Thursday, November 26, 2015
Monday, August 17, 2015
Norway Post 39
Day 36
I had about 28 miles to Ornes, where I
decided I would finish my trip. I kind of needed to go home and get a job before the upcoming school year. The school that
I taught at last year closed and various promising
opportunities that I had lined up fell through.
Twenty eight miles in one day was on
the high side, so maybe I would finish early tomorrow. I wound
through the tight archipelago and then crossed north east to an
intermediary island between me and the mainland.
The wind from yesterday had only calmed
slightly and I had to set my boat at a moderate ferry angle to
compensate. At the northern end of the island was another
archipelago though smaller than the first. By the time that I
navigated out of that the wind turned into a solid tailwind and the
sun warmed the world so much that for the first time in weeks I
rolled to cool off. Those arctic waters did the job splendidly.
I caught a glimpse of Svartisen, an
enormous glacier above me. Svartisen rose above the mountains like
an ice dune and in the sunlight gleamed white as though it had never
ever been peed on, which was quite impossible because that water had
been frozen up there for a very long time. If there was any chance
at all that it had actually never been peed on I would have landed my
kayak then and there, climbed those mountains, and claimed that
glacier for mankind. However, not being the first guy to lay eyes on
one of god's most glorious gifts, I could paddle assured that
some when someone had found a way.
Svartisen is a field of ice spanning
369 km^2 and for the rest of the day I reveled in amazing views of
different angles and different parts of the enormous glacier.
I turned into a fjord and the tail wind
I had enjoyed for most of the afternoon politely turned with me.
I slipped under a bridge, turned a
corner, and after seven and a half hours on the water found a sign
that said guest marina. Ornes was another seven and a half miles
away, an easy jaunt for tomorrow morning and I would most likely
arrive in time to catch the cruise ship to take me and my
boat back to Alesund.
Children enjoyed the unusually warm day
by swimming around the marina. None of them looked like they were
about to die. Maybe Norwegian woman are so beautiful because they're
have seal blood in them.
The shower in the gjest marina building
was locked, but a sign advertised kayaking courses in the area and
and I was given directions to the instructor's house up on the hill where I found a shower and an invitation to stay for dinner.
I found myself sitting at a table with
three tall blond seal blooded lady kayakers, each one as bright as
the glacier and as pretty as the sea. One of them wasn't seal
blooded after all, she was from Upstate New York. I told them all
sorts of kayaking stories in which I was the hero and they wanted to
hear more. I may not have found Slartibartfast's plaque, but under a
glacier in the Arctic circle I found heaven.
There was only one catch. It was
Christian heaven. You see, all the young outdoors enthusiasts around
me were the leadership of the bible school I sat in. The bible
school had a strong outdoors program. Behind me a couple of guys
shot a bb gun at a tree.
The thing is, in order to go to
Christian heaven, you have to accept Jesus as your personal savior,
and even for all the best kayaking seal blooded woman in the world, I
wasn't ready to do that. I have Judaism, and while I wouldn't
recommend it for everyone (anyone) I like it more than I do tall
blond kayakers. Either that or I was so intoxicated by the dream I
found myself in that I couldn't help but stumble away.
I got back in my kayak and paddled to
Ornes. The wind had changed to blow against me, but I had the
shiny bright strength of victory and paddled without
weariness. All of my warm kayaking clothing was wet in my hatches
from being rinsed down after the day's paddle so my bare shoulders
felt the sun set and ignored the cold that came afterwards.
A porpoise surfaced and snorted.
Maybe he was one of the three I'd seen the first week come to say
goodbye.
In Ornes on the dock I met a man who
opened up the marina's gjest house for me.
"Wish me congratulations," I
told him.
He shook my hand and looked at me
questioningly.
"I paddled here from Alesund.
It's been about 640 nautical miles and I think it's time to go home.
It's been spectacular."
"Congratulations," he said.
I caught the cruise ship the next morning
at 7:15. The kayak was too heavy and I didn't want to drag it all
that way on the asphalt. There was nowhere closer to the cruise
ship's dock to make a landing. I borrowed an unhitched car wagon
trailer from a parking space in the marina.
The ship took me back the way I came.
In two days it rewound through seven weeks.
I didn't find Slartibartfast's plaque,
but I did find one of the most amazing summer kayaking adventures I
could hope to have. Perhaps I'll have to come back one day to keep
on looking.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Norway Post 38
Day 35
On Saturday an east wind slipped
through the mountains out to sea and loved what it found. It told
its friends and soon more and more came. By Sunday they were flying. The
forecast called for a southeast wind, but I'd met the southeast wind
before, and perhaps if I stood at the top of a mountain I could look
to the southeast and feel the wind on my face, but down at sea level,
the wind raced out of the fjords, whether they were pointed to the
southeast, east, or northeast. I chose a route
that would leave me sheltered from the wind by islands, except for
when I crossed to and from them.
I hoped that this time the wind would
really be more from the south, and as I headed northwest up to the
end of the peninsula it was. I turned north and crossed into the
arctic circle. A monument on an island marks the line and I
celebrated achieving my trips major secondary objective. I hadn't
found Slartibartfast's plaque, but I found the Arctic's and rejoiced
with song.
I cut due north to the archipelago that
would shelter me from the wind. The crossing was slow and the arctic
waters sloshed around over my boat bouncing it up and down. Not
even a little bit of the wind came from the south, it was straight
out of the fjord, north east.
With the shelter of the islands the
wind flashed from calm to sprint in every direction. The water densely
rippled around me without enough fetch to grow
into anything more formidable. My next crossing would be much
longer. Tomorrow the weather would be much better. The sun was
bright and beautiful and the weather warm, but if I got separated
from my boat in wind and waves during the crossing, the arctic waters
would suck the life out of me like a monkey with a yogurt tube.
I've never been separated from my kayak
before, and I haven't missed a roll in a long time, but better safe
than a discarded monkey's yogurt tube.
I pulled into a small harbor and was
invited to stay in a lovely guest apartment. Check out
www.Helgelandsidyll.no if you're looking to visit Norway. The shower
handle has a digital temperature display, and if that's not enough
the owner rents kayaks and it's one of the most beautiful places to
paddle in the world.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Norway Post 37
Day 34
The weather was much the same as Day
30, except that the wind changed direction to be head on.
I pushed through the cold windy
unhappiness towards the end of the peninsula. Once there I would
turn north and a little east and likely have a tail wind. About a mile
before that I found a nice marina with a shower and a living room, so
I gave up exhausted having covered less than half of my
intended route for the day.
I needed a break. It had been a long
week. The next day, Friday, was my birthday. If I paddled north I
might not end up anywhere for the Sabbath as nice as the marina I was
in, so I took the day off.
