Freelander

My acommodation house in Myrlandsfjorden

No other time in Norway have distances deluded me more than today. On the map, getting to the west end of Lofoten from my idyllic house by the Myrlandsfjorden seemed like a reasonable morning ride; but when I was about half the way I realized that the whole afternoon would slip out of my hands if I didn’t turn back, and besides I’d get wet, since the more I rode to the west, where the islands lean over the open Atlantic, the worse and cloudier the weather was getting.

Myrlandsfjorden as seen from my terrace

On the other hand, strange though it may seem, that much beauty presently blunted my senses; all those bends of the road, all that stopping the motorcycle every few kilometres for taking photos, for walking to the corner of a path, to the tip of a promontory, the seashore or the end of a jetty, and better enjoying this stunning nature, turned out overloading my perception. Continue reading →

Mountains of Bleik, 5 km south of Andenes

Right south of Andenes (on Andoya’s north end), the jagged crests of the Bleik mountains sticking their sharp, uneven fangs into the dark belly of the clouds on a cold grey rainy morning make for one of the most chilling sights along my trip in Norway; and such a sight makes me take the eastern, leeward road for going down the island, since I assume the weather along the west route will be more rainy and unpleasant.
Further down, there is the bridge between Strand and Sortland, impressive for its height and length.

This 1 km long bridge links Langoya island with the rest of the country

Norway seems to have a very practical policy regarding bridges, since you can find the same model repeated over and over. There must be more than hundred of these ugly but imposing colossus linking together the myriad islands of this uneven and beautiful litoral.

Somewhere in Gullesfjord, Finnoya island

Whomever has had the curiosity (and patience) of reading these chapters, where I’m narrating my changing and uncertain Journey to Nowhere and giving an account of the vicissitudes and impressions I’m finding on the way, will be by now familiar with the Trollfjord, one of the Hurtigrutten coastal route’s ships. Two times earlier I’ve run into her by chance: first on the very septentrional haven of Kjollefjord, and second on that of Tromso, where I was tempted to buy a ticket for a part of the route. According to the tourist office employees, probably the most beautiful stretch of the Hurtigrutten is the passage along the narrow Tengelfjorden channel between Hinnoya and Austvagoy, 20 km long and less than 200 m wide at its narrowest point, flanked by mountains whose peaks rise above the sea more than one thousand metres. Continue reading →

A windy day in Senja island

After ten days riding along Norway and writing this log, I’ve already exhausted my limited vocabulary of adjectives, having though barely conveyed an approximate idea of how irresistible, how majestically beautiful this country is, also despite so many pictures uploaded (only one third of those I took); but they’re all so pretty, so spectacular many, that selecting them takes me longer than writing the text; in which, by the way, I don’t know what other words to use for expressing my amazement without repeating myself. So, today I’m not even going to try; I won’t make fruitless literary efforts, but let the photos talk for themselves. And this short video, too. Continue reading →

Mud flats in Balsfjord, south of Tromso

Among all of Norway’s regions, brimming with surprising and magnificent nature, perhaps Lofoten archipelago provides the richest supply of panoramic views, so abundant they seem inexhaustible: the orography, the intricate maze of lakes and fiords, islands and channels, the overwhelming variety of landscapes, the villages, life, different climates… everything. No wonder this country is so extremely touristic despite its exorbitant prices, since whomever comes here for the first time will feel called to come back: for more narrowly exploring this fertile paradise of beauty o for longer enjoying the lovely places already visited. Continue reading →

Almost three hundred kilometres on my motorcycle from Alta to Tromso make for –by far– the longest stage during the past eighty days journeying to Nowhere; and also one of the most stunning. Not the case of Talvik, though, which is a sami village (rather a market), fifteen minutes away from Kvenvikmoen (where I’ve spent the night), stretching one hundred metres along the road and consisting of a few shops where a racially mixed bunch of people who still preserve some percentage of sami blood, armed to the teeth with wireless card machines, exhibit and sell at ridiculous prices their handcraft, charms and other presumedly traditional stuff, mostly meant for the bleeding hearts and the mighty wallets. Just another tourist trap.

Rosaura in Talvik, a sami market

Far from my feelings to gloat over the decline of races and cultures; I’m an incorrigible sentimental; but precisely for this reason I’d rather not fool myself: the harsh reality is that –same as many other ethnical minorities– the sami are almost totally extinct from Lapland territories. The last of them who were pure blood and led an authentic sami way of life must have passed away a bunch of decades ago and taken their folklore and traditions with them. What remains today is only good for some sensationalist or poetic documentary. Continue reading →