Norway 2022/23 – 9, Turnabouts and changes

Tags

Arctic Circle, Bodø, Harstad, Hurtigruten, Hurtigruten museum, MS Trollfjord, Risøyrenna, Vesterålen

On Friday 30th December, three busfuls of passengers got off at 08.00 at Harstad to take a drive through the lovely Vesterålen islands, and to meet up again with MS Trollfjord two stops further on, at Sortland at 12.30. At that time, I was due to get off there for a bus ride to Stokmarknes in order to have a decent amount of time in the Hurtigruten Museum before reboarding the boat there at 15.00. I had a late breakfast as I didn’t know that I’d get any lunch, and took away with me the means to make a cheese sandwich and an apple.

The day before we had been told we would, hopefully, pass along the Risøyrenna, the 4.8 kilometre Risøy Channel.

It had been dredged and opened in 1922 to allow the Hurtigruten ships through, giving them access to its eponymous stop, and other places on the Lofoten Islands. It was narrow, and part of a beautiful passage. The channel was 7 metres deep, our boat having a draught of 5.5.

At 10.10 we were invited up to deck 9 to observe our passage through.

When I arrived:

I missed most of the opening English introduction, but did catch that we were hovering to see whether it was going to be safe to go through, given the very strong winds. Heinz then embarked on a long spiel in German.

After a minute or so I saw and felt that the boat was making an about-turn of 180 degrees. Heinz broke into English to explain that the captain had decided that the very strong winds meant that, especially with so little difference between the boat’s draught and the depth of the channel, it would not be safe to proceed. We would go straight to Svolvær, arriving at 12.55, via Harstad, missing out Risøyrenna, Sortland, and Stokmarknes. And this also meant we would not be seeing the entrance to the beautiful Trollfjord, after which the ship was named. But here’s an account (subject to permission) I’ve just found by, apparently, a North American, of their passage through the channel in 2014 at a different time of year.

A screen map showed us to be on our way back to Harstad.

We had to go there to pick up the turned-back passengers who had left for the Vesterålen excursions, and to deposit those ‘ordinary’ passengers who were due to leave the ship at one of the three ports now being missed. They would be bussed to their destinations. Later in the afternoon it was announced we would not be calling at Svolvær, but would go straight to Bodø, missing out Stamsund as well, arriving at 22.00.

All these changes meant that the trip to the Hurtigruten museum on which I was booked would not happen, nor for others, from Svolvær, three hours of horse-riding, nor another fishing village visit, nor an evening trek.

Back at Harstad, it was time for a twilight tour around the promenade deck, 6, before I returned to my cabin and had my picnic lunch. When going round deck 6, I always started on the starboard side and worked anticlockwise.

It would appear that Harstad is flourishing economically.

The English-language daily briefing was bought forward 45 minutes, to 14.15.

The team had clearly hastily remade the ‘slide’ to amend the time of arrival, normally 02.30 the following day.

We would be crossing back over the Arctic Circle tomorrow.

Hege sought to reassure those of us who had been on the northwards journey that there would be no ice down the backs the following day, instead we would be invited to take a dose of …

That’s Heinz grinning at the anticipated ‘pleasure’.

A short presentation about life on the ship followed. It’s a good job there was no space for questions – I would have had far too many.

A film taking us around the lower decks was fascinating.

I can’t remember why I went up to deck 8, but for the Nth time I saw progress on the two jigsaws. One had been completed. I saw two people on the very final morning desperately trying to get the last 50 or so pieces in position before disembarkation.

At 16.30 an additional talk was programmed, the history of Hurtigruten, a sort-of replacement for the visit to the museum. It has been interesting to learn that ‘hurtigruten’ was sort-of lower case, an idea, an integral and essential part of Norwegian culture, less the name of a company, more a description of the journey. It means ‘express route’. It has been exploited by many companies over the years, but at its heart is Richard With’s initiative. The Hurtigruten Group finally came together in 2006. (Additional information from Wikipedia, inter alia.)

The afternoon was scattered with exchanges of emails with my French friend, Christine, I knew she would be following the ship’s progress on an interactive map, MS Trollfjord being ‘TF’, which, at the time of writing, is at the northernmost tip of Norway, on her second full trip since the one being described here. At the least Christine would be puzzled when she saw it way off the appointed route, so I kept her up to date with the various tergervisations. (There was also a mystery of a missing ship which apparently was going to be waiting for us a Bodø, but wasn’t and disappeared from the map, but that was never solved.)

Some time in the evening, it was announced that because of the extremely strong winds, the ship was now travelling more slowly, and we would not arrive at Bodø until 23.00. That was still 3.5 hours earlier than the official schedule. I have to say, other than feeling the gales up on deck 9 in the morning, I was very little aware of the winds. Perhaps the occasional need to steady oneself when walking around the ship, but that was all.

Next day would be New Year’s Eve.

Norway 2022/23 – 8, Hammerfest

Tags

Amundsen, Finnmark, Hammerfest, Honningsvåg, Hurtigruten, Longyearbyen, MS Trollfjord, Museum of Reconstruction of Finnmark and Northern Troms, Robert Scott, Sami, South Pole expedition, Struve, Struve Geodetic Arc, Svalbard, Vardø, WWII

For some people, Day 8 started at 01.20. They had left the boat at Mehamn and rejoined at at Kjøllefjord at 03.25, having travelled some of the distance between the two by snow-scooter. I was not among them. The first announcement most of us heard was to explain a delay – we had taken on 130 tons of fish during the night at one of the stops! (Some reckoned that they could see the boat listing, but given the overall tonnage of the boat, I couldn’t – and didn’t – see that it made any difference.)

We were still at the very ‘top’ of Norway. This was taken just before 11.00.

The only lengthy stop that day was at Hammerfest, around 11.15. This claims to be the northernmost town – or was it city? – in the world. So does Honningsvåg. It seems that both can be true since one is technically a city and the other a town. This I found out when, cussedly, I said privately to ‘Onchel’ (pronounced ‘Onkle’) Heinz that I had visited the town of Longyearbyen on Svalbard, way, way to the north of mainland Norway. Ah, but that, being very small, was neither a town nor a city. OK.

The options here were: – to take a very short walk from the boat,

in order to see this;

or to take a bus to see it, then visit the town and its surroundings, including the Museum of Reconstruction of Finnmark and the Northern Troms regions;

or to go on a mountain hike.

