Day 5: Hysvær to Skjærvær

I slept well, and only woke when I heard what sounded like a heavy downpour outside. It was Øystestein, up on the roof again with his high pressure hose. How long he had been up I had no idea, but I could certainly have slept for another hour or more. Snoøfridd had been out collecting eider duck down, which is the softest, smoothest, lightest and most beautifully textured material I have ever experienced. She mentioned that it needed to be cleaned before it could be used, and I was surprised how long it took to remove every small bit of debris to turn it into pure down. Once I had achieved this in only a small sample of down, Snoøfridd kindly to let me keep it, a special souvenir that I was delighted with. I was told it took the down from 80 nests to fill a typical eiderdown duvet, and with all the work involved, I could readily appreciate why a real eiderdown costs as much as £1000.

The water level of Øystestein’s heated open-air swimming pool was about 600 mm lower than it should have been.

I wandered over to the outdoor bathing pool that Øystestein had created from a stream going through a natural depression in the ground. He had dug the mud out of the bottom of the depression, and then built a wall to dam the flow of water. An old boiler he had found washed up on a nearby shoreline had been built into the wall so that access could be gained inside to light a fire. Unfortunately there had been little rain during the previous months, and the water level was so low that the boiler was above the water line, but Øystestein confirmed that when the pool was full, the boiler warmed the water very effectively. It might not have been most people’s concept of a heated outdoor bathing pool – more of a ‘scrap heap challenge’ version - but one certainly had to admire the enterprise and ingenuity of the project. There being no mains water on the island, this pool made for a useful opportunity to bathe in fresh water.


We packed the boat and set off from the island before midday. Our next destination was Skjærvær (pronounced Shardvard!), the last group of islands beyond the coast – the next land to the west being Iceland. We first visited a well-known bird colony on the most remote of these islands, which, according to our guidebook of the area, should not be approached too close for fear of disturbing the nesting birds. There seemed little risk of this however, since the noise and particularly the stench was enough to keep anyone at least 200m away!
 
 
Stopping for lunch after retreating to a fresh air distance from the bird colony, we tried some fishing, which involved pulling a silver coloured weight up and down, the movement attracting the fish apparently. Obviously, I didn’t have the right technique, as I didn’t get a single bite! We then sailed on to the largest island of the group, where there had once been a thriving fishing community, but the island was now deserted. Rocks had been quarried immediately adjacent to two extremely well built harbour walls, which enclosed a large area of water, so the fishing must have been very prosperous at one time. Rounding the harbour wall, we headed for a substantially built wooden jetty.

 
Wilhelm tied the boat off the main landing stage, and we walked along the nearby wooden building to the only door that was unlocked. This was intentionally left open for visitors, and we quickly made ourselves at home, signing the visitors' book where I could see that I was far from being the first UK visitor as I leafed back through the pages. Before cooking a meal, we set off to explore the island, which was probably less than ½ mile long by ¼ mile wide. At the southern end, there was there was a natural inlet that could only be entered at high tide by a shallow draft boat – perfect shelter for a Wayfarer in fact. The bird life on the island made it a real ‘twitchers’ paradise and I wished I had a book of all the various birds of the area with me.
 
 
It seemed very strange that there was no look of dilapidation about the place. In fact everything appeared to be very substantially built, and yet there was nobody to be seen on the island.  Some of the houses appeared to be holiday homes, with flagpoles outside. It is always customary in Norway to raise the Norwegian flag, often a long thin pennant, whenever a holiday home is occupied, but there were no flags flying here, even though it was the middle of July.
 
After enjoying a good evening meal, we cleared the floor to spread out the seven detailed charts of the area so that we could determine what might be the best possible route for the rest of our trip. Wilhelm’s aim was to reach the outer island group of Træna, before returning to Brønnøysund via Alsten, one of the larger inner coastal islands which had a mountain range called ‘the seven sisters’ he particularly wanted to climb. The floor then provided us with a hard, but useful place on which to sleep.

