Winter mountain landscape of Ladtjovagge valley viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lapland, Sweden

Swedish Interlude Part 2 – Kebnekaise Fjallstation

Winter mountain landscape of Ladtjovagge valley viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lapland, Sweden

Photo: Winter mountain landscape of Swedish Lapland, Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Sweden.  February 2014

…Continuing from PART 1

A steady snow was falling by the time the bus pulled into Kiruna late in the morning, the steep slag piles of the iron mine covered in hoarfrost and clouded in mist, resembling the White Wall out of Game of Thrones.  I made my way from the bus station to the hostel, only getting slightly lost and was informed check-in was not for a few hours, at least I could drop off my heavy bags.  I had a bit of scouting to do, namely to make sure if the sport shop had some Nordic touring skis available, as my girlfriend has actually never owned a pair of skis, much less touring ones.  After her arrival, and a hefty bill at the sports shop later, we were full prepared to head into the mountains.

I somewhat optimistically chose the Kungsleden trail as my first attempt for ski touring because, as I sold the idea to my girlfriend, ‘It’s mostly flat, without any big hills to ski up or down.’

More so, both of us had hiked the Route from Nikkaluokta to Abisko in September 2012, and I had hiked it previously in September 2009.  So, other than being mostly flat, it was also a route that I am familiar and comfortable with.  The only real challenge I perceived was weather and distance.  I optimistically put our chance of finishing at 50%.

The night at the hostel in Kiruna passed quickly and we were soon boarding the first bus of the 2014 winter season, heading to the trailhead at Nikkaluokta.  Arriving in Nikkaluokta a few hours later, the bus driver didn’t seem too concerned with collecting payment.  I asked in my bad Swedish if we needed to pay, but was informed that he had forgotten the change purse, the trip was free.  There were a couple other girls getting of the bus who were also traveling to Kebnekaise Fjällstation, the first STF run mountain hut along the trail, however, they didn’t look much prepared to ski the 19 km to get there.  After a bit of conversation, we learned that there is transport by snowmobile for the price of 300 SEK.  With only a few hours until darkness, doubtful enough time to get there, and having gotten the bus trip for free, we decided to spoil ourselves and be lazy.  The real journey could start tomorrow, and I knew this to be one of the more boring parts of the trail, just a long journey through the forest.

Snow mobile transport from Nikkaluokta to Kebnekaise Fjallstation

Photo: Snowmobile and Swedish winter mountain taxi, Nikkaluokta, Sweden.  February 2014

We geared up in thick winter overalls for the trip and were given a blanket to cover ourselves as we hopped onto a trailer pulled by the snowmobile. Then we were off, speeding down a path through the snow covered forest.  There apparently where a few thin spots in the ice, noted by sticks marking where not to go, as we crossed blank lakes and snaked up rivers.  About 45 minutes later we were pulling up to the Kebnekaise Fjällstation.  Snow was gently falling.

If I were 20 years old again, and Swedish, I think driving a snowmobile at one of the Swedish mountain huts would be the job for me!

We checked in as the first guests of the season and had the whole upper dorm to ourselves (no snoring). Kebnekaise Fjällstation is a full service mountain hut, but budgets forced us to decline the dinner and utilise what we were carrying.  Though most of the food is a bit fancy for my simple tastes anyhow, and I’m not sure I’d eat half of it if it were free, much less several hundred Swedish Kroner.  But a beer, warm fire, and, as we thought, one last wifi connection for the week, were thoroughly appreciated.  Snow was still falling as I headed up the stairs for bed.

The forecast had called for a couple days of calm before something of a storm would arrive.  As the world lightened with the arrival of day, I could still see a light snow still falling, nothing to worry about though.  But exiting the main lodge to head to the kitchen for breakfast, it was obvious the snow was deep.  Not ideal for for our first attempts at ski touring. And being the first ones of the season, this left me with the task of breaking 14km of trail through the knee/thigh deep powder.  Still, I remained optimistic as we set off.

Progress for me was slow, but steady, having proper ‘fat’ mountain touring skis and skins to keep me from sinking too much and make cutting turns, under the load of a backpack, on the downhills a bit easier.  For my girlfriend, with less than 1km ever skied on her skinny Nordic skis, the pace was tediously slow, even following in my tracks (which was more like slightly compressed snow than a proper touring track).  The downhills were even slower than the uphill sections for her, and touring was near impossible.  After more than an hour of travel, and barely more than 1km from the hut, it was decided to turn back.

Just at this time, a snowmobile passed by, cutting a nice trail.  But it turned to another part of the mountains and didn’t continue in the direction we needed.  We returned to the hut, disappointed.

We sat for a while, trying to decide what to do.  Having already bought 2000 SEK in hut vouchers (the mountain huts don’t accept credit cards anymore), I figured it would be best just to stay at Kebnekaise Fjällstation for a few more nights and at least get a little enjoyment out of the mountains before continuing on to Lofoten Islands again.

With the brilliant snow conditions, I wasted no time in skinning up a few hills and getting some turns in on the way back down.  If I wasn’t going to complete the tour, I still planned on enjoying myself.  This lasted for two days.  A storm arrived.

I’ve probably mentioned a dozen times in my last few posts that this was an unusually dry and warm winter for much of Scandinavia.  The storm arrived from the south.  Kebnekaise Fjällstation is somewhat sheltered from this direction, but I heard reports of broken windows and severe conditions in the other huts as they are situated in a series of north/south running valleys.  But with the wind came warm air and positive temperatures; in February!  There went my nice powder.

Tuesday morning it was time to leave the mountains.  We booked a return journey on the snowmobile back to Nikkaluokta and then planned on catching the bus back to Kiruna and continue by train to Narvik for the night.  Back in Nikkaluokta we had a couple hours to wait for the bus, but somewhere in the back of my mind, something was nagging me.  This led me to a little double checking of the schedule, where upon I was able to decipher that there is actually no bus on Tuesday.  This was confirmed by the shopkeeper.  Shit!  I could only sit there and laugh at my stupidity, as I contemplated having to return back to Kebnekaise Fjällstation again.

Luck was on our side though, as there randomly happen to be a Dutch couple and tour guide sitting in the cafe.  I wandered over to their table and explained the situation, and if we could maybe get a ride back to Kiruna.  I try to avoid putting people in such situations, where they might not want to say yes, but will look selfish if they say no and then have to finish their coffee with you staring at them.  But happily for us, they were quite nice and quickly offered to let us come along.  Skis were loaded into the van and off we went back towards civilisation.

