.

Speaking of Amy, she and the waves had a little bit of a disagreement later on in the voyage. She wasn't the only one who couldn't hold down her eggs and bacon. I held on to my breakfast by the skin of my teeth. Mari, to her left, wins hands-down the Most Smiling Person in Lofoten award. She's the IAESTE Reception Officer for the Stavanger crew, and we appreciated her calming and thoughtful presence throughout our journeys.

We had reached the third and final fishing spot and both Amy and I hadn't landed a thing. We were two of the only people on the boat who had been so unlucky - or, perhaps in my case, unskilled. I was wishing I'd paid more attention to my father back when we used to fish in Canada, and couldn't help but feel that in some way, I was letting him down.

Amy and I were working from the same line - she winding, me pulling on the line - when the Captain announced that it was time to go. We exchanged shrugs and, a little down, we started to reel in. I refused to just tug the line out of the water, though; I pulled it in slowly, tugging violently every few seconds as Liz-Iren had shown me in an attempt to nail a fish.

When I felt the bite, I shuddered, turned towards Amy to tell her the news, and the two of us resolved not to let our dinner get away. I gave the line one hell of a heave in an attempt to set the hook, and then began to reel in. Amy called for someone to help us get the fish out of the water, and sure enough, we landed not one but two good-sized coalfish on two of our hooks!

Steve, the second of the two Newfies with us, got this great shot of the two of us holding up our two fish, while Liz-Iren brandished the knife she was using to help Espen, and Jan smiled on with a catch of his own. We held up those fish for so many photographs that by the time Amy and I had put down the fish to shake hands, we were pretty much covered in blood.

Here are the Wenche, a fishhead, and Liz-Iren. Liz-Iren is slipping the fish some tongue, which you might expect that you'd never catch me doing. But you would be wrong.

You see, Shannon had this fantastic idea that ended up turning into a whole evening of escapades. It started with a challenge to see who would be willing to jump into the water and go for a wee swim. Eventually we were just about all convinced that it was a fantastic idea, and so we threw on our bathing suits and raced down to the end of the docks to begin mustering up our courage.

Shannon had been convinced since way back in Tromsø that I was never going to go swimming with the gang, and my reluctance to agree with his plan to swim this time around only solidified his beliefs. So I walked out to the end of the dock and he came up behind me, once again leaping around like a grasshopper, this time in a mock attempt to knock me in.

Something deep in the back of my sun-scorched brain must have realized that I was most certainly taking a swim today. I asked Shannon, ''And just how much would it piss you off if I was in the water before you?'' When he responded, ''A lot!'' in thick Newfoundlandese, I tossed off my shirt, shouted our much-abused catchphrase, ''Show me what you've got, byatch!'' and dove off the dock.

I'd have to say the water was about half a centimeter or so cold.

I got out, and we began our more formal entry into the water. Tamsin, Liz-Iren, Shannon, Abelone, Nathan, Paul, Steve, Tom and I held hands and ran off the end of the dock together in formation while Mari and Eilidh took pictures. Espen came out shortly after in quite a minimalist outfit and nonchalantly took a long walk off the short pier. Boy, am I hoping to get some pictures of this to put up here.

I jumped in four times before we returned to the beachside bar (still in our bathing suits) for a round of scotch shooters. Naturally, the next thing we did was head for the sauna.

While in the sauna, Steve and Shannon invoked an ancient tradition to made us honorary Newfoundlanders. Steve had brought with him a bottle of Screech, which is to rum as brown cheese is to normal cheese. Sitting in a boiling hot sauna, we each put back a makeshift shotglass of screech before reciting the following mantra:

How's he goin', me ol' cock,
And long may your big jib draw.

Which translates roughly to, ''How are you doing, my old friend, and long may your sail draw wind.'' At this point, we each kissed the head of the cod Shannon had caught (Espen really gave it a going-over) and in doing so, became honorary Newfies. And I wonder why I've got a sore throat now.

Steve, who (will wonders never cease?) is soon to be a engineer from the class of Sci '00 at Queen's University in Canada, was kind enough to keep Tamsin's and my Iron Rings safe as the temperature rose in the sauna. He was tremendously generous with the Screech, which scared Abelone and even the Irish Nathan!

Of course, we then jumped into the water again, this time whistling the Throne Room Theme from the first Star Wars movie. We returned to the sauna, complete with a plate of the coalfish that we had caught that afternoon, potato and beer to have for dinner. This was a real ''wet'' sauna, and Tamsin brought out her eucalyptus ''Essential Oil'' to scent the steam. We relaxed, ate and sweated in the sauna for over an hour.

After a cold shower, we went out to cook the other half of Shannon's cod and rejoin the gang under the midnight sun. Before it was too late, Tamsin and I rowed over to the store to pick up all the fixings for Thursday-morning pancakes. There is something very special about the fact that we saved time by rowing to and from the grocery store.

The midnight sun was out that evening in all of its glory. For many of the trainees, this was their first experience under the midnight sun without cloud cover, and so it was no surprise that everyone was out on the docks. The group in the above photo had invented quite a brilliant drinking game. They called over someone, and asked them to go around the circle, guessing the age of everyone there. They sipped their beer once for every year they were off. I went through a full bottle and a half making it around this circle. The ages, incidentally, ranged from 21 to 27. Nathan was the only one who guessed my age; everyone else around the circle thought I was 24 or 25! (Oh, come on, you don't think I'm going to give it away here, do you?)

No matter that the above photo is a little out of focus; you can tell exactly how beautiful this scene was. A number of us decided it would be nice to head out on rowboats and see if we could find some more beautiful views of the Midnight Sun.

Here are Espen, Paul, Nadia and Eilidh out on the water in a rowboat. I think the CoolPix decided it wanted the water to be in focus this time. This was taken just moments before we turned around to head back in, because the docks were closing and the Kræmmervika folks wanted their rowboats back. The anxiety Espen was experiencing as I got up on the end of the boat to take this picture is pretty clear, but, as I said to him just after I took this shot, I respected how concerned he was for our safety over the course of the trip. Paul was quick to add that that went for all of us trainees.

As we headed for the point to enjoy the view at two in the morning, I took this picture of Eilidh, Paul and Nadia while looking back at Kræmmervika in the distance. At 3:30AM, we returned to the cabin. As Shannon snored, Paul, Tamsin, Eilidh and I chatted about artificial intelligence until we finally settled down for some much-needed rest. On Thursday morning, we were to depart this peaceful spot for a village known only as Å.