Photo: Northern Lights over Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

…This story picks up after I dropped my camera in a lake in Sweden.  My original plan was for about 10 days or so hiking around Sarek national park before returning to Lofoten for about a week to hopefully catch some Autumn color. Well, needless to say, my plans were altered a bit.

Leaving the hut at Saltoloukta, I was lucky enough to catch a ride with a fellow hiker for the 2 hour trip back to Gällivare, arriving sometime around noon.  And more importantly, early enough to catch the train to Narvik.

One can technically buy tickets while on the train in Sweden, but there is quite a markup compared when buying at a station in advance.  Gällivare is not exactly a bustling town and there is no ticket agent at the small, pre-fabricated building that is serving as a temporary train station while the main building is being serviced.  What exists in just a simple ticket machine.  Unfortunately, with America lagging behind the rest of the world in our credit card technology, the machine didn’t accept mine.  Hmmm…

I though about just paying on the train, then I noticed some teenage girl sitting in the corner listening to some headphones.  In my best attempt not to look like some creepy old guy who had just been in the mountains for some days, I asked her in my bad Swedish, well, I actually used Norwegian, mostly the same anyhow, if she spoke English.  Upon affirmation, I explained the situation, and if I could give her cash if she could buy me a ticket with her credit card.  Thankfully, the Swedes are trusting people, and she said yes, and got me a ticket.  Had the roles been reversed, I would have probably thought some sort of scam was underway.  In a gesture of a thanks, I gave her a bit of a tip for her effort, though I didn’t have any small bills to make the correct change anyhow.

It was mid afternoon as the train arrived in Abisko, the sun shining nicely overhead and groups of hikers milling about the place.  I quickly wondered if I shouldn’t get off the train and spend the night in the Hostel.  But this would have delayed me getting to Lofoten the following day, a Saturday, so I stayed on the train and continued on towards Narvik.  Up to this point in my life I have successfully avoided having to spend any nights in Narvik.  It’s a somewhat grim, industrial-ish place, and it seems to always be raining.

Sure enough, as the train neared the Norwegian border the clouds thickened and the sun disappeared.  Soon, the heavy clouds turned to rain as the train descended the edges of the Fjord.  Welcome to Norway.

The train pulled into Narvik in the early evening, heavy rain drops falling from the sky sending passengers running as they exited the train.  I immediately regretted not getting off in Abisko.  Too late now.

My first thought would have been to stay the night in the train station, but it was closing 30 minutes after the arrival of the train.  I knew there to be a hostel in Narvik, and sort of knew where it should be.  But after 30 minutes of walking around in the driving rain, I was merely wet, and still had no shelter for the night.  I simply couldn’t find the place.  It turns out that I could find it because it no longer exists.

Somewhat out of hope, and now wondering if I should start walking up the hill and look for a place to pitch my tent for the night I received some directions to another place that might be a hostel.  It was a bit hard to find, right down by the train tracks, but it was indeed a hostel, and even not overly expensive by Norwegian standards.  After a quick trip to the supermarket and a frozen pizza for dinner, I settled in early to bed for the night.  It happened to be a Friday night, and the reception to the hostel, a separate building, was actually a bar.  Norwegians party late into the night…

Saturday was spent on the bus, traveling from the mainland, through Vesterålen, before finally reaching Svolvær.  Being a Saturday, the Norwegians seem to slow down the public transport system in preparation for Sunday’s near total shutdown.  (Travel tip: always try and avoid traveling on Sundays, you’ll likely end up stuck in some random small town.)  This meant I had some weird 2 hour stop in Svolvær before the next bus to Leknes, where I had to wait again for an hour before the final bus to Stamsund.  I gave thoughts to hitchinking, but it the rain it would have been a futile effort.

I have complained about this before, but for such a bad weathered country, and Lofoten especially, the bus stops are shit!  The Norwegians seem to have no shortage of money to build endless tunnels and bridges, yet someone in the transportation department seems to have forgotten about us poor tourist that might have to wait and hour or two for a bus.  If your lucky, there will be a 3 sided plexiglass structure with an awkward, uncomfortable bench.  But good luck escaping the elements when the rain is blowing sideways.

