Sor-Gjaeslingan

       I have always enjoyed visiting island communities, whether they are nearby in Maine or located across the world. My sister, Susan, spent her life working to help sustain communities in Newfoundland, and now my daughter, Phoebe, is working to help those in Maine. We visited several island communities in Norway this summer, and I want to feature one that was especially interesting. Sor-Gjaeslingan (I still can't pronounce it) is located about fifteen miles offshore the city of Rorvik. Like Traena, it really is an archipelago of several islands in an area dotted with hundreds of rocks. Unlike Traena, the land is very low.

People live on four of the larger islands. We navigated the tricky, shallow route, and as we entered the channel, we dealt with small children roaring around us in an outboard, pulling two others on a float. To get to the pontoon, we had to squeeze past rocks and the fish houses through a narrow channel, which was partially blocked by an older gentleman cruising aimlessly down the middle in his inflatable. Kittiwakes, normally found on towering cliffs, screamed at us from their nests on the window ledges and roofs of the fish houses. The rocks all around us were studded with hundreds of iron rings and pipes. During its heyday from the 1880s to the 1940s, this spot was home to over 5,000 fishermen. After the Lofoten Islands, this island group was the most important center for the rowed fishery for cod. We were told 700 cooks were feeding the sheer number of men on their boats. Every square inch of rock was used to dry the cod. Space was at such a premium that they built racks over the roads for the fish to dry. Men crammed into the buildings to sleep. From here, they rowed out to jig for cod. In 1625, 1865, and 1906, unexpected storms swept in and killed hundreds of fishermen in hours.

Now there isn't a single year-round resident. There are about two dozen summer residents, and several of the old houses have been restored for rentals. One can tour some empty houses that an association keeps up. The ferry comes once a day, and there is one store that is open for an hour or two, manned by volunteers. The gentleman behind the counter left his post to show us around the old fish house.

 The narrow channel

Relics of the past in the old fish house by the channel

What it once looked like

Former drying racks over the road

and on the land

Far and Away at the guest pontoon. Soon, we would be joined by sailboats from all over Europe and a flotilla of Norwegians in small powerboats, taking advantage of the calm, sunny weather to get over to these islands.

Because we have been taking advantage of the inexpensive pontoons (approximately $20 a night for power, if you want it, and showers, and often a laundry), we haven't used our dinghy. We had fun trying out our new electric motor, puttering quietly around the rocks. We jigged up a nice pollock for dinner!

They have kept some of the houses like a museum. This was one of the dormitories for the men.

In several towns, we have seen Kittiwakes, which normally nest on cliffs, making themselves at home in towns on ledges and roofs. Many towns make artificial ledges for them to nest on. They are a raucous group.

Another reason we don't anchor so much around here. These harbors have been established in the only shallow areas and have been used for hundreds of years. 

We climbed to the top of the hill for a great view.

There was a signal tower left over from the old days. They would put up shapes to give fishermen weather warnings after several bad storms took many lives.