Safe Return Doubtful

The farmer I met yesterday moved her cows as she had told me, to the area we needed to walk through this morning, and they were adolescent bulls, so a problem with Roja. They were more curious than aggressive but at the size when even their curiosity is a threat. When I used to go out with the three red labs, the oldest, Tia, now no longer with us, just used to disappear in a cow field, and she would meet with us later having done a big skirt around. Roja never learned from that, and all he does is to stay really close to me. It is useful to carry walking poles though, which fortunately I still do.

On the way out, we got down to the rocky beach and they didn’t follow, but on the return the 20 odd of them were just a few metres away for the last kilometre.

We walked a section of the route from yesterday, having a bit less time, and at one viewpoint met an older Norwegian couple who were staying in the motorhome close to me. We chatted about the wonderful Vestfjord coast, and the Lofoten Wall, as it is known. Vestfjord is the huge channel between the coast I am on now, and the Lofoten Islands. The jagged continuous mountain range that runs down the spine of the islands is known as the ‘wall’. I’m not sure how, but we got talking about Roy Jacobsen. Jacobsen is a Norwegian author who wrote a trilogy of books about a woman’s life on a remote (fictional) island just south of Lofoten, called Barrøy, and how her life was shaped by the Second World War. It is highly recommended. We talked about idyllic places, such as the one we were in, and the contrast with the history there.

Midway through the day I drove a couple of hours north, 120 kilometres to the island of Hammarøya, and its northmost point, Tranøy Lighthouse, just outside the small town of Tranøy. I had been heading in this direction, but this particular place was recommended by the couple I was speaking to at the viewpoint this morning. Thirty kilometres of my journey were on the E6, hardly busy, but more than half the vehicles on it are large motorhomes; campsites, and roadside parking areas are busy with them. As ever, ten minutes off the main highway, there are none. There are reasons other than their lack of enterprise, a 15 metre vehicle is heavy and high, and can be a problem on narrow roads with weight limits on bridges, height restrictions and turning round can de difficult.

The weather has been perfect all day, almost a clear sky, with a pleasant breeze, and at the lighthouse, Vestfjord and the Wall were flaunting themselves, basking in superb summer conditions. I had expected there to be ‘no camping’ signs at the car park, but there weren’t, I think it’s too far off the main trod to attract many overnighters.

There aren’t any walking paths, but we put a trail together on the rock and managed to get a few kilometres around the headland before heading out on the bridge to the lighthouse. There were maybe 50 nesting Artic Terns on the rock on the way over, with chicks by the sounds of it, and Roja got hassled for the second time in a day. He doesn’t forget the skuas from Shetland last summer. There were a few Arctic Terns there, but not nearly as many as here.

There’s a cafe at the lighthouse and the whole complex runs as a successful tourist venture, with smart apartments in the old keepers’ accommodation available at just over £100 a night. They offer diving, surfing, fishing and kayaking, though of course their season is very short, and although we look to have two good weather days now, the weekend is predicted to be wet and windy. Such a vacation in those conditions is mainly an indoor one.

The cafe is known for serving different types of whale meat, cooked in inventive ways, as well as other local seafood.

Back at the van I met a couple of Finnish women, teachers on holiday by chance. I asked them how good the feeling of arriving at summer holidays was for a teacher, and it materialised we had much in common. They had labradors, two in their VW van in which they were travelling, but a Caddy, and they were away for two weeks with a mix of camping and huts on campgrounds.

This afternoon was one time I was grateful for rain in Guyana.. and a delay in the start of the semi-final. The combination of the weather and the area would have been too enticing to have stayed at the van and watched the game, so a delay is good news.