After what felt like and endless wait I was on my way towards Leknes and another hour to wait for my last bus.  Around dinner time I finally wandered back down the driveway to Stamsund.  I caught Roar getting out of his van and he was surprised I was back so soon.  He informed me that my corner bunk was still free, so I headed back up to the loft and took my old bed, which I had left barely a week before.  Later that evening I told him of my happenings over in Sweden and we worked out the best way for me to get a camera sent over.  The waiting now began.

I could have gone anywhere while waiting for a replacement camera, but I knew Stamsund would be the best place.  It is a place I can go, and more likely than not, know someone who’s there, or someone who might show up in some days or weeks.  As luck would have it, a few friends from over the years were already there, and a day after my arrival, another friend made during the summer showed back up as well, back from her adventures to the north.  It seems to be a small group of us that revolve around the arctic, and Stamsund in particular, the special place that it is.

In my wait I learned something about international shipping.  While you might have something expedited out of the US, Norway only has one speed: slow.  From placing the order, it only took a couple days for my replacement camera to reach Oslo.  I had been going nearly crazy checking the tracking number every few hours to see if any progress was being made.  Once arriving in Olso however, the camera entered a black hole, and progress seemed to stop.  After several days, one of my (Norwegian speaking) friends put in a call to the UPS office in Oslo for me.  They didn’t have much more info than I did, only saying that the Norwegian post was now in control, and it should show up ‘in some days.’

So it became a routine for the better part of a week, checking the tracking first thing in the morning, and last thing before going to bed at night.  ‘In transit’ was the constant status, day after agonizing day.

The Autumn this year was another mild and calm weathered one, the same as last year.  Beautiful days and clear nights.  Northern lights filled the sky on more than one occasion.  I quietly wept.  Ever try taking a photo of the Northern Lights with an iPhone?  Good luck…

On the morning of Tuesday, September 24th, 12 days since my camera took the plunge in lake Sitojaure, and over a week since it had arrived in Norway, I was getting somewhat worried that my camera might have disappeared somewhere.  I put in another call to the UPS office and received the news; it had been delivered.  What? Where?  Not at the hostel, that was for sure.

I didn’t mention earlier, but part of my concern was that there are 3 streets in Stamsund named more or less the same.  In the back of my mind I had some vision that unfamiliar UPS driver might end up at the wrong place, my camera sitting in the rain on the porch of some strange house; lost again.  But upon a bit more clarification with the UPS person, it appeared that it arrived that morning at the Joker mini-market/post office just around the corner.  I put on a jacket and immediately ran up there.

Relieved that my camera had finally arrived, I now was gritting my teeth over my next concern about the whole situation.  How much import duty was I going to have to pay on a $3,000 camera?  I was planning for the worst, 25%.  I  had been taking cash out of the ATM whenever possible in preparation, somewhat held back with a $300/day limit, and the fact that the ATM in Stamsund was removed last summer, the nearest one now 15 km away in Leknes.  I also worried that my account was probably getting dangerously low.  So it was in Nervous anticipation that I walked up to the counter and asked for my package.  I was asked for ID and then told to sign that I had received it.  ‘That’s it?” I questioned, somewhat unsure.  ‘Yep, have a nice day…’ came the reply.  Phew!  Not sure how I escaped that one. Relieved of my worries and camera in hand, my face was now a smile from ear to ear as I jogged back to the hostel under the bright sun and clear blue sky.

I now had six days remaining on Lofoten.

Photo: Grytdalstind rises at the head of the valley, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

The weather gods must have felt sympathy for me, for what followed was five days of absolutely perfect weather.  I hit the mountains in a mad dash, four peaks in four days before my knee started to complain a bit.  When weighed against the chances of having my camera back only to sit though a week of rain and gales, which was very much possible, if not the likely state of things at the end of September, I got lucky.

First up was Grytdalstind, a somewhat obscure peak that seems to have received little traffic over the years, probably because what as what starts as a trail turns into nothing more than meandering sheep paths about half way up.  Finally even losing the sheep trails, it was a steep climb over loose rocks and blueberry bushes to the knife-edge ridge which makes up the summit.  Surrounded by higher peaks, it is no wonder that few people head up there, but it still makes for a challenging afternoon with some nice views down to Unstad beach.

