Norway
Is way up on the top of the world. I kept reminding myself of that as we sailed because when you're on a ship, you're just wherever you are.
I have photos from 5 ports. Each was unique, but mostly very much the same. Beautiful. Green. It felt like spring. The purple dots indicate sort of where the ports were.
Alesund
I set out on my own, (big surprise) to make the hike to the top of the observation tower. The mist was so heavy, it was really rain and the umbrella helped very little.
It's a beautiful walk and the sign informed, only 418 steps. That, of course, didn't count the steep walkways in between the sets of steps. Lots of benches on the way up, unfortunately each was puddled in water so sitting on them was distinctly unappealing.
I made it to the top and stood looking over the viewpoint.
<< The View
Had a nice, very brief look around inside our cloud and decided to trek a bit higher.
Isn't it good? It's Norwegian wood
(arrrrgh)
I found a winding little path off into nowhere and followed it. Any part of me that wasn't already drenched became that way when I walked through the brush and the huge, overgrown ferns. I climbed higher until I came to a steep little hill with a giant rock on top where I could sit for awhile, so I did, musing on the fact that I'd best be careful coming back down. I was a looong way from anywhere. Cold, wet and looking pretty rugged, but very peaceful.
When
I'd gotten quite cold enough, I carefully climbed back down, but still slipped
on my giant, wet rock. I was fine, the ground was soft and marshy, but my
camera didn't fair so well. I sheered off the shutter button. Back
at the observation tower, in the restaurant with my cup of hot chocolate, I
discovered that if I pushed something pointy in the hole uncovered by the
button, it would still shoot. Like a tine from a fork. So the rest
of my trip, I'm without zoom. But at least I can take basic photos, as
long as I carry a fork.
The view was better the second
time.
Those are fjords in the distance.
A few of the 418 steps that took me back down.
Alta was the second most northerly port we went to.
My friend Dina and I went walking along the waterfront here looking at all the lovely homes and their inevitable saunas.
EVERYbody's got a sauna in Alta.
It's a lovely place.
Those are more fjords.
Honningsvag
Little village nearly as far north as you can get. Known for trolls and magnets with cartoon moose making love.
And not much else.
It's so far into the Arctic Circle, they get few visitors. Norway has huge a huge oil industry which keeps these villages alive, then we invade on ships, 2800 of us on ours, wander through their tiny town, among the houses. I bet they can't wait for us to go away. Except for the money part.
.
Here is the famous "Fisherman Hugging the Fish" statue in the town square.
Me with some authentic arctic vegetation.
And for my daughters and any other "The Bobs" fans,
my shoes are . . .
. . . on top of the world.
Tromso
We were still in the Arctic Circle, but it was plenty warm. My fabulous roommate and I walked from the ship to an arboretum and spent the day in the sun.
As I recall, we were both feeling the effects of the white night party from the previous evening. Actually, that morning, but who could tell. The sun was shining then, too.
It was July 13, my sister's birthday and there were lilacs blooming. I buried my face in them. Veronica doesn't have lilacs in Uruguay.
She's been studying film making for years, the past year in Spain, and is all about getting footage. I'm her personal paparazzi.
Olden -- last Norway stop
This was a special place. Our roommate, Dina, was going home and this was our last outing together. Quiet and beautiful. The three of us walked for a ways together, then Dina and Veronica had to go back to the ship for work, so I walked on further on my own.
This was one of the most scenic places I've ever experienced. My kind of Norway.
This town was the Norwegian port farthest south on my map of purple spots.
I followed the lane beside a glacial river, pale turquoise and tumbling along. There was a little sportsman shack, again with the growing roof. In the distance, across the river, I could see a little, red church. All of the misty hills surrounding ran with streams and waterfalls.
.
An old Scotsman chatted with me on the steps of the church. He was probably married to the lady I'd heard at breakfast the day before ordering a "toosted beagle."
The sanctuary was simple, peaceful, lovely.
I stopped again at the picnic table on my way back and drew for over an hour.
It was one of those kind of days.
The I stopped at a tourist stand just outside the ship and bought a magnet with grinning cartoon moose making love.