At the End of the Fjord 

     We had a great time going down the Romsdalsfjorden to the town of Andalsnes. Our goal was to see the Troll Wall, or Trollveggen, the largest vertical cliff in Europe - a Mecca for climbers and BASE jumpers. Well, it was the Mecca for BASE jumpers until too many killed themselves, and it is now banned. The wall is 3,600 vertical feet, and there are jagged rocks on top that look like troll silhouettes. The fjord leading down to Andalsnes is surrounded by impressive mountains. I had a crick in my neck from staring upwards. We even passed a couple having sex in the sun as we passed a small lighthouse, giving the voyage a little spice. We tied up at the town dock and went to a great climbing museum right there on the waterfront. Nico made reservations to do a Via Ferrata climb the next day, and I planned a trip up the gondola and a hike along the ridge. 

An early morning start down the fjord

The town dock in Andelsnes with the climbing museum and the gondola up the mountain in the background.

It was an unusually hot, sunny day, and the whole town, old and young, was down swimming off the dock. There were happy teenage squeals until midnight. We have had three weeks of this weather and everyone was making the most of it.

The Troll Cliff is just on the other side of the left-hand mountain.

The view from the top of the gondola

The restaurant at the top. There are goats wearing bells munching around the building.

The view up the valley by the Troll Wall. Englishmen came here for the salmon fishing in the river during the 1800s.

The end of the fjord. The water was a lovely turquoise from the runoff from the snowfields. Good farming in the fertile valleys at the head of the many fjords, but I hardly saw any animals, just hay fields.

The windsock for the paragliders.

I hiked the ridge until I got to this knife-edge. It is a whole lot steeper and narrower than this photo depicts. While I was having my lunch there, several people started across but froze in terror and turned back. That being said, an eight or nine-year-old boy bounced across with his dad.

The way down with Far and Away looking far and away.

We did some food shopping but I passed on the whale meat.

Nico had his hands full while doing the via ferrata (a climb using established bolts, cables, and ladders), but he did take a short video.

He loved the ancient equipment in the climbing museum.

From the first ascent of the Troll Wall by a Polish team.

This was an interesting story, and so typical of that time.

The original entry in the summit logbook.

The actual flag

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.

Trading Posts

     We have now visited three former trading posts along the coast, and it has been interesting to see how each is faring in modern times. Trading posts, or handelssted, were strategically placed along the coast on major shipping routes or by fishing grounds. They not only had warehouses, but families would go for social gatherings and to get supplies and mail. Some had schools.  The first was  Mageroya, which I described earlier. It is now a simple restaurant and music venue. The second was called Selsoya. It has been in the same family for 150 years. Since it is summer vacation for most Norwegians, the extended family has come back to help out, working in the store or fixing the docks. It had a very nice restaurant in the old schoolhouse and an active general store and fish plant with giant freezers. Residents of the surrounding islands come there for groceries, hardware, and fishing gear. Boats from the fish farms came and went, loading equipment and offloading fish. There is a brewery on the island. The marina was busy and the next night there was going to be a concert. The ferry and cruise ships charged through the very narrow strait. 

Selsoya harbor

I think something got lost in the translation

The active fish operation. They let Nico charge our electric outboard engine in the building.

The store. We bought the BEST smoked salmon (smoked on the island). It really had everything one could need tucked away in corners.

An old sign. They loved their coffee and tobacco.

The local island beer.

The owner made this cake for the King of Norway when he visited a few years ago. It is a traditional cake with a shortbread crust, an almond filling, and a top that is a shortbread, egg white lattice.

Nico had scrambled eggs and the fabulous smoked salmon. I had melted brie, nuts, bacon, and local honey.

The old school house. The present owner went there as a kid.

The trading post's location. One wouldn't think of it as a main shipping route, but it is pretty protected.

I don't usually buy beer for its label, but I loved this one.

     The third trading post was called Hopsjoen. We arrived on a Friday night when a weekend festival was happening. The little marina was packed, but someone left just as we arrived, and we slipped in. We enjoyed live music and a plate full of cold shrimp - the wonderful variety that we used to get in Maine (Pendalis borealis) before they moved north. The upstairs of the building is a whaling museum, complete with movies, harpoon guns, and canned whale meat. Many summer people congregate there in their powerboats to enjoy the restaurant. All three former posts had similar architecture. Luckily, they are still being kept up and continuing the tradition of a place for social interaction and food.

A lovely location, also in a narrow, protected strait.

  

There was an old church next door, built in the 1300s.

I managed to find a couple of horses. There is an old farm building from the 1800s and they still keep sheep and horses like they used to.

A herring net from the old days.

The building was against the rocks. The entrance to the third-floor museum was from the walkway.

New addition! After I posted this, we passed by a fourth trading post, Rugsund, pictured below. Familiar architecture by now.