Photo: Northern Lights over Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

The evening arrived with clear skies, which to me meant the possibility of Northern Lights.  It had been a strange Autumn thus far.  With a high amount of clear nights, the Aurora often remained quiet.  Then, during the cloudy days, I would check the Aurora forecast and later learn that thy sky had been filled with them in clear areas.  Never the less, a clear night was not to be wasted.  So I hopped in my rental car and headed out to the coast for what would likely be a long wait.  Just after 22:00, I began to notice that faint hint of green appear on the northern horizon.  By 22:30, a large, bright green arc filled the sky from horizon to horizon, growing in intensity over the following 30 minutes until it began to fade again.  My first night back with a camera, and the best Aurora of the season thus far.  Lucky again.

Photo: Evening view over Reine from the summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Photo: Mountain camp on the summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Wednesday arrived with clear blue skies and a good forecast for the next couple days.  I wanted to sleep up high, hoping to photograph the northern lights from the top of a mountain.  On these clear Autumn nights, the temperatures had begun to drop to a few degrees below freezing, but that was no worry of mine, I could suffer a cold night for epic photos.  I set my sights on Reinebringen.  I had spent the night up here once before, in the summer of 2010, and even if the Northern Lights never appeared, with such fine weather, I was still almost guaranteed some nice images.  So in early afternoon I started heading west towards Reine.

I arrived at the summit ridge in mid afternoon with nice puffy white clouds in the sky and began my wait till darkness.  The air was cold, but as long as the sun was above the horizon, I was warm enough.  Once the sun fell behind the mountains, the temperature quickly dropped and I was forced into my tent and sleeping bag to keep warm.  I had, unfortunately, set up my tent in a somewhat awkward position, with the entrance slightly lower than the back; this was the only way it would fit.  In order to keep an eye on the sky, I needed to have my head poking out the front of the tent.  And so there I laid, in the somewhat uncomfortable position of my head lower than my feet, staring up at the star filled sky.  My position also meant that I only really had a clear view towards the southern sky, so every 10 minutes or so, I would crawl out of my sleeping bag and look towards the north..

The hours passed and I could feel my head growing tired.  Finally, just before midnight, a small green glow appeared on the northern horizon.  I hopped out of the tent and sturdied myself against the cold.  The aurora remained faint and appearing so late in the night likely meant that I was not going to have a repeat of the previous night’s display.  Disheartened and cold, I returned to the warmth of my sleeping bag.  My thoughts now focused on what the dawn would bring.

I had set my alarm to wake me before sunrise, but as it sounded in the early hours of the morning I didn’t have the strength to get out of bed.  I was tired and it was cold, not a productive combination of elements.  I let the hours pass until my tent was finally in sunlight and I willed the energy to stir from my sleep.  I want to think that I didn’t miss anything interesting, but I probably did.  Maybe next time.  By 10:00 I was back at the car and driving east towards Stamsund, blue skies overhead.

Photo: Autumn view over Reine from Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Back in Stamsund later that day I wanted to be lazy, I truly did.  But I couldn’t.  With a few hours left until sunset I took the car to Holandsmelen, a small hill to the north of Leknes.  I didn’t quite know what to expect, only that it should be a somewhat easy hike, but a hike none the less, so I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about laziness.  Beginning in forest, the trail soon left the tree line, wandered across some bogs, before the final ascent towards the gentle round summit.  I arrived with near perfect timing, having about 20 minutes on top before the sun disappeared behind a layer of clouds hanging low on the horizon.  It was nearly dark before I arrived back at the car.

Photo: Vik and Haukland beaches from the summit of Holandsmelen, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

 

Photo: Afternoon light over Lofoten from the summit of Holandsmelen, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Friday arrived with more blue skies and I knew I wanted something a bit bigger.  There are several mountains on my ‘to do’ list, but looking at maps, I decided on something new, Kroktind.  Not in much of a rush I headed out in mid morning for the 45 minute drive to the trailhead.  The route begins by following a cross country ski track, before climbing steeply up a low pass.  From there the trail circumvented a small peak before entering a beautiful alpine cirque with a small pond, just beginning to freeze over in the cold night, and then finally climbing to a wide ridge which leads to the small, exposed summit.  Another perfect day, and in a t-shirt on a mountain top at the end of September, amazing!  Sea eagles circled high overhead while the wilds of Ausvågøy stretched into the distance.  The clear silhouette of Vesterålen stood further away still.  This was as good as it gets on Lofoten, and in September no less!  I put a mental note to come back and camp down by the lake sometime in the future, and thought it could be a nice ski tour in winter.