Or of course to stay on the boat, which the majority did. I had booked on the second.

The monument was to mark the Struve Geodetic Arc, which started at Hammerfest and ended at the Black Sea. This was a chain of triangulations carried out between 1816 and 1855, which helped to establish the exact size and shape of the planet.

We were taken to a high viewpoint of the harbour, passing a much enlarged former Sami dwelling.

As we were taken back to the town centre, I grabbed a few photos from the bus.

Our whistle-stop tour of the museum provided a very natural and just as sobering sequel to the visit to the bomb shelter in Kirkenes the day before. It picked up from the scorched earth policy of the retreating Germans in 1944, and covered the plight of refugees in their own country, and subsequent reconstruction of their homes and other buildings. Much of it was text and most of the rest was old photos. With little time to read and study I just hastily grabbed images to read later. Here are some.

Simulation of a cave dwelling

‘Life as a refugee’

‘Life in the fallow period’

Mock-up of a brand new home for returning refugees, reminding me of my childhood

A brand new home for a Sami family

And we were rushed on, back to the boat.

I reflected on the words of the Norwegian boatowner over breakfast a couple of days earlier, who had said that Norwegians remembered the war. And I also noted the different approaches of our local guides: the passion of that of the previous day in Kirkenes, for whom the period had been lived experience, compared with the matter-of-factness of this day’s guide, half his age, for whom all this was history. (That Norwegian referendum on whether to join what became the EU had been back in 1972, with 53.5% against membership and 46.5% in favour. They had another, I have just read, in 1994. On an 88.6% turnout, 52% were against, 48% for – no, I’ve not got my referendum results muddled. The Wikipedia article suggests that it’s fishing which for many Norwegians is a great obstacle to EU membership.)

Not UFOs but reflections from inside the coach

At 15.45 we had a talk on:

with its painful reminder that the British expedition under Scott had been ill-equipped and very under-experienced compared with the Norwegian Amundsen. Indeed it’s amazing just how much Scott achieved in the circumstances.

Later in the afternoon was the English-language briefing for the next day, but how the next day panned out is a completely different story.

We would be pulling in to Tromsø at 23.45 that evening , for a nearly two-hour stay. A concert in the ‘Arctic Cathedral’ I had walked to on the way ‘up’ had originally been scheduled, to which I had much looked forward. But there was to be no concert there that night, instead another being scheduled at a theatre/cultural centre. A little bird indicated to me that the music would not be up to much. I would have coped with this just to see the inside of the church at midnight, but I decided against in the circumstances. I was tucked up in bed and fast asleep as those who went left and came back. Feedback the next day was that my choice had been a good one.

Norway 2022/23 – 7, Kirkenes

Tags

Andersgrotta, bomb shelter, Finnmark, Hurtigruten, King crab, Kirkenes, MS Trollfjord, Murmansk, Norway-Russia border, SS Irma, Syrian refugees, taiga, Vardø

At 09.00 I was normally having breakfast. But on Day 7, along with many others, I had to be ready to disembark at that time. In the next 15 minutes, six excursions were to be underway, everyone sorted into their different buses on the quay, and another bus would be taking those passengers leaving the ship permanently to the airport. In addition to the excursion I was to do, people were variously: visiting a snow hotel, going dog-sledding, having a ‘King Crab Adventure’, hiking with the expedition team, and riding snow scooters.

The trip I was doing was a historical/political one, taking in a WWII bomb shelter, the Russian border, and a beautiful view.

Kirkenes is further east than both St Petersburg and Istanbul. It is the nearest town to the Russian border. The role of Kirkenes in WWII, second most bombed town in Europe after Valletta, is described here, as the Germans, who had occupied Kirkenes almost unopposed in June 1940, tried to take Russian Murmansk, 200 kilometres away. (They didn’t get further than halfway there.) The bombing was by the Soviet Union, resisting the German advance. The Russians were greeted with open arms as they liberated Kirkenes on 25th October 1944, and, as our guide kept emphasising, relations have been most cordial with the local Russians ever since, across the border which had been fully open until very recently. Recently, that is since Putin invaded Ukraine. Now the inhabitants of the town were very, very afraid.

Our visit was to the Andersgrotta bomb shelter in the centre of the town. Our guide, born in 1940, while not recalling much of the war but growing up in its aftermath, was passionate about his town’s history.

After showing us a short film – we sat on ranked benches with blankets he provided from a chest – in English with German subtitles, he spoke for some 10 minutes in English, followed by the same length of time in German, about the town’s experiences during and after the war. He felt that the Norwegian government had ignored the needs of north Norway – Finnmark – for reconstruction, and said that only in the 1980s did the town receive a royal visit and apology for neglect. He emphasised several times the cordial relations between the townspeople and the Russian, and indeed the many other nationalities living there, including an influx of Syrian refugees who had entered the country via the Russian border in 2015. (Imagine the desperation.)

He said that books about Norway in the war ignored the experience of the north of the country. He himself had sought to make up for that by writing a short book, translated into three languages. I regret not buying it. I have now read the whole of the Wikipedia entry on the German occupation of Norway, from which this is an extract, ‘By the end of the war, German occupation had reduced Norway’s GDP by 45% – more than any other occupied country.^[7] In addition to this came the physical and patrimonial ravages of the war itself. In Finnmark, these were considerably important, as large areas were destroyed as a result of the scorched earth policy that the Germans had pursued during their retreat. Moreover, many towns and settlements were damaged or destroyed by bombing and fighting.’

It was good to be outside again.

We now drove for some 15/20 minutes from Kirkenes to the Russian border. We were entering a different kind of vegetation, the taiga forest. I took these photos through the bus’s window. It’s interesting how the human eye accustoms itself to different light conditions, as it really didn’t seem this dark.

We got out of the bus, and were told we could go anywhere – except beyond the gateposts (though I noticed one or two did, just, with no ill consequences).

This sled appeared from I-don’t-know-where, and unfortunately I felt obliged to accept, when offered, a very short ride on it. Not short enough for me – I felt most insecure. And I’d have preferred anyway to walk on that lovely crunchy snow. The ride was to a solitary shop, which was as unattractive as most gift shops are.

The previous passenger appeared to enjoy it…

By the shop was tethered this husky, and a jar of treats, which our guide dipped into – for the dog that is.

The main road signs in the area were in Cyrillic letters as well as Roman.