We had a few hours to kill in Kiruna, so spent most of waiting in the warmth of the Folkets Hus – a much nicer place to wait than the bus station.  I actually thought there would be a bus to Narvik, but apparently it didn’t run on Tuesdays either, so we caught the free transfer shuttle to the new train station.  And there the wait began.

As much as I admire and will compliment the Scandinavians on nearly every aspect modern life, trains, at least in the north, are not their strong point.  Hour after hour passed, as the LED timetable board scheduled a new arrival time every 30 minutes or so.  Perhaps I should have picked up something for dinner in Kiruna?  Eventually, about 3 hours late, the train arrived and carried us west, back towards the Norway where I left little more than a week previously.  After the mandatory night in Narvik, although we arrived quite late, so I don’t begrudge the lack of onward transport options, we were on the morning bus back to the Lofoten Islands.  I wondered what new adventures would await.  (Mostly bad weather as it turned out…)

ski touring in deep snow near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lapland, Sweden

Photo: Struggling to ski through deep snow, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  February 2014

Skis and snow in the Swedish Mountains

Photo: My ski getting ready for a run on some trackless powder, Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Sweden.  February 2014

Winter mountain landscape of Ladtjovagge valley viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lapland, Sweden

Photo: Scenic winter mountain landscape from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Sweden.  February 2014

Winter panoramic view of Ladtjovagge valley viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Winter in the Swedish mountains near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Sweden.  February 2014

Ice rift on frozen lake Torneträsk in winter, Abisko national park, Lapland, Sweden

Swedish Interlude Part 1 – Abisko

Ice rift on frozen lake Torneträsk in winter, Abisko national park, Lapland, Sweden

Photo: Winter on a frozen lake Torneträsk, Abisko national park, Sweden.  February 2014

Despite their close proximity, they touch each other, there is often some difficulty traveling between Sweden and Norway.  This experience becomes more pronounced the further north one travels.  So traveling from the Lofoten Islands, Norway, to Kiruna, Sweden becomes, unfortunately, a multi day affair when depending on public transport.  And these multiple days of travel often require a night in Narvik, Norway.

Sunday morning, the 16th of February, was the date of departure for my Australian companions of the last 10 days.  I needed to be in Kiruna, Sweden not too late in the afternoon of February 20th.  So I was left with a choice.  To go immediately to Sweden or not.

In my original planning, I had counted on staying on Lofoten until the morning of the 19, before then traveling on to Kiruna (via a night in Narvik).  But with my hopes of getting in a bit of time on my skis, and pretty much no snow on Lofoten at the time, I decided to head east a bit early and break up the journey for a few days in Abisko national park.  So early on Sunday morning I was dropped off at the bus station in Leknes and began my journey to Sweden.

By mid afternoon I was in Narvik.  Frustratingly close to Abisko, yet the last trains and busses of the day had already departed.  If Narvik has any redeeming charms, I have yet to discover them.  But perhaps this is only because I attempt to spend as little time as possible in the city.  I thought about camping the the forest, but soon decided a night in the hostel would be a better idea, the nights are long and cold in February, better to have some warmth.

The morning arrived soon enough and saw me on the train to Abisko, Sweden.  The fickle grip of this year’s winter finally began to strengthen as the train headed east along the fjords finally climbing into the mountains of the Norwegian/Swedish border.  The last villages in Norway are empty, lonely places in winter.  Katterat, Haugfjel, and Bjørnfjell, the last stops before reaching the Swedish winter resort town of Riksgränsen.  Though as the winter had been dry on Lofoten, it had also been warm here in the Swedish border mountains and the resorts were just beginning to open up for an unusually late start to the season.

It was under a gently falling snow that the train finally reached my destination, Abisko Turiststation, the STF run hostel/hotel is the center of tourism for Abisko national park.  Arriving on a Monday, and in the middle of February, I hadn’t thought about any needs of making a reservation.  So it was with great surprise, that upon heading to the reservation to get a dorm bed for the next three nights, I was informed I had gotten the last one!  I guess I could have always gone and set up my tent in the forest if needed.

Abisko has become something of a northern lights watching hotspot in the last couple years.  Having only previously been in the area in the, now to my understanding, relatively quiet period of autumn, I was unaware of how popular of an activity this was, with people from far and wide around the globe braving the cold in hopes of seeing those elusive green lights.  More importantly for me though, there was snow.  And as I turned out the light after a warm meal of spaghetti and (Swedish) meatballs, there was still a light snow falling from the sky.   Moments into my sleep, the phone beeped with the arrival of a text message from Lofoten: ‘Go outside!’

I looked out the window just in case, but I already knew the result.  While I was stuck under snowy skies in Sweden, the sky over Lofoten was filled with Auroras, where I should have been had I not chosen to leave a few days early.

Now if you’re not in Abisko specifically to see northern lights, it can still be a rather sleepless experience.  Despite the bad weather on most nights, the other 4 people I shared the room with were in and out all night long and random intervals; banging doors, leaving lights on, etc. I had been spoiled with some good northern lights on Lofoten in the previous weeks, so it would take something special for me to go stand around in the cold for hours to wait for something to appear, which they did briefly on my 3rd night, but not enough to see me outside.

I passed my days walking around the frozen lake Torneträsk, and though I knew the ice was thick, strong enough to hold a train, I was told, the constant creeks and moaning of the ice left me with an uncomfortable nagging in the back of my mind as I looked to the shoreline over 1 kilometre away.  A few other times I headed out into the forest on skis.  But for anyone having been to Abisko before, and knowing what beautiful landscapes hide behind those mountains to the south, the immediate Abisko area is a bit anticlimactic.  Soon it was time for the next part of my Journey.

Thursday morning, February 20th, I was standing on the road outside the hostel to catch the bus into Kiruna.  There, I would meet my girlfriend as she arrived from the UK later in the afternoon, before heading into the mountains at Nikkaluokta to begin the journey back to Abisko on skis along the Kungsleden Trail.  Or so was the plan.

Ice rift on frozen lake Torneträsk in winter, Abisko national park, Lapland, Sweden

Photo: Ice rift on lake Torneträsk in winter, Abisko national park, Sweden.  February 2014

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in sky over Olstind mountain peak and fjord near Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands February 2014 – Departure

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in sky over Olstind mountain peak and fjord near Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights fill the sky over Olstind, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

The sky was once again filled with clouds as evening came to Hamnøy.  We were mostly off to an early bed, Michael the only one remain up.  Sometime after I had drifted into to sleep I heard a knock at the door and Michael saying, ‘LIGHTS!’  Quicker than a fireman, I was back into my clothes and out the door.  Luckily, one of the benefits of staying at Eliassen Rorbuer is that you can more or less walk out the door and have a fantastic view across the fjord to Olstind.  It turns out we were somewhat late to the party though, as about 15-20 photographers and tripods were already lined up on the rocks.  During a lull in the aurora, Rod, Andrew and I (Michael was shooting a time-lapse), set off around the fjord to find some new compositions.  There is an abandoned Rorbu a little ways away that I have had my eye on for a northern lights image, so we went there and had aurora filling the sky for the next hour or so before once again returning into the night.