A strong north wind in the afternoon
meant I had probably chosen wisely. The sun lit the world and wild
flowers perfumed the air. The mountains here are beautiful and one
of them is sporting an enormous cave fairly high up. This is a great
birthday!
On Sunday I'll hopefully cross into the
Arctic circle, just three miles north of here, and on Monday I'll
likely end my trip in Ornes. That only leaves me with two more days
of paddling to find the plaque. But even if it doesn't turn up, the
trip won't have been a failure. I've documented my route so future
explorers will know where it's not. Also, I'm having a pretty great
time looking for it and that has to count for something, right?
From Norway Aug 13 2015 |
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Norway Post 36
Day 33
Gray clouds blanketed the sky. The
original plan had been to arrive in Brattland today, but that was too
far from my middle of the nowhere camp off my original route. I could
go to Nesna, but there wasn't much in between and Nesna was too
close.
I could take the sea side shore of Hugla and Handnesoy as a shortcut and arrive in Bratland today after all. I'd see less of the inner cost and consequently would be less likely to find Slartibartfast's plaque, but I'd get a better view of the islands Donna and Lokta which are sufficiently spectacular that it might be hidden on one of their cliffs. Maybe today would be the day that I find it after all.
I could take the sea side shore of Hugla and Handnesoy as a shortcut and arrive in Bratland today after all. I'd see less of the inner cost and consequently would be less likely to find Slartibartfast's plaque, but I'd get a better view of the islands Donna and Lokta which are sufficiently spectacular that it might be hidden on one of their cliffs. Maybe today would be the day that I find it after all.
I had a great tail wind and moved
quickly, if frigidly, through the gray rainy Sttgfjorden. I took a
fairly straight route through the center of the fjord . In the wind without shelter changing snack bottles and peeing was challenging. I did these things
quickly during lulls in the weather.
Near Selnes, towards the end
of my day, I was less sheltered by islands to the west than I had
been earlier and the wind changed direction to take advantage of the
weakness in my defenses. Instead of a tail wind I had a beam wind.
Breaking waves sloshed over my boat, sometimes chest high, and I
bobbed up and down on the swells as I leaned into the wind and
pushed towards Alderfjorden.
Once there, I rejoiced. I turned east
and for the last couple miles enjoyed a solid tailwind. When I
pulled into Brattland's marina I pumped about an inch of frigid water
out of my boat. A man let me into the marina's shower and living
room. I introduced myself and shook his hand.
"You're freezing!" He said.
"I know." I told him. The
hot shower was nice.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Norway Post 35
Day 32
The forecast called for southeast
winds. My day began with crossing Leirfjorden which pointed to the
northeast, and that's where the wind came from.
While fighting through it the huge
cruise liner which I incorrectly call Hutaruita bore strait
down on me from much too close at nearly the speed of sound. I lay
my paddle on my skirt so that both hands were free to grab my
radio. I keep it secured to the back of my life vest so that it looks
a little bit like a ninja sword. I don't use it very often and
unclipping it is a two hand procedure.*
Panicked, my radio message was
not in the best form "SECURITAY SECURITAY SECURITAY. Solo
yellow kayak crossing north from Sandnessjoenn. Hootaroota, this is
Solo Yellow Kayak, Make Sure You See Me. Hutaruita, this is Solo
Yellow Kayak. Make sure you see me! I'm heading north."
I turned east to get out of his way and
a moment later the juggernaut turned enough to the west so that I
wouldn't die.
I finished my crossing and began
paddling north along the Ranen peninsula. The wind came from every
which way and strongly. Sometimes it would be a headwind, others a
tail wind or a beam wind. I watched gusts ripple across the water
to feel a brief whoosh when they arrived and then passed.
I stopped on a beach to stretch my legs
and remove the water that accumulated in my boat during the
crossing. My spray skirt is not a great fit. A woman who lived in
a house above the beach warned me that a storm was coming.
My goal for the day was Nesna and when
I began crossing the fjord to the neighboring island of Hugla the
wind was with me, but as soon as I was farther out in the channel it
set against me. The wind continued against me as I climbed into
white caps and bounced over oncoming waves. Nesna was about seven
miles away, but at my current speed I wouldn't make it any time soon.
I turned around and landed on a beach
with a number of houses above it. Quite a bit of rain was forecast
for the night so I was especially hoping to find a garage or
boathouse to sleep in. All the driveways were empty. Summer homes, without very much summer this year people were staying south.
I got back in my boat and paddled a
little farther back and took out at a small dock with a couple of
motor boats tied up to it. The first people I met told me to continue
paddling back even further to a guest house at the
marina. The second people I met were happy to let me sleep in their
garage.
The moment I had dragged all my things
up and was under its shelter the storm began. Thunder boomed and
rain soaked the earth. The waterfall on the cliff above me roared.
I was cold but at least dry. I took
out my things to make dinner and realized I left my fuel canister in
my kayak. I ran through the torrential rain down a grassy path, onto the
bridge over the rushing stream, to the dock and got my canister. The
rain poured, but back in my garage I made dinner.
I had not been
invited into the house to shower. A hose next to the garage invited
me to snuggle in its icy jaws. I ACCEPT!
I went naked into the freezing rain and
hosed myself down. I scrubbed with Dr Bronner's soap and then rinsed
myself off. I wanted to huddle and shiver but instead I breathed
deeply, looked into the sky, and shouted from my soul "I AM A
BEAST. I LOVE LIFE."
Then I was a clean beast, and then I
was shivering in the garage and getting dressed when a neighbor came
in and invited me to sleep in his house and take a hot shower if I
like.
The warm bed was nice. Maybe I'm more
like a Lab, they like beds, the water, and are vaguely beast-like to
people who are scared of dogs.
*Later I changed the system because it was stupid.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Norway Post 34
Day 31
Sunday morning I set out away from the
fjords into one of Norway's most beautiful archipelagos and a world
heritage sight. Some 6,000 low islands cluster together just north
of Vega. Across that pristine expanse is the island of Husvaer where a
kayaking couple live and host other paddlers. They advertise on
their website that they're there and paddling all year round so come
on by. The few other kayakers I've me on my journey told me that I
have to visit, both because it's so beautiful and because I'm sure to meet
other paddlers.
My first crossing was to the island
Ylvingen. Leaving Bronnoysund I passed a number of small islands
before getting out into the channel proper. About five minutes after
I passed the last of those, with a substantial tailwind, I
began to panic that I didn't pack my phone and wallet.
I wanted to just keep going. Worst
case scenario I would arrive in Husvaer and figure out how to take
public transportation back to Bornnoysund. It wouldn't cost me more
than two days at the most. Or, I could turn around and head back to
that last island. If I had it then it would cost me about ten to
twenty minutes. If I didn't then I could paddle back to Bronnoysund
and only be two two hours behind schedule.