We were driven back towards Kirkenes, and arrived at a viewpoint over the town.

My camera zoomed, MS Trollfjord takes centre stage again.

Today’s English language briefing, mentioning excursions for the next three days, was at 14.30. Telling us again about the walk to the Vauban-style fortress at Vardø was a bit a question of left hand and right hand. The timing would already have been tight, but this scoot had already been cancelled by the rather late departure of the boat from Kirkenes. This was again due to the non-arrival on time of some passengers, but in no way was it their fault this time. Two planes bringing passengers has been late arriving at Kirkenes Airport. The boat had waited for one, but could not wait for the second, ‘so those passengers have not joined us yet’. That was the last we heard about them – presumably they were bussed to a later port.

At Hammerfest it would be possible to see this monument to the Struve Geodesic Arc, about which more in the next post.

The trip to the Hurtigruten Museum would happen on Day 9. This slide is of SS (DS in Norwegian) Irma, a Hurtigruten steamship on the coastal route, and controversially torpedoed in 1944, between Bergen and Trondheim. It received a memorial in 2002, seemingly another very belated acknowledgment by the Norwegian government of wartime suffering.

Leaving Vardø at 17.05, from my cabin window. We’ve caught up.

Norway, 2022/23 – 6, Honningsvåg

Tags

e Magerøysund, Honningsvåg, Hurtigruten, Kjøllefjord, Magerøy Strait, Mehamn, MS Trollfjord, North Cape, Reindeer, Sami, Vardø

Around 10.00, we were invited to go up on to deck 9 as the ship passed through a narrow strait, the Magerøysund, on its way to our next port of call, Honningsvåg, where three excursions were due to set off.

We then learned that all three excursions had had to be cancelled. The authorities in Honningsvåg had closed the main road north out of the town as being too dangerous because of weather. So neither my trip to the North Cape, (the northernmost spot in Norway at 71° N), nor another to a fishing village, nor a hike with the expedition team were able to take place.

The ship was to remain at the port for three-and-a-half hours, from 11.00 to 14.30. So there was plenty of time for a walk within the small town. It was rather enjoyable, in effect a horseshoe walk round the harbour, out by an upper road, and back via a lower, in still air.

As I stood looking at this, a woman came by and said ‘Was ist das?’ I shrugged my shoulders trying to indicate that I didn’t speak German. But what came out of my lips was ‘Ich kennst nicht’, which I now understand was hardly grammatically correct but will have conveyed the necessary. Now I wonder if the sculpture is meant to symbolise the shape of the harbour – not that I would have known how to convey that to the woman!.

Looking back over my right shoulder

Note the snow-retaining fences

Dental surgery

This was the furthest point of the walk, and where one could look straight out to sea. I must quote from an excellent little Hurtigruten book about the voyage and its stopping places. “In the spring, the Norwegian Army’s landing craft transport around 3,800 reindeer over Magerøy Strait to their summer pastures on Magerøy Island. However, during the autumn, when it is time for the reindeer to return to the snow-clad plains of Karasjok, the animals and their calves, born at the end of May/beginning of June, swim across the 1,800 m wide strait.” That must be quite a sight! (It is – I’ve just found this video. Sound on for Sami-inspired music.)

It was much darker than this video suggests. As came to the end of my swivel, I was concerned that I might have captured the couple in full embrace, but it turns out they were taking a selfie – and I can well understand why, with that backdrop.

I turned back.

An information board outside this building, in English, explained that it was one of the first buildings in Honningsvåg after the war, built in 1950, and used to be a Christian meeting house. It is now a cultural venue with concerts and festivals.

Within this view…

… was this. Fishers preparing to go out for the night?

When I got back to the boat, I found that playing on a loop was a series of pictures of what those of us disappointed in our attempt to get to the North Cape might have seen.

I’ve been studying my globe to see what other parts of the world are at 71°N: the north coasts of Alaska and Russia, some of the northernmost islands of Canada, halfway up Greenland. All pretty well uninhabitable. How fortunate the Norwegians are in having the Gulf Stream flow past!

At 15.00 came a talk on…

by Hege, of the expedition team, including some anecdotes about her grandfather’s farmhouse. No top secrets were revealed.

The English speakers’ briefing for the following day was at 17.30. Meanwhile those hoping to leave the boat at Kjøllefjord for a scooter safari, rejoining it at Mehamn two hours later, had been disappointed, as bad weather meant that the first port had been bypassed.

The North Cape is the northernmost point of Norway, and Vardø the most easterly.

Fingers crossed that the several excursions from Kirkenes would take place. More than 100 passengers would be leaving there, and about 80 joining.

There would be a 15-minute stop at Vardø during the night, and a rather longer one, after turnaround at Kirkenes, late afternoon, when those of us who wished to could walk to the Vauban-style fortress. The town had been of strategic importance for centuries, and the domes had been part of NATO’s early warning system (and presumably still are).

We were also given a preview of a trip to come on Day 9, a visit to the Hurtigruten Museum at Stokmarknes, on which I was already booked and to which I was much looking forward.

The Northern Lights appeared again that evening, but afforded me no great photo.

Norway 2022/23 – 3, Christmas Eve, Julaften

Tags

Arctic Circle, Hurtigruten, Kornsilo, MS Richard With, MS Trollfjord, Munkholmen, Nidaros, Nidaros Cathedral, Olav Tryggveson, River Nid, Trondheim

It is with some dread, or perhaps I should say embarrassment, that I start this day’s blog. But it must be done, and then I can enjoy writing the remaining nine posts.

The day started absolutely fine, in more than one sense. At about 9.30 we were invited up to deck 9 to exchange Christmas greetings with a Hurtigruten sister ship, MS Nordlys, passing in in the other direction. I arrived (it takes time to put the necessary layers of clothing on!) just as the two ships sounded horns at each other, and took this picture once the other had gone well past.

I stayed up on the ‘sundeck’ for a few minutes more. (The snow was cleared in due course.)

Nearing Trondheim, we passed Munkholmen, once a mediaeval monastery.

Going down to deck 4 to meet up with J for our walk around the city, I noticed one of the many screens around the ship. This one is showing a webcam from the bridge, and through the window can be seen the approaching city.

