The Last Hurrah!

Far and Away is tied to the dock at Amoy Havn, the boat yard near Stavanger, where she will spend the winter. She has been a steadfast ship, taking Nico and Marta from Lochiver, Scotland, through Orkney, Fair Isle, and over to Freja and Bergen. Then she carried Nico and me north to the Arctic Circle and back. The culmination of this amazing summer was the arrival of Phoebe and her fiancé, Zac, for the last week of the journey. It was quite an initiation for Zac, a man of the lakes and mountains of western Maine, but not the sea. A week on a 34-foot boat is certainly one way to get to know the in-laws! 

Naturally, a named storm was expected to hit the area, so as soon as we met them at the station in Bergen, we headed off up Mostraumen Fjord so they could have a fjord experience before we had to hunker down.

It was also my birthday!

An early start the next morning to get back to Bergen before the wind and rain hit.

Cookies and coffee to fuel the helmsman.

Bergen is a vibrant city, rising up from a bustling waterfront. There were three cruise ships in, and throngs were cruising the wharves, the funicular, and the open-air seafood market, but if one walks up the hill, there are quiet cobbled streets lined with lovely architecture and plantings.

Bergen was part of the Hanseatic League and the ancient warehouses are now a UNESCO World Heritage site.

I went a little wild with house and flower pictures.

There were wonderful little images painted on buildings throughout the city.

We got a lot of attention from tourists walking by who saw our American flag. Nico invited a gentleman from China aboard because he was so fascinated by Far and Away. Even Zac became an expert at answering questions. The most common were, "Did you really sail here from the US?" and "How long did it take you?"

The wharf area was quiet in the morning, but it soon became packed. Then the rain and the wind from the storm arrived and people scattered to the shops. We spent the rainy day at the Maritime Museum while Phoebe and Zac found a comfy coffee shop and settled in with their books.

     After the rain let up, we headed south with the goal of reaching Stavanger. Our first stop was Leirvik. We chose it because it was a larger town, and we thought we might get stuck again because strong winds from the south were predicted. It was sheltered but did have much character. Lots of oil rigs were being built or serviced. So we thought we would do a short run to another town, Langevag, at 5 AM before the wind came up. This area was more picturesque. We took a long walk around the peninsula. Even though it is early August, signs of Fall were evident. The blueberries were turning red and the heather was in full bloom.

     The next stop was Rovaer, an archipelago of out islands, about 40 miles north of Stavanger. We entered a VERY narrow channel and tied up to the Kulturehotel. The town has 85 year-round inhabitants, a school, a store and a salmon farm. The farm sponsored two aquariums with local species and an aquaculture exhibit. There are no cars. The island is serviced by an electric passenger ferry about five or six times a day.

The inhabitants, of all sizes, use wheelbarrows to transport items from the ferry.

Phoebe had fun zipping around in our dinghy with the electric motor. She and Nico stopped by a fisherman's boat and purchased a whole bunch of crab claws. Despite no cars, this 16-meter bridge connects two of the islands.

They lined the narrow passage with tires so the ferry and fishing boats can use them like bumper cars as they roar through.

The view of the entrance from our dock. You can't see the narrow opening that was just slightly more than a boat width.

The cube on the right is a sauna. We enjoyed a rainy afternoon heating up and then dipping into the frigid water. It was nice being tied up to the hotel. We enjoyed the restaurant and bar, one night having aquivit while chatting with the staff before the only two guests at the hotel came down for their dinner.

Phoebe and I took a walk starting in a sheep pasture, promptly lost the trail and did a lot of off roading through the spagmum moss and heather. Zac started at the other end and we met in the middle by this bay that had the foundations of stone age fishing camps. Hard to tell the foundations from the general rubble.

It's a wind swept island but the sheep hunker down behind the rocks.

Phoebe and Zac took the ferry to Haugesund to pick up a bus to get back to Bergen before an epic trip back to the States. We sadly parted and made our way to Amoy Havn boatyard. Who knows what next summer will bring?

The view of us, almost over the horizon from their ferry, Far and Away.

Ponies!

You didn't think I could do a whole summer of posts without featuring horses? Well, here it is. I try to ride in the various countries I visit, and I was especially interested in finding more about the Norwegian Fjord Horse.  My previous barn had a Norwegian Fjord named Sven. Everyone adored kind, gentle, elderly Sven. He passed earlier this summer, so I wanted to honor his memory by visiting his kin. Miss Rumphius shares some of the markings of the Fjords: her tricolored mane and tail, stripe down her back, and markings on her legs. These markings harken back to ancient times. The Fjord Horse is one of the oldest and purest breeds. Scientists have found evidence of their existence at the end of the last ice age. Excavations at Viking burial sites show that they were domesticated and used as war horses. They were buried or burned with their warrior owners. For hundreds of years they have been used as draft animals on farms, some of them very steep! 

I was thrilled to find The Norwegian Fjord Horse Center in Nordfjord on the internet, so we made it a point to stop there. We sailed all the way down to the end of the fjord and tied up in a shallow marina with the wind barreling down full force. 

The next day, we eagerly hiked to the center only to reach the drive and find, to our dismay, a sign saying they were closed due to the heat. We walked up anyway, and there was not a soul around. We did find a couple of horses in a pasture, which made me happy. 

Although they are called horses, they are mostly pony-sized with a stocky build.

Although the center was closed, there were some pictures on an outdoor bulletin board. This was a prize-winning stallion.

There are five different shades, and the genetics is quite complicated. It is the same with Grulla coloration (Miss Rumphius, my pony, is a Grulla).

It took a strong horse to do work on some of these steep farms.

Since the center was closed, we kept walking up the hill to a collection of huts about a thousand feet above the fjord. I think they might be used as ski huts during the winter. 

Many had sod roofs and traditional stone foundations.

The heather was in bloom high in the hills.

Just above the huts was a high mountain pond with a lovely rowboat tethered to an outhaul.

Nico gave it a whirl, and then the two of us had a row in the clouds.

There was a little low stone structure by the edge of the pond, probably used as a shelter. It also housed emergency gear if someone fell through the ice.

The road down was steep and must be challenging on skis. I'm glad I don't have to negotiate some of those turns. The pond was a reservoir, and there were a couple of pump houses along the way. They were painted red and had sod roofs like the huts at the top.

The town below. At the left is a farm where a Viking burial mound was found with a burned ship. Later, in Bergen, we visited a maritime museum that had a fascinating video about what scientists have learned from the remains. Three Norwegian Fjord Horses were buried alongside the local king, killed in a nearby battle. His ashes were in a cauldron with the caps from the warriors' shields covering them.

The Center - It had two huge indoor areas, a carriage track, a dressage ring, and a gigantic barn.

I thought my friend Jeannie should do something like this on her trailer.

There were some more horses on the way back to the boat. I think I should do this to Miss Rumpius's mane because she has worn patches off by rubbing against her paddock fence, trying to get to the tasty grass beyond her reach.

Back to the boat. We love the old fishing boats that have been converted to yachts.

The town had some lovely traditional architecture.