I estimated it would take me a total of
ten hours to paddle from Bronnoysund to Husvaer. It was farther than I
liked to go in a day, but I wanted to visit with the kayak hosts.
I turned around and returned to the
last of Bronnoysund's islands. I slid my kayak into a bed of seaweed
in a rock crevice. The most likely place for my phone was in the
orange drybag in the hatch immediately behind my cockpit. I could
get it without getting out and pulling the kayak onto the island, but
if I did that and dropped anything important* I risked losing it.
I opened the bag. My phone and wallet
were on top, so there was no need to take anything out searching for
them. I returned the bag to its hatch and resumed paddling.
The wind was supposed to come from the
south, but it seemed to be coming from the east, as though blowing
out of the mainland's mountains. That was still favorable, but not
as helpful as I liked.
From the north end of Ylvingen it got
tricky. There were 6,000 tiny islands ahead of me, and I had to find
Husvaer. It was at the far end. I had it marked on my chart,
but my chart didn't have enough detail to show half the islands out
there, and of those it did show many were nothing more than dots or
plus symbols. This was going to be the first major navigational
challenge of the trip, if not of my post military life. Fun!
I set my course and five miles due
north I arrived at the first of the 6,000. It was populated by fuzzy
chicks and their parents tweeting at me angrily from the air
above. The small birds are black and white with bright orange beaks.
After seagulls, I've seen these birds most often in Norway. They're almost
always in pairs and quick to use themselves as loud low flying bait
to lead me away from their nest. This was the first time I'd seen the
chicks.
Occasionally a parent bird would swoop
low with a small shiny fish in it's mouth and feed one of the little folk, but most
of the parents were busy swooping low and tweeting, "That island is boring,
come check this out!"
I took some bearings with my pocket
compass off of the mountain range known as Seven Sisters,
Analshatten, and Donmannnen. The nearly flat archipelago was
surrounded by steep snowy thousand meter peaks. Not only did that
make the view breathtaking from every island, but it also made it
possible for me to triangulate my position and confirm that I was on
the island that I wanted to be on.
I paddled north for another eight
miles. Gradually the islands accumulated on my right and then they
were all around me. Around every corner was a new view of a new
world. Some of the islands had sheep, some had red tinged pine
trees, some had both.
I was aiming for the island of
Skaalvaer because it was clearly marked on my map and probably
recognizable in real life; if it had a name on the map it probably had a village.
The island I thought was Skalvaer had
three houses. There was a channel marker of sorts which might have
matched up to the one on my map, even though it seemed to be the
wrong kind of channel marker. I turned around the north end of the
island where I saw the right sort of channel marker next to an island
with a village. I paddled to Skaalvaer.
I took a bearing to Husvaer off my
chart and matched it up to a distant island with an especially high
forested hill. I headed straight towards it, only there was an
island in my way, then another, and another. I was a mouse in a
maze. Did this pass go through? Probably not. I paddled farther in
one direction, then another. Sometimes the space between islands was
too shallow or full of seaweed. Other times in the low light I just
couldn't tell if I was looking at a dead end or not. My glasses
prescription being slightly off wasn't helping.
I found my way through, and after nine
hours and forty five minutes of paddling, faster for the tail wind
slower for the maze, I arrived at Husvaer. The kayak hosts who
advertise on their site that they're there all year round, take
August off to go on vacation. But a woman with a guest house next to
her dock generously invited me to sleep in it and I slept like a log.
*Everything was important.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Norway Post 33
Day 30
Sunday morning I set out away from the
fjords into one of Norway's most beautiful archipelagos and a world
heritage sight. Some 6,000 low islands cluster together just north
of Vega. Across that pristine expanse is the island of Husvaer where a
kayaking couple live and host other paddlers. They advertise on
their website that they're there and paddling all year round so come
on by. The few other kayakers I've me on my journey told me that I
have to visit, both because it's so beautiful and because I'm sure to meet
other paddlers.
My first crossing was to the island
Ylvingen. Leaving Bronnoysund I passed a number of small islands
before getting out into the channel proper. About five minutes after
I passed the last of those, with a substantial tailwind, I
began to panic that I didn't pack my phone and wallet.
I wanted to just keep going. Worst
case scenario I would arrive in Husvaer and figure out how to take
public transportation back to Bornnoysund. It wouldn't cost me more
than two days at the most. Or, I could turn around and head back to
that last island. If I had it then it would cost me about ten to
twenty minutes. If I didn't then I could paddle back to Bronnoysund
and only be two two hours behind schedule.
I estimated it would take me a total of
ten hours to paddle from Bronnoysund to Husvaer. It was farther than I
liked to go in a day, but I wanted to visit with the kayak hosts.
I turned around and returned to the
last of Bronnoysund's islands. I slid my kayak into a bed of seaweed
in a rock crevice. The most likely place for my phone was in the
orange drybag in the hatch immediately behind my cockpit. I could
get it without getting out and pulling the kayak onto the island, but
if I did that and dropped anything important* I risked losing it.
I opened the bag. My phone and wallet
were on top, so there was no need to take anything out searching for
them. I returned the bag to its hatch and resumed paddling.
The wind was supposed to come from the
south, but it seemed to be coming from the east, as though blowing
out of the mainland's mountains. That was still favorable, but not
as helpful as I liked.
From the north end of Ylvingen it got
tricky. There were 6,000 tiny islands ahead of me, and I had to find
Husvaer. It was at the far end. I had it marked on my chart,
but my chart didn't have enough detail to show half the islands out
there, and of those it did show many were nothing more than dots or
plus symbols. This was going to be the first major navigational
challenge of the trip, if not of my post military life. Fun!
I set my course and five miles due
north I arrived at the first of the 6,000. It was populated by fuzzy
chicks and their parents tweeting at me angrily from the air
above. The small birds are black and white with bright orange beaks.
After seagulls, I've seen these birds most often in Norway. They're almost
always in pairs and quick to use themselves as loud low flying bait
to lead me away from their nest. This was the first time I'd seen the
chicks.
Occasionally a parent bird would swoop
low with a small shiny fish in it's mouth and feed one of the little folk, but most
of the parents were busy swooping low and tweeting, "That island is boring,
come check this out!"
I took some bearings with my pocket
compass off of the mountain range known as Seven Sisters,
Analshatten, and Donmannnen. The nearly flat archipelago was
surrounded by steep snowy thousand meter peaks. Not only did that
make the view breathtaking from every island, but it also made it
possible for me to triangulate my position and confirm that I was on
the island that I wanted to be on.
I paddled north for another eight
miles. Gradually the islands accumulated on my right and then they
were all around me. Around every corner was a new view of a new
world. Some of the islands had sheep, some had red tinged pine
trees, some had both.
I was aiming for the island of
Skaalvaer because it was clearly marked on my map and probably
recognizable in real life; if it had a name on the map it probably had a village.