Photo: Kroktind reflects in small mountain pond, Austvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

 

Photo: Rugged mountain peaks of Austvagoy from the summit of Kroktind, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Saturday brought more sun, but by now the winds were beginning to pick up and I could tell the weather was going to shift.  I had given the thought of one final mountain, Himmeltindan, the highest mountain on Vestvågøy, but my laziness won and I was content to stay at sea level and eat popcorn.

The weather finally turned to rain and wind for my final two days on the islands, but this was okay now.  Despite all the setbacks, I had accomplished more than I imagined I would have and so I settled into my next worry; would the Hurtigruten ferry make it to port at Stamsund?  Roar always likes to tease me that I’m going to miss the boat.  And indeed, I think he must have a weather machine in his garage at the hostel, as I often seem to leave on days of gale force winds, unsure until the last moment if the boat will arrive.  On a couple occasions, this has even led me to buying last minute plane tickets for the final flight of the day off the islands and back to Bodø.  But at last, the ferry pulled up to port in the choppy waters of the harbor.  I said my goodbyes to the Islands and stretched out on a seat to get my 4 hours of sleep for the night.  After four visits to the islands in 2013, I did not know when I would see them again…

Photo: Endless mountains as seen from the summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

[This is part 3 of my summer travels: go here for PART 1 – PART 2 ]

The Hostel at Stamsund, Justad Rorbu og Vanderhjem, the formal name, but everyone just calls it Stamsund, is a magical place and one of the reasons I fell so much in love with Lofoten during my first stay there in the summer of 2001.  The hostel is simple and charming, set in an older fishermen’s building now around a hundred years old, with the tide lapping against the rocks underneath the kitchen – dining room floor.  Over the years it has become a home away from home for me, and hundreds of others who return year after year.

My arrival on this stormy morning was completely unannounced, with few people even knowing I was on the islands.  Yet as I walked in the door of the kitchen to the large group of people sitting around the table I was immediately greeted, ‘Cody, hello!  When did you get here?’

‘Oh hello Cody, I have just made some tea, would you like some?’

‘There’s still some food left on the table, help yourself if you’d like something to eat…’

And so before I could even change out of my smelly clothes or take a shower, I found myself sitting around the table, recounting stories of my last days and hearing about the travels of others whom I might not have seen for a year or two, and trying to put to memory the names of a few new faces whom I’m sure I’ll see around again in the coming years.  Only in Stamsund.

It was now Monday, August 19th.  As afternoon carried on, the rain fell heavier and heavier.  Tuesday it also rained, Wednesday as well as Thursday it continued.  But the forecast for Friday afternoon and the weekend looked promising.  And so I formed plans for the morning, Hermannsdalstinden.

Friday morning I said my goodbyes and caught the bus out of Stamsund to make my way to Reine and again take the ferry.  This time however, I wasn’t going to Bunes or Horseid beaches. I was heading towards Hermannsdalstinden, which, at 1029 meters above the sea, is the highest mountain on Moskenesøy, and the western half of Lofoten as a whole.  It is a rugged and impressive peak that has been on my Lofoten ‘to-do’ list for quite some time, but for some reason has never worked out.  This time I would be in luck.

Photo:  Twilight arrives on Lofoten, Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

There are two approaches to Hermannsdalstinden.  The main route begins in Sørvågen and heads inland, passing the Munkebu hut, before continuing on towards the mountain.  The second option is to take the ferry from Reine to Forsfjord.  This has the benefit of saving you a few kilometers of hiking, for the cost of 120 NOK ferry ride(!). The savings in horizontal distance earns you a steep, slippery ascent until the two trails meet.  Once you leave the boat in Forsfjord, there is no going back.

CLICK HERE for hiking route info on Hermannsdalstinden.