With a good weather forecast for Wednesday, Andrew and I made the decision to go camp out at Bunes beach for the night while the other two stayed behind.  I thought we would be alone, but somewhat unfortunately, a group of exchange students also joined us on the ferry, then proceeded to walk the length of the beach along the high tide line, leaving the otherwise unspoiled scene full of a thousand footprints before leaving to catch the afternoon ferry back to Reine.  So much for that.

The temperature was brisk, and a strong, blustery wind hampered any attempts of enjoying our evening campfire.  But with no snow, I could hardly call it winter camping.  Though in mid February, the beach is yet to receive any direct sunlight, so you’re left staring at the surrounding granite peaks and dreaming of the sun’s warmth.  Under clear skies we did our best to stay up into the night.  But in the cold and the wind and the darkness there is only so much willpower one has before the calling of a warm sleeping bag becomes overpowering.  So before 6:00pm my eyes were closing.  The trick though, is to set your alarm for every 30 minutes or so to keep an eye on the sky. After a couple hours Andrew woke me from outside my tent.  A green glow had appeared on the horizon.

It is a painful process to leave a warm sleeping bag, put on freezing clothes, and enter into the freezing night.  We walked to the beach, the sand frozen solid, making progress easier.  With the crashing waves at out feet we watched the sky, but it had now grown silent.  The wind was stronger now, and colder.  After sometime standing around, the sky remaining quite, a warm sleeping bag seemed like a nice alternative.  By the light of our headlamps and the glow of the moon we returned to our silent camp.

Returning back to Hamnøy the following morning, I spent the day lounging around and enjoying the warmth or the Rorbu while the others braved the bad weather in search of photos.

A couple more stormy days followed before it was soon time for the Australians to head home and for me to head east.  It was a cold Sunday morning that I was dropped off at the bus stop (that is being generous) in Leknes, destination Sweden, and snow.

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in sky over abandoned Rorbu cabin, Valen, near Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern lights rise in sky above abandoned rorbu, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Tent pitched below Helvetestind mountain peak at Bunes beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Camping below Helvetestind at Bunes beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Mountains rise in distace over Bunes beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Evening light over Bunes beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Boat sheds and mountains reflection on Selfjord in winter, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Calm reflection of Selfjord, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Waves crash against rocky coastline at Skagsanden beach, Flakstad, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Waves crash against the rocks at Skagsanden beach, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Silhouette shapes of empty cod drying racks at sunrise, Toppøy, near Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Sunrise beyond empty stockfish drying racks, Toppøy, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Waves wash over coastal rocks at Uttakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands February 2014 – Arrival Of The Aussies

Frozen sea ice along winter coastline, near Nedredal, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Ice formations on the coast of Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

After the previous night’s sunset at Å, I was hoping for one last view of Reine in the morning, but alas, I rose to a heavy mist falling from the sky.  It was now Friday, February 7th, I had been on the island for a week.  A bit ahead of schedule, perhaps because I could feel the pull of a warm shower, I began my journey back to Stamsund to meet with the Australians.  We didn’t have any firm plans of meeting, just ‘sometime after lunch,’ as abstract of a term as that can be.  But with the day starting as it was, I figured they wouldn’t be getting out of the car much either.

No one was around when I arrived, and I’m not even sure if Roar was expecting me or not, but I called and announced my arrival and was given directions to our accommodations for the next days.  Opening the door to the cabin, I was greeted by a rush of warm air, something I hadn’t felt for days – I’m not sure my fleece or long underwear came off at all during the previous week.  A bit gross, I know, but that’s the way it is; you don’t have to worry about how bad you smell when you’re alone.

Soon however, a car, packed to the brim with three Australians – Rod, Michael, and Andrew – and accompanying luggage and camera gear pulled up outside.  You might remember that I traveled on Lofoten with Rod Thomas last year in the spring.  Now he and a couple friends were back for the winter experience, although the winter thus far was proving to have less snow than last year’s spring.  So it goes on Lofoten.  Michael Fletcher is a film maker and was there for a bit of behind the scenes documenting the trip, while Andrew Cooney, at just 18 years old, is a fellow landscape photographer looking for a bit of adventure in the north.

Not sitting around to waste any time in the short arctic days of winter, and with the weather seeming to improve a bit, the car was unpacked of unnecessary luggage and re-packed with people and cameras to hit the road.

Other than the popular beaches of Utakleiv, Haukland, Unstad, and Eggum, much of the central Lofoten island of Vestvågøy is often ‘drive through’ country for most photographers, as they move between bases at Svolvær in the east and Reine in the west.  I’m not sure why this is, probably because there are fewer roadside attractions than the other islands, especially Moskenesøy, where you barely need to walk more than a few meters from the car for something scenic. Vestvågøy requires more use of your legs to fully explore it’s character, but this doesn’t mean there are not some seldom photographed scenes that do make an appearance from time to time, and it’s actually my favourite island for Autumn.  In winter however, there is the difficulty of the sun.  Or more exactly, where the sun is.

The light of the winter months on Lofoten is very southernly directed, rising a bit to the southeast and setting a bit to the southwest.  And south means the open waters of the Vestfjord and, to put it bluntly, often not as scenic of a coastline as the northern side of the islands.  Of course there is Reine and Olstind, but to attempt to pull out a variety of images for multiple locations can be difficult at times with the sun low on the horizon and many areas receiving no direct sunlight.  This, combined with the often heavy cloud, means there are a limited number of locations where one can attempt, with an interesting composition, to photograph direct light.

We headed east from Stamsund, along the coastal route to Valberg and beyond.  In normal winters, where the islands are covered in snow from sea to summit, almost everything can be scenic here.  This year however, with the lower elevations mostly consisting of the drab, soggy brown grasses and heather of winter, it took a bit more effort to find something interesting.  So with little snow, ice is the next best thing.

I took us to the area around Dal, where there can be some interesting bog and moorland that sometimes freezes nicely.  But upon arrival, the ponds weren’t so interesting, but the ice covered coastal shallows, with some scenic views towards Vågakallen in the distance, were.  The sky didn’t do too much, but I found the ice textures to be fascinating.  Soon we were back at the hostel and I was enjoying my first proper dinner in days.