The island I thought was Skalvaer had
three houses. There was a channel marker of sorts which might have
matched up to the one on my map, even though it seemed to be the
wrong kind of channel marker. I turned around the north end of the
island where I saw the right sort of channel marker next to an island
with a village. I paddled to Skaalvaer.
I took a bearing to Husvaer off my
chart and matched it up to a distant island with an especially high
forested hill. I headed straight towards it, only there was an
island in my way, then another, and another. I was a mouse in a
maze. Did this pass go through? Probably not. I paddled farther in
one direction, then another. Sometimes the space between islands was
too shallow or full of seaweed. Other times in the low light I just
couldn't tell if I was looking at a dead end or not. My glasses
prescription being slightly off wasn't helping.
I found my way through, and after nine
hours and forty five minutes of paddling, faster for the tail wind
slower for the maze, I arrived at Husvaer. The kayak hosts who
advertise on their site that they're there all year round, take
August off to go on vacation. But a woman with a guest house next to
her dock generously invited me to sleep in it and I slept like a log.
*Everything was important.
Friday, August 7, 2015
Norway Post 32
Day 29
I got an early start and for the first
time in what felt like ages had a tailwind the whole day. After
crossing Roingenfjorden I found a camping sight between Kvaloy and
Kjosvikfj where I took a short break. There I found an internet
connection that told me it would thunderstorm in the early afternoon
and that Bronnoysund would be a great place to stop for the Sabbath.
While it rained, and poured the
lightning never came and with the tailwind I made great progress
through the myriad of little islands to the slightly larger island of
Bronnysund. The third marina I paddled into was the official guest
marina and there I found a shower, laundry machine, internet
connection, kitchen, and clean floor to sleep on.
In the channel through the center of
the city a mother and baby otter played happily. It didn't bother
them that it was pouring and with a hot shower at the end of a great
tail wind, I didn't mind either.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Norway Post 31
Day 28
The sun shone down on my face and the
world was bright and beautiful. The sea was glassy calm and the
headwind didn't begin until early afternoon.
After the previous day's torrential
rains, brown streams gushed over the rocks and waterfalls poured into
the sea at every crevice. The rocks up above, slick with water,
reflected the sunshine like beacons of happiness.
A young Norwegian lady waved to me from
her spot down by the sea almost as if she too were a reflection of
the sun on the rocks.
At the top of Aarsetfjorden I paddled
into the mild current of a narrow stream for a winding 100 meters
before emerging near a neat dock on the other side. The wide low new
dock was surrounded by identical fishing motor boats that said to me,
"Uh oh, Germans."
Across was a small older wooden dock
beneath a boathouse. A single boat rocked against its rope. The nearest
house was at the top of a wide field. I
decided not to hold these Germans accountable for the sins of others,
it is a skill we Jews have worked hard at.
The first German was a friendly six
foot tall red headed lady who was, sadly, married. She didn't think
her husband would want me using the shower in their rental cottage,
but she did direct me to the owner of the cottages.
No, I couldn't sleep in his boat house
since he had guests. If he didn't have guests he would have let me.
No, I couldn't even sleep on the grassy field next to the cottages.
No he didn't know where I could find a shower. I could rent an
apartment for 700 kroner a night.
I got back in my boat and paddled for
another hour. I found a side fjord with a view of snow capped peaks, wooded islands, and a rushing incoming stream. I
parked at a dock near the stream and pulled my boat up. A silver motor boat with a
big flat floor sat besides the dock. Fishing gear was neat and organized and
the boat did not smell of fish guts as I expected.
Beyond the dock a path wound through a heavily overgrown lawn to a road. Small houses spread out across the grassy base of the mountain. Roads lined with trees weaved between them.
I climbed through the grass to the
nearest house and rang the bell. A different door than the one I
stood at opened and an older man stick his head out.
"Hi," I called. "Do you speak English?"
"No." He told me.
"Water?" I held up my water
bag.
"Okay." He said. He closed
his door and went inside. I walked over to that door to wait with my
water bag. I assumed he'd gone to get me a bottle or something. He
opened the first door I had been waiting at ready to take my water
bag. I walked back and handed it to him.
We talked a little about my trip in
English. He wished me luck without inviting me in for a shower. I
slept on the floor of the big silver motor boat.
For the first time on this trip, the
mosquitoes were out and in force. I sprayed a little repellent on my
cheeks and some more around the mouth of my bivi sack even though the
instructions say "Do not spray on clothing/" Hopefully it
won't ruin the Gor-tex.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Norway Post 30
Day 27
Excitement coursed through me. The forecast called for the wind to change from the north to the southeast.
I headed east into Sor -
Salten and a brutal headwind. The fjord was part of a passage that
would take me a little bit out of my way, but should be pretty.
Tight knit islands clustered the mouth of the fjord and made me feel like I paddled down a narrow
river. I passed under a bridge and felt a mild current with me.
Later, when I crossed over the bridge in
a car, I saw an enormous current. I must have gone through
at slack.
The wind beat into me all day on the
narrow fjord. Since the forecast said the wind would come from the
southeast, I tried the south side of the fjord, but it was really
windy there. For a while it seemed like the curve of the fjord would
shelter me a little from the wind on the north side, but it was
really windy there too. In five hours I had paddled about seven and
a half miles, about half my regular speed, but I wanted to move on
to the day's next leg.
Sor-Salten was connected by a 50 foot
canal to Nord-Salten, which was a fjord that would take me north.
The canal, about 15 feet wide, channeled a phenomenal quantity of water.
I must have made seven or eight
attempts to paddle up that channel. I began by sprinting up the eddy
so as to hit the current running, but as soon as I did it shot me out
like a cannon over it's bubbling churning outlet. I tried without
the eddy but couldn't even get close.
While I rested from my herculean
efforts a speed boat pulled up, roared its engines to maximum, and
pushed through the canal. They waved to me as they pulled past with
something like five times the speed that I can get at my fastest
sprint in my narrowest kayak.
Concrete stairs rose up from the water at the edge
of the canal's mouth. I could wait for the current to
change which would probably be soon since it looked like the fjord
was at high tide, or just portage along the walkway besides the
canal.
What ever I decided, I'd go up the
stairs and have a look around. I tied a rope to my kayak and threw
the other end onto the stairs so that if the eddy pulled my
kayak away once I was out I would have something to grab onto, and
then climbed onto the stairs.
I failed to pull my kayak up the
stairs. It was too heavy. Two scrawny blondes walked the path
besides the canal. I asked them if they could bring me someone
strong, and they were happy to go get their boyfriends. Compared to
at least one of them, I was the scrawny.
The real men helped me get my kayak up
the stairs without any trouble and we even carried it past the canal.
They invited me to join them for their BBQ, and while it was
entirely traif I was willing to cut my day short for the happy
company. While we cooked and ate and chatted at the campsite the
current calmed for a moment and then changed directions.
