The now familiar smell of drying fish greeted us in our fisherman’s cottage on the morning of our 10th day in Norway.
We had planned to take the Hurtigruten MS Nordkapp from Stamsund, but when we managed to contact the ship we found that work was being carried out on her cargo deck, so she was presently unable to load cars. This left us with two options. Option 1: complete our journey down the archipelago, find accommodations on the southern island (an uncertain prospect at best) and then rise early for the 07:00 ferry to Bodø from Moskenes the following morning. Option 2: Skip the two southernmost island altogether and head back up the island chain to get to the mainland via the Lofoten tunnel. In either case the end goal was to be in position to catch either the 11:00 or 16:20 passenger ferry from Bodø to the island of Landegode the next day.
We decided that option 2 was probably the best of the less than ideal choices. It involved a lot of driving, but allowed us to save on a night’s accommodation an early start an allowed us a relaxed morning in Bodø, instead of a manic day of ferry hopping.
Initially we headed back up the E10 to the Viking Museum at Borge (its just after Borg). We had passed the previous day; its distinctive Viking manor house clearly visible from the road. Upon entering though, we found the museum was closed that day (being out of the tourist season apparently working against us this time). My understanding of spoken Norwegian by this point had by this point developed to the point that was able to glean this by listening in on the exchange between Nina and the curator. Happily though, the museum had been opened specially for a group of Norwegians who were to have a banquet in the Viking manor house. Upon apprehending that two of our group were from abroad, the curator decided that we should tag along after the group of Norwegians. Not only were we allowed into the museum whilst it was technically closed, we were given a discount on admission. Nina turned to explain the closure, which I said I had gathered, and simply added ‘but I fixed it’ with a cheeky smile.
The museum had an interesting approach, of presenting a narrative of the known history of the family that had resided in the Viking manor that had once stood near the site of the modern museum.
The museum having been founded after a local farmer ploughed up some Viking artefacts back in the 50s.
The museum also made use of some interesting tech to deliver information to its visitors, who hail from all corners of the world. Each visitor is issued with, what we deduced was, essentially a small MP3 player and a pair of headphones. Instead of conventional play, skip controls each player is equipped with an laser (or infra-red) device which exchanged information with points on the exhibits. On entering, the visitor ‘scans’ a point corresponding to their preferred spoken language, selecting the set of recordings the device will play during their visit, then at each exhibit they scan again to select the track. The clever part is for video exhibits they also exchange a time index, which allows the sound to match up with the lips of the person speaking in the video (although they only sync properly with the Norwegian sound).
One particularly fascinating exhibit concerned a myserty body found elsewhere on the island, its garments apparently a fusion of both Nordic and Sami (the aboriginal people of Norway) dress customs.
After the museum, we headed back to Leknes in order to leave the E10 in favour of the more scenic route 815 along the southern shore of [Vestvagoy], our third use of this particular cross roads.
We stopped to take a panorama from the side of the road. At this point the weather was starting to turn on us.
Getting the series of pictures involved clambering on rocks, made somewhat treacherous by the abundant mosses and lichens, which seem to flourish here. However our climbing was deemed by Nina to be “impressive”.
As we got back into the car the weather had settled as cloudy with sporadic drizzle. At the end of 816 we rejoined the E10 and began retracing our steps toward the northern tip of the island, the now rainy weather providing a sharp contrast to the experience of driving this road the first time. The scenery was still beautiful though. In the gentler light the shimmering brilliance that shone from the water was replaced by crisp reflections; the black rock of the peaks contrasted against the off-white sky reflected in the depths of the fjords.
As we went we often took pictures of interesting features or buildings without stopping, nor even slowing down. Chris would occasionally shout advice forward or back (depending on who had the camera and which seats we were currently occupying) as to how he thought the camera should be set up, whether it was necessary to lower the window and so on. It had the feel of rally co-driving. This led to our inventing a new motor sport; drive by tourism. The rules are simple, the race would be a time-trial taking place over a popular tourist route, however a 10 second time penalty would apply for missed photo-opportunity, with bonus points for good pictures (as determined by a panel of judges). This led to Chris in the back seat shouting the most bizarre series of instructions “ISO 100, window down, aperture open... Wait for it... Shutter, shutter, shutter! Now drive!”.
Soon we came to the long series of tunnels that would take us first back to the island of [Hinnoya], then through the mountains to the ferry port from whence we could take a ferry back to the Norwegian main land. There were many Kilometres of tunnels, the longest was over 6Km on its own. Often we would find ourselves descending or ascending slopes whilst within the tunnels this, when combined with the layout of the lights on the roof of the tunnel, this gave an odd sense of driving around the inside of giant a ring (like a space wheel). As the tunnels emerged onto narrow passes amongst the mist-cloaked peaks, imagination tended towards thoughts of Tolken’s Moria and fantasy realms.
When we reached the ferry quay at [Lodingen] there was a long wait for the ferry, sat in the car out of the rain its probably fair to say that Chris became quite bored. Once aboard we once again tucked into the same sausage and potato dinner we had enjoyed on the way out. Towards the end of the crossing we stood out on the deck, just to check that the weather was still cold and wet (rest assured, it was).
As we headed off back along the rainy road I was struck by the now well-worn appearance of our map, with its annotations and creases. It seemed somehow imbued with memories of planning around cafe’ tables, and brainstorming routes over breakfast; I realised that I was rather fond of our silly little road atlas.
From the ferry landing at Bognes we set off once again down the Arctic higway, this time low visibility. Although visually less appealing, the experience of charging between the great mounds of ploughed snow under a white sky evoked much more of what one expects the Arctic to be like. The mind could more easily imagine this place being home to [rejoinder reindeer], moose and other creatures at home in tundra and Polar Regions. The light rain, combined with the spring thawing created interesting cascades of water between those more stubborn patches of snow that still clung to the rocks, obstinately refusing to acknowledge the inevitable onset of summer.
As we made our way south we found ourselves giggling at peculiar, and peculiarly familiar place names. One small settlement (I now avoid city, town, village and hamlet because any means I have for reckoning the magnitude of a place on that scale simply doesn’t work here) was named “Sommarset” (thinking of Summerset, in case you don’t see it). Another, we were assured had a name that translated to “Tickle-Duck”.
As we edged along the road cut into cliff sides we I found myself peering down, through gaps in the blanket of clouds, now below us, at the deep blue of the water in the lakes; visible only upon the whim of the swirling clouds.
Our final stop before Bodø was at a fuel station in Fauske. It was at this point that I realised that my knee was quite painful. Not quite so painful as the irony though; we picked this itinerary because of Chris’s unfortunate knee issues on recent cycling adventures, now I was having a similar problem, apparently from too much sitting down.
As we approached Bodø it was interesting to see railways again; Norway’s railways don’t extend north of Bodø. Seeing them again triggered the thought that their absence had seemed a bit peculiar.
Alongside the solitary road into town many fast-flowing streams, poured down the characterful rocks, passing under the roadway its self. As we approached bodø ‘s “city” centre only hints of the peaks on the far side of the valley were evident. Peering through the mist I saw instead ethereal shapes, rendered in shifting patterns of greys, the clouds themselves seeming to coil upwards to suggest extra peaks, whilst hiding true ones.
We stayed the night at Nina’s house, where we ordered pizza; after our long journey though we were soon ready for sleep.
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