Midnight Sun

Our last full day in Norway was such a delight because the weather turned sunny and warm. Blue skies, just a few puffy clouds, and nice temperatures meant we didn't need to wear our coats. It also meant we finally had a chance to see the midnight sun.

On our last evening I sat on the small porch to draw the mountains across the fjord,
while enjoying a Norwegian beer.

I heard the cow bells and glanced up to see this guy walking his cows. Later we had to step through
the landmines of cow poop littering the road.

When we went to pay Ole and Magni for our five days in their cabin, we had expected to do the financial transaction and be on our way; it was 8pm and we hadn't eaten our dinner yet, which we planned to do right after paying them. We walked over and Magni asked if we wanted coffee or tea, and it turned out that she had made a big plate of waffles and they wanted to sit and talk with us for a while.

So we sat, we ate waffles (made with milk from their cows) with homemade jam and brown cheese -- which I ate, and it wasn't bad just kind of creamy but tasteless -- and drank coffee and talked for about an hour. We asked how many cows and sheep Ole tended (four calves and several sheep) and then I mentioned that I enjoyed the smell of the barn, the manure. Ole and Magni both laughed, and Magni said it's a romantic smell: "farm romantic." And apparently there is a reality show that's popular in Norway that's just like our show The Bachelor, but with farmers. After a round of 'speed dating,' the show spends several weeks narrowing the field to one final man or woman. Magni said it's funny because people are so ridiculous, and I said it's the same in the US. There is another reality program where contestants have to work a farm using methods from the early 1900s, and that's not a funny show because it's very hard work.

They had a young man helping Ole on the farm for the summer, from Chechnya. This was his second summer with them; after the first summer he said the work was so hard he'd never come back, but he did come back after all. He sat with us and finished off all the waffles. Another man came by with some fish he'd caught, and then he sat and chatted in Norwegian with Ole and Magni for several minutes. We can't exactly figure out what Ole does; mainly he seemed to drive his tractor back and forth all day to and from the barn hauling manure, and one day he mowed the grass. The young Chechen boy seemed to finagle the sheep a bit. Perhaps he had land elsewhere that he farmed.

I had such a stereotype in my mind of "Norwegian farmer" based on Garrison Keillor's "Norwegian bachelor farmers" from Prairie Home Companion. But Ole didn't fit that, of course. I mentioned that I'd just finished reading all four of the Knausgaard titles that have been translated into English at this point, and both Ole and Magni kind of grimaced a bit. Magni knows Yngve, Karl Ove's brother, and both of them said that Knausgaard was not liked in Norway -- which I had heard myself. Telling the family secrets, not a good Norwegian way to be. He's very American in that way, and very un-Norwegian. But then Ole started asking me if I'd read other Norwegian writers -- Ibsen? Have I read Ibsen? (Yes, I have.) "He's a dramatist, you know," Ole said. I mentioned that I'd started reading Knut Hamsun and they both approved. Nesbø, Ole asked? I will, I promised. We'd seen their enormous library when we'd go into their house to use the Internet, and it was very impressive. So yes, Ole is a Norwegian farmer who loves Ibsen and Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen. I tried out my few words of Norwegian and despite it sounding to MY ear like I was pronouncing things as Ole did, he always did this kind of smirk at my pronunciation. Although both Marc and I feel socially awkward and anxious about this kind of thing, I enjoyed the conversation we had with them very much, and feel like it was such a good part of our time there.

But finally, back to our cabin for Marc to make us one final dinner, and then we waited around until about 11 and headed back to Russelv for a chance to see the midnight sun. Russelv is on the tip of the peninsula so the mountains don't obstruct the horizon, and since the sun is relatively low in the sky although still quite visible, an unobstructed view is best. We'd been there on our first day, during the day, and we tried one other midnight to no avail, but this last night it all worked:

It's MIDNIGHT.

MIDNIGHT.

Back at Svensby, the light was so soft and pink -- the mountains looked pink,
the fjord was pink-tinged. Just so dreamy and beautiful.

We were up early to catch the ferry to Breivikeidet the next morning, and then on to the Tromsø airport for our flight to Oslo and on to Copenhagen. Leaving Norway we had much better views from the air -- no clouds this time -- and the views were breathtaking:

an archipelago

beautiful fjords

and snow- and ice-topped mountains

but flatter and greener in the south -- Oslo below

Next stop: Copenhagen. Farvel, Norway.