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in sky over frozen ice river and mountain landscape, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern lights shine in the mountains of Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in sky over frozen ice river and mountain landscape, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights and frozen river on Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

What had been a non-eventful, and cloudy, sunset turned into clear skies as the evening progressed.  We headed out into the darkness and began the wait for Auroras.  A little after 9:00pm, they began to appear, though mostly quite faint.   We first headed to Myrland beach, as it gives a nice overview of the northern sky, with some scenery for the foreground.  But the lights quickly faded after our arrival so we headed back to Storsandnes beach to see if things would be better.

This was the near the location of the ice rivers which I had photographed a few days earlier, and wondered if it would make a good compositions for northern lights, should I get the chance.  So with the Aurora there, but not overly active, I headed up the hill with Andrew to see what I could come up with.  Nothing spectacular as it turns out, mostly because the sky began to cloud over again.  But I saw potential for the future with better conditions.  It was nearly 2:00am when we pulled back into Stamsund.  Luckily I had enough sleep reserves from the previous week already built up!

Saturday was grey and mostly uneventful.

Reflection of Vågakallen mountain peak over coastline, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Vågakallen reflection, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Frozen sea ice along winter coastline, near Nedredal, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Coastal ice formations, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Dusting of snow covers sand at Uttakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: A dusting of snow covers the sand at Utakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Waves wash over coastal rocks at Uttakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Among the waves at Utakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Walking out the door early Sunday morning just as the horizon was beginning to glow, I noticed and unexpected dusting of snow had fallen overnight, cool!  We first headed out to the coast at Dal again to see if any color would appear.  But what looked to have strong potential soon faded to a deep bluegray.  With the rare snow on the ground, I thought it best to get to one of the beaches as soon as possible, before the snow was washed away by the incoming tide or filled with footprints by other photographers or locals on their Sunday walks.

We headed towards Utakleiv, as that would provide up with the most options.  Passing Vik beach, it was full of seaweed and the tide was already receding from the snow line.  Haukland was full of people and dogs.  This left Utakleiv.  Exiting the tunnel, I could see there were no cars in the parking area, and pulling up, the beach, and faint layer of snow, where largely untouched.  Perfect!

It was well into the afternoon that some color began to appear in the western sky.  So we did the obvious thing, headed west.  This turned into one of the best sunsets I’ve ever seen on Lofoten.  Though unfortunately I don’t think I took us to the correct place to fully enjoy it.  We first attempted a location near Fredvang, but the tide was wrong, and it was a bit windy so we headed back to Skagsanden beach, with the sky and mountains fully aglow with bright pink and orange.  I was content with the day, but I felt the other guys were a bit disappointed that I hadn’t taken them to a more spectacular location.  Soon the light was gone and it was back to Stamsund.

The islands were dry, no rain and barely any snow, yet a layer of cloud was still nearly always present.  Monday was spent at Unstad beach before our final night in Stamsund.

Tuesday brought some interesting light at Henningsvær, but this soon turned back to the usual grey.  We didn’t have much time to waste anyways, as it was time to change locations and head to our new accommodation on Hamnøy for the next few nights.

Colorful sunset over mountains of Moskenesøy, near Fredvang, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Color fills the sky over Selfjord, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Hustind mountain peak glows pink over Skagsanden beach, Flakstad, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Skagsanden beach glows pink during sunset, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Waves flow among boulders at scenic Unstad beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: The ever-scenic Unstad beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Mountain reflection in Harbour at scenic fishing village of Henningsvær, Austvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Harbor reflection at Henningsvær, Austvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Winter sunrise over Vestfjord from Toppøya, near Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands February 2014 – Time Passes Slowly

Unstad beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Barely any signs of winter remain after 24 hours of rain, Unstad beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Morning was slow to come.  After midnight had gone, time seemed to come to a standstill.  And though it seemed like hours had passed between looking at my watch, it was only minutes.  02:00 am, 03:00 am, 04:00 am; still 4 hours until dawn appeared.  The storm was calming now, but I knew I wouldn’t have much of interest to look forward to come first light, only a reason not to be laying down in my sleeping bag.

A few more hours passed until I could finally see a heavy, misty grey dawn appearing over the beach.  I dressed and wandered down to the empty sands of Unstad beach.  The fury of yesterdays storm had passed and barely a hint of breeze blew against my face.

Sometime later I returned to my car for breakfast: an orange, some rice cakes, and chocolate, for the cold.  I sat for a while, waiting to see if any colour would appear.  But after sunrise had passed, I was gone.

I could tell it was going to be one of those days of soft, flat light.  I visited a few beaches and wandered around some hills, following an ice river up into the mountains.  And so the hours passed as I made my way west to Flakstadøy, where I noticed a bit of color beginning to appear.  Not much, but something other than grey.

A small river runs through the sand at Storsandnes beach, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: A river runs through Storsandnes beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Mountains of Moskenesøy rise above sea at sunset, near Fredvang, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Misty light over the distant mountains of Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Coastal landscape at Trollskjeran, near Ramberg, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Fading light along the coast near Ramberg, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Looking for a place to camp, I headed down a small dirt road on the outskirts of Ramberg which took me out to the coast.  I noticed a good supply of wood which I thought could be turned into a decent campfire for the night and so I messaged my Italian friends to see if they wanted to join me.  A little while later they showed up and we set to making a fire.  Though it turns out I was slightly optimistic in my estimates of the wood, which was either too small and burned quickly, or too old and rotten, barely burning at all.  But at least it was a mild night, for February, so it wash’t too bad to sit around and have some light in the darkness, even if the heat was lacking.  Not to mention, it was a good excuse not to go to sleep in mid afternoon.

I was wanting to shoot something around Flakstad for sunrise, but pulling my car out onto the E10 and a quick survey of Skagsanden beach, it was evident that another grey day was in store for the islands.  So I headed further west, and back towards Reine, where I would have a direct view of the sun rising on the horizon.

I got stopped by the road works that have been going on for what seems like forever on the eastern part of Moskenesøy.  Originally what started out as just a new tunnel had turned more or less into a whole new road, tediously blasted, dug, and scraped into the rock. So there I sat, watching dawn approach over the Vestfjord and not knowing how long I would be stuck.  I even gave though to hopping out of the car and just shooting on the side of the road, but figured it might not be the best idea.  Time to sit and eat breakfast I guess, rice cakes and chocolate, for the cold.