As the afternoon ferry departed Reine the sky was still partially filled with low, peak concealing clouds of mist rising in the strong sunlight.  The water of the Reinefjord was like glass, and the boat sped across the surface into the perfect reflections of the surrounding mountains.  After a couple stops to drop off some mail and pickup passengers returning from the beaches the boat entered the deep shadows of Forsfjord and it was now my turn to leave.  Despite a rather full boat, I was the only one to exit in Forsfjord.  I was now alone, only 5 kilometers and 1029 meters ahead of me.  It was 3:45 PM.   I watched for a moment as the boat disappeared in the distance and then began my journey.

The benefit of the Forsfjord route is that you save over half of the (horizontal) distance to the mountain.  The tradeoff is that you convert distance into a steep, slipper slope, at times having to pull on the bracken and trees to keep from slipping backwards as your feet struggle to take purchase on the muddy slopes.  It is somewhat of a relief that after reaching the half way point of the first climb the trail begins to follow a series of rock bands and steps, making for sometimes more exposed, but altogether easier travel.  After 200 meters of ascent the shores of the first lake are reached.  Only 800+ meters to go!

I was initially unsure of where I would camp for the night as I knew the summit to be rocky and not overly conductive to camping.  I had received a bit of beta from some others that there was something of a grassy ledge below the summit that would work for a tent.  Knowing it was unlikely to rain I wasn’t overly worried about shelter. At worst, I would find as flat of a rock as possible to lean against during the short night of late August.  If the weather did turn bad, I could just sit around in my rain gear, or begin hiking back down the mountain.

A little after 7:30 PM I scrambled around the last few boulders and found myself just below the summit.  The sun was getting low on the horizon so I tossed my backpack against some rocks and got to work taking photos.

I never saw anything looking like a good spot for a tent, but I did find several good options to bivy for the night.  I finally decided on a nice flat rock that, although quite close to the edge, was protected by a few rocks that would most likely keep me from rolling off and falling 30-40 meters.   I settled myself in for the night as the last bit of twilight was fading from the sky and the full moon rising higher above the Vestfjord.  At some point in the night the winds picked up in strength and brought a bit of a chill.  I cinched up my bag so that only my nose was visible.  The moon was bright overhead.

Photo: My bivy spot on the summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Photo: Warm greetings of the morning’s sun, Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Photo: Dark clouds fill the sky as I descend from the mountain, Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

I was up before 05:00, waiting for what the day would bring.  An uneventful sunrise as it turned out.  But I was thankful for the warmth as the first rays of light pierced the cold morning air.  The steam of my tea drifted into the breeze as I held it tightly to heat my hands.  And so there I sat, alone, watching sunrise on the top of Lofoten and wondering what another day in the north would be bringing me.  It was one of those moments that’s probably nicer to share with others, but if you cannot, it’s still better to be there than not.

After an hour of so I noticed some eerie looking clouds beginning to form over the mountains to the west, and combined the the ever increasing wind, I figured I should probably start heading down.  For the second time on this trip, I found myself descending a mountain in the early morning.  Seems a bit odd, with the full day ahead, but so it goes…

Half way down I sat and watched clouds swirling over the peak which was now full concealed with any remaining blue sky being consumed by a wall of gray from the west.  By 10:00 the sky was completely filled dark and forlorn looking clouds.  I passed some others making their way up the mountain and wished them luck, I would not have liked to be heading in their direction.  The difference 15 hours can make.

Soon enough I found myself arriving at Munkebu hut.  Somewhat tired and with nowhere in particular to go I set up camp.  I gave though to heading up Munkan, and had the weather been better, I would of.  But the summit was in the clouds so I laid in my tent and slept the afternoon away.  Lazy life, that of a mountain photographer.

The following morning brought an uneventful hike down to Sørvågen and then what I can only describe as pathetic attempts to hitchhike back to Stamsund.  I managed get a little past Hamnøy, before going nowhere for an hour + of standing on the side of the road until the only bus of the day came and took me to Leknes.  It was a Sunday after all, not good for hitching I guess..  With no busses to Stamsund, I ended up walking about halfway and catching a couple rides.  My feet were now thoroughly sore by this point.  Reaching the hostel, I setup a mattress in the sun outside and once again took a nap.  Exhausted.