We were woken around 0030 by the sound of a fishing boat entering the harbour. It proved to be the owner of the island, whom we met the next morning. Wilhelm was keen to learn about the island’s history, and whilst they chatted, I packed the boat. It proved to be one of our more early starts, as we were off before 1100. We planned to sail due north to the much larger island of Lovund, with its mini-version of the Gibraltar Rock facing out toward the sea.

We started out in beautiful sunshine with a good following wind. It was the first time we had experienced such ideal sailing conditions, and we expected to reach Lovund (above) without difficulty. By the early afternoon however, the wind had backed to a more northerly direction, and later dropped to only a light breeze, so the motor was used once more to make our way to a nearer group of islands called Gaasvær (below).

Gaasvær. Wilhelm sailed off on his own so that I could take a picture of Blunderbus under sail.
It was the only such picture we would get on the whole of the cruise.

Gaasvær proved to have only a slightly greater population than Skjærvær, with at least two of the houses occupied. It, too, had obviously once been a more active community, with both a church (still in use, though locked) and a school (now closed down). Any thoughts of making further progress toward Lovund were dispelled by the lack of wind, and by a local fisherman, who gave us two fresh cod to cook for our evening meal.

 

We set up our tents behind the fishing sheds attached to the jetty, and walked around the island, inspecting the remains of what clearly was once a considerable and thriving fishing industry, with rail tracks between two production warehouses. We slept well that night after eating more than our fill of the tastiest locally caught fresh cod I have experienced.

Day 7: Gaasvær to Aasvær to Lovund

It was very convenient that - unlike sailing in the UK - the time of high water or the direction of the tidal flow was of little concern, and our only consideration when setting off was the weather. With a strong following wind the next day, we set sail under reefed main, and Blunderbus surged along in the short swell, creaking rhythmically in time honoured wooden fashion, and seemingly most happy to be continuing her fine cruising traditions.

The last group of islands due north before Lovund was Aasvær. It was a maze of islands similar to many of the other groups, and by exploring the various channels between the islands, we came upon a small but superbly sheltered harbour, with a few fishing boats and other small craft that were either on moorings or tied to jetties. Spotting a floating pontoon ahead, we felt this would be an ideal time to stop for a lunch break, and to look around the island.

Blunderbus moored to a pontoon at the narrow and shallower end of the small and well used natural harbour on Aasvær. 

Aasvær. Hidden from view on the other side of the island was yet another, deeper channel which looks out to the southwest and provides the deep water exit to the open sea. Here, a hydrographic survey ship was moored to a once busy commercial jetty. Not much surveying seemed to be in progress, as there was no sign of activity on board the ship!

Looking out to the south-east from a hilltop on Aasvær. The many channels can be seen much more clearly from above than when on the water, where foreground and background merge to conceal many of the entrances. Blunderbus can (just) be seen near the centre of the picture.

After a couple of hours break and exploration of this particular island, we decided to continue on to the much larger island of Lovund. Wilhelm had not climbed any mountains since Vega, and was therefore keen to move on to this next opportunity. Lovund had been visible on the horizon for the last few days, but was now only some 5 miles to the north, and easily reached for our next stop. 

Whilst the wind had started out very fresh in the morning, it dropped significantly whilst we were on Aasvær, and we took the reef out of the main before setting off. Wilhelm spent next part of the trip trying to get me to pronounce ‘Lovund’, which sometimes seemed have an ‘a’ added on the end, and I eventually managed to ‘sing’ this with the right inflection to (nearly) pronounce it correctly!

The wind continued to drop during the afternoon and we had to use the motor as we approached the lee of the wedge-shaped 620m mountain. We noticed an enticing sandy beach in a bay as we cruised up the west side of the island. Initially we thought it would be worth pulling up on the beach if only to take a photo of the Wayfarer against the backdrop of the mountain. However, we soon appreciated that it would make an ideal camping spot for the night, with a large flat grassy area kept short by wild sheep.

