Book Three - Journey of Seeking
Roar Justad was an old sea dog, weathered by a lifetime of nature’s relentless exposure. Just how long that life had been there was no way of telling. He was hard to read.
He had the look of an ancient soul, an adventurer, trapped in a slow-moving mortal body. He wore a dry grin, permanently etched into the character lines on his face. It was a grin that didn’t break into a smile often and wasn’t about to any time soon. If anything, his look became more of concern. He began to rub his chin, formulating a response… |
The centre of the Universe - Stamsund Vandrehjem - Roar Justad's youth hostel
I tried to sleep in the car near here. This is actually night time, 10 o'clock, and too cold to pitch a tent. My fingers went numb before I could get the tent out of its bag. Unwilling to fumble around in the cold with poles and ropes and tent stuff, I gave up on that idea and decided instead to sleep on the backseat of the car.
For a while that worked, but the temperature inside the car dropped so dramatically that even fully clothed, deep inside my sleeping bag, I nearly froze. Curled up ‘tighter than a dog rootin’ a cricket ball’, I found no comfort inside the car that night. I didn’t try that again.
For a while that worked, but the temperature inside the car dropped so dramatically that even fully clothed, deep inside my sleeping bag, I nearly froze. Curled up ‘tighter than a dog rootin’ a cricket ball’, I found no comfort inside the car that night. I didn’t try that again.
The warm atmosphere at Roar's hostel
A local fisherman bringing in a cod. Check out the line rigging. Five hooks evenly spaced above a huge sinker, and no bait. The hooks were covered with different coloured plastic tubing and all we had to do was find the bottom, come up a little, and then make the hooks dance.
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The filleting table ran red for over a week as the Polaks processed their fish. The waste went over the side of the pier and, what the seagulls didn’t swoop on in time, sank to the bottom where it was slowly digested by crabs and starfish. As the carcasses biodegraded on the ocean floor, bubbles of cod liver oil rose up and burst, sending a myriad of tiny ripples across the water in a brilliant kaleidoscope of violet colours – a touching display of infinite wonder.
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17th May - National Day. These images were taken in Solvær. Click here to see more bunad.
Svolvær Geita - The Svolær Goat I used a 400mm lens to capture this image from my car while parked in town below. The rest of Norway was dressed in their bunad, waving flags in parades to celebrating National Day, while this party was climbing the Goat. Look to the centre of the image to spot the climber, a third of the way up from the bottom. There is a mountain behind this pillar, hidden by cloud - not so unusual for Norway. |
The path of the Midnight Sun
Taken at Unstad - each frame represents thirty-minute intervals as the sun dipped across the sky
Taken at Unstad - each frame represents thirty-minute intervals as the sun dipped across the sky
The twilight view toward the mainland, taken from my window at Roar's hostel
Reflections of Lofoten
Hamnøy
The village of Å (aw) is the last outpost on the islands of Lofoten - the road ends there. It’s a strange name but it suits the atmosphere of the village perfectly. Å is the last letter of the Norsk alphabet. That’s all there is, it goes no further and, like the village, it’s the end of the line.
Søvågen
A simple fisherman’s cottage was our palace that night and later in the evening, gazing out the casement window in the living room, I noticed how relaxed I felt. I was at ease with my world. Determination and success had taken a back seat for a change. I slept on the couch by the fire that night so that each time I woke I could see the mountains through the window and still feel the warmth of the fire beside me. I hadn’t felt that peaceful on a soul level for a long, long time. |
“Slartibartfast did a top job on Norway,” I said, acknowledging the great creator. “He was a planetary construction engineer from Magrathea – a real craftsman. He designed Norway. He specialised in fjords, loved jagged coastlines, all those crinkly edges you know. He won an award for Norway and rightly so – he deserved it.”
The view over Reine from Reinebringen