A Scandinavian Winter - chapter 6

Day 7 - It's another Tequila Sunrise

Sorry, I said no more, but I woke again to another specular sunrise, my last on the Norwegian fjords, at least for now. I was thinking that one could become rather blasé about such natural wonders but as it happened I reckon about a dozen or more of the crew were out watching the sunrise and taking pictures. So they clearly don't get blasé about it. If Hurtigruten is a decent company to work for, then I can imagine this is not a bad place or way to earn a living. I feel a bit sorry for the expeditionary crew, who would normally be giving lectures and leading unsuspecting tourists on mad journeys on snowmobiles between ports etc. But at the moment they seem to be confined to telling us which television channel to watch for the next geographical information film. No surprise, I haven’t watched any of them. I haven't even turned the TV on.

Before I leave this ship I should perhaps introduce you to my cabin. I went relative budget, but couldn’t bear the thought of a cabin with no window so this is one step up. Not the luxury of “Arctic Explorer” or even better “Expedition Suite” but comfortable nevertheless. Got everything I need: bed; place to sit; bog; shower. What more does the single traveller need. I spend most of my time either in the Multe Bakery or out on deck anyway. And having last night read a bit more of Christiane’s reflections on a year in Svalbard, I can confidently say I don't need anything more. In fact even I could cope with a good bit less … if I had to! Let me just share one of Christiane’s mind boggling stories with you. And I quote…

‘I am alone in the furious drumfire of a hurricane. I think these are called blizzards in books about the Arctic. In any case I have never been through anything like this in Europe. (she is Austrian) From within the hut it sounds like an express train were being driven without pause over iron bridges and through screaming tunnels that have no end.

For nine days and nine nights the storm rages without respite, and the worst of it is the men are away.’

OMG! Nine days in a hurricane in a crappy hut at roughly 80ºN, and it's winter so it’s dark most of the time.

All I had to worry about was whether or not I would be able to get a taxi from Hammerfest airport to my hotel! Which I would like to point out I achieved via a Norwegian online booking, in Norwegian. (Don't tell anyone the taxi arrived earlier than I expected, but being used to the kind of duffer like me he happily waited. I like Norwegians.)

Sorry I can’t resist one more quote to try to get over the sheer madness of where this woman chose to live for a year. Christiane has just arrived at the hut she is to share with her husband and his Norwegian hunter friend Karl (who is barking mad). The hut itself is no more than planks and nailed on felt but it is the first conversation in the hut (The Hut at Grey Hook, towards top left - 60 miles from the nearest neighbour, Sven Ohlson, and I think that includes crossing a fjord) that is truly scary:

'“Where’s he going now, just when we want to eat?” I ask my husband.

“To look for fresh water,” is the laconic reply

“To look?” I am horrified. “Then you don't know where it is?”

“No, we don't yet know the district round here either. But hunters say there’s a stream here, somewhere, somewhere nearby.”

“Somewhere? But suppose he doesn’t find the stream, this Karl?”

“Then he’ll bring back a lump of glacier ice.”

“For cooking?” I am startled. “But is there a glacier anywhere here? You can't see anything in the mist.”

“A couple of miles from here at the outside there is a glacier. Karl can get there and back in an hour and half,” my husband says soothingly.’

What! I'm going to live here and you don't even know where the water supply is!! Are you mad? Or am I? Can I also stress, this is not a novel, it happened! In 1933. But it can't have done her too much harm in the long run (at least physically); Christiane Ritter died in in 2000, at the age of 103! She went hunting in temperatures of -38ºC. I can vouch for how cold that is, and it is not a temperature you willing want to be outside in.

I’ve now read half the book and my admiration for her and all the people who choose to make this environment their home is boundless. I used to think I was quite brave. I’m not in the same league.

But I have to admit that it has tempted me to visit Svalbard! Sorry Nareesa, I guess that will be another trip on my own! To stay in Longyearbyen, the world's most northerly permanent settlement with a population over a 1000, that sounds like fun. Ny-Alesund is further north, also on Svalbard, but only 35 people live there. They might notice me, and has it got a hotel?? There are also more northerly research and military bases in Canada and Russian, but I am guessing they wouldn't let me in, and neither would I want to go. I'm not Christiane Ritter!

And so this part of the journey comes to an end. I will have been on the ship/boat (I never know) for roughly 100 hours, just over 4 full days …

My final reflections on Hurtigruten. I love Hurtigruten, I can honestly think of few ways I could enjoy my own company for extended periods of time as much as I do drifting down the Norwegian coast admiring the beautiful scenery and reflecting on life, and other unimportant stuff. I have even persuaded Nareesa to take the “fast way” (Hurtigruten means fast way in Norwegian - no irony intended I don't think) from Vancouver to Anchorage next year. 12 days on a boat … with me! You may well get to hear about it. If she hasn’t pushed me overboard a somewhere off the coast of British Columbia.

But, one final moan about them on this trip (not a big one, just curious really). Given the zeal with which Hurtigruten attempts to manage Covid related risks I am bemused by their apparent lack of concern for icy decks, especially given the demographic of most of their customer base. I would have thought that it would not have taken much to clear this lot. It hasn’t, after all, snowed since Hammerfest. Anyway, just saying. I didn’t hear any American voices on board (for reasons of covid I’m sure), but I reckon any broken limbs would have had them on the phone to their attorney pronto! Just saying! Minor rant over.

OK, not quite. You remember that picture of icicles hanging off the deck of the boat? No, of course you don't! Well here they are just to remind you (might be a different picture). As the sun warmed everything up yesterday they fell off. Glad I wasn’t underneath it! But someone nearly was. So no chance of dying of Covid, but speared from above by an icicle - that’s a possible! Could be a murder mystery!

So, those northern lights! This is what they look like ... just not in this trip. Nah, rien, nichts, nada, ingenting (that's Norwegian ... probably).

But to be honest that has not bothered me one bit. I think there are people aboard (not that I have spoken to them, just eavesdropping) who are disappointed. Of course I have only been on board for 4 days, many have been on for 12, so they might have seen them on the way north. Hurtigruten confidently offers a free cruise if you don't see them at this time of year. Not to plebs like me, who only booked “port to port”, but most of the clientele may well be rubbing their hands at the thought of a freebie! Wonder if they would do almost two weeks again in the winter. Shall I ask? Nah, don’t care really.

I've spent most of the day drifting through the southern fjords to Bergen. Gazing out at the subtly changing scenery and just enjoying the here and now. Through a narrow fjord with 1700 islands (probably best we are doing this bit in the light), and passing the entrance to Sognefjord, Europe's longest fjord at 204km. Communities come thicker and faster as we go south, after all its only 60ºN around here, roughly level with the Shetland Islands, so much more hospitable. At least they don't have to contend with Arctic nights that last for months.

Bergen, as I have written about before, is an attractive and welcoming city (Norway’s second largest) and for the first time since I left home feels like I am back in an urban environment. This evening was taken up with finding food, trying not to spend too much on beer, and writing and posting this junk. I didn't go for my customary long walk around a new place - its snowing like crazy and blowing a gale. Has Storm Arwen crossed the North Sea? If so I am glad it didn't get here any earlier.

Further talk of Bergen can wait till tomorrow, this is long enough already.

Don't know how much writing will get done tomorrow, maybe I’ll rely on pictures as I will be taking what is reputed to be one of the world’s most beautiful train journeys across the mountainous spine of Norway from Bergen to Oslo.

Now, where are the plum jacket, orange trousers, and copy of Bradshaw's I packed for the train journey?