Month: June 2019

Sightseeing, by Hop-on-Hop-off bus tour. Aksla and a breezy view and coffee. Dinner on three sorts bacalao in restaurant XL Diner here in the harbour, Portugese, Spanish and Italian, very good indeed.

Atlanterhavsparken and the Aquarium, extended since my last visit with a large lagoon for seals and a large pond for otters. But the exhibits and tanks and explanations! All comprehensive, fascinating and absorbing. A genuine all-day-time.

Feeding time in the main tank, with multi-lingual commentary. Even all the children present went quiet!

And the penguins, bless ’em, good entertainment. Swimming feverishly to and fro awaiting feeding time:

Then they heard the keeper, about time too, and waddling-rushed to met him:

and then they flock-rushed back in front of him to the feeding spot:

The seals knew their time too, appeared from the depths as the warden appeared, and arranged themselves expectantly: Cheeky seagull-thieves too.

The pups were fed on the beach, ever hungry

even for the final drops:

Today is wet, again, but no wind or waves to rock us. Sunday-quiet in the town, probably no cruise ship today. An inside day. Tidying and packing. Margaret leaves tomorrow morning, on the bus to Bergen. It has been an interesting month, from Åsgårdstrand to here, in spite of the un-summery, blustery or calm, wet or dry weather and rather more motoring than sailing, but that is boat life.

Alls well, from JosinJohn and top-crew Margaret.

North a couple of miles from Fosnavåg is the bird colony cliff on Runde island, apparently impossibly vertical seen from a distance, but not to the birds, who perch on every available ledge.

No ledge left uninhabited. And the noise! A cocktail party in its late stages has nothing on gannet-speak in concert. You can see the ones in the picture with their necks stretched up, emitting a raucous squawking sound. Not melodious. I suppose they can hear the differences in squawk.

Looking up from under the cliff, were googles of gannets soaring and wheeling in the up-draught, an entrancing sight.

And in the water, just resting or fluttering their feathers, were a plethora of puffins, rafts of razorbills and gaggles of guilimots, who, even with our engine switched off and the boat drifting, wouldn’t let us get too close.

The light was very flat from a low, grey sky, so it was difficult to differentiate them. We’d hoped to see them diving and coming up with fish in their beaks, but it must have been a resting time between feeding sessions. No gannets diving either, though we did see one later.

Then onward, sometimes under sail, to Ålesund and the guest harbour in the middle of the town.

The outer harbour, (the inner one was full), is exposed to waves and rollers from outside, plus the wash from the fast ferries next door, so it is never calm. To add to the motion, a German sailboat rafted up on Josin later and our first night was disturbed. He was encouraged to leave next morning, and having told him of nice places further north on his intended way, he left before evening. We slept better that night.

The Aquarium tomorrow.

Alls well.

Woke early, on purpose, before six. Away before seven, thats what the forecast said would be best. Calm. Overcast. Drizzle. (When summer? Please….!) Head north west. Wind gradually increasing, on the nose of course. Round the headland with the steepest small farm I’ve seen. Northward. Wind and waves increasing, North Sea rollers joining the fray.

Uncomfortable, as always.

Round the NW headland, turned right to scuttle to the islands and better shelter. Sailed a while! Then north, to Fosnavåg for a slightly late lunch. Message from Gilbert that we are seen here on a webcam, proof that we’ve arrived. Tomorrow to the bird colony at Runde, just a few miles north of here.

No pics today, too wet. Otherwise….

Alls well

Right at the end of Frøysjøen, almost under Hornilen, in a deep small bay guarded by high cliffs, lies Vingen, a place with many rock carvings dating from 6000 years ago. Saw in the tourist guide in Florø that there were guided tours on fridays. This was monday. So on the way to Måløy we diverted a little. But alas, the small jetty was guarded by large notices in several languages saying No tying up, No Admittance, Penalty of Prosecution, etc. Daunting. Frustrating. Saw people a little further along, so puttered towards them in the hope of going ashore there. No, sorry. Very friendly family. Mum’s great grandfather had cleared a small farm there and built a house and barn. Now the family use it as a summer place, but not for much longer. Authorities want the whole area, “to protect the place”, and after legal wrangling, have allowed the family ten more years there. Seems very unfair to me. After a very pleasant chat we were shown where, from the boat, we could see the most visible carvings.

Difficult. Very flat light. Imagined that this was one:

See that squiggle in the middle of the picture? No? Perhaps, perhaps not. Then, on the end of the rock was this:

M suggested a horse. Not quite sure which end is which. But it was no carving, just lichen. Pretty anyway!

Onward to Måløy. Just for diesel. Further a few miles to Silda, being the best starting point for rounding Stat, for the night.

Alls well.

We waited until the forecast wind abated and the rain ceased. The sky was still overcast low and the wind chilly, 10 degrees, but with most of available warm layers on…… However, after about half an hour, the chasing black clouds overtook us and dumped their contents. Happily my new HellyHansen suit kept me completely dry, M sensibly down below. Gradually things got better, but the wind died away to motoring, all the rest of the way.

