Safe Return Doubtful

The rain arrived later than predicted on Saturday, just after 11 am, but it set in and would have made outdoor activity challenging. From our spot on the quayside I could see the cloud gathering, so had 90 minutes out just after breakfast. There’s a sculpture trail in Tranøy which we took in, as well as the display on art on the rocks.

It was then a drive south down the length of Hamarøy island to Skutvik, with a brief stop at the birthplace and childhood home of the Norwegian writer, Knut Hamsun. Actually, the nearby village has been named after him, but with an added D for some reason even the Norwegians are unsure of.. Hamsund. Hamsun wrote in the first half of the 20th century, receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1920. He had a great influence on many other authors, not least Kafka. Controversially, he vocally supported the Nazis in the war, and was tried and found guilty of treason in 1945. He pleaded ignorance, and received just a fine. He famously wrote an obituary of Hitler in which he described him as “a warrior for mankind” and “a preacher of the gospel of justice for all nations”.

The Norwegians these days have a sort of love and hate relationship with his writing, but they flock to his homes which are now, like this one, museums. I have read two of his books, Hunger and Pan. His talent is undenied, but they are not easy reading.

Skutvik has two areas for campervans and motorhomes, one of which is a self-service campsite with toilets and showers at about £30 a night. On the seafront is a free area, but there is electricity available at a charge. There were a few other vans around, just one on the seafront where I stopped, and then spent the afternoon watching sport, the Under 20 Rugby World Cup, which was highly entertaining, England Argentina and Wales New Zealand.

The rain and wind cleared during the night leaving a partly cloudy morning, and fine afternoon. I found a trail from town to a deserted bay with a sandy beach, almost a red sand, four kilometres away along the coast. I met a local woman on the return who told me the trail is soon to be off limits, as a rich guy from Oslo has bought the land, and will fence the beach off.

I spent the afternoon listening to Lancashire cricket from Southport and looking at my route for the next couple of weeks. I will take the ferry from here to Svolvær on the Lofoten islands tomorrow, but head straight away up to the Vesterålen islands further north, which will be much busier than here with tourists, but less, I am hoping than Lofoten.

Just after 5 pm I fed Roja and headed off for a wander around town. With the cricket commentary in my head, I initially didn’t think anything strange about two boys playing cricket on the piece of grass in the middle of town. As I turned away it hit me.. cricket.. Norway.. and I returned to ask them what the hell was going on.

It turned out they were two Afghan boys who came to Norway as refugees five years ago, they were now 14 and 20 years old. Their parents are still in Afghanistan, and they had lived with a family until the older brother was 18 and had got a job in a hospital a half hour drive away. They lived together in a house just across the road, but were moving to Oslo tomorrow, as the 20 year old had a new job.

Mainly of course, we talked cricket, and their country’s incredible performance to make the World T20 semifinal earlier this week. They are hoping to play in Oslo, where, I believe, there is some cricket played. It was good to see them so excited about their future, and proud of what they had done in the last five years.