At seven thirty they got back in their
speed boat and headed home. After a touch of indecision I got into
my kayak and began my way up the fjord. I had a strong wind at my
back and the current was spectacular. I paddled the full five mile
length of the fjord in under an hour. Where things got narrow, on
account of a bridge or a particular rock formation, the water fell
downhill fast sucking me into whirlpools and pulling at me on the way
out. I flew.
At the end of Nord - Salten behind a
bunch of small island in the already narrow fjord I found a marina.
A sign said "Call this number to shower ..." I found
someone with a phone to call the number for me. I punched the code
into the lock and got to shower.
That night I slept under the shower
building's awning until the rain got too vertical. At three in the
morning I moved into the shower room which was warm, clean, and dry.
The next morning the rain continued and
the wind shook the trees. The second floor of the shower building
was a kitchen living room type space with a light on that could be
seen through the windows. The lock required a different code than
the bathroom.
I asked some folk getting out of a
motor boat at the marina. They didn't have the code, so they asked
some older folk who they found walking by. The older folk asked
their neighbors who had the code, for the boating clubhouse, and I
got in to spend the rest of the that cold windy wet day in warmth and
comfort.
The old folk also invited me to go into
town with them and we went shopping and got coffee together. I don't
drink coffee but I sat with them while they drank theirs. They
offered to get me cake but I was still feeling a little sick from the
cookies I gobbled down in the clubhouse. There was nothing wrong with them,
except for the quantity. I love Norway. I love life.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Norway Post 29
Day 26
After a solid night's sleep in the
living room shelter I continued up the fjord into a headwind.
I crossed Folla, the mouth of a large
fjord, at an angle. The distance was about four nautical miles, and
into a headwind and it took me about an hour and a half. The kayakers
from Namsos warned me that sometimes Fola was rough, with funky
currents and strong winds from strange places that made kayaking
unsafe. It wasn't, there was just the steady ever growing headwind.
I arrived at the peninsula I was aiming
for and cut under a bridge not much wider than my paddles beneath a
small village spread over a few low island hills. From there I left the
mainland and cut into an archipelago of tiny islands. Many had white
sandy beaches between rocky shores and grassy wildflower crests. The
grass and the wildflowers bowed south and waved to me with the wind.
To the west I saw the windmill
silhouette of another kayaker. It was out of my way, but I was
lonely. I blew my whistle. The paddler didn't hear me, so I changed
to a pursuit course. As I got closer other kayakers came into view
and I eventually met the group of five on a sandy beach with most of
them taking a snack break on the island.
It was a Norwegian single women's kayaking
group heading in the same direction I was for the next few weeks. They were happy to
have me along even though I didn't meet all of the qualifications
since we were going the same ways.
Wait, no, that's not it. It was a
mixed group from Trondheim on holiday. Their cars were parked nearby
and they were driving around to exciting day paddle spots. We
chatted for a while and then I set back out into the headwind.
The water between a couple of the
islands was too shallow, I didn't want to gorilla scoot
over the white sandy bottom and seaweed on account of the water being
cold so I hip thrust my way through. The bottom of the plastic kayak
had so many scratches in it that a light sanding might do it some
good anyways.
Despite all of my internal whining about
a second day of wind, I transitioned from the tiny island archipelago
into Rorvik's fjord without even realizing it. Rorvik is a town with a
guest marina and all the associated amenities. It was very likely I
would find a hot shower there. Besides me, however a small
fishing dock with a hose and boathouse offered nominal shelter. I was exhausted and Rorvik
was still a mile or two away.
I parked and looked around. The small
boathouse was unlocked, full of fishing gear, and reeked of fish. I
weighed a cold shower against another mile into the wind and a likely
hot shower.
Back in my boat I turned turned around
the corner of one last island, through intense multi directional
currents, and beheld across the channel Rorvik. It spread along the
coast in a way that refused to reveal the location of its guest
marina so I asked a man fishing with four small children in his tiny fishing boat.
He directed me to the marina and also
told me that if I wanted an amazing sea gull sighting all I had to do
was go around the island just to my north. Seagull crap stuck to my deck and I wondered what an amazing sea gull sighting looked
like.
I never found out since I cut straight
across the channel towards the marina. Strong currents whirl pooling
and eddying about rushed me one way than another in the wide channel.
I was totally unable to make rhyme or reason of them, but had a fun
time with the jostle.
In the marina I found a hot shower, an
invitation to spend the night on a couch, and the friendly sailors
from Kristiansund! It was the first time I'd ever met the same
friendly sailors twice and I was as happy to hear how their family
adventures had been since we last met as they were to hear about mine.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Norway Post 28
Day 25
With my expertly repaired skeg I
turned Namsos’s corner and headed north through a narrow fjord into
an archipelagic inland sea. The
headwind was chilly and brutal. The current dropped my speed to
glacial.
At the end of the even narrower outlet
fjord,, a kayaking couple, friends of those I had stayed with last
night, waited for me.
I passed a marina. I could stop, but
it wasn’t that much farther to hospitality. I pushed on, one inch
at a time. With every stroke I wondered just how much
easier it would be to go back to that marina. I kept turning around to measure how little I had accomplished since the last time I
checked five seconds earlier.
By the time I turned my boat around I had a kilometer to paddle back, and from the middle of the channel with waves
wind and current at my stern I flew.
While the small single docked marina
did not have a shower, I found and appropriated a hose. A small wooden club house with three walls sheltering cushioned
outdoor furniture sat at the head of the dock. There was even a
curtain to pull across the opening.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Norway Post 27
Day 24
I paddled past the sea wall that I
thought was a marina. It was.
The wind blew from the southwest. For
the first hour it was a nice tail wind. When I turned the corner
into Namsenfjorden the water calmed. Farther south a headwind rose and shifted to a tailwind as the fjord curved east.
I took narrow pathways between islands
until I arrived at a dead end, though my chart showed a passage. To turn back and go around the other side of the island would add at least half an hour to an already long day. I got out
and dragged my boat up a short beach onto a road. From the road
I saw the other side. Two hundred meters of low tide mud flats lay between me and smooth paddling.
I slogged over the flats and resumed paddling. The wind periodically blew rain clouds overhead, but they never
stayed for long. A rainbow upside down smiled at me.
As I pulled into Namsos I sang songs to
welcome in the Sabbath, maybe a bit loudly. When I stopped singing
to ask about a guest marina the fellow above didn't really want to
talk to me since my singing told him I was crazy.
In the marina I met Osla who had just
finished painting his sailboat. He and his wife were math and
history teachers by day and kayak instructors by night. They
welcomed me into their home like family and while I napped Saturday
afternoon Osla went ahead and fixed my skeg.