Florø was sunday-quiet and still so we could wander the town undisturbed from end to end in the sunshine. On the way in the fjord we saw, on the opposite bank, an enormous pile of planks and pallets, with a crane busy hoisting ever more on top. Yes, a potential bonfire. Later in the evening we followed the trail of people making their way out along the quayside, at the end over wobbly stones and waving arms for balance, we joined the throng just in time, 21:00, to see the first flames:

Lots of disciplined boats, of all sizes, watching the flames gradually devouring the pile. A pagan ritual surely, but of unknown origin. Did I hear someone mention witches and warlocks?

The warmth from the flames didn’t reach across the fjord, and the sun had lost its earlier heat, so we went back to the boat to enjoy the sunset at 22:20, behind the trees on the island with the bonfire.

Maybe Måløy tomorrow, with a stop on the way to see the ancient rock paintings at Vingen.

Alls well.

After a morning of organising, washing clothes, re-packing and wondering what we’d forgotten, tanked up with fuel, (not water, as there was an E-coli scare), we set off at teatime, under a low sky, up the Fedjefjord, under sail and motor and occasional rain, to the well-protected lagoon at Uttoska, were there is a mooring buoy, and there was nobody on it, so I hooked it while M manoeuvred expertly up to it in a flukey wind. Late dinner. Study weather forecast. Promising. Sleep.

Woke up early, and last night’s forecast was right. Lovely southwest wind, up to 20 knots, some cloud, some sun. Perfect for sailing northward. We did. Just genoa. Max speed almost all the way, except in the narrower passages in amongst the islands when we reduced sail somewhat for better manoeuvreability. The ride across the entrance to Sognefjord, with the waves rolling in from the North Sea, was a bit bumpy, and coincided with M trying to make sandwiches for lunch, forgotten earlier. Success luckily.

After a glorious sail, we uttered in to Hardbakke, protected by a very impressive wall of knobbly mountain:

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just in time for tea, to find an empty pontoon. M noticed that the buoyancy boxes under the pontoon were adorned with large mussels in the clear water, and recommended that the captain dived for some. Having consulted the thermometer in the water, a doubtful 12 degrees, he declined. Wandered up to the shop later just not in time (18:00) to buy fresh bread. Went next morning instead.

Forecast was for stronger SW winds, 25 to 30 knots, and as there are some parts of the way north in fairly open water, we decided to stay the day and potter. Up the hill to the plateau behind the houses to find the Skafferiet restaurant. Closed. Excellent view. Wind around our ears.

Clouds rushing past, so there would be much more wind at sea. Correct decision to stay.

Førde tomorrow? Alls well.

Busta House Hotel near Brae dated from the 16th century. Typical Shetland construction with walls several feet thick. Ancient, with squeaky floorboards under deep carpets. Sumptuous lounge with large fireplace at the end including glowing-coals fire. (No, not peat). Mature service. Excellent restaurant and dinner together with Hans, now let out of hospital and in fine form.

Before enjoying the hotel we explored northwest, to Eschernes, its lighthouse, Stephensen’s last, built square, not round, because it saved money.

and rugged cliffs, swirling with fulmars. Where there is grass there are sheep. Everywhere, nibbling away all day.

Strange rock formations formed aeons ago. In the foreground, a freshwater loch (lake), of which there are thousands, of all sizes, but we only saw running water once, in a little waterfall. The rain, plenty, gets absorbed into peatbogs.

More exploring found a crofthouse, a relatively large one and recently in use. Barn and byre behind.

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Then a gentle drive south again, through rolling open hills, all the way back down to Sumbrough, out to Shetland’s southern tip and the lighthouse, (well almost there, as we were running out of time).

From the Busta House hotel near Brae back to Strusshamn and Josin took all day. Delays at the airport due to technical problems with our scheduled aircraft. We sat in the departure lounge with the ‘plane just outside the window, and waited. And waited. And watched as all the luggage was removed. Bad sign that. Alternative ‘plane, smaller, rather well-used, and noisier. But it got us safely back to Flesland.

Bybanen to the bus station. Wait for bus to Askøy. Wait for bus to Strusshamn. Chinese restaurant closed for holiday, so minimal food shopping and the walk back to Josin, patiently awaiting us.

Alls well.

Flight in a Saab 2000 turboprop, one hour, direct from Flesland til Sumburgh, nearly off the end of Shetland in the south. Quite uneventful, and good visibility for the final few minutes. Rapid passport check and effective hirecar company meant the minimum of time and fuss before we were heading North on a very good road in quite extraordinary scenery. Rolling heather-covered hills stretching as far as the eye could see, with grazing green on the lower slopes, dotted with sheep. Many sheep. Some of the stones turned out to be sheep too. After all, one of Shetland’s main sources of income is knitwear and they are very proud and informative that the wool comes from their own sheep.