Svensby and the Lyngen Island

We're staying on a little peninsula in the archipelago immediately east of Tromso.

we're right at the 4/3, there on the left side of the peninsula

Our cabin is in a tiny village called Svensby, right on the Ullsfjorden. Facing us is the fjord, behind us is a hilly field, and on one side is a giant barn full of cows, sheep, and their manure. The farm is owned by Ole and Magni (a Norwegian farmer named Ole, it's almost too perfect -- and his wife Magni is sweet and welcoming). We were immediately introduced to Molly, the farm dog, who loves to play fetch as long as we'll play with her. The cabin is sweet, with a small kitchen and a woodburning stove, and it's quite comfortable.

walking poles, a snow shovel, a thermostat (it's cold)
and a troll welcome. It's Norway!

the blue of these flowers is amazing

Norwegian Yahtzee!! Girls, look!

Svensby is right in the middle of the peninsula, essentially, and we're very close to the ferry back to Breivikeidet, and then on to Tromso. There's a ferry not too far away that goes in the other direction, to a peninsula that borders Finland. There are tiny clumps of homes scattered about, occasionally enough that it might be considered a village, like Svensby and Lyngseidet, and plenty of homes sitting all alone. You're never far from water here -- fjords on three sides and the Lyngen alps in the middle. There are 140 glaciers on Lyngen, but we haven't been able to figure out what makes something a glacier as opposed to non-melting snow and ice. All the mountains have big rivers of unmelted/unmelting snow, or bowls of it depending on the formation. 

Our first full day here, Monday, we drove out to the northern tip, to Russely (#1 on the map). There's a lighthouse out on the very tip, and it's supposed to be a fantastic place to see the Northern Lights or the Midnight Sun. (We thought we've been seeing the midnight sun; it's as bright at midnight as it is throughout the day, so we thought that was it, but the way Ole just asked if we've seen it yet -- and he said we could see it at Russely -- we now think that means actually seeing the SUN, not just daylight. It's been so cloudy and overcast, with just patches of blue visible here and there, so I guess we haven't seen the Midnight Sun. That's OK, it's been close enough for me.) So we drove out to Russely for a road trip and to see about that lighthouse. Lyngen is empty-feeling as it is, but as we got farther out toward the end, it began to feel almost desolate. The road ended and we saw a closed gate ahead, so we thought we wouldn't be able to walk out to the tip of the island . . . but as we got closer, we saw this sign:

so Norway, in every way.

lots of coral in among the rocks

that big rock is an "errant rock" which means it was moved there by a glacier

brrrrrrr!

That sign is just so Norway. Every place is a public place; you can camp anywhere, on private property, even, as long as you keep a bit away from people’s homes. You can pick berries and forage for mushrooms anywhere you like. I have a feeling there is a general assumption that people are not assholes, and in fact people don’t behave like that. The people we’ve seen and interacted with are healthy-looking and doing their thing, whatever it is – tractoring manure around, if you’re Ole; greeting visitors, like the young smiling man we talked to this morning at the tourist info center; helping Americans figure out their change if you’re the cashier at the market; telling you about the time they went to New York City while they change your money for you at the post office or clear your table at the restaurant.

So we lifted the rope and tied the gate shut behind us, and headed out for a very windy walk as far as we could go. We didn’t make it out to the tip to find the lighthouse, but the shoreline was just magnificent. The wind was so strong, a couple of times I had to lean in hard to keep from being blown over. I had my earmuffs on, a scarf tied tight around my neck, and the hood of my coat pulled up and I was comfortable enough. The skies were cloudy, but in a way that made the landscape even more amazing. We walked on the beach and found all kinds of little shells and pieces of bleached coral, and that puzzled me a lot.

We drove through Lyngseidet to locate the grocery store, and to get a feel for the little village. We’ve seen so many quite elderly people walking everywhere, even one woman with a walking frame, so when we passed an older woman we didn’t think twice about it. On our way back, she had stopped at the side of the road and flagged us down, and asked if we would give her a ride into Lyngseidet. She told us that she had fallen in love with an American once, a very long time ago, and now she couldn’t even remember his name. A few miles later she hopped out with a smile and a wave. She was so cute.

the Lyngseidet harbor

don't look -- Santa is always watching....

our sweet little hitchhiker

Then Monday night we took a walk at 10:30 so we could be sure to be out and about at midnight, for the sheer amazingness of that daylight. If anything, it’s brighter the later it gets for some reason. So we walked south from our cabin along the road and paused to stare at the amazing mountains, the beautiful fjord, and the backlit clouds.

