Returning to Land

Arrived in the harbor in Bodø this morning around 11am. And not a moment too soon...

This has been a trying week. As you all know, I'm not the most social guy around. In fact, I might even qualify as a misanthrope. ("The hell you say," you reply...) But even a saint might have been tried this past week.

That's not to say there weren't great moments. There were. There was even some connecting going on -- AFTER a stupendous meal of group-caught halibut and (especially after) peer-pressure-induced sampling of the various types of vodka. But for the most part, it was a case of "never the twain shall meet," and rather than get into specifics (and be accused of being yet another Ugly American), let's just leave the week as an incident of divergent cultures.

As a recuperative measure, and to escape the final night of our Polish guests' presence within the close confines of Polar Bear, I've rented a hotel room overlooking the harbor for the night. A solid bed; no one other than me snoring; a long, hot shower with no time limit; a clear mirror in which to shave at an unpressured pace...these are wonderful things, and all unavailable on a charter boat.

The goal is to recuperate before our next charter begins on Monday. An interesting way for an American, ugly or otherwise, to celebrate the Fourth of July: heading to sea en route to Jan Mayen Island with seven Norwegian hikers/climbers. We'll spend a few days there while they try to summit the big volcano at the northern end of the island, and then head south and west to Iceland.

Before that, however, there are two days of cleaning and prepping to do. And I hope to recap a bit of the past week -- highs and lows -- in between boat chores.

There is Magic on Earth

Polar Bear at anchor in the Nevelsfjord near Eidet

Another 3-4am anchor watch. But again, truth be told: the peace and quiet (snoring from throughout the boat notwithstanding) of an anchor watch is worth it.

I went for my longed-for hike yesterday afternoon. It was great to stretch my legs and the scenery on shore was lovely (and again, very Alaska-esque). Spongy bog and muskeg terrain made for a slog, and between the countless watercourses wending their way down from the high country above and the rain-laden trees and undergrowth, I was soaked through in very short order. My hiking sneakers and socks were inundated so that every step was like walking on a sponge -- while wearing sponges on your feet. The volume of water contained by the Earth in this habitat -- in the streams, the bogs, the swampy areas, beneath the hummocks of grass -- is just inconceivable. How much fresh water is there on the planet if all similar terrain at similar latitudes holds similar amounts of water? It staggers the mind.

The flowing water in the area made its way to the sea in many thin cascades that bounded down smoothed-rock mountain slopes of a glacial cirque. Beneath the slate-colored ramparts, the streams gathered into one fast- and clear-flowing torrent in a green plateau of small bushes and thin stands of trees. This creek launched off the ledge and down the final few hundred feet of elevation in a series of loud waterfalls, eventually entering the saltwater at the head of the fjord in a broad fan. While waiting for Boogie to pick me up in Polar Bear's dinghy, I watched several sea trout feed on the detritus carried down from the high country, including one fish that launched itself a good foot-and-a-half clear of the surface in a tail-wagging feeding frenzy.

As Boy Wonder had said, there were several moose-hunting stands in the area. From down low, near the sea's edge, to midway up the cirque, I must have seen half a dozen in just a short time. All were well-built and commanded great views of the terrain before them; I climbed one and found a plastic chair and a .30-06 casing. Unfortunately, the evidence I saw of the moose themselves was limited to tracks along the shore and one pile of moose nuggets.

Later this morning, we'll fire up Polar Bear's engines and head out of this fjord complex and down the coastline back to Bodø. The weather remains truly crappy, with low skies, high winds and periodic sheets of rain, despite a rapidly rising barometer. I suspect that unless things finally clear, we'll find strong winds and potentially lumpy conditions out in the open water. We'll tie up to the public dock in Bodø for the evening and the guests (along with Boy Wonder with his puppy dog, Mr. KIA Crewman, in tow) will depart on the afternoon flight on Friday. Boogie and Marlies and I will have a short time to get Polar Bear cleaned, provisioned and ready before the next set of guests arrive late morning on Saturday for the second of our two cruises here in northern Norway. I'm told these guests are two Polish families, with kids as young as 10, so a more conservative approach to the week of travel will likely be in order, especially if the weather remains this challenging.

File Under "Irony"

18 June
0245
On a 2-3am anchor watch. An anchor watch entails sitting around while everyone else sleeps, making sure the boat doesn't drag its anchor and move on its own into a perilous situation. Sounds dreadfully dull and, if we're being honest here, it's all that and more. Except this anchor watch.

