Logs & Articles
south from Lofoten
the second half of the story
As we continued to head south from the Lofoten, the snow capped jagged mountains slowly started to give way to the greener and more rounded mountain scenery of central Norway. Although not possessing quite the same rugged splendour of the north, the skjærgård is at its best in this part of Norway, with the many islands offering a wealth of splendidly wild anchorages that even the west coast of Scotland would struggle to match. Often our only company in these anchorages would be a pair of sea eagles, who often seemed to occupy a permanent perch on the many stone Vardes that mark the intricate passages through the skjærgård.
35 days into the trip and we crossed south of the Arctic circle to reach Brønnøysund and our first major hurdle of the trip. Just to the south of Brønnøysund the skjærgård gives way to the Folla, a 20mile stretch of open unprotected coast with an evil reputation amongst Norwegian mariners. Somewhat ironically our departure from the Arctic was marked by a series of south westerly gales, which kept up pinned down in Brønnøysund for a week whilst we waited for a suitable break in the weather to cross the Folla.
When the weather cleared and lighter northerly winds returned, we discovered exactly why the Folla has its evil reputation. Even in moderately calm weather, the combination of many unmarked reefs and disproportionately confused seas tested our navigation skills to the limit. Straying more than a handful of metres from the main channel would have resulted in disaster. It was with great relief that we regained the shelter of the skjærgård to the south of the Folla, but even then there was a sting in its tail.
For once the usually impeccable series of perches and vardes which mark the entrances and routes through the skjærgård let us down. As we approached what should have been the entrance to the channel, threading our way through a maze of semi submerged rocks and foaming breakers, the entrance varde was nowhere to be seen. Ahead of us lay a seemingly impenetrable wall of rocks with no way through. We had long since learnt that GPS was of no help in severely restricted waters such as these; there is simply not the time to plot a fix and even waypoint navigation is not accurate enough.
With little more than 20 metres to go before hitting the rocks, we finally realised the entrance varde was missing. However, just at the point when we thought we might have to abort and tack our way out through the maze we had just negotiated, we saw the second perch of the channel 200 metres away. At the same time a gap in the wall of rocks seemed to open up from nowhere. Seconds later we had negotiated the 2 boat length wide gap and were in calm and sheltered waters, mightily relieved and looking forward to a restorative tot of whisky when we finally anchored for the night!
7 more days of splendidly sheltered cruising followed before we came to the next break in the skjærgård just to the south of Kritiansund. Again we had to wait for a break in the weather before crossing the Hustadvika and faced similar challenges to those posed by the Folla a week earlier.
By this stage in the trip our sailing and navigation skills were well honed, but tiredness and living in the confined space of a Cornish Shrimper cabin were beginning to take their toll on both of us. After almost 60 days of continuous sailing it would have been very tempting to stop and take a rest for a week or so. However, we had to counter this temptation with the thought that the predominantly northerly winds we had enjoyed so far would probably not last much longer. If we did not continue to take advantage of them, then there was a very real risk that the southerlies would arrive and prevent us from attaining the goal we had been striving to achieve for the past 11 months.
Armed with this thought, we continued to press southwards until reaching Tananger where after almost 1,300 miles of sailing we finally bid farewell to the skjærgård. Ahead of us lay 150 miles of open unprotected coastline, fully exposed to the prevailing south westerlies and with only a few small harbours en route in which to seek refuge if the weather turned nasty. We could not expect any real shelter until we had rounded Lindesnes, the imposing cape that marks Norway’s most southerly point.
Once again, our arrival at an exposed part of the passage coincided with the arrival of a string of gales. However, this time they were almost welcome as they forced us to take a break in Tananger. Giving way to temptation, we checked into a hotel for a couple of days and enjoyed the luxury of a full width bed; relief indeed after almost 70 days in the cramped confines of a Shrimper berth! After 2 days of comfort we were itching to get going again, but no matter how much time we spent poring over the synoptic charts, we could see no sign of any let up in the weather.