It works wonderfully.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Norway Post 26
I went for a walk hoping to find a
shower. I found myself walking besides a man who asked me if I was a
tourist. I told him my story and he showed me where the public
showers were. The village had hot showers for the workers who were
rebuilding it after last year's fire burnt everything down, and I was
warm and clean.
I slept on the dock next to my kayak.
In the middle of the night, despite the clear blue sky, my sleeping
bag was damp. I convinced myself it was raining and nodded off. I woke back up, decided to get my bivi sack out, and fell back asleep. I woke up again, got the sack out, and slept 'till dawn.
When morning came, with my clear
consciousness I realized that the fuss I had lost sleep over was dew. Down by the water, there's a lot of it.
Day 23
A north wind was forecast to get
stronger throughout the day. Fortunately, almost my entire route
took me through tight well sheltered passages. One small rushing tidal stream connected two fjords. The ten foot wide race wound a 40 foot passage and turned under a
tiny bridge before joining the next fjord. I climbed upstream with an intense and
sustained sprint. "I am a beast," I screamed through my
adrenaline hazed attack on the natural beauty turned wilderness
enemy around me.
At the other end of the fjord the
passage was almost as narrow but the water pulled me a along like a
fire hose and I wooted with joy.
After a couple more less intense narrow
passages the last four miles were into the headwind. An eagle rode
the thermal vents above the edge of an island's cliffs. Between that
and the island just north of it a mink scooted by me in the water and
climbed up the rocks. It scampered behind a stone and then stuck its
head out to look at me. I looked back, and then took a bunch of
pictures.
I continued my push into the headwind
across the bay and was thrilled to finally make landfall. I passed a small island
where some folks talked above a dock. I was tired and had been on
the water for over 8 hours. I asked if that blur in the distance
that looked like a sea wall was the marina I remembered from Google maps.
"No, why do you need a marina?"
"Sometimes they have showers and
friendly folks." I said.
"You can shower in our house."
She told me. I was also invited for dinner and to sleep over. The
next day when the weather was bad they invited me to stay until I was
ready to leave. I love Norway.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Norway Post 25
Day 22
The sun shone all all day. In the
morning I had a robust tailwind as I paddle between densely packed
islands and the mainland.
I stopped for a brief break and noticed
an otter floating at the surface just behind me. He was either
asleep, meditating, or silently stalking fish from above. It was the
closest I've ever gotten to one, apparently completely unaware of my
presence.
I took out my camera, which made a beep
when I turned it on. The otter's head shot out of the water and
looked directly at me. We stared at each other for a moment. My
camera made another digital sound when I hit the zoom and with a
splunk the otter dived into the opaque water. I took another moment to set my camera on silent.
I cut straight across a bay between an
archipelago and the mainland and then headed north in only slightly
more exposed water. Under a large light house I found a kind of
seaweed that I had been told was edible and been meaning to try.
At first the large flat leaf was
crunchy and tasted similar to the other sea weed I had been snacking
on. As the leaf dissolved in my mouth something happened. My mouth
was full of ooze. It didn't taste bad, it just felt salty and oozy. I decided
to end the experiment and spit it out.
In the afternoon I paddled under clear
skies over calm waters. The mountains above me stood proud in perfect kayaking weather.
I ended my happy day after eight hours
of paddling just north of Uran.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Norway Post 24
I waited for my host to wake up. I
didn't want to leave without saying goodbye and he offered to give me
a lift to the marina to save me an hour of walking. At
11:00 I checked to see if he was in the house, maybe he'd gone out
earlier without me noticing.
I woke him. Despite his hangover, he
was out of bed and we were on our way to the marina, with me once
again behind the wheel. I didn't know not driving while hung over is
a thing, but apparently it is. I've never had one.
Kids, don't drink and drive. Also,
don't put yourselves in a situation where I have to drive stick for
you.
Day 21
I paddled on calm water across the southern end of
the island and then turned into the north
south fjord between the island and the mainland. I first felt
the north wind that lasted all day.
My progress was pitiful. So slow I couldn't figure out where I was on the chart because I
thought I was much further north, and an Island connected to the
mainland by a bridge hid an important land marking harbor from me.
My chart doesn't show bridges, which is a defect.
I stopped at 17:30 without having hit
any of the distance landmarks I expected to find. I needed a
toilet. Five identical red vacation homes were lined up above the
water next to the small marina. The marina had a
number of small cabinless fishing boats, each with five rods held ready in upright shafts. The wind made the fishing line sing.
I didn't want to take an afternoon poop in the marina with people about. Looking for a bathroom I found that none of those people spoke English. It turned out they were mostly German tourists on a
fishing holiday.
Up at the red houses a number of them were cleaning and gutting their catch of the day. Families set to
work happily with knives, fish, and a hose. Nobody knew where I
might find a toilet. Nobody wanted to give me the least bit of help.
I walked past the last house and found
a secluded spot next to the water. I used the fish cleaning hose to
shower and slept in the one boat that had a cabin. It did not have
fishing rods set up as the others did and only smelled mildly of
gasoline.
The next day, while walking some
distance from the marina I met a man who knew Schell, my Thursday
night host. He had heard about me and was all too happy to host me
in his guest cottage for Saturday and Sunday night.
Sunday was Tisha B'Av, the Jewish day
day of mourning.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Norway Post 23
My skirt was a little too big for my
combing; the result had been that every time I turned hard, cold water
spilled onto my leg and into my boat. I tied a string around the
front of my skirt solving a problem that had annoyed me for the last
18 days.
It didn't seem like lowering the skeg
had made much of a difference since the last time I fixed it. I
checked to make sure it worked and discovered it didn't. I
might be able to fix it with a hex wrench which I do not have. I
weighted the stern to reduce weather cocking.
Day 20
I paddled in the tight space between
islands and under their connecting bridges before setting out into
more open waters.
To the northwest the sky and sea were
bright blue. To the southeast they were doom gray. I paddled the
glassy sky-reflecting waters in between passed small
islands. To the east bulbous stony mountains were great puffs of
smoke reaching towards the heavens forever frozen, broken by fjords
meandering deep into the mountains.
I tried some seaweed. The leave's pea
sized enclosures perpetually reached towards the surface where the sun was brightest. There was a rough sawdust
after taste.
A tail wind picked up. The waves began
to break around me left and right as I pulled into hyperdrive.
Without a skeg, my boat wanted to weathercock, despite the extra
weight in the stern. The wanting wasn't subtle like I want a Jewish
Norwegian wife, it was powerful like the need to go to the bathroom
after I eat insufficiently cooked Norwegian peas.*
I edged way over nearly using my
gunwale as my keel. I held my paddle from the end and only on one side. Each stroke I exaggerated pulling water away from my bow. Barely, and only with my most massive
effort, did I keep my boat going straight-ish.