It takes a while to disembark a couple of hundred passengers, not least because each must have his/her digital boarding card beeped – thank goodness. We set off for our walk at about 10.15. The ship was due to leave at 12.45, and we were asked always to be back on board 15 minutes beforehand. Initial briefing had warned that they would not wait for late passengers who would have to make their own way to the next port of call. I warned J that I was always worried about time and would be fretting if we dawdled too much.

We had a town plan with a suggested 5-kilometre walking route, which we decided to take. It would include the cathedral. The first kilometre or so was very slushy underfoot and I cursed the fact that I had not taken my walking pole from my cabin.

Trondheim, once known as Nidaros (it is situated at the mouth of the River Nid) was Norway’s first capital. (Bergen was its second.) It was the country’s ecclesiastical capital for centuries until 1533. Many Viking expeditions had left from here.

The streets were pretty deserted, and nearly all the shops were shut. In Norway, Christmas Eve is the main celebratory day, the Christmas meal being taken that evening.

Olav Trygvesøn, (spelling as on monument, more commonly Tryggveson) king of Norway from 995 to 1000, founder of Trondheim, and seen as an important factor in the conversion of the Norse to Christianity

The spire of the Cathedral can be seen for miles around.

Nidaros Cathedral, the world’s northernmost gothic cathedral

We didn’t have time to go in, and just continued on the route of the walk.

Town bridge over the Nid.

View upstream

And in the other direction. We heard several times that fjords in Norway do not freeze, thanks to the Gulf Stream.

We did have time in hand at the over-halfway point, and stopped at a café for a special Christmas-flavoured coffee. (This was the only time I used cash on the whole trip.) Then we continued on the planned route.

Said by one or other of us in the course of the next hour:

“There are those steps we saw on the way out. We’re only about 15 minutes away now.”

“The front of the station is magnificent, but I don’t remember going past it before.”

“This is good, we should be going over a whole load of railway lines.”

“This crunchy snow is lovely, but it’s a bit worrying, there aren’t many footprints in it.”

“We shouldn’t be going parallel to railway lines, but at an angle to them.”

“Ah, there’s the boat!”

500 metres later:

“We can’t get through, there’s a great fence in the way!”

“Back to the last bridge across the fjord. Crikey, it’s miles away [actually a kilometre].”

1500 metres later:

“Let’s thumb a lift” (Unsuccessful)

500 metres later, I’m really flagging, me to J:

“There’s the boat again, you run on and get them to hold departure.”

J runs on but 300 metres on I think I see him come away and turn aside, he doesn’t hear me when I call, and I’m not sure it’s him. I get to the boat. It’s not ours! It’s Hurtigruten, but MS Richard With (pronounced Rickard Witt, we learned in due course; he was the founder of the line in 1893), and it’s not the setting we had left at 10.15, but a much more industrial area.

I catch up with J to see him on the phone and making marks in the snow. I learn that the boat has phoned him. They haven’t left – phew! He tells me to ring the number he’s written in the snow on my phone – a taxi firm. Fourth time, I manage to get through – recorded voices in Norwegian! The boat listens via his phone what mine is saying and I press the appropriate numbers they tell me and eventually get through to human being who understands English, tell them where we are: “By the Kornsilo building in Trondheim.”

Amazingly the taxi arrives within a very few minutes, and takes us, partly back the way we had come, and then in a completely different direction to what we expected! MS Trollfjord was still there, asking on J’s phone where we were, just as we approached the pedestrian gangway. Best 290 kroners, €28 euros, £25 ever spent on my euros debit card!

The boat left 25 minutes later than scheduled (so we were 40 minutes late). We got a dressing down, from it seems good cop and bad cop. The former said it was not the first time it had happened, and bad cop told us – from the captain! – that the only reason that they had waited for us was that it was Christmas Eve and there was no transport that day – we learned in any case that we would probably have had to fly to a further stop, perhaps after four days! – and that they wouldn’t wait for us should this happen again. There was no chance of their needing to, we assured them!

I was utterly exhausted. In all we had walked/run three kilometres more than we should and I was dropping. J, somewhat younger and in any case much fitter than I, was less so, but just as shaken.

It was lunchtime, 13.30 by now, but I had no appetite. I staggered up to the bistro on the deck 5 and got a coffee, but my hand was shaking so much I couldn’t get down the stairs to my cabin on deck 4 without surely spilling the contents of the mug. Fortunately a member of staff by the stairs took it from my hand so that I could get down safely. I stayed in my cabin until the English-language briefing at 15.00.

A few more times just before due departure times I heard people’s names being called over the intercom, with a request to report to reception. Were they on or off the ship I wonder. There was the occasional further delayed departure, but at the time I made no links, and now make no assumptions…

Excursions team leader Heinz opens the briefing. He did make one or two references to departure having been delayed by a couple of late passengers. Did he know we were present, had he said the same in the previous German-speakers briefing?

We would be crossing the Arctic Circle the following day, and we would be invited up on deck at some point to see this marker – though it would be dark of course.

Indeed, the sun would be ‘up’ for just over an hour at our substantive next port of call – and only this much because we were past the winter solstice. That said, further north, once the sun was always below the horizon, there was a always period of twilight for some time either side of midday. (At Trondheim’s latitude, the sun had been up between 10.03 and 14.33.)

A heavy swell in open sea could be expected that evening from 18.15 for a couple of hours.

The briefing over, Heinz then gave a us a fascinating talk about the age of the Vikings.

During this my whirring brain managed to work out where we had gone wrong. ‘Those steps we saw on the way out’ were not the same as we had passed in the morning, and we had taken a 180 degree wrong turn. Thus the additional 3 kilometres, because a canal obliged us to double back. Indeed when we went back to the bridge to get across it we were again only about 15 minutes from the boat.

There was no expectation of ‘dressing for dinner’ on the voyage, but some, not many, did choose to change. More made the effort for this evening’s celebratory meal, including me. But I had had no idea of what the temperature would be on the boat, and had only put a warm winter dress in my suitcase. Much too hot! (Indeed, until we were quite far north, I found the boat too warm for me, and was glad to be able to regulate my cabin’s temperature.)

We had just sat down at one of the three sittings that evening, when over the loudspeaker we learned that the aurora borealis was on show. Mad dash by many for deck 9, but I went via my room to put on warm outer clothing on over my warm dress, and long boots instead of my flimsy shoes. And then there was of course no question of waiting for the lift so I ran up the five flights of stairs as fast as I could. Once I got there I saw nothing of what I expected, just long wisp of cloud. (As with the wisp in the last photo in my previous post, I suspect that that was indeed the aurora – more in a later post.)