Found our way in Lerwick eventually, after several false starts in a labyrinth of narrow, one-way roads, to our hotel, Queens, right on the waterfront and no parking. More meandering until a slot appeared. Warmly welcomed by Sean, genuine Shetlander, who fed us with too much information all in one go. Stairs. Queens is really three buildings of respectable age, before lifts. 42 steps. Room overlooking the Sound, with a replica Viking ship bobbing at a buoy right ahead. Very good view of the fog next morning.

But it cleared later, the sun came out, and everyone seemed pleased. First stop the Tourist office. First customers for very helpful Susan. Maps. Brochures. Information. Also found the well-hidden mobile number of sailor friend Hans, whom we had planned to meet, but had gone mysteriously silent. He was in hospital with an infection, and very frustrated at not being able to start his sailing season. Long chat later that afternoon.

Shetland museum next, and truly tasteful and informative displays of the islands’ geology and more recent history. Retired, head ringing with images and information, to the cafe next door in the new culture centre for coffee.

After a mediocre fish-and-chips lunch and visit to Hans, we explored by car, northwards. Main road. Secondary roads. One-track roads with passing places. Through hamlets and farms. Dead ends. Found the first W2 HQ of the Shetland Bus, at Lunna, overlooking a very old church still in use, and an idyllic harbour bay. Byroads back towards Lerwick, slowly. Hungry. Not a restaurant was sunday-open. Back to the hotel dining room too late, after 20:30, but M charmed the waiter to get the chef to stay long enough to prepare us steaks. More than enough, so doggy-bagged til lunch next day.

This morning, monday, dawned foggy again, with forecast clearing later. Correct. Opened the shops, me buying a shirt and M a gorgeous Fairisle-pattern cardigan and a tam-o-shanter. Then off to Scalloway, not far, on the other side of the peninsular, to the quite extraordinary Scalloway museum there. Full story of the Shetland Bus. Fascinating.

Then more exploring, this time southward on the Barra (?) islands. Back via Tingwall, site of the Viking’s Ting, to Lerwick. A better fish-and-chips meal before visiting Controller John in the Port Control centre, to hand over a message and an envelope from Norma. Much appreciated. Staccato and disjointed chat competing with ships traffic on the VHF. He was very busy!

Tomorrow we explore much further north, still on the Mainland so as not to utilise ferries. Hotel in Brae. Hopefully to give Hans dinner if he is allowed out. The back south again tomorrow morning to catch the lunch-time flight back to Bergen and Josin.

Alls well!

Most important:

Re-united with my specs! All extra reading glasses now pensioned off.

We shopped a little. Sat in the sun with a coffee and a sticky bun. Wandered the Fish Quay. Not so fishy any more.

M wished to see Greig’s place at Troldhaugen, so we asked at the tourist office how to get there. Bybanen. Get off at Hop, and walk from there. So we did, and were a bit wobbly-weary in the legs on arrival, nearly an hour later, having negotiated many incorrect wiggly roads and hills on the way. NB. There is a bus. We took it, back to town later. A well-earned restorative cuppa before a tour of the garden, M colour-coded,

and house, and museum. 1001 photos. Helpful guides. Spooky atmosphere. Video session of Grieg’s most popular music to the backdrop of fabulous Norwegian scenery. Both impressed, M bought a copy to take home and wow the friends.

Walked back to the bus-stop and travelled in the rain back to Josin. End of day.

Shetland tomorrow. Alls well.

Woke up to low overcast, light drizzle and no wind. Forecast clearing later, with southerly breeze. So, a lazy morning and late start. But the promised clearance was late too and it was still miserable motoring. Just as we reached Korsfjorden, about half way, the wind came in, gently, still under low overcast, so out with the genoa and stop the engine. Wafted along over an almost glassy sea, until disturbed by hurrying ferries and the surface wind. The current was with us up Raunefjorden, so progress was good. At the junction with the renowned Vatlestraumen, the current was more powerful and very turbulent, enough to swirl Josin off course by 30 degrees and back again. Most exciting, but quite safe. Less turbulence, but with us, up to the Sotra bridge and then motor the short rest of the way to Strusshamn. Familiar. No visiting boats. Notices everywhere to boil your water. (Trouble in the water supply on the Askøy island). No worries, plenty of water in Josin’s tanks.

Another grey day today, but dry, and soon a bus ride into Bergen. Message yesterday that my specs had arrived there. Whooppee! They have been snail-mailing hopping their way around and up the coast, only now in front of us, and we are at last about to be re- united. Also some shopping, at least for decent tea and coffee, and a look-around, and maybe, if it clears, a trip up Fløybanen.

Fly to Shetland tomorrow afternoon, and we will be staying in the Queens Hotel, at least for the first two nights. Lets hope for a bit of summer weather!

Alls well, from Margaret and SailorJohn