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.
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