This morning, Tuesday, we went back to Lyngseidet because we wanted to find some fish. Marc had been to the grocery store and could only find frozen fish, so we planned to check out both grocery stores – SURELY there is fresh fish here! Gravlax comes from Norway, Norwegian salmon, this is North Norway, fishing country! Fishing boats everywhere, fishermen everywhere. And yet no fresh fish to be found. After the second market also had no fresh fish, we decided to stop at the tourist information center to ask. There was an adorable young Norwegian man with a huge smile and large teeth working at the center, so we asked, “Is there a place to buy fresh fish?”

“No!” he said. He threw back his head and laughed. “It’s crazy, right?” So we all laughed – yes, it’s so crazy! It turns out that people either catch their own fish, or buy directly from a guy who catches it. He offered to make some calls to the ferry at Svensby, but when we said we’re staying in Svensby and told him where, he said, “Ah, Magni, right?” (Yeah, Magni, Ole’s wife….) “Ask Magni, she can tell you who will sell you some fish.”

It was early in the day, so we picked up some maps at the tourist center and decided to head south on the other side of the peninsula, down to a glacier near Oteren (#9 on the map). Gosh it’s just so beautiful here, and at the same time it’s hard to take it in. It’s like it just drifts off the surface of my mind, somehow, and doesn’t get inside me. Maybe it’s the scale of the place, maybe it’s just such a different landscape, I don’t know. My eyes gaze at it, the view goes inside me and passes on through. I linger, I look at the mountains with an eye to drawing them, I see the different planes and angles, the scoops filled with glacier, the tree line, the glittery (or flat) water, the occasional farm, and I am dazzled and yet it drifts through me. I can’t figure it out. It’s simultaneously an alpine landscape, with rocky peaks all around and fields full of little wildflowers and sheep grazing, and some other kind of place, obviously a frozen place, obviously different, obviously a place of extremes.

As we were driving along, we saw a magnificent waterfall – there are dozens of waterfalls everywhere you look, here, plummeting down the mountain faces, but this one was really beautiful. And then Marc saw what looked like a dirt road going in that direction, so off we went. Since you can go wherever you like here, we weren’t worried about it not being a real road; even if it were private property, we could drive on it. We passed this little sign, indicating that this was a historic resting place for the Sami people on their migration.

you can see it at the bottom of the picture too, running through the forest

you can enlarge all the pictures

We never did find the glacier we were looking for; it’s hard to locate things here because they’re not marked. It’s kind of like you just have to know they’re there. It isn’t about things being presented only in Norwegian, although the signs mostly are (even though everyone also speaks English). It’s just that things aren’t really marked at all. It’s raw and empty and natural here.

Lyngen alps -- just so magnificent

any time of day or night on the fjord

11pm

the Svensby ferry coming in

classic home along the fjord -- just a home in the middle of all this beauty

the sun broke through the clouds to shine in the middle of the fjord today

lots of sheep everywhere, and goats

and trolls

and wildflowers in fields

mostly yellows and purples

One thing I love so much is the sound of the gulls. You can almost always hear their cries or their chattering, and I don’t think I’ve been along a fjord yet without seeing them. When we were in Balsfjord, our first day in Tromso, it was a sunny period and there was a lone gull cruising up the center of the fjord, in the sun, and I thought how magnificent a thing it would be to be a Norwegian gull. I thought of another of the movements from Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite (can’t think of the title, it’s the one with the slow, lyrical flute melody line) as the soundtrack for that gull on that glorious day. And Marc already knew this but I didn’t: did you know that the tide goes out in the fjords?! I thought they were so large and deep and long that they wouldn’t be that affected by the ocean tides, but they really go out! Huge expanses of the beach become empty at low tide, it has really surprised me so much.

Another thing I love about this place is their love of their country. They LOVE Norway, and being Norwegian. But it isn’t a patriotic, jingoistic kind of thing – We’re #1! Norway is the best! It’s not like that. It’s more like, yay Norway! Norway is so good! And you know, it IS so good. So many homes fly either the regular Norway flag, or a long narrow triangular version of the Norway flag. We see it everywhere, and there’s even a big flag in the entry space of our little cabin, should we want to use it.

Tomorrow we’ll head out in another direction, and we think it’s going to be sunny on Thursday so we are saving a particular hike for that day.