Finally, after 20 plus minutes I was let free and on my way west again.  Dawn was near as pink began to fill the sky in the small gap along the horizon and into the ceiling of low clouds overhead.  Nearing Hamnøy I figured the sun would rise any minute and so I got out of the car and looked around.

I was hoping for a nice pink glow on Olstind, rising across the still waters of the fjord, but the horizon seemed to be a bit cloudy, and only a faint light reached the mountain.  Looking back over the Vestfjord as the sun cracked the horizon was about the only thing of interest, though not especially so from my vantage point.

Soon the sun was back in the clouds and I was counting the hours until darkness, where I could attempt to sleep again, to pass the time quicker.  I parked my car in the turnout by Djupfjord and began the wait.

Winter sunrise over Vestfjord from Toppøya, near Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Winter sunrise over Vestfjord, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Rocky coastline of Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Rocky coastline of Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Morning arrived with more low, misty clouds, but I could tell a bit of a change from the last few days would happen.  I mostly stuck around Reine and Å, waiting for the hours to pass.  I could see winter storms passing over the mainland in the distance, but for some reason none arrived on Lofoten.  In late afternoon I headed out to Å and by chance ran into some German acquaintances.  Lofoten can be a small place sometimes.

A final kiss of pink in the sky over Værøy and the day was soon gone.  My first week on the islands was now over.  In the morning, I would head back to Stamsund, where I would meet up with the Australians and be their unofficial Lofoten tour guide for the next 10 days.

Approaching winter storm conceals Norwegian mainland across Vestfjord, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Winter storms pass over Vestfjord, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Pink clouds at sunset over Værøy islands from near Å I Lofoten, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway
Photo: A kiss of pink over Værøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Waves wash over snow covered rock in winter at Myrland beach, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands February 2014 – Lessons In Sleep

Waves wash over snow covered sand in winter at Myrland beach, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Waves wash across snow covered beach at Myrland, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

February mornings are slow to arrive on Lofoten, so even if you’ve been up late chasing northern lights the night before, there is still plenty of time for a bit of sleep.  In fact, there is often too much time for sleep, as darkness is still the dominant element of the season.

Stirring uncomfortably for hours due to the combined effects of cold and the lack of a sleeping pad to soften the otherwise hard trunk of my rental car, I dreamed of dawn as the batteries faded in my iPod as I repeated the same podcast to pass away the time.  Looking at my watch, I decided it was time to rise, 07:00.

I exited the back of the car into a world of night, snow swirling brightly in my headlamp as I quickly hurried to the softness of the drivers seat and started the car.  I was expecting to see the beginnings of day appear on the horizon but the only thing to escape the blackness was the snow lit by the car’s headlights.

Doing my best to judge the wind direction, I left Utakleiv and headed towards somewhere which might be a bit more sheltered.  It’s always windy in Utakleiv anyways, even on calm days.  The squeak of the wiper blades were the only break in the silence as I traveled the dark, snowy roads to Myrland, on the eastern edge of Flakstadøy.  With a couple of seldom visited beaches, compared to the more famous neighbours visible across the Nappstraumen, Myrland has been a productive location for me in the last couple years, almost too visited.

Waves wash over snow covered rock in winter at Myrland beach, Flakstadøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Waves flow against snow covered rock at Myrland beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

I parked my car overlooking the sea, only barely visible through the snow and grey light which signalled the arrival of morning.  It was Sunday morning, and I had nowhere to go, only to wait in darkness and see what would happen.

Now, this is normally the time when having a book would be useful to pass the time.  But as I had been somewhat busy back in California prior to my departure to Lofoten, I didn’t have the time to procure any.  Or to say more accurately, it didn’t seem like much of a priority.  Maybe I was making a statement to the universe that the light would be so good that I wouldn’t have anytime for reading, or perhaps I simply forgot what being alone and bored was like.  Anyhow, I would soon regret this decision, though not so much as to buy an over-priced book in Norway; not much of an English reading selection on Lofoten anyways that could entice $30 from my wallet for an day’s entertainment.  To add even more to my first world problems, I hadn’t even brought my laptop with me to at least get some writing done as my ambitious plans for Sweden didn’t allow for the extra weight.

If you’ve previously read about any of my Lofoten travels it might seem like I’m poor at planning and haphazardly stumble around the islands.  But this is actually a well thought out plan to keep me productive as possible.  You see, my greatest enemy is laziness.  And comfort brings laziness.  If you have a warm fire, hot food, and a soft bed, the weather is almost always ‘too bad to go outside,’ or ‘it will be better later.’  But it turns out that ‘later’ never comes.

Stuck in a car for 24 hours, outside becomes an escape from boredom.  And outside is where the photos are.  So even with poor light and casting winds, boredom leads my mind to thoughts like, ‘Hmm, I wonder what might be up that hill,’ or ‘those rocks look sort of interesting, I wonder if I can come up with something.’  So really, every shot I take might not be jaw dropping colorful (over processed) sunsets, and I probably even take a fair amount of bad photos, but the short days of winter tend to be the most productive for me, since i have no comfort to escape to.  Though I often do allow myself a berlinerbolle for breakfast every day or two to have a little bit of comfort.  Ample supplies of chocolate help as well.

After some time the storm begins to pass and the sky continues to lighten.  I look down to the sea and see what I’m looking for in the soft light as the small waves meet the snow covered beach.  I pull out my gear and get to work for the next hour until a flat grey light has enveloped the islands.  With northern lights the previous night, and now scenic snow covered beaches, I thought I was off to a pretty good start for winter on Lofoten.

Before I left California a few people had gotten in contact with me who would also be traveling on Lofoten around the same time as myself.  As morning passed, I got in contact with a nice italian couple, who like myself, were also doing the car-camping thing and made plans to maybe try and meet up somewhere down by Reine or Å.  So off I headed, west along the E10 towards Moskenesøy.

Passing Reine, the light wasn’t so nice so I continued on towards the town with a name that everyone always seems to have trouble pronouncing, Å.  Perhaps also one of the shortest town names existing anywhere.

Å I Lofoten, the formal name to distinguish it from any other Ås which might exist, can often be a good place for winter sunset, as the afternoon sun passes low over the distant island of Værøy rising across the sea before meeting with the final mountains of Lofoten itself.  January to early February is one of the best times for this location, before the sun begins to set too high in the west as the vernal equinox begins to near and the days grow long.

Well, it turns out, the light down there wasn’t so good either and there wasn’t much snow out on the rocks which is really needed for the scene.  On the other hand, was a frozen lake Ågvatnet, with cool patters of light snow drifting across the surface, blown across the ice since the passing of the morning’s storm.  The more interesting patterns and shapes were deep in the center of the lake and I was somewhat hesitant to venture alone that far onto the ice.  But upon seeing a few locals walking and ice skating around, I figured a frozen death wouldn’t likely come on this day and proceeded out onto the lake, soft rays of sunlight hitting the surrounding mountain peaks.

