Today we face a striking point: Stad!

Stad is probably the trickiest spot on this journey to get around. The internet is full of dramatic stories and incidents that must have happened there. – Basically, it’s just a peninsula with a rocky outcrop that rises somewhat exposed into the Atlantic. But this is exactly where different wind and water currents meet, causing the infamous ‘cross seas’. To make matters worse, the rutted rock formations in the subsoil (below the water surface) cause the water currents to become unpredictable, capsizing and sinking even large ships.

One of the Norse sagas describes how, many hundreds of years ago, the Vikings simply could not find a way to sail or row around this rocky outcrop. Instead, they carried their boats over a mountain (!) to re-water them in the neighbouring fjord. Today, the Norwegian government is drilling a tunnel right there so that ships – especially scheduled tourist boats like the Hurtigruten – can safely pass this spot. This tunnel will be about 50 metres high (with a water depth of 12 metres), 27 metres wide and almost two kilometres long. Made for really fat boats. (Ships over 200 metres long have no problems around Stad. Comforting).

Before all these dramatic stories make you feel dizzy, Lois and I go to the harbour master, who monitors the straits with his employees in a command room. Here we learn that the situation looks calm today. But it can change quickly; to be on the safe side, we should ask the people in charge at Malöy or on the island of Söre Silda – that is, after about three hours of sailing…
We drive out of this unspoilt island world here, out into the open sea, and back into the sounds and through the waterways between the islands. But somehow I can’t really take in the beauty of nature, I’m too focused on the upcoming bypass, which should be ‘no problem’ today. – We pass Malöy unasked, because I want to enquire at Söre Silda (the people there are closer, I think). But then, after docking at this island and marching through the picturesque village, we don’t meet a single soul. Nothing, nobody there it seems!

So, back to the ArgoFram, board, off we go. – I head out a little tensely, the waves are increasing, the boat is being washed out hard, we are rocking high and low and there is no question of a fast ride in this wave pool. My tension is very high – until I see a few fishing boats between the crests of the waves, a little smaller than my ArgoFram, with recreational fishermen on them, calmly casting and hauling in their rods… What? They’re out here doing their recreational thing, in this up and down?! And I almost pee my trousers? What’s going on?!

In fact, I realise now that it is possible to spend too much time in one problematic place. – If these guys out here let themselves be rocked up and down in their nutshells for the pure joy of fishing, then it can’t be dangerous. Then I can drive through here long ago. I’ve got more than enough power under my butt, and my boat is swimming fine – so it’s all good. Only now I can lower my shoulders a little. Yes, I almost get pleasure from this rocking.

I agree, an engine breakdown would be very unpleasant (because then we would be washed up on the shore), so I go further out than necessary. Although, do I really think that a little more time before we hit the rocks would give me the chance to do something by hand with my one rudder blade or to radio for help?

I’m not going fast at around 30 km/h, but quite quickly… Rocking along is one option, getting through quickly is my choice. – What do I learn? I learn that even when everyone is shouting ‘watch out’, I can stay sober and let things happen to me without getting alarmed. Because I don’t have to go out into danger if conditions are not good; I’m here of my own free will. But maybe that’s part of the myth-making, to exaggerate things in advance.

So far I have been surprisingly unaffected by such fixations on problems. In an effort to pass through Stad in one piece, however, the stories have made me think a bit. And yes, it certainly doesn’t hurt to approach such places with respect. But it doesn’t have to be that I start worrying early in the morning when the situation could only get dicey at noon.

OK, Stad is overcome, serenity is gained. Now that the waters have calmed down again, I continue at normal speed to Stadlandet, the small town just behind this headland – the harbour is nice, but there are stones everywhere, I have to enter with caution. Seagulls nest on the harbour buildings, cawing and fluttering (and breeding?). Then I look for a free mooring and see children splashing in the water. Sure enough, there’s a man (in a wetsuit) and a bunch of children around him (also in wetsuits), enjoying themselves as if we were in the warm Mediterranean. Not quite; the water temperatures are frosty, it’s raining (what else) and the wind is blowing. And yet there seems to be joy here.

We quickly make contact, learn that the father is back after five weeks at sea, and everyone is now happy and enjoying themselves here in this sheltered harbour with its small sandy beach – we move to a guest jetty, but there is nothing in this harbour, no toilets, no showers, only an electricity connection at a harbour building, under whose small marquee we retreat and cook dinner.

Lois looks a little worn out. She too has sweated blood during this passage (as I notice now – earlier she didn’t let on). And the rain sucks, everything is wet, and will stay wet. But the family we had contact with earlier invites her to take a shower at their home and warm up a bit – how nice.

So Lois learns some more about life in Stadlandet, and why this family has found happiness here. Meanwhile, I set up camp for the night and cycle around a bit (I need that now). A cold shower afterwards is enough for me. – Later, we have a hot tea at the shelter, talk about this experience, about the fishermen in their wave-rocking boats, and the impressions we had when we rode around this mighty rocky outcrop. Because one thing is true: Here, different forces of nature from different directions meet each other in a tangible way. And the people passing through have only one thought – how are we going to get through safely?!

Truly, Stad is a special place. You can literally smell the elements of north and south colliding at this corner. Very impressive! – My ArgoFram guided me safely through here as well. So no reason for me to mystify this experience.