Monday brought rain once more.  As did Tuesday.  Blustery weather came on Wednesday before then things began to calm a bit on Thursday.  And finally, in what seemed to be a developing pattern on this trip, the weekend’s forecast was once again good looking.  A plan was made – Camp and Kvalvika beach and hike up Ryten for sunset.  This would be my third time doing this combination of beach and mountain, and it what is now one of my favorite overnight tours on Lofoten.

…Continued PART 4

Photo: Summer rain passes over Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Photo: Passing storm at Utakleiv beach, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Bunes beach as seen from the summit of Helvetestinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

[This is part 1 of a multi-part series on my summer 2013 travels to Norway’s Lofoten Islands]

Perhaps sometime in the future the trip from California to Lofoten will be shortened, but for now it remains a nearly two day journey.  I can’t help but feel that  there’s something slightly masochistic about walking out the door on a Tuesday morning and not finally laying flat and properly closing your eyes until Thursday afternoon.  But until I can move somewhere more convenient, this is my fate.  Or maybe I just need to earn enough to fly business class, that would reduce the burden somewhat.  But like any place that draws you, the journey is worth it…

The main delay in my travels is often the ferry connection from Bodø to Moskenes.  For some reason I always arrive in Bodø in early evening, usually just missing a ferry and having to wait until the next.  Though this time, knowing there is nothing in Moskenes at 04:00, I actually skipped the midnight sailing out of Bodø, choosing to wait until the 04:30 boat, which arrives at a more civilized 08:00.  Really, unless you actually have a place to be at 04:30 or are with a car, it is more comfortable to wait in Bodø than in Moskenes.  A lesson I have learned, more than once, the hard way.

In my normal fashion of travel to Lofoten, my plan was to ‘get there and see.’  I had several options in my head, all of which where dependent on the weather.  The lazy person, and tired traveler in me, sometimes wishes for rain so I can conveniently hide away on a soft bed in Stamsund for a couple days to catch up on sleep.  The photographer in me wants some dramatic light, while the hiker in me wants sunny blue skies.  Blue skies with nice puffy white clouds I got.

Departing the ferry in Moskenes in perfect weather I now was down to two options from my to-do list: Hermannsdalstinden or Helvetestinden and Bunes and Horseid beaches.  With my backpack feeling a bit on the heavy side, along with my head, I contented myself with the easier option of Helvetestinden.  I managed to unusually quickly hitch a ride with a group of Polish and was soon in Reine.  Now all I had to do was sit around for a couple hours for the next ferry boat Vindstad, my attention fixated on my watch and how many hours it had been since I actually got any sleep; somewhere around 38 hours by this point in the morning.

Summer crowds of tourists filled the boat on the wonderful day.  Departing the boat in Vindstad, I was the first one making my way through the small village before finally leaving them further behind as I veered from the main trail and began the steep hike towards Helvetestind.

You can find the hiking route info for Helvetestinden – HERE

Photo: Kjerfjord seen from the hike up Helvetestinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Sweating under the strain of my 25kg backpack in the hot sun, not something I get to complain about very often in Lofoten, I did my best to conserve the little water I carried, knowing I would have no chance to refill on the summit.  To my surprise, there were a couple other groups of hikers heading up the mountain this day, including two british and even a fellow American, often a rare sight on Lofoten for some reason.

Not exactly sure of where to camp, I carried my backpack nearly to the summit before dropping it off as I reached a few steep rock steps that I wasn’t too sure I’d like to go back down with a heavy bag.  I spent some time on the top and thought about camping up there, but the more sheltered spot lower down on the saddle of the ridge I had seen earlier seemed a safer option.  And only a 15-20 minute hike back up, it wouldn’t be too bad the following morning for sunrise.  Leaving with the others after 30-40 minutes at the top, I set up camp and pretty much fell asleep by two o’clock in the afternoon.  Exhausted.

Photo: Evening twilight over Bunes beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

I headed back up the mountain in the evening, but the puffy white clouds of the afternoon had disappeared and a layer of sun-eating haze hung low on the northwestern horizon.  And so it was back to my tent for some more sleep until my wakeup alarm at 04:00.

