Finally another blog entry! It's been an amazing 9 days since I last wrote and not much of it has been spent anywhere near internet access! I'm currently staying with my friends Dale and Janne (and almost-3-year-old son Noah) in Copenhagen and enjoying the luxuries of a real bed and a solid roof over my head after quite a few days in the wilds.
After I last wrote, I completed the compulsory kayaking safety course which was really good - practised capsizing the kayak and getting back into it out in the middle of the fjord - courtesy of an inflatable band which is placed around one end of the paddle - the paddle then acts as a stabilising device placed at right angles to the kayak (once turned upright again), enabling one to clamber back in. A hand pump is then used to clear out all the water - all very effective. With that under my belt, I set off confident that I could handle an emergency. It was still a little daunting, I have to say - the mountains and fjords are so huge and my little floaty plastic yellow thing and I were so small and alone! The weather was also starting to look a little menacing which added to the feeling of trepidation. I paddled for about 3 1/2 hours that Friday evening and finally stopped about halfway up the Fjærlandsfjorden near a couple of huts optimistically named Lidal (could get the impression they comprised a village!). My campsite had wonderful views up towards some massive glaciers at the head of the fjord. Along the way, I was joined a number of times by small groups of porpoises, breaking the surface of the water in gracefully arches with their backs and fins. The Norwegian word for porpoise is nise which is thought to derive from the word nyse which means "sneeze" - the porpoises make a snuffling sound everytime they break the surface to catch a breath. There were also some seals along the way and as I glided along the shoreline, I saw small roe deer on two separate occasions, coming for a drink to one of the many streams tumbling down the side of the fjord. I also saw a fox, about 10m away on shore, just staring at me as I paddled by, not sure what to make of such a strange beast! Eventually, I found a suitable campsite and set up for the night. The views up the fjord were simply awesome and it was so lovely being all by myself with only a few frolicking seals later in the evening to keep me company.
Saturday I awoke to the sound of constant and heavy rain on my tent and it didn't let up until around 7 that evening. I spent a long and dreary day paddling all the way around to the small town of Leikanger, which took a good 6 hours or so. I set up camp at an official campsite which turned out to be completely slug-infested and during the night I failed to shut one of my flyscreen flaps correctly so two of the slimy creatures actually made it inside! Yukko! The rain ceased overnight but then most inconveniently started again at 8am as I was packing up to head off. It rained all day Sunday which was another longish day spent battling shifting currents and winds along the main Sognefjord and then turning south into Åurlandsfjorden. By the time I made it to Buele, where I camped, the rain had finally ceased and it ended up being a serenely beautiful evening as the sun slowly set on the opposite side of the fjord, its light breaking intermittently through the passing clouds and lighting up the world of woods and water below. It was so nice drying out a bit after 2 days of constant rain and I thoroughly enjoyed myself cooking dinner whilst gazing out over the water. I listened to some music on my phone/mp3-player, in particular Into the West by Annie Lennox, which was supremely fitting for the surroundings:
Lay down,
your sweet and weary head.
Night is falling.
You have come to journey’s end.Sleep now,and dream
of the ones who came before.
They are calling,
from across a distant shore.
It was a really profoundly spiritual moment for me there by myself on the 5th of August, which would have been my dear father's 85th birthday.
on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come,
to carry you home.And all will turn,
to silver glass.
A light on the water.
All souls pass.
For a few moments, he didn't seem so far away at all. And the veil between this world and the next was for an hour or two pulled to one side.
There was no more rain for the rest of my time kayaking! I awoke on Monday morning to the thickest fog I've seen in a long time and after packing up camp, I set out into it at around 7.45am, hugging the shoreline to avoid becoming disoriented. After about 45 minutes or so, I knew that I had to make the east-to-west crossing to the other side of the fjord so I took a bearing with my compass on my map and set off at 230° into the void, knowing I would reach the other side within about 30 minutes. This was an amazingly eerie half hour - everything was incredibly still, and visibility really was very poor. I kept my ears open for any hint of the sound of a ferry approaching - the one thing for kayakers to be scared of in the fjords, fog or not! After about 20 minutes, I could no longer see the shore I'd left behind me and couldn't yet see the shore I was heading for. The only sound was the roaring of water, getting louder as I approached the opposite shoreline. My assumption was that this was a large waterfall but out in the middle there it could just as easily have been the roar of the waters as they tumbled off the edge of a flat earth! Or like crossing the river Styx except that I was my own Charon! I wonder if he takes Norwegian Kroners? A group of porpoises surfaced quite close to me whilst I was out in that otherworldly fog which was actually rather comforting - as if they were accompanying me across. The shoreline didn't materialise into view until I was within about 50m of it and by this time, the roaring was deafening. The waterfall appeared shortly afterwards and disappeared off up into the fog and mist above me. I continued following this shoreline and began noticing that there was the hint of blue sky directly above me, trying to break its way through. After another 40 minutes of so, I turned southwest into the Nærøyfjorden, which is one of Norway's most spectacular and yes it means "narrow" fjord! I'd seen photos of it but when the mist finally cleared for a moment and I spied towering granite cliffs far, far above me, I let out an involuntary "wow"! Things just got more and more spectacular and the fact that it was all shrouded in mist made it all the more amazing. I had to be careful not to crane my head back too far to see to the tops of the cliffs, because this tended to make the kayak rather unstable! I arrived at the tiny settlement of Kyrdal, half-way into the Nærøyfjorden at about 10.30am. By now, things had begun to clear off properly and I was treated to views of enormous peaks, flanked by dense forests and wreathed by the remaining wisps of cloud. At this point, the fjord became very narrow indeed, feeling like an impossibly high gorge. It was reminiscent of the Argonath scene in Lord of the Rings, increased by an order of magnitude or so! I paddled through the rest of the fjord to Gudvangen at its head and it really was completely spectacular, but with the mist gone, not as mystical as the parts I'd already paddled through.