I rejoined my companions who were well into their first course. A non-meat eater, I chose (it was buffet service at this dinner, I’m not sure why) some seafood, and enjoyed it, then started to feel I might be bringing it up again. The combination of the day’s stressful adventure, the mad dash to deck 9, the swell… I excused myself from the table, as I was at clear risk of embarrassing myself (for a second time that day!) and ruining my companions’ meal, and went to lie on my bed, from which point I felt fine. I did not return to table.

I’m pleased to say that the swells did not trouble me in the least in later days, and I learned that I had even slept through a couple of storms!

By the way, I woke up at 01.40 that night, at a stop – and was able to see from the timetable that the ship had caught up with itself.

Norway 2022/23 – 1, Bergen to Ålesund

Tags

Alesund, Art nouveau, Art Nouveau centre, Bergen, Coastal Express, engine-turned, Hurtigruten, MS Trollfjord, Norway

This voyage had been in my sights for at least 15 years, the Hurtigruten ‘Original Coastal Express‘ cruise. And what better time to do it than in the winter festive season, when the chance of seeing the Northern Lights was at its peak, and in a year nearing maximum flares in the solar cycle? 12 days on board the MS Trollfjord, one of the larger ships in the company’s fleet, with 297 cabins. So not too big and not too many passengers!

This is a simplified version of a map of the voyage, not showing all 34 stops in each direction but clearly serving as a reminder that Norway goes right over the ‘top’ of Scandinavia and has a border with Russia. (This will become of interest halfway through the voyage.)

My day’s journey (which started by my rising at 4.30 a.m.) was considerably eased by my being taken to Bristol Airport by my walking friend, Zoe, at whose house, ten minutes from the airport, I was able to leave my car. I arrived at the Hurtigruten terminal, Bergen, at 17.30 local time (= GMT + 1 hour). After a shipboard safety briefing and general welcome on shore I was in my cabin around 18.30.

My home from home for 11 nights, and very comfortable I was too. (If I had nothing else to do, I had podcasts, BBC iPlayer downloads, knitting, reading and even access, live, to BBC Radio 4 to entertain me.)

Obligatory photo of Bergen harbour from cabin window, through rain plus saltwater-streaked glass

After a buffet dinner there was a welcome and information briefing in English at 21.00, Norwegian and German speakers having been briefed at sessions earlier. Every day, briefings about what we could expect in the next 24 hours or so were given in German and English (about 2/3 of the passengers were German-speaking). When numbers on board, 15 minimum for each, justified it, there were also sessions in in Norwegian and French. (This working service being for passengers, cars, and goods for delivery at any of the 34 stops along the Norwegian coast, as well as for tourists, people could be on board for a few hours, a few days, or for the full coastline in one direction only, as well as those of us doing the full 11 + two half-days round trip. The language order for on-board announcements was always Norwegian, English, German, French.)

The ship had departed, imperceptibly, at 20.30.

We met the people in charge of us and of the ship. The captain, first left, was a woman – hooray! The chef de cuisine was given special applause, unsurprisingly.

We were also introduced, by means of their photos, to those who would look after our excursions and entertainment on board. I am pleased to say that ‘entertainment’ did not mean shows and suchlike, but information, talks, celebrating the arrival of 2023, and a little fun as we we crossed the Arctic Circle twice.

I had booked all my excursions in advance, but these briefing sessions were also used to advertise remaining places on them. I was a little concerned that the one I had booked for the following day, a visit to the Sunnmore open air museum, was not mentioned this evening. I found that it had been cancelled as there had been only two reservations for it, so I booked instead on to a walking tour of Ålesund. Other options were a longer excursion, including lunch (this was to be the longest stay of the whole voyage) on ‘Taste and traditions in a typical Norwegian fjord’, a visit to a lighthouse, or a trip to an aquarium.

But before we reached Ålesund, we would stop, for just 10 or 15 minutes each time, at three further ports, during the night. I had been concerned that these overnight stops might disturb sleep with clanking and other noises, but not at all. The only noise in my cabin was the gentle sound of ventilation and heating. I did wake up just a handful of times at night during the whole voyage, due to a little juddering and revving. I think it was the bow/stern thrusters as the ship was expertly moved sideways away from the quays. Whatever the cause, I was soon asleep again.

From my window at 09.20 on Day 2, 23rd December, just before arrival at Ålesund

It had stopped raining by the time we docked, and all excursions were to start at 09.45. Disembarked, we had a first chance to take a real look at the boat we had joined in the dark the evening before. There was the goods/car entrance…

… and the passenger entrance. My deck, no. 4, was the only one to give its guests a window. Cabins on all other decks, even the most expensive, had portholes.

No cabins on Deck 5, and Deck 6 was the only one you could walk all around.

I was the only one in the walking excursion not to speak German, and I’m afraid the guide increasingly forgot to repeat his spiel in English. I tired of reminding him, but I got the gist of our visit, even if not of each stop. The whole town had burned to the ground in 1904. The guide said it was because some drunken sailors had been (mis)using oil lamps. Other sources said that no-one had any real idea about what had caused the fire. The place was rebuilt in three years (!), in the art nouveau style then current. The whole town is considered to be Norway’s’ open air museum of art nouveau.

The sun does rise at this time of year at this latitude in Norway, but with hills and mountains all round, it may not reach some parts!

The former custom house

We were invited to sit on this and similar seating. It was warm! The pipes are filled with hot water in the winter season.

We visited a building which until recently had been a pharmacist’s house and business. It is now the Art Nouveau Centre. While all the others went into a room to experience an account of the fire and the town’s rebuilding in German, I went directly into the exhibition. I was blown over by the beauty of some of the exhibits, particularly the engine-turned enamel work. I could have stayed much longer but was given just 15 minutes until my turn in the English-language version of the experience (while the others would view the exhibits). I had great difficulty selecting which photos to include here.

The experience, in a darkened room, was series of photos and moving images of the devastating – though only one life was lost – fire, its consequences, and the reconstruction story.

I was astonished to find that the others were already waiting outside for me – had they been hastened through the exhibition? We continued our walk through the town, noting various art nouveau features.