Patterns of snow cover black ice of Lake Ågvatnet in winter, Å I Lofoten, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Snow patterns on a frozen lake Ågvatnet, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Patterns of snow cover black ice of Lake Ågvatnet in winter, Å I Lofoten, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Snow patterns on a frozen lake Ågvatnet, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

A little while later I headed into Reine where I met up with my new Italian friends, before deciding to head back to Å again.  Once more, it didn’t look like the light would do much for sunset, so we headed out onto the lake again until night arrived.

The one benefit of the dry and snow free conditions this year was that all the parking areas where clear and open.  Often it can be a bit of a challenge to find a snow free area to sleep in the car overnight, particularly in the western part of the islands and often I’m left parking under the bright lights of the parking lot in Å, which you’re technically not supposed to camp in, but that’s more so it doesn’t fill up with motorhomes all summer long, or so I tell myself.  This time though, the nice turnout near the Djupfjord bridge was open, and despite being right next to the road, is about the best place to sleep between Å and Reine.

Cod Stockfish hang to dry in cold winter air, Toppøya, Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Stockfish drying racks, near Reine, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Cod Stockfish hang to dry in cold winter air, Toppøya, Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Sunrise and rain fill the sky, near Reine, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Morning brought with it a cold wind and a promise of rain.  It was now Monday, and my second full day on the islands.  Again, despite laying flat in the back of the car for 12+ hours, a combination of discomfort and jet lag served me with a restless sleep and I was once again glad to be back in the driver’s seat awaiting the arrival of another day.

I headed to a location near Reine and watched as the approaching rain and rising sun raced to see who would greet me first.  It was a tie.  Heavy drops of rain began to hit me just as the sun peaked over the jagged, teeth-like mountains of the Norwegian mainland and shone across the waters of the Vestfjord.  A flash of pink lit the sky for a couple brief minutes as I retreated to shelter, only to be drawn back into to rain moments later and as a rainbow briefly encircled Olstind.  Back at my car, I said goodbye to the italians and headed back east to Leknes.

Rainbow forms over Olstind mountain peak and Fjord, Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Rainbow over Olstind, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

The rain was still falling as I pulled up to Leknes.  My main objective was to find a sleeping mat for the back of the car, unsure how many more nights on the hard, cold floorboards I could take.  Sometimes the large Coop supermarket in the mall has something cheap on offer, and last year I even pickup a proper blow up mattress that one would use as a guess bed at home for only 99 NOK.  It looked a bit funny in the back of the car, but it slept like a dream.  This time, no luck (though I did see one later at the end of February, when I no longer needed to sleep in a car).  The closest things was some exercise type yoga mat for 120 NOK.  I guess that would have to do.

The rain was still falling as morning passed to afternoon and I made my way out to Unstad.  Arriving at the beach, the wind was blowing fiercely and huge clouds of mist were blowing off the sea.  I made my way down to the waters edge but at times it was nearly impossible to stand as gusts of wind blew loose my footing on the slippery rocks.  I haphazardly cut and taped a plastic bag around my camera to protect it from the driving rain and hale.  My hands near frozen, I lost grip on one of my lens caps and it went flying off somewhere far beyond my reach.  After a few moment, I figured I’d had enough and retreated to the car.

I wanted to park my car on the left side of the beach, but in the blowing winds it was rocking like a boat at sea and I wasn’t too sure it would remain in the same place all night long so I opted for the more sheltered parking area at the right side of the beach.  After making myself a sandwich for lunch, I curled up in my sleeping bag to keep warm.  It was just after 14:00.

I next opened my eyes to find night had arrived.  Looking at my watch, it was 20:00.  The rain was still falling at the wind ever blow, but now with a slightly calmer temperament.  I turns out I had parked my car in the light of a newly installed street light, so I moved to car into the shadow cast by the old building, then was back into my sleeping bag.  Twelve more hours until daybreak and I’d already had the better part of a night’s sleep.  I thought of what the distant morning might bring.

Offshore wind blows waves at Unstad beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Winds blow over waves at Unstad beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky over Vik Beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands February 2014 – Aurora Greetings

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky over Uttakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights fill sky over Utakleiv beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

The journeys from California to Lofoten are always long, and I always arrive thinking of the soonest possibility I can lie down flat on a bed, or in this case, the back of my rental car.  I also made the mistake of arriving on the islands on a Saturday, which is never a good idea, as it meant a long wait in Leknes for my bus to Stamsund, where I would pick up my car.  Normally I would hitchhike, but this time I was burdened with ski gear which would no doubt ruin any chance I had of catching a lift.

It was finally the early afternoon when I pulled up to the parking area at Utakleiv beach, folded down the backs seats to the car and crawled into my sleeping bag.  Early afternoon on February 1st while north of the arctic circle means it’s just about dark.  I was soon asleep.

Some hours later the slamming of a car door followed by some somewhat loud voices woke me from my slumber.  It was dark.  I wiped a clear spot from the fogged up windows to see if the stars were out, in which case I would try and stay up a bit longer and wait for Northern Lighs.  But upon peaking out the window was a gift even better, Auroras!  A faint green arch hanging over the beach and mountains.  I quickly dressed, prepared myself for the cold, then hopped out of the car and went down to the beach, the lights now getting brighter.

I shot for a while at the beach, but I noticed the stronger parts seemed to be coming from behind the mountains to the left, so I quickly headed back to the car and drove a few km to the beach at Vik, more of less just around the corner from Utakleiv, and giving a much more open view to the western part of the sky.

Barely have put my camera back on the tripod the sky lit up, from the horizon, fully overhead, and then behind me.  Not a bad welcome to Lofoten!

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky over Uttakleiv beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights shine in sky over Utakleiv beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

 

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky over Vik Beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Auroa beam over Vik beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

 

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky over Vik Beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights over Vik beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

 

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky,  Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Cascading Auroras fill night sky over Utakleiv beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

 

Northern Lights - Aurora Borealis shine in Sky over Vik Beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights rise in sky over Vik beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2014

Stormy seas crash against dramatic coastal cliffs at Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland

Orkney – Islands of the Forever Wind

Stormy seas crash against dramatic coastal cliffs at Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Sunset at Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Leaving Dublin and arriving in the UK, Manchester to be exact, there was only one direction to go, north.  Originally, there had not really been much of a plan, only two general ideas: west coast and the Isle of Skye, or northeast and Orkney.  As the weather forecast for the following week was on the stormier side, I set my sights on Orkney.