I arrived in the tourist town of Gudvangen and emerged from the fjord in front of the surprised and startled visitors, looking like The Thing That Came From The Swamp. People stared, open-mouthed, others took photos. I hauled my kayak out of the water and carried it (not an easy task) about 50m or so to the pier to put it onto the ferry, which arrived about 45 minutes later. This was to save me paddling back all the way I'd came and meant I'd be able to make it to Solvorn, the drop off point, in time on Wednesday. Plunging back into the tourist world after an evening and a day of supreme beauty and wonder alone on the fjord came as something of a shock. Crowds of people pushing and shoving and talking loudly and taking pictures of anything and everything was an unwelcome contrast to the serenity I'd been immersed in. The captain made a mistake loading my kayak which prevented me from disemarking in Ytre Frønningen, so I had to continue on to Kaupanger and ended up spending the night at a very pleasant camping ground at nearby Amla. But it just wasn't the same being back in "civilisation" for the night, instead of out in the wilds. From where I sat in front of my tent, I had a view down the main Sognefjord, and couldn't help thinking "I want to be out there". I want to be out there, in the wild places, with the seals, the deer, the porpoises and the foxes and with an eagle wheeling overhead. The late sunlight is catching the wooded hills, calling me ... I watched as the sunlight faded on the wooded hills, leaving them in shadow.
My night's sleep was severely interrupted by one very persistent little hedgehog! I'd foolishly left my rubbish bag outside the tent, along with my bags containing my food and this proved too delicious to resist. After a number of onslaughts, he eventually mustered up enough courage and made an all-out attack on the rubbish bag: I turned on my torch (during the brief hour or two of semi-darkness at 61°N) to find him sitting contentedly inside it. I prodded and pushed but he wasn't going anywhere - perhaps it was the hedgehog idea of paradise. I had to pick up the bag and tip him out to finally get rid of him. I then moved food and rubbish inside the tent and had a blissful 30 minutes sleep before a further sudden and unprovoked attack by Mr. H. Hog which involved him ramming the tent in an attempt to get at his beloved rubbish bag. At this stage he ceased being cute and started being rather annoying! After a few more firm pats through the tent on his rounded behind, he got the hint and went off in search of greener pastures.
Tuesday I had an easy day and only paddled for about 3 hours, around to Kvalen in Lusterfjorden, which was another wonderfully tranquil place to camp. I spent the afternoon swimming in the fjord and just taking it easy. The sun was shining and all was right with the world. Wednesday, I headed further up Lusterfjord and stopped at Urnes to view the famous Stave Church there - entirely constructed of wood and built in the 12th century, the oldest surviving in Norway. On one outside wall, some of the original carvings had survived - magnificent interlaced-style patterns quite similar to the Celto-Saxon style seen in manuscripts such as the Book of Kells and the Lindisfarne Gospels. On the walk up the hill to the church, some enterprising locals had put punnets of locally grown raspberries on a picnic table with an honesty tray next to them for payment. I can honestly say these raspberries were the best I've ever tasted in my life, perhaps heightened by the fact that I hadn't had much in the way of fruit during my 5 days kayaking. After Urnes, I paddled the last 40 minutes across to Solvorn and very sadly and reluctantly handed my kayak back to the people from Moreld, the company I'd hired it from. The first two days, when it'd rained incessantly, had been just awful, but somehow, along with the change in the weather, that made the whole experience feel more worthwhile. It was like being in another world for a few days and I will always look back on this time very fondly.
I stayed the night in the very charming Eplet hostel and caught the bus the next day for the 8 hour trip down to Oslo. I was fortunate enough to have a dorm room all to myself at the Anker hostel there, before getting up at 5am to get out to the airport and catch the flight down to Copenhagen. I spent Friday wandering around Denmark's capital and thoroughly enjoyed visits to the National Museum and the Nordatlantenbrygge, a gallery of art of cultural exhibitions from Iceland, Greenland and Færøe. One included recordings in Icelandic of recitations of poetry by Iceland's national poet Jónas Hallgrímsson. It was intriguing listening to it: Icelandic is the closest of the modern Scandanavian languages to Old Norse, which in turn was mutually intelligible with Old English. It really sounded like it could've been someone reciting something from Beowulf or the Exeter Book! Dale, Janne and Noah are well and truly looking after me and I'm even learning a little bit of Danish! What an interesting language: the same shift that happened in Old English, where g followed by i or e became a softened y sound, has happened in Danish.
Yesterday, we went for an afternoon trip across the Øresundsforbindelsen bridge to Sweden and visited the historic town of Lund, then went on the trail of some runestones, visiting nearby Dalby and Torna Hällestad before heading back over the bridge to Denmark.