At this point we were taken into an art shop. I thought it was to encourage us to buy the lovely prints on show there. But in due course I understood that we were being invited to choose, as a free gift, one each from a large selection on offer. I like mine a lot – and will have to get it framed.

We moved on.

It was lunchtime when I got back to the ship, via an ATM. I had completely forgotten to look for one at Bergen airport.

Cézanne exhibition, Tate Modern

Tags

Blackfriars Bridge, Cézanne, Golden Hinde, HMS Belfast, Mudlark, Queen's Walk, Southwark Cathedral, St Paul's Cathedral, Tate Modern, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, Turbine Hall, Winchester Palace

In complete contrast to my visit to the Museum of Brands the previous day, the main purpose of my short visit to London last week was to visit the Cézanne exhibition. Mary and I went on the Overground to Blackfriars station, from where I took this picture, looking down the Thames to Tower Bridge.

Zooming in to our right, I saw some mudlarking (for definition if necessary see later) swans, humans and pigeons. No not really mudlarking; Mary tells me that the swans are fed regularly at this spot.

Arriving exactly at 10.00, we entered the Turbine Hall with the gathered crowd,

and made our way to the café for the obligatory refreshment, from where I zoomed in on the two towers of St Paul’s Cathedral.

I love an audioguide, and the bonus this time was that it was free. Opening the Cézanne exhibition (if you see what I mean) was the man himself.

Paul Cézanne, (1939-1906) early self-portrait

Given his proclamation about Paris and an apple (see heading), it was hardly surprising to find them everywhere, though the selection here does not reflect the extent of their proliferation.

The Basket of Apples, c 1893

And indeed it was not apples everywhere.

The Murder, c 1870

The Battle of Love, 1879-80

Auvers, Panoramic View, 1873-75

The Conversation, 1870-71

Madame Cézanne in a Yellow Chair, 1889-90

Portrait of the Artist’s Son, 1881-2, considered to be unfinished. I rather like it like that. A clear resemblance between him and his mother

The Bay of Marseille, seen from l’Estaque

Still Life with Plaster Cupid, 1894-5

Man in a Blue Smock, (recently identified as a farm worker called Pere Alexandre, but I think it looks like Mark Rylance), 1896-7

Mont Sainte-Victoire, 1902-6

Bathers both male and female. I didn’t get the dates.

Still Life with Apples and Peaches, 1905

Seated Man, 1905-6

Mont Sainte-Victoire, seen from Les Lauves, c. 1904

Two of his last works, described as ‘ominous compositions with skulls’ by the curator

Returning to the Turbine Hall, I was struck by the serendipitous artistry of this view.

It was not yet time for lunch, so we went along the South Bank for a while, hoping the forecast rain would keep away. While I had walked along the other bank many times, and much of this, I had never in my entire life seen the sights along this particular stretch before, to my own and Mary’s surprise, though I do recall singing a concert in Southwark Cathedral, half a century ago.

Looking back to Blackfriars station, from which I had taken the first photo. The swans are still there, though the tide has mounted.

Virtually all that remains of the Great Hall of (the Bishops of) Winchester Palace, ruins rediscovered in the 19th century. The Shard behind.

Full-scale replica of The Golden Hinde, the first English ship to sail round the world.

The Shard and Southwark Cathedral

We found this attractive pub, The Mudlark, right by the Cathedral, to have a bite of lunch in. It was very noisy and crowded inside, so we opted to eat outdoors.

Here’s the definition of ‘to mudlark’.

We sat first here,

then here, seeking the least windy spot.

(Perhaps my decision to drink Guinness was influenced by the museum exhibit the day before.)

We walked on, in the odd spot of rain.

“The Queen’s Walk is a promenade located on the southern bank of the River Thames in London, England, between Lambeth Bridge and Tower Bridge. The creation of pedestrian access along the south bank of the Thames was seen as an integral part of the creation of the Jubilee Walkway to mark the Silver Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II in 1977. However, the last section was not established until the completion of construction of London Bridge City c.1990. In 1996, the Walk was recognised as a foundation for establishing the Thames Path national trail through London.” Wikipedia.

It was a pity some of the buildings opposite (I wasted no pictures on them) were so hideous. Looking at you, Cheese Grater.

The Tower of London, HMS Belfast, and Tower Bridge.

We would have gone right up to Tower Bridge, but underfoot were some beautiful slates. Not so beautiful to walk on when wet. So we turned back, and in Hay’s Wharf sought the coffee we’d not had with our lunch, In the event it was accompanied by some delicious lemon drizzle cake.

It was time for me to be making for my train home. In order to get the Circle Line round to Paddington – and en route to pick up my overnight bag from Tate Modern – we walked back to Blackfriars Bridge, just yards beyond the station, where this caught my eye.

Needless to say, my train was delayed, this time by 25 minutes because of points trouble. The day before it had been damaged overhead electricity lines. But it had been a most enjoyable mini-break. Thanks to all concerned.

Nostalgia and shopping lists

Tags

1975 referendum, Anastasia Romanov, Brands Museum, Brownie camera, Fairy liquid, Gales honey, Guinness, Harold Macmillan, Harpic, Johnnie Walker, Juke Box Jury, Lighthouse Memorial Garden, Lockdown, Museum of Brands, Persil, Ritz biscuits, Rowntrees Fruit Gums, Six-Five Special, Stergene, Teletubbies, Tommy Steele, Zwarte Piet

Yesterday’s blog about my visit to the Museum of Brands ended at the late 1940s. There was much more to come, though I took few pictures towards the end of the Time Tunnel. Nostalgia was giving way to distaste at consumerism!

The 1950s. A symbolic grocer’s shop of the time. How I recall those endless queues, as my mother and I waited to be served, while tins were fetched, goods were weighed out and advice given. No supermarkets yet, but they were coming.

Anastasia: was the woman genuine who was claiming to be the escaped youngest daughter of Russian Tsar, so a survivor of the Romanov assassination, carried out by the Bolsheviks in 1918? Conclusively proved in 2007 that no member of the family escaped.

Ah, that ‘contemporary’ style!

More than once towards the end of the 50s my friends and I were allowed to ‘go up’ to London to be in the audience at the BBC Riverside Studios as ‘Six-Five Special’ went out live on Saturdays, at the time specified, and to ‘Juke Box Jury’. I remember being disappointed at how short Adam Faith (‘What do you want if…’) was as we crowded around afterwards to get autographs.