Also camping near the shore were a couple on a canoe tour of the area, and another couple who were sailing along the coast in a traditional Norwegian sailing boat, which they had left at a harbour on the mainland. They had used the ferry to get over to the island to spend a few days exploring it on foot with their dog.

Wilhelm had to walk round the other side of the mountain for his ascent.
The Puffin colony is on the face of the mountain just to the left of the photo.

It wasn’t until the photos were developed that I found that the two shots above
could be professionally put together to make a more panoramic view.

After setting up our tents, we walked round the northern headland and into the main town on the island, stopping at a hotel for Wilhelm to enquire the route to climb to the top of the mountain. This seemed quite a popular pastime, since the girl at the bar quickly produced a leaflet with that and other trails marked on it. I decided on something rather less energetic, and ordered a glass of beer. This cost me 50 Nkr – about £4. Fortunately I had been aware that drinks are expensive in Norway, so it didn’t take me quite so long to recover from the shock as it might have done! It had been a very warm afternoon/evening, so the cool glass of beer was greatly savoured. Using the washroom to clean my hands and face in fresh water for the first time in 3 to 4 days also made me feel I was getting better value for the price of the beer.

I wandered around the small town before heading back to our base, and was in time to watch the island’s famous Puffin colony return from the day’s feeding out at sea. Hundreds leave the mountain each morning and their return was a truly amazing sight – as they soared into their nesting site in small black, cloudlike formations. 

Wilhelm returned around 3 o’clock in the morning, having found that he had taken a dead end route up the mountain which could not be traversed, and having had to return quite a long way down before finding the correct route to the top. He mentioned that this time he had added my name in the book at the top – with greetings - in my absence!

Day 8: Lovund to Træna

Next morning the wind was blowing force 5 from the north. No problem for our proposed trip out west to Træna, but the canoeists we had befriended, Ole and Torunn, were apprehensive about setting out. We mentioned that we would keep an eye on them if they decided to make the trip, something we later thought perhaps was not such a good idea, since it certainly influenced their decision to go. Acting as an escort slowed us down considerably for the first half of the trip, but eventually they allowed us to give them a tow, which enabled us to reach Træna in reasonable time.

Ole and Torunn in their canvas canoe on their way to Træna. It was Torunn’s first canoe trip and she always seemed to have a happy smile on her face. I’m not too sure that either of them were fully aware of the potential dangers of canoeing in such cold , exposed seas.

The three peaks of Træna. The nearest one being rather spoilt by the radar station built into the top. The natural cave of Kirkhellaren is below the middle peak. The far side of the furthest peak wasn’t much less steep than this facing east side.

 

Blunderbus at her pontoon whilst Wilhelm makes enquiries about camping.

Wilhelm’s chart showed a sheltered bay on the westernmost of the two main islands, with its three prominent mountain peaks. We headed for this spot after dropping off at the first island, our intrepid canoeists who desperately needed a comfort stop! We tied up to a pontoon so that Wilhelm could enquire where we might camp for the night, and before Wilhelm’s return, Ole and Torunn paddled in round the harbour wall to join us again.

A sandy beach to the north of the bay, next to the local cemetery was recommended as the ideal place to set up our tents. Landing was no problem, but finding a flattish area to pitch our tents proved rather more difficult. Ole and Torunn managed to resolve this rather better than Wilhelm and I, who both woke up several times during the following night to find that we had rolled off our sleeping mats.       

We spent the evening exploring the more exposed west side of the island. I took the easier route back between the single taller mountain, and the adjacent range with its twin peaks, whilst Wilhelm continued along the coast and then over southernmost peak, the one with the NATO radar station. After making plans to explore more of the island the next day, we retreated to our tents for a less than comfortable night.

 

The view from near the Radar Station at the top of the first mountain.
We were camped by the sandy beach to the far left of the sheltered bay in the photo.