“It was a moistening day.”
“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.”
Every manner of euphemism was brought forth to hide the fact that it was just plain raining. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that it was drizzling, or misting, or that there were scattered showers. After a week of fair skies, it was time to see Norway in a different light and what a lovely moody light it was. We probably can’t say the soft and pewter clouds were here from sunrise to sunset as we have left that phenomenon behind. At this latitude the sun no longer sets and we find ourselves relying upon the clock to know when to sleep or rise.
At 0600 the sky was almost to the sea. Only a smudge of grey indicated the location of any land. Tysfjorden fingered into the coast of Norway, a classic drowned glacial valley, hidden by fog that swirled upon the still surface of the sea. At its head a colorful little Saami summer village hid. Hellmebotyn, “the meadow below the cliff” was our base of operations for the morning. Did you expect a little rain to stop our play? Washed clean, vertical cliffs rose far above our heads. Zodiacs and kayaks probed their hidden crevasses while occupants watched the eagles soar. On shore the flowers of spring absolutely glowed. Carpets of tiny white lingonberry blossoms mingled with pink twinflower and yellow Viola biflora flowers. Rivers roared showing the power that had eroded the glacial moraine. They gushed from hidden valleys far above or slid in undulating waves across sloping polished walls and tumbled over boulders in crashing cascades. They spilled over upon the banks and turned trails to rivulets, coalescing and separating until absorbed into the salty deep. Some of us scampered high to seek their source while others meandered up hill and down searching for the perfect views.
An afternoon of education interspersed with watching scenery go by allowed our rain gear time to dry. Stetind, voted the most beautiful mountain in Norway, briefly showed its crown but the glimpse was fleeting and just enough to tantalize. To the north, the sky held promise with slivers of baby blue and the pall of low clouds was cast skyward transforming to mountains of white.
Post dinner we decided to visit Hell a bit, Helløya, the Hell Island, that is. We squeezed into the narrow passage between it and neighboring Bjarkøya and then not satisfied turned rapidly in place and did it once again. Here on Sundsvollsundet a noisy crowd resided. Hundreds of kittiwakes called out their names, each pair from a cozy nest. Or maybe it was goodnight they said for though the sun is high, a little rest is needed before morning again is nigh.