Since my first visit to Orkney in the autumn of 2003, the islands have held a special place in my heart.  Returning to the islands in October 2013, it was now just over 10 years since my first visit.  Where does the time go?  My memory of those days gone by still remains vivid in my mind.  And one place more than any other: Rackwick Bay and the rustic Burnmouth bothy, perilously close to the wild sea.  Lonely and Isolated, Rackwick Bay is everything I love about forgotten places on the edge of the world.  Even in Europe loneliness and solitude still exist, the hustle and bustle of cities seemingly a lifetime away.  Most visitors to Scotland will say they have experienced the country after a few days in Edinburgh.  But they haven’t…

In my previous visits to Orkney I have always traveled via the Scrabster – Stromness ferry.  This time however, schedules worked out a little better to take the Pentland ferry between Gills Bay and St. Margaret’s Hope, which proved both a shorter journey and easier on the wallet.  While the route doesn’t pass the majestic cliffs of Hoy, it does pass the haunting island of Stoma, abandoned since 1962, it’s grassy landscape is littered with the remains of abandoned houses from days now gone.  I really want to find a way out there sometime.

The weather was less than ideal upon our arrival and soon a light, misty rain was falling from the sky.  I know Orkney fairly well, but I’m not as familiar with good car-bivy spots as I am with other parts of Scotland.  The only place I knew off the top of my head that would probably be okay to sleep for the night was Yesnaby.  I have been wanting to photograph the dramatic cliffs out there for some time anyhow, so it worked out well.  After a brief pit stop at the Ring of Brodgar, we pulled the car up to Yesnaby in the gray, fading light of October.  I made some brief attempts at photography, but conditions were conspiring against me.  Not even a proper rain, but that light, swirling mist which seems to get your camera lens even wetter.

Interior of St. Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: St. Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Morning came slowly as the black of night softened to a dull gray of day.  Mist still fell from the sky.  With little possibilities for photography I decided to spoil myself a bit and enjoy being a tourist and go visit the Orkney Brewery.  The visitor center and tasting room opened in the summer of 2012, and I have been looking to get a ‘Skull Splitter’ t-shirt since I first saw one 10 years ago, but was too cheap to buy one.  I would remedy that mistake finally.  Being the off season, and also rather early in the morning for beer drinking, we where the only ones there as we took a short tour and partook in some beer tasting.  More later…

Leaving the brewery, Kirkwall was the next stop as I wanted to photograph the St. Magnus Cathedral where I could at least get some photos.  There is something magical about this building and the red sandstone gives a surreal mood.  Despite the small size, it is one of my favorite cathedrals in Europe.

After a brief lunch in Kirkwall, it was time for the next tourist stop on this rainy day; the Highland Park distillery.  Perhaps I was a bit enthusiastic about tours after my time in Dublin, as I normally try to avoid paying for anything while traveling, but what the hell, I don’t need my arm twisted too much to taste some single malt, not to mention that Highland Park is one of my favorites.  More on the tour later, but I walked away with a bottle of the 15 year old (sorry, Mr. wallet.).

In late afternoon we returned back to Yesnaby for another night sleeping in the car.  I finally noticed a break in the clouds as evening progressed and so I headed out for another attempt at photographing these wild cliffs and and brooding sea.

Stormy seas crash against dramatic coastal cliffs at Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

While the onshore wind was still blowing strongly, I managed to find sheltered pockets here and there where I wouldn’t risk my tripod blowing off the cliffs.  What followed over the next hour was improving conditions until a beautiful glow filled the sky behind an approaching set of dark, stormy clouds.  Absolutely perfect timing and condition.  I got my Yesnaby shot. Yay!

We made the decision to head to Hoy for a few days.  While it seems a bit of a waste to take the car, the ferry from Houton to Lyness was not too bad and allowed us to see parts of the island which I hadn’t been to before.

Reading the weather report, a sever gale was approaching.

Old stone wall leads towards Burnmouth Bothy, Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Approaching Burnmouth bothy in Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Old stone walls of Burnmouth Bothy, Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Burnmouth bothy in Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Red sandstone boulders on beach at Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Worn red sandstone beach at Rackwick bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Clouds sweep across sky in fading light over beach at Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Fading twilight over beach at Rackwick bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

In the parking lot at Rackwick bay we packed our bags and began the short walk to the Burnmouth bothy.  Thankfully, the place was empty when we arrived but soon enough a couple more groups of people arrived.  Ohh well, so much for a quiet night.  But as soon as the group of ‘art’ students from Edinburgh began to make a fire, they immediately smoked the building out, both from fire and their cigaretts.  I tried to instruct them on proper fire methods, but they seemed a bit dense and weren’t interested in listening.  And for some reason they annoyed me.  So, as much as I was looking forward to spending a night again after all these years, we packed our bags and headed out into the sideways rain and back to the car for the night.

Morning came and the gales continued, with passing showers of hale and rain at regular intervals.  We wanted to hike out to the Old Man of Hoy, but decided that this was probably not the day.  Wandering back to the bothy, the winds were so strong it became difficult to walk over the slippery, boggy ground.  The day was mostly spent sitting around though I made a few attempts at photography between showers.  Finally, it was back to the car for another night.

Female hiker looks out window of Burnmouth Bothy, Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Watching the rain from Burnmouth bothy, Rackwick bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

View out window of Burnmouth Bothy, Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Burnmouth bothy in Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Morning came.  While the sky still looked threatening, it seemed as if the rain would probably hold off for a while.  Just in case, we dressed in full waterproofs and then set off on the trail towards the Old Man of Hoy.  My first time there, in 2003, it was so windy that I quite literally had to crawl to the edge of the cliff, unable to stand safely.  This time however, the wind was coming from a direction where it seemed to pass over us as it deflected off the cliffs, letting me have a steady enough camera for a few photos.  That was until we were just about to leave and I was taking one last picture.  A wall of wind hit light a train; from calm to nearly knocking me off my feet and blowing my camera off the edge (not that I needed to kill a second camera on this trip).  Trying to stabilize myself and crouch to the ground, I noticed one of our backpacks begin blowing towards the edge of a cliff.  Shit!  I tried to yell to grab the bag, but the wind was too intense and we were both trying to save ourselves that I couldn’t be heard.  The wind nearly blew me over as I ran towards the bag, managing to save it about 2 feet from the cliff.  Phew!