Morning brought blue skies once again.  Sunrise wasn’t too spectacular from my camping spot as the surrounding mountains blocked the first hour’s worth of sunlight, with the mostly east – west running fjord remaining deep in shadow until the sun rose higher in the sky, by which point all color was gone.

Photo: First rays of morning light from Helvetestinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Photo: Rays of light shine over Kjerkfjord, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Even though I took my time packing up camp, I found myself heading down the mountain before 07:00.  I was, however, in the complete opposite of a rush, my destination being Bunes beach, at a whole 45 minute – 1 hour hike away.  Call me lazy!  Though by this time I was more or less completely out of water, only having carried 2.5 liters up the mountain with me and some 24 hours since my last refill.

The morning also brought wind.  Upon reaching the beach I first proceeded on with the nearly 20 minute walk to the far left side of the beach to look for a place to camp out on the point beyond the lone cabin.  But seeing several campers struggling in the blowing wind to take down their tents, and unable to find a suitably sheltered stop, I returned to the grassy dunes at the back of the beach.  Even here though, it was windier than I would have liked, and my poor, lightweight Big Agnes Fly Creek Platinum tent was doing it’s best to remain upright.  Thankfully, though the tent nearly completely flattened out at times, the poles held.

Still short on sleep, I slept away the morning and afternoon amid the flapping of my tent.  Finally rising in early evening I noticed a layer of grey cloud had filled the sky.  I made two rewarding trips out to the water’s edge: once for sunset and a few hours later at twilight.  A little after midnight I was once again cozied up in my sleeping bag.

Photo: Summer twilight at Bunes beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

The morning came all to early.  At the sounding of my first alarm, I peaked my head out the tent to see what looked like a dull gray sky in the dim twilight.  Closing my eyes for a few more minutes, I tried to pretend I was somewhere else so I could at least enjoy a few more hours sleep.  But somewhere in the back of my mind found the energy to fight off my laziness and got myself dressed. I was here to take photos after all, not sleep!

As I reached the water, the sky was glowing bright pink from behind the mountain.  It was some of the best light I’ve seen in Lofoten for a while.  I would have been content with what I photographed there with the waves breaking across my feet.  Wet shoes again!  An odd sense of intuition filled my mind and I left the beautiful scene to continue on around the point to see what was on the other side.  Normally, this is where I end up missing the light all together, having gambled on something better than light I should already have been content with.  But when the rainbow and glowing orange clouds came into sight, I nearly panicked in a rush to find a good position and not miss what I was seeing.  I wanted to shoot stills, I wanted to shoot video, I wanted to shoot a time-lapse sequence or two.  I needed another one of me, each with 4 arms to help do everything at once!

I was saved by the north.  With the low angle of the moving sun against the horizon when compared to lower latitudes, light ‘lasts longer’ on Lofoten.  That is to say, sunrise will last 2-3 times longer than you are used to back home.  And thus I had nearly 20 minutes of light as the rainbow emerged from behind the mountain until it finally faded away in the growing daylight.  So glad I got out of bed!

As I walked back to my tent I contemplated that I had not even been on the islands two full days and I’d already had better light than I’ve often waited weeks for.  I thought about catching a few more hours sleep, but the now darkening sky of cloud foretold of rain – as did my text forecast that I try and receive on a daily basis.  I packed up camp and began walking back towards to ferry pier in Vindstad.  A light mist began to fall.

Normally, the 24 hour weather forecasts are pretty accurate for Lofoten.  But there are however often some micro-climates in particular fjords or valleys that buck the trend.  With the forecast saying that rain should only last until 1-2pm, I made the decision to continue on with the ferry to Kjerkfjord and hike to  Horsied beach for the night.  But in the back of my mind, knowing that it was a southwest wind, I thought I was perhaps being a bit overly optimistic.  And I was.

Departing the ferry in Kjerkfjord, the sky was a solid gray, clouds hanging low over the pass with a proper rain beginning to fall.  Proper in that I put on my waterproof pants.  This was my second time hiking to Horseid beach, and my second time hiking to Horseid beach in the rain.  Such is how it goes on Lofoten.

…Continued – PART 2

Photo: Pink sunrise over Bunes beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Photo: Rainbow sunrise at Bunes beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013