At least I was going fast and I soon arrived in Stokko's marina, phenomenally exhausted.
There, in an unattended marina building, I found a hot shower,
kitchenette, and well heated living room with a comfortable couch.
The next morning the wind continued.
After my own failure to fix my skeg, the locals gathered together
with all their tools and wisdom to repair it for me.
In the end, they told me "There's
a place up north where they may be able to help you with the stripped
screws," that were part of the problem. They showed me on my
chart. It was a week and a half away.
In the afternoon I sat at a bar to use
the internet. A man started chatting with me and invited me to sleep
over. Only, I'd need to drive him home since he'd had too much to
drink.
The last time I drove stick was in
Naples after the first leg of my Spain - Cyprus expedition. That was
for three blocks and the car stalled as many times. My host helped
by occasionally operating the BMW's stick and telling me to press the
break. Before long I figure out that by break he meant clutch and we
were moving. Sometimes I did it all by myself, but occasionally went
to the wrong gear. Fortunately, I managed to stay clear of the
reverse, except for when I needed it and that wasn't so fortunate.
That night at the beach he introduced
me to Andrea, who had just come back from studying in Paris. She was
a little taller than me and made a point in life a facing her fears.
I wonder if she knows how long to cook peas. She wanted to hear my
stories, which was good since I wanted to tell them to her, and then
maybe speak of love.
The young lady sitting next to Andrea
got up to go to bed, but not without a long intimate romantic parting
good night kiss with Andrea. Andrea told me that she had an extra
bed in her room and I was welcome to stay with her for the weekend if
I wanted to remain on the island for a few extra days.
I went to my very comfortable bed that
evening confused and slightly titillated.
*Hopefully my Norwegian wife will know
how long to cook the local peas, and I'll hit two birds with one
stone.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Norway Post 22
Day 19
I paddled north under a tiny bridge and
then weaved in and out around around extended seaweed rocky areas that were probably completely underwater at high tide.
In the distance I saw a black buoy.
Black is a strange color to choose for a buoy since they're usually
designed to be visible. The buoy vanished.
Twenty minutes later I saw it again.
It was closer, but farther north and to the west of where I saw it
the first time. It vanished and reappeared again about thirty feet from
me. The seal tried to figure me out.
There's something about almost every
dog's face that says, "kiss me I love you." Seals seem to
have that going on for them also, maybe because they look like sea
dogs. In reality, seals should neither be kissed nor clubbed,
respect wild animals. They're wild.
I passed the Kjeungskj light house,
which is a big red light house in the middle of the sea.
I entered a marina in Nes to
investigate. It was much too early for me to stop, but maybe I'd meet
the great sailors from Kristiansund. I found a sailboat that had two sea kayaks on deck! I complimented the sailor, but
she wasn't really interested so I moved on.
A couple of hours before I intended to
stop I saw a scary storm on the horizon. I needed to get
off the water before it hit. As the waves picked up I used the
distance between my fingers held at arms length to estimate the
storm’s progress in my direction.
I passed an older heavyset Norwegian
woman in a bikini about to go for a swim as her kids watched from the
rocks above. The waves jostled me up and down and crashing into the
shore. She was strong! And extremely helpful. There was a marina
just around the corner and the boathouse next to it had a couple beds.
I could walk to the nearby farm and probably get permission to sleep
in the boathouse.
The beds were being use by a Lithuanian
couple working in the area, but a man offered to let me sleep in his
clean comfortable motorboat.
I walked up a narrow gravel road
through meadows and hills towards the village. I met a dog and his walker. The walker told me the supermarket was too far to walk, but I
could borrow his bike.
I biked the length of the island
and over a bridge onto the mainland to the market. After
my shopping I returned past the farms and very old small homes. When
I brought the bike back the fellow insisted that I stay for dinner.
His wife made an enormous amount of salad for me that was wonderful.
My hosts told me that if I worried I
wasn't getting enough salad, then I could and should eat seaweed.
Two of the three kinds I regularly paddle through were edible and
highly nutritious. I shouldn't eat too much at once however since it might upset my stomach.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Norway Post 21
Day 18
I set out on foot to find a wifi
connection so that I could at least check the weather. The only shop
in town was for fishermen. I asked if I could use their wifi
connection.
"We only have by phone here,"
the shop owner told me.
"Okay, have you seen the
forecast?"
"Yah, it might be sunny in the
afternoon."
"What about the wind?" I asked. "I'm kayaking."
"What about the wind?" I asked. "I'm kayaking."
"No wind, it's summer." he
assured me.
"Yesterday it was really windy."
Why was I arguing?
"Yah." He said.
On the water there was no wind. The
sea was calm. I had to cross Trondheimsleden. I could do it at the
narrowest point where it turned into Trondheimfjorden and headed
inland. There might be a current there, but I would spend the least
amount of time in the shipping channel that way. Or I could start
crossing much earlier at an angle. I'd spend much more time in the
shipping channel, but I'd be farther away from the current danger
zone and my overall route would be shorter.
The sea was calm so I began my crossing
early. As I got closer to my target island Garten at the northern
edge of the fjord just off the mouth of Trondheimfjorden the wind and
current picked up and my pace slowed to a crawl. I passed a channel
marker one inch at a time, and watched as the water poured around it.
I had to poop.
At the southern end of Garten, where
the current was at least two and a half knots against me without the
wind, I found a well sheltered bay. Though it was an hour early and
about six miles before my target for the day, I pulled onto shore,
changed into land clothing, and found a quiet corner of the sea for my business.
The small island was mostly populated
by summer homes with a few farms and other permanent residents.
I asked a woman if she knew where I
could find a market she said "Brekstad, it's 15 kilometers from
here [you should go and never come back.]"
I walked around the island looking for
a wifi connection. At the end of a small sideroad near the sea two
kayaks sat on the grass. I went closer to examine them. Maybe they
belonged to fellow northbound expeditioners!
They didn't. When I came to that
conclusion the same woman who implied I should leave the island
earlier stepped out of her house. "Here you are."
I went back to my boat and asked for
water from the family living above the harbor. They gave me water.
They let me use their laundry machine, and their shower, and their
wifi, and their spare bedroom, and their dog. They brought me with
them to their dinner party, and were basically the best people in the
world with one of the best dogs in the world.
That bed was so soft.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Norway Post 20
Day 17
I paddled under a bridge through
Skarso's tiny placid eastern fjord into Tronheimsleden. It's the
central fjord which after a couple of significant twists and turns
leads to Trondheim and beyond, though I wouldn't be taking it that
far.
Near where the the two fjords met I saw
a deer and two fawns down by the water. When I got close to take a
picture they fled.
I paddled north east through
Tronheimsleden and passed an ugly industrial building with a dock designed for a boat much larger than mine. The water around it
was bubbled slime in the light chop.