But Tommy Steele (‘Singing the Blues’) was my real idol. (By the time The Beatles came along I had lost interest in pop music, but meanwhile had had a bit of a pash on Cliff Richard.)

‘Don’t forget the fruit gums, Mum!’

My grandmother had the Brownie on the left, my parents the one on the right.

The 1960s.

I think I tried all of these hairstyles, bar perhaps bottom left.

My mother’s culinary salvation (sorry Mum!). Quick dried peas, Vesta instant dried meals, and Birds Instant whip. And yes, she saved Green Shield stamps.

The 1970s.

A coffee set the height of sophistication

1975. Sigh…

Yup, I had one of these, two-tone beige

1977, Silver Jubilee

1980s.

I had my own first computer, a BBC B, in 1984, and joined the internet in 1997. I was living in France by then, and learned all the jargon in French.

1990s. I didn’t take many photos from now on.

This window was the last, to represent the 2010s.

By now, I was in real need of a sit-down, while there remained much to see. So I was pleased to find myself in the cafe. My intention after refreshment was to explore the Memorial Garden, but it started to rain at that very point, so after a quick photo I immediately turned back inside.

There was one more room, with a roomlet off, yet to explore, covering a variety of themes. Immediately to my right there were three tapestries, each about two metres high, dedicated to London, Rome and Amsterdam. They were true tapestries, that is, the pattern being woven into the fabric, not applied later. Each tapestry had taken about a year to complete, and contained 100 motifs.

Nearby was an apology and indeed an apologia for displaying the exhibit, which contained a reference to ‘Zwarte Piet‘.

This next display gave interesting details on how various products had fared in the light of lockdown and the pandemic.

Some well, some less so.

So far in this room, it seemed that the exhibits had been temporary, but I think the next series of displays were probably permanent ones They showed how packaging of various products had changed over the years, sometimes centuries. I’m disappointed that the images are sometimes not sharp.

I don’t now Frijj and have never used Stergene.

Gales honey, Ritz biscuits and Sunpat peanut butter

The ‘roomlet’ was dedicated to several windows about Johnnie Walker, advertising packaging, promotion, sponsorships, which presumably also sponsors this display, and to those shopping lists which had originally drawn my attention to the Brands Museum.

I am particularly disappointed that the lighting (and perhaps my lack of savvy) has made the photos of these, at times amusing, shopping lists, gathered by one woman and then her friends since 2016. One I especially liked, but which is too blurred to show here, had clearly been written by one person to ensure that the person actually doing the shopping bought the precise things.

There were three displays this size.

List as written by a child!

Four different shops on the left. Very healthy on the right.

Very neat

The week’s meals, and ingredients

Presents and food for Christmas

This shopper knows where to get best value: Waitrose, Tesco and Aldi all to be visited. I hope they didn’t drop the list before visiting the last.

Vodka, Rum, Coke and Beer. Hmm, wonder what they’re planning…

Packing and shopping for a holiday in Norfolk.

I spent a happy evening with Mary, including a meal out with her sister, Susan, who herself did a blog on this museum in 2019.

The third and final post in this series will cover the next day’s visit to the Cézanne exhibition and the area surrounding the Tate Modern.

The Brands Museum

Tags

1948 Olympics, Brands Museum, jigsaw, Ladbroke Grove, London tube map, Louis Wain, Museum of Brands, Notting Hill, typewriter, washing frock

Or to give it its full title, the Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising.

I was in London again last week, for about 30 hours. (My train arriving 17 minutes late, I could, I learned, claim 25% of my ticket back, but I shan’t – I thought the deal I got – £16 single from mid-Somerset – was just too good to justify that.) The main purpose of my visit was to visit the Cézanne exhibition the following day with my friend Mary, but I had learnt of this museum from an article in my newspaper about a temporary exhibition there of shopping lists. The subject had also made BBC Radio 4.

The museum opened in Gloucester in 1984, moving to London in 2002, and to its present site in Notting Hill (three minutes’ walk from Ladbroke Grove tube) in 2015. Its main feature is a Time Tunnel, a labyrinth (though one you can’t get lost in), covering Victorian times, which is pretty well when the museum’s subject matter started) until the 2010s.

The museum’s website describes it. ‘Our Time Tunnel explores the remarkable story of how our consumer society has evolved since Victorian times. It’s a journey of discovery that puts our favourite brands into their historical context, along with royal coronations, two world wars, man landing on the moon and right up to the digital age. Laid out chronologically, the Time Tunnel reflects how daily life has been transformed by the invention of the railway, the motor car, and the aeroplane. Also, how the entertainment has been enlivened by the arrival of cinema, radio and television. Memories arise from toys and games that, since the 1950s, have reflected the most popular television programmes.’

This post takes us up the the end of WWII (which just conveniently happens to be when I can on the scene) and to the end of the 1940s. There were thousands and thousands of exhibits, and as usual I took hundreds of photos. Here is a selection.

As a prelude to the Time Tunnel, there is a very small window with some archaeological exhibits, showing how ‘packaging’ was done before brands came along. I particularly liked this little toy, just some 5 cm, 2.5 inches, long.

Next came Edwardian. Jigsaw puzzles featured a great deal throughout the early decades of the Time Tunnel.

I do like Louis Wain, and much enjoyed the recent film ‘The Electrical Life of Louis Wain’.

Came World War I.

And the 1920s.

My grandmother, who married in 1918, approved this female shape to the end of her days.

The 1930s. This next around the time of the Abdication. I don’t think this is a good likeness of the man whom I shall have to stop thinking of as ‘the King’

I’m currently reading a book ostensibly about the London ‘tube map’ but which is much more comprehensive, and is about the whole development of the London Underground network, including the political and economic times it grew in.

And so to the 1940s. Free orange juice (of a sort) and cod liver oil, issued to all children. I remember that, enjoying one and detesting the other!

I don’t think this is a manual on how to wash frocks, but a pattern book for everyday frocks. An explanation of their Victorian origins is here.

The next post completes the tunnel, and covers the temporary exhibitions – including those shopping lists.