Anchored up in a bay called, I believe, Mannbåen, about 13 miles northeast of Bodo. We motored here yesterday after an invasion of nine guests (eight Scots who are members of a kayaking/outdoor group) and made this short jump in order to get out of town. And here in this small bay, at the base of a sheer cliff protecting our northern flank, looking east up a fjord with Yosemite-like peaks and cliffs lining either side, it was the right call.

Especially sitting here in the cockpit alone. The peace and quiet and solitude is exactly why I head into the outdoors, be it in a boat, on foot, on a plane or any other method. And this particular moment might just be the best moment I've had since I joined Polar Bear more than a month ago in England.

Just three hours ago I crawled into my bunk and amid the cacophony of 15 other people (especially a bunch of Scots on holiday who've been cooped up in planes for many hours) enclosed within the confines of a sailboat, plugged my noise-canceling headphones into my iPad and fired up an application, Ambient. I still have no idea when or why I downloaded the freebie app, but trying to fall asleep in that craziness made the benefits of an app that plays peaceful sounds of birdsong trilling alongside a running river painfully clear. The name of the program? Paradise.

The sounds were indeed peaceful, serene and (thankfully) sleep-inducing, but true paradise had arrived in the form of an hour-long watch, alone, with the midnight sun shining on the snow-dappled peaks and flanks of island mountains all around me and as far as the eye could see. The sound of the ankle-high waves 300 yards distant have replaced the recorded river and real birdsong cascades from the trees just beyond the shoreline. A whisper of breeze flowed past my earlobes, generating a pleasing whistle and a gull splashed in the inky-black water just feet away and looked at me as though expecting a handout. We shared the moment and he went off to more productive locations.

Paradise? No, it's not on a digital tablet, thanks. I've found it in Alaska, in New England, the Rocky Mountains and countless other places. And now it's all around me here in a Norwegian fjord at two in the morning.

Midnight Sun Above the Arctic Circle

I went to the bar on the top floor (the 13th) of the Radisson Hotel for a glass of wine last night and...oh, what a view! It reminded me of the view from the Crow's Nest in Anchorage (atop the Captain Cook Hotel) except Bodo has a lot more charm than Los Anchorage (everyone knows I love Anchorage but that's not much of a stretch, really). Anyway, here are some iPhone photos (complete with a few funky reflections off the windows) of the scenery here in Bodo last night. So with apologies to Ed McMahon: heeeeere's Bodo!

Looking southeast, out over the airport (and airbase)...








...then east over the football (soccer) stadium to some neat-looking peaks (gotta be some climbing out there)...








...and on to the northeast, where you can see the big, snow-covered mountains in the distance...








...now over the harbor and the mountainous islands just northwest of town...








...and finally south over the small-boat harbor and the islands through which we came from Shetland on Monday.








"Sunset" at this latitude at this point in June means the sun dips behind the mountains to the northwest for a bit.










Self-portrait in the midnight sun. The '80s tune "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night" fits at this latitude.

Dateline: Norway

The Norwegian coastline from several miles offshore. Bodo is vaguely visible on the waterline in the distance

Arrived in Bodo, Norway, (posts written en route are below) yesterday evening right after dinner. And appearances have turned into reality: it truly is stunning here...helped by bright, warm sunshine. Alaska-like mountains cut by fjords, offshore islands rising out of the sea, dolphins and whales bounding around the bay...I could get used to this.

It is, however, incredibly expensive. Eight bucks for a beer; $18 for a rum-and-coke! But the people are friendly and enjoying the northern summer with its 24-hour sunshine. All eight crew members adjourned to a waterfront bar upon arrival (I had a shower in the harbor facilities first: $5 for 10 minutes) where a couple of serious drunks took a liking to our group and provided some serious entertainment: tall tales of the area's fauna, sparking up a joint on the patio, stumbling to get refills.

Approaching Bodo...a little closer this time

The bartender was a Brazilian guy named Tchiago who came to Bodo a few years ago to play professional soccer a collegiate career at UC-Santa Barbara. Now he tends bar while he starts up a surfing service in the area. You got it: surfing. He gave me the beta on breaks and a place the rents boards and wetsuits out in the Lofoten Islands -- where we're headed on Friday for the first of two, one-week cruises -- so I'm cautiously optimistic that I can grab a wave or two while I'm here, though I can only imagine how expensive a rental board will be.

The Bodo harborfront in warm sunshine

One other observation: in addition to being a lot like Alaska -- think Seward or Valdez, only Bodo is a MUCH bigger city -- it's also kinda like San Diego: fighter jets take off from the nearby airbase pretty much constantly.




The Bodo Welcoming Committee