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.
Josin's 2025 cruise 