After 4 days of howling winds, the midday forecast finally came up with the words we were longing to hear: “….. decreasing 4 or 5 later”. We quickly consulted with the crew of the local lifeboat and any other fishermen we could find on the quay, asking them what conditions would be like “outside” following the gales. They replied by asking us what sort of boat we were proposing to go out in. When we pointed to Freya lying on the other side of the harbour they took a long look at her, smiled to one another, and then after what seemed an eternity slowly said, “Ja, Ja ….. you will be OK in her!”
Reassured by this local vote of confidence, we readied ourselves for a late afternoon sail to Egersund some 40 miles distant. We cautiously set out with 2 reefs in the main, but the forecast proved correct and we were soon bowling along at almost 6 knots under full main on a thrilling broad reach. Conditions were very similar the following day, and whilst we were happy to continue sailing along the coast, we did not fancy attempting a rounding of Lindesnes which the Pilot described as “ … a headland which Norwegian yachtsmen tend to hold in great awe, and around which the seas can be impressive in strong Westerly weather”. The decision was taken to stop for the night in Rasvåg, a delightful little fishing harbour about 15 miles short of Lindesnes.
For what was to prove the last time on the trip, we had to sit and wait for a weather window in Rasvåg. When it finally came, we set out at 0300 to ensure that we got round Lindesnes early in the morning. Both local advice and our own experiences of the past 2 months, had taught us that exposed headlands in Norway are best rounded at dawn when the winds tend to be at their lightest. Even on an overcast day, thermal heating seems to notch wind speeds up a good 5-10 knots once the sun rises.
The morning sun was just starting to climb above the imposing cliffs of Lindesnes as we rounded the headland. No sooner had we rounded and eased our sheets when the wind picked up to a lively force 5 or 6. Running before it was invigorating, but if we had still been battling to round the headland things would have been far less comfortable.
We reached Mandal by early afternoon and a tangible wave of relief swept over us as we tied up alongside for the night. The final obstacle had been overcome. With just 150 miles of sailing ahead of us, all of it in sheltered waters, we knew that barring any unforeseen disaster, we would achieve our objective.
The subsequent sail from Mandal to Porsgrunn took us through the Blindleia, an “inside” passage which is regarded by many as one of the most beautiful and interesting channels in all of Norway. Indeed, it was a cruise down the Blindleia some 25 years earlier which had started my love affair with Norway and was at least in part the inspiration for this current trip. However, this time it was to prove the only disappointment of the cruise. Whilst still incredibly beautiful, the thousands of bays and anchorages in this area were no longer as unspoilt and isolated as they had been 25 years ago. Almost every one was filled with a collection of summer holiday cabins and private moorings, and finding a place to anchor was almost as difficult as in the overcrowded harbours of the south coast of England.
Under normal circumstances we would not have given it another thought, but after 75 days of sailing in which we had hardly seen another yacht or pleasure boat, the Blindleia seemed unbearably crowded and claustrophobic. We knew then that we had been forever spoilt and that sailing the south coast would never be quite the same again!
Despite this, our journey was not destined to end on a low note. The final leg of our trip took us from Porsgrunn up the Telemark canal through the heart of the southern Norwegian mountains to Dalen, the point where we had started our journey some 7 months earlier. Built around the turn of the 19 th century to transport logs from mountain to sea, the Telemark canal must be one of the most spectacular and scenic canals in the world. However, unlike the Blindleia, it remains blissfully unspoilt and uncrowded. Although we had a few small motor boats to keep us company through the locks, by the time we reached Lake Bandak we were on our own again as we tacked the final few miles up to Dalen.
Exactly 80 days after setting sail from Lakselv, we found ourselves tying up alongside for the last time in Dalen. It had been a fantastic trip and we had achieved our goal. Equally important from our perspective, we had proved to ourselves that you don’t necessarily need a large yacht or budget to have a big adventure; something that tends to be forgotten in an era where it has become unfashionable to go cruising in anything less than 30 ft long.
Despite having spent almost a year striving to achieve the goal there was no real feeling of elation on arrival in Dalen; just a sense of quiet satisfaction, tinged with sadness that our great adventure had finally come to an end. For many months afterwards we both struggled to rationalise our feelings on finishing, but we eventually concluded that our Nordic Odyssey had never been about “arriving” anywhere. It was always the “getting there” that would be the fun bit, or as Robert Louis Stevenson once said:
“To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive”
Return to the first half of the Norway coastal log.
