During the night there was a big storm – the wind rocked my ArgoFram again and again, and when I stepped out of the cabin in the morning, I saw that my flag had been torn away. Goodbye Swiss cross (now I have to mount the reserve flag; after last year’s aluminium cross broke off, probably due to the vibrations at sea, I had a new, lighter one made of Forex – of course in duplicate).
Lovund was more than worth a detour, but now it’s obvious to go to a sheltered harbour… But the question is justified: what is ‘sheltered’ here? When it blows in, no one can stop these forces. At best, they can reduce them. But to have a solid roof over our heads, to take a shower, to prepare a meal without wind and rain, that would be something – luxury!
Bodö is to be our next destination, a larger town with over 40,000 inhabitants, badly maltreated by the Germans in the Second World War, rebuilt like a chessboard thanks to the stubbornness of these northerners. Today with an airport and regular connections to Oslo… It is foreseeable that Lois will disembark here. But we will enjoy the last few days until then, going all touristy and swallowing up every highlight, no matter how modest.
The harbour is filled with all kinds of boats; sailing boats of all types, motor boats, also many inflatables (for tourist purposes), a large yacht (over 24 metres) already lying there waiting for its owner and his guests, and of course many fishing boats. Toilet facilities and showers are also available, even a laundry room – the only thing missing is a lounge with at least a minimal kitchen. Reason enough for Lois to quickly find a suitable hotel (with an attached fitness centre) – we soon settle in there.
Now we split up again – I go my way for a sightseeing tour of the city (specifically, I want to see one of those Midsummer Festivals with a big bonfire today – which unfortunately turns out to be a rather modest neighbourhood event for local families and especially for the tots, cross-generational cultivation of tradition, so to speak, which seems to be over and forgotten after just one hour), and Lois pursues her interests. Wonderful. At some point we meet for afternoon tea and exchange ideas – she wants to visit the museum about shipping next, because an old but excellently preserved goods transport boat is exhibited there, or rather the museum was built around this boat. And I would like to use the contacts I made at the harbour for a boat trip to the ‘strongest current in Europe’… Finally, we can virtually hook up with a tour operator with my ArgoFram when he sets off with his guests in the RIB for an ‘adventure trip’. These are the two things we do together – and we plan to actively recover, hitting the gym at least once a day if the weather is anything to go by! That will do us good when we feel our muscles again the way we are used to. Also because a visit to the sauna is tempting afterwards. And we also want to eat well, try out this or that restaurant… The days will be full again; let’s go!
So the time we spend in Bodö flies by – the museum with its boat, a Jekt (!), and the knowledge tidbits grouped around it about the history of this long strip of land between the Lofoten and Bergen, which we sailed along, about the types of boats of the past centuries and about the people who tried their luck here and probably found it to a large extent, is highly recommended. It also impressively describes the economic situation using the example of herring/stockfish, i.e. how fishing, drying/salting and transporting to Great Britain and Northern Europe ensured survival in these northern latitudes for many generations, even centuries. All this has been magnificently presented in this museum and even a visit of several hours is so interesting that we don’t notice how time has passed here either.
Our ‘adventure trip’ is completely different: the tour operator goes out with a colleague and a total of two RIBs the size of mine, but with a dozen weatherproofed people on board each, to take a large arc to a rather short sound of a few hundred metres to explore the water whirls that occur here. Of course, this natural spectacle only occurs at certain tide levels, when water is pushed through the sound from one side to the other. The currents and water turbulence formed in the process look spectacular (especially as seen from the bridge stretched across the sound). We on the boat also keep a respectful distance – until I realise that the whirls could never pull us down. Our buoyancy is too great for that, and the propulsion too strong for us not to get out of there again. Nevertheless, I don’t recommend anyone to get too close to it with a rowing boat – the current is enormous, and an impressive experience for tourists (but still not to be compared with what I experienced last year in the Pentland Firth between Scotland and the Orkneys). Much more ‘action’ is offered by the eagle family, which we then surprise in a side fjord while fishing/lunching. The way these huge birds fight over every fish (one catches, the others try to take it from him/her) is remarkable. It is not only one of a kind, but also a unique spectacle for a non-ornithologist like me. What luck! Nobody comes here without a boat – and not without the tip of our tour operator!
But the return trip will be just as memorable: in the meantime, the wind has increased, the tidal current has inflated dramatically, and I struggle to follow the two RIBs. The water is splashing everywhere, visibility is limited (Lois is feverishly trying to keep the windshield clear with the rubber scraper) and it is cold on my hands… I still watch the two boats ahead moving in the wave valleys; they seem to be ducking behind the crests of the waves to protect themselves from the whipping wind. We are sailing in a northward flowing wave trough towards Bodö, and I feel like Luky Skywalker in Starwars when he steers the appropriate way through and along the trench in the final scene on the Death Star. However, I have to ‘hop over’ individual wave crests again and again to get into the next valley and zigzag towards the harbour – I don’t even want to imagine how the (inexperienced?) passengers, who can do nothing but sit there and worry, might feel. Adventure, after all. But all the watching and keeping up and still steering adequately becomes too much at some point and I have to break away, find my own way.
Done – the next wave rushes in from diagonally behind and I have to decide in a flash whether to sit behind the wave crest or accelerate… Too late, the decision is taken from me; I can’t complete the turn with the boat in time, and so we rush out over the crest and slap into the next wave in front of us from behind without a point – and dive in violently with the bow. But somehow the ArgoFran seems to regain buoyancy and the powerful engine keeps pushing us forward. There’s no time to think and exercise control – yes, control has slipped away. But because we are ‘in the flow’, the ArgoFram straightens up again, the water around us is flushed out, and I can do my job as boatmaster again. Whew!
Marko has told me time and again that his boats are robust. No question, they are. But they are still not submarines, not even the ArgoFram. – Any luck? In any case: with each of these experiences, with each successful border crossing, I become noticeably more competent. In future, I will be able to better assess what is possible and remain ‘cool’ about it. Maybe I’m not always in control, but at least I have an overview. Not overestimating myself, but reacting appropriately, a kind of emphatic expansion of consciousness, brings me further – this passage back to the safe harbour of Bodö, in any case, has brought me enormously further.
Lois also seems a bit agitated… All these experiences, the current whirlpools, the eagles, the journey home, in such a short time, all that has to be digested first. – We go to the fitness centre; she goes straight to the sauna, I under the free weights (still have to get rid of something).
In the evening I walk down to the harbour again. And enjoy this special atmosphere around midnight summer time. The constant clouds in the sky gently indicate that it could rain down again at any time. – The harbour lamps burn at full power, actually superfluous, but they burn. A strange picture, as if we human children were trying to hold something up to our sun.
Time passes, becomes relative. For it never gets dark here in the north in summer. Energy in abundance, it seems. But that’s deceptive; I have to be careful not to burn out.