West Highlands, 2022 – 7

Tags

Ben Nevis, birching, Bonnie Prince Charlie, C Tarrant, Charles Edward Stuart, Chris Collingwood, commandoes, Comyn, Devil's toenails, Drambuie, Fort William, Glenfinnan monument, Golden eagle, gryphea, Highland Soap Company, Inverlochy Castle, Jacobite rebellion, Loch Lomond, Lord Lovat, Model T, Queen Elizabeth II, Scotch argus, Secret Portrait, silk map, Spanish Armada, Spean Bridge, WEst Highland Museum, Westminster Hall

Saturday, 17th September. My day in Fort William. Jon and Angela dropped both their guests at the railway/bus station, David for his bus to Inverness Airport, me to walk the short distance to the pedestrianised High Street, where my very modest hotel – about which no more will be said – was to be found. It was too early to check in, but I was able to leave my luggage there.

I had thought to take a boat trip on Loch Linnhe, but the facts that: it was once more pretty chilly; that I had done two boat trips in the previous few days; and that I was unlikely to see much wildlife without expert eyes, decided me not to. I wandered up and down the High Street, and first called in at WH Smith to buy a little replacement notebook for my next wildlife /photographic outing. I was delighted also to find a regional map covering the area we had been ranging. I had been trying to make sense from a map at Glenloy Lodge where we had been, but had succeeded only in the broadest of detail. Much of the location detail I have given in the last six blogs has been thanks to that map. I had been noting names, but had often not been really sure of where we were. It has all made sense since with the aid of that map (of which there is a photo of part in the first of this series of posts).

I could not step far enough back to include the entirety of the two churches in this view at the southern end of the High Street. Had I corrected the ‘torsion’, both spire and tower would have disappeared!

I also called in at Mountain Warehouse to buy some inner liner gloves, so useful not only for added warmth, but for taking photos with frozen fingers, when warmer gloves do not permit enough sensitivity. (I had had to do some emergency and very bad darning in the ones I had bought with me, now binned.) I also came away with a ‘folding sit mat’, to the existence of which Jon had introduced me.

I had had a recommendation for a vegan café from Angela, but having had a coffee and a pastry at another café, I had no need of lunch, and sadly the vegan one would not be open in the evening.

The Geopark information centre was shut, but this exhibit in its window was interesting. To me anyway.

I walked up and down the High Street, and didn’t fail to call in at the shop I had been told about, opposite my hotel, where I was able to by some of that bottled bog myrtle scent I had coveted on Thursday. The Highland Soap Company believes it is the only enterprise to make bog myrtle products and I came away with two large bars of soap. (It does other scents as well.)

Fort William High Street is mainly lined with shops selling outdoor activity and Highland tourist souvenir goods, some cafes, and not much else. But it does have the West Highland Museum, which Angela had very firmly recommended me to visit. And indeed it was excellent, and pulled together so much of what I had seen during the week.

This bronze statue outside the museum amused, but also intrigued, me. I wonder how many have had their photo taken sitting beside the driver.

The rest of this post consists almost entirely of photos I took there.

The first room was about those commandoes who had trained in the Spean Bridge area, and whose commemorative monument we had seen on the Sunday.

Silk map issued to help potential escapees find their way to safety

Room 2 was called ‘Local history’.

Inverlochy Castle, built in 1280 by the Comyn clan, a link with Monday’s outing. Can still be visited. Next time…

Birching table. The last such punishment was carried out in 1948.

Signed C Tarrant, 1735

Room 3 was natural history, geology, and a film about Ben Nevis’s creation.

Gryphea, examples of those ‘Devil’s toenails’ I had failed to photograph on Tuesday.

Golden eagle, and other birds for scale

That is, 400 million years ago

Friday’s near elusive Scotch argus

Room 8 (don’t ask) included military history.

The Spanish Armada ‘found an echo here in the Highlands’. This is some treasure from it.

The Glenfinnan Monument, commemorating the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion, which we had seen on Wednesday at the end of our trip on Loch Shiel.

I was delighted to see an old map of the area between Lochs Arkaig, Eil and Lochy, with Glen Loy not far off the centre. This is part of that map. I reckon that Glenloy Lodge (build circa 1930!) was within the area marked ‘Strone’.

Room 4 was small and contained exhibits on archaeology and mountaineering. Room 5 was also very small and had some Victorian costume in it.

Room 6 was a separate room which required payment of a small fee to see. (The rest of the museum was free.) I was happy to pay the extra to see a small exhibition devoted to the Jacobite rebellion, when Prince Charles Edward Stuart, ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ and grandson of James II (and VII of Scotland) sought to claim the throne of Great Britain which he believed was rightfully his.

Simon Lord Lovat was one of the rebels, having previously been a supporter of the House of Hanover. He was tried in the 11th-13th century Westminster Hall, and condemned to death.

My own thoughts, on that Saturday, two days before her funeral, were of our late monarch currently lying in state in that very hall, which had seen so much history, (and where in January 1965 Winston Churchill had laid similarly, the last to do so, and when I had had the privilege of paying my respects.)

‘The Raising of the Standard at Glenfinnan’, by Chris Collingwood,1997/8, commissioned by the Drambuie Liqueur Company

‘This simplified family tree should help you untangle the various relationships between the various monarchs.’ Indeed. In order: James I (and VI of Scotland), Charles I, Charles II, James II (and VII of Scotland), William of Orange and Mary II (who themselves were cousins), Anne, and George I.

Bonnie Prince Charlie, Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the man who would be King … Charles III.

This was fascinating. A shiny cylinder, and some blobby paint around it, turns into a secret portrait if you look at the cylinder from a certain angle.

The best I could do through glass

Room 7 was Highland life.

Finally, there was a film which explained the bronze statue of the Ford Model T car outside. In 1911, such a car had been driven to the top of Ben Nevis and down again. The descent had been filmed, and here were extracts.

In the snow

Immediately outside was a cinema with a substantial, waiter serviced, café. I had a hazelnut-flavoured coffee, and then went just back over the road to my hôtel, from where I emerged a few hours later to have a pizza in that same café, which projected old black and white films onto the wall, including a full one about that Model T’s descent from the top of Ben Nevis.

A civilized rising time the next day, a gentle wander to the bus station (and a sandwich bought in the Morrison’s there) and a splendid bus journey back down Glencoe, Rannoch Moor and Loch Lomond to Glasgow Airport. Again, I did not listen to the podcasts I had to hand, and just revelled in the scenery for three hours. With no sun, there were fewer reflections, and I was able to grab these photos of the Loch.

Even if Jon and Angela will no longer be in business, I am already daydreaming plans for a return visit to the area, perhaps next year…