I left the building behind and an eagle
swooped overhead. They're huge.
I enjoyed a robust tailwind. Going
strait was hard, which oddly was not alleviated by lowering
my skeg. I'd have to pack my boat so that it would weathercock less.
I tried to hug the shore, there was a
better chance I'd find the plaque that way, but a number of smaller
fjords that were not on my route branched off so crossed them at the skerries. I paddled to an island and around a fish farm and then
another island. Finally after one larger crossing I squeezed between a final island and a point against a mild current to arrive at a
Hennskjelo.
The water was glassy flat and two great
blue herons swooped about with each other just before the first
house. A large barn sat just above a dock with an old kayak out
front and an open door. I kept paddling. A man stood next to a boat
house.
"Hi," I said. "I
kayaked here from Alesund. Can I sleep in your boat house tonight?"
"No." He told me. "I
don't like this."
"Thanks anyways. Have a good
night."
"Enjoy your trip and good luck."
"Enjoy your trip and good luck."
I paddled through a narrow space under
a bridge that connected the island to the mainland. A woman asked if
she could take a picture of me and I said sure. I asked her to email
it to me and she said sure.
She did! I think that's the first time
anyone has ever followed through on a random kayaking picture email.
Just after the photographer was a
marina. I pulled up and used the hose for a quick shower. A
fisherman pulled up, offered me a fish he just caught and a bed on
his extremely filthy boat. Life couldn't have been better.
It turns out fish are easier to gut if
I cut the head off first.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Norway Post 19
In the afternoon I asked the ferryman
if he knew where I might find a wi-fi connection and before I knew it
I was showering in the ferries spacious underbelly. After my shower,
towel provided of course, I had PB&J sandwich from the kitchen
while reclining in a deeply comfortable chair and talking with my new
friends the ferry crew.
The ship moved back and forth across
the fjord while I sheltered in style in its underbelly. The ship's
engineer was there in case something went wrong. If that happened he
wouldn't know what to do. The guy who directed traffic on top had
better English and asked me about America. He periodically
disappeared to direct traffic.
We watched a program on television that
showed a boat traveling up the coast of Norway. The boat's famous
and when people know it's coming they go out and wave Norwegian
flags, so that they'll be on TV.
The scenery on the program was
fantastic, almost as nice as what I could have seen from up on deck, but I was quite content in my warm soft chair.
Day 16
I turned from a narrow fjord into a more winding one. I passed a town that might have been my last
supermarket for a while so I stopped to go shopping.
I think there's something about
Norwegian culture that makes it especially impolite to mind someone
else's business, ask about their kayak, introduce yourself, offer a
stranger a shower without him directly asking for one, or commenting
on him wearing a wet suit in a supermarket.
When I introduce myself to Norwegians I
find they're overwhelmingly polite, but trying to subtly get them to
offer something without directly asking for it, is usually futile.
Another kayaker in a kayak nicer than
mine (a Nordkapp) was paddling with a beautiful homemade Canadian inuit
paddle southbound. He had started in Bodo, my most
likely take out, in May and was heading to Bergen. So far had lost
15 days to bad weather and expressed the supreme frustration that I
knew all too well. My frequent tailwinds had been his headwinds.
He used to have a dry suit, but he
discarded it with his spare paddle and lots of other unnecessary gear
a few weeks back. He never capsized and paddled in a long sleeve
wool shirt under a poorly fit life jacket. His deck was covered
with more clothing that he had stripped off throughout the first
wonderfully sunny day in ages.
We talked joyfully, since we were both
the only fellow long distance paddlers we had met. He told me of
what I could expect ahead and I him. Eventually we parted, since we
both still had a long ways to go.
I try to paddle between seven and eight
hours a day, though sometimes it's closer to six. I added an hour
onto the end of my day to make up for time lost shopping. I stopped
to change chia drink nalgenes at a dock. A man was working on the
dock and was excited to see me. He had talked to me at the ferry.
I didn't remember him. I'm terrible
with faces. Was he the engineer who let me shower and was full of
kindness? Or was he one of the random people in cars waiting to get
onto the ferry that I asked for wire hangers to rescue my knife. I
didn't know.
I turned around one last narrow corner
into a fjord that was nearly closed at both ends making for a very
peaceful body of water. At the far end of it, in Aure was a sea
wall protecting a dock. On that dock there was an unlocked sailboat
that was my home for one rainy Shabbat.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Norway Post 18
Day 15
After Mr. Barnes helped repair my skeg
I was off feeling good despite another rainy day. I think part of my
problem, aside from the shortage of showers and associated chafing
was that Norwegians seem to be more withdrawn than Meditteranians. It was really nice to enjoy sailor's
hospitality.
I paddled off my chart and won't be on
the next one till tomorrow. When I was getting ready to call it a
day I waved down a motorboat to ask for directions. I was in the
wilderness. There was nothing for miles in either direction. The
last settlement I had seen was 40 minutes earlier and the next, the motor boat man told me, would be in 14 nautical miles, almost five hours of
paddling. There was nothing until then he assured me. I didn't want to paddle forward another five hours and I
certainly didn't want to paddle back for 40 minutes.
I wanted a boathouse. It was raining.
I didn't want to make camp in the rain. When I was ready to give up on my lengthy inquiries with the motorboat man, who was traveling at 28 knots from Trondhiem to his
summer cottage, suggested that I try the village just around the
corner.
In twenty minutes I found the village
that google maps told me might or might not be a village. There was
a dock and above it a boathouse with a substantial awning that could
keep me dry in all but the worst storm. I had everything I needed.
That night the storm's worst came.
Horizontal rain drenched my sleeping bag and my things at 2:00 am
when I scurried to get out of my bivi sack and close my dry bags. At
3:00 am I looked up at the line above my head where I hung my dry top
in the evening. It was gone. I climbed down the sea wall to pull
it out of a heaving bed of surf and seaweed, washed it off in a local stream as the heavens crumbled around me and went back to sleep. At some point in the night I heard the wind
blow my knife off the table.
In the morning I found it on the rocks
beneath the deck's floorboards. It had fallen between the cracks.
Aside from serving as my spoon since I lost my regular spoon in Geiranger, I also
need my knife for safety issues like getting caught on a fishing line. It had a special way of attaching to my life
jacket and I liked it.
I asked the men on the ferry boat if
they had a wire hanger. They did not.
Rain poured all morning. My
Gore-Tex shell has lots of holes in it; it's come quite a long way
with me and is no longer the least bit waterproof. My rain pants are
still pretty good though.
I knocked on the door to a house and
the grandfather that opened it brought along some thin flexible
aluminum rods. Just as I was getting it out, the ferry man showed up
with a magnet, and together we finished the job.
It was noon. The temperature was 46 Fahrenheit. The fjord was not calm and the rain kept on coming.
I decided to take the rest of the day off.
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