That was enough adventure for the day, and so we headed back towards the car, propelled uphill with the winds at our backs and rain making its approach.  Rounding the corner back to Rackwick bay I stopped for a moment to watch the dancing of light and shadows over the sea.  I remember standing here in 2006 as a passing stranger let me borrow his binoculars to watch a lone basking shark swimming in the crystal blue waters of the bay, the day being slightly nicer.  I quietly whispered my goodbyes to Rackwick before descending back to the car.

Old Man of Hoy sea stack, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Old Man of Hoy, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Single lane road through the isolated Rackwick Bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Rackwick bay, Hoy, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Back on the Mainland (as the call the main island of Orkney) the sun seemed to be making an appearance finally.  Still wanting a some exterior images of St. Magnus Cathedral we headed back to Kirkwall.  In the lengthening shadows I set off photography.   Years ago, I was struck by the impression of the ravens circling the tower high overhead.  They were still circling this time, chasing each other in an endless game of cat and mouse, their ‘kowws’ and chirps filling the air.  Somehow I managed to myself locked in the cemetery and had to hop a fence to get out again.

It was another brief stop at the standing stones of the Ring of Brodgar before heading back out to Yesnaby for our final night not he islands.  Still stormy, the clouds briefly parted for the rising moon as I wandered the cliffs in the final darkness.

Morning arrived with clear weather, but unfortunately we had to head straight to the ferry.  I was a smooth sailing across the Pentland Firth and past Stoma before landing in Scotland once again.  The long drive back to Wales began.

St. Magnus Cathedral and cemetery, Kirkwall, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: St. Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Setting sun shines behind standing stone at Ring of Brodgar, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Ring of Brodgar standing stones, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

Winter dawn on Pen Y Fan from Corn Du, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Best Photos of 2013

The following are my favorite images of the year.  Overall, 2013 was a year of ups and downs for me and I was often struggling to come up with inspiration.  I seemed to run into more than my usual amount of bad weather, especially starting off the year on Scotland’s Outer Hebrides.  But in turn, I had some of the best right-place-right-time moments of the last few years, where amazing light and scenery appeared before my eyes.  Looking through the images I noticed that I didn’t make any Calfiornia, or US, road trips this year.  I guess I was quite focused on the Lofoten islands, making 4 trips in total this year, one for every season.  That being said, I tried to balance out the collection a bit so that it wasn’t only Lofoten images, as it easily could have been.

Now to the images, in no particular order…

Winter dawn on Pen Y Fan from Corn Du, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Winter dawn over Pen Y Fan, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  February 2013

Pre-dawn winter hikes up Pen Y Fan have become something of a common occurrence of mine over the last couple years.  Despite their low elevation, I reallylove the mountains of the Brecon Beacons in south Wales.

 

Traditional Rorbu cabin reflects in fjord in evening light, Valen, Reine, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway
Photo: Rorbu reflection, near Reine, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2013

Normally I don’t include much architecture or man made structures in my images but as I was killing a bit of time at the end of the day before meeting up with a friend, I parked the car on the edge of the fjord, near these rob – fishermen’s huts.  I was walking in the other direction towards another photo when out of the corner of my eye, I caught the lights of the buildings come on, the occupants returning home for the evening.  This brought out just enough contrast against the heavily clouded sky.  I scaled down the rocky slope to the water’s edge and managed a few images before the rain began to fall.

 

Aurora Borealis - Northern Lights fill sky over Olstind mountain peak and reflect in fjord, Toppøya, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights over Olstind, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2013

Olstind and Northern Lights has been an image I’ve had in my mind for a number of years.  And this evening was my lucky night.

 

Stormy winter landscape at Haukland beach, Vestvågøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Haukland beach in winter, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2013

I’m not quite sure why I like this image as much as I do.  It was a shitty, stormy day, with temperatures warming and a cold rain beginning to fall and melt away the snow.  I was largely stuck held captive by the weather most of the day, remaining in my car most of the time, but as I was driving towards Utakleiv to camp for the night I noticed rain had stopped as I was passing Haukland beach.  I got my feet wet for this one.

 

Wild Welsh Mountain Pony near Hay Bluff, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Welsh mountain ponies, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  June 2013

Perhaps a little brighter than my usual style of recent years, I still like the feeling of this image, taken on one of my after dinner hikes up Twampa for a bit of exercise.  While the ponies in Iceland seem to get all the photographic love these days, there are also some cool ones cruising around the mountains of south Wales.

 

Female hiker watches sunset over mountains from summit of Glyder Fach, Snowdonia national park, Wales

Photo: Sunset on Glyder Fach, Snowdonia national park, Wales.  June 2013

This was my first hiking trip to Snowdonia since 2006.  Somehow the chosen weekend seemed to coincide with unusually brilliant weather.  After Hiking up Tryfan, we set up camp on the summit of Glyder Fach.  This is what sunset brought to the hight mountains that night.

 

Rainbow at Sunrise over mountains from Bunes Beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Bunes beach rainbow at dawn, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

This was a photo I nearly missed; due both to tiredness, and some nice light elsewhere.  But intuition took me out to the cliffs with this view and I nearly dropped my camera when this rainbow came into view.  A near perfect aligning of elements.

 

Open air mountain bivy on rocky summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Bivy on the summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

This is probably my favorite image of the year, though more for the moment than the photo itself.  Alone on the highest mountain in western Lofoten on a late summer’s evening, I took a few images as I was getting ready for bed.  To me, this photo is what the Lofoten islands are all about.

 

Evening twilight over Reine from summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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

I had journeyed up Reinebringen on this day with hopes of Northern Lights appearing in the night.  They never really did, but I walked away with this image.  It was worth the effort and the cold.

 

Stormy seas crash against dramatic coastal cliffs at Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland

Photo: Yesnaby, Orkney, Scotland.  October 2013

I had a few false starts (read: bad weather) during my week on Orkney, but on this evening everything seemed to come together.  The cliffs are wild and rugged, the sea stormy.  Just how I like it!

Northern Lights fill sky over Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Autumn Nights 2013

Northern Lights fill sky over Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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.

View towards Grytdalstind mountain peak, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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.

Northern Lights shine in sky over sea and mountains of Vestvagoy, from near Myrland, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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.

Evening twilight over Reine from summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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

Tent camping on narrow ridge of summit of Reinebringen mountain peak, Reine, Moskenesoy, lofoten Islands, Norway

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.

View over Reine and Fjord landscape from summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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.

View of Vik and Haukland beaches from summit of Holandsmelen mountain peak, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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

 

View from rocky summit of Holandsmelen mountain peak, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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.

Kroktind (707m) mountain peak reflects in small lake, Austvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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

 

Rugged mountain landscape viewed from summit of Kroktind (707m), Austvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

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…