Last Updated on May 12, 2023 by PowersToTravel
In June 2001, at the age of thirty-eight, I visited Norway with my parents Dave and Lila Kirkwood on a self-designed, self-planned and jointly executed twenty-one day expedition. It was truly a bonding experience!
Remember, this was back before I could use the Internet for booking accommodations. There were some Internet resources available to learn about the country, but email served as my booking tool, and only for the first couple and last couple of hotels. For the rest, we winged it.
A GPS in the car? Oh, no. I bought a spiral bound one hundred page 14×11″ Veiatlas Norge that contained detailed maps for every area of the country. It weighed down the suitcase, but got us to where we needed to go. It was published in 1998 and never re-published. Wonder why?
Google translate? Certainly not; I bought and carried a Norwegian/English dictionary. I did buy a Berlitz tape entitled “How to Speak Norwegian” which I listened to on my thirty minute commute for six months. I got really good at asking “Hvor mye skjorten i vinduen” (How much is the shirt in the window?)
My photographs aren’t digital, that is, they weren’t originally. They, in the volume of hundreds, were developed at CVS and brought home to be physically touched and treasured. Eventually a couple of years ago I scanned them all and now they are able to be inserted into this travel blog.
Suitcases with wheels? Because I was traveling with my parents and we had a lot of luggage to cram into a single rental car we did not splurge to buying luggage with structure and four wheels. I was lucky to have two wheels on my duffle bag.
I did not have a cell phone with an international plan. I can’t actually remember whether I even had a flip-phone back then. Was it just a little flat device with a numeric keypad? I wouldn’t know because I never took a picture of it. The cell phone went into the luggage at the beginning of the trip never to emerge until the final day. What did this mean? On a very positive note – no calls from work. I became totally detached from my job. On a negative note – no tools whatsoever. We had to use pay phones with calling cards to arrange accommodations! I used a separate alarm clock, even.
This was before I met my husband, so evenings were spent hiding from my parents, guarding personal time in the little bedroom in the cabins we rented. That’s a good explanation for the level of detail in my trip journal, which I now share with you, twenty-two years later.
Some hints to understand this journal
Speak the Language:
- Barney is a large purple duffle two-wheeled suitcase.
- The Grey is a medium softsided, no-wheeled bag.
- Duffy is Mom’s black duffle two-wheeled suitcase.
- A Rorbu is a Lofoten fishermen’s cabin with a kitchenette – sometimes a single room (which we did not rent), sometimes one bedroom with a set of bunks and a set of bunks in the living area, and sometimes, how exciting, two actual bedrooms, still generally with bunk beds! You have to bring your own linens. They are often red because red is the color of the fishermen buildings in the caste system there.
- A Sjohus is a “sea house” which is NOT a rorbu – it is a hostel-like building with a central living area and multiple bedrooms. Once we accidently booked into a sjohus and were not happy.
- Everyone under the age of 50 speaks English
Be Patient:
- When with photographers, such as my parents, you always have an opportunity to sit on a rock, let the wind blow through your hair, and experience the wideness.
Be Frugal:
- Length of trip and number of sights experienced is all important.
- How many peanut-butter sandwiches consumed is unimportant. Re-reading this journal after so many years and re-experiencing the dining is appalling and unappetizing!
My husband is very glad he did not read this journal before he fell in love and married me. The reading of it might have made for a short romance on his part.
Flight – Tuesday Night, June 5
The plane trip from Boston to Amsterdam to Oslo was smooth and uneventful.
Oslo city visit – Wednesday, June 6
At Oslo we were greeted by a folk band at the entrance to the international arrivals. I wished I had thought to take a picture. We exchanged some money there, and later wished we had exchanged more, because the rate here turned out to be better, (and the commission was less than at the American Express in Oslo.)
We followed the signs for the Flytog (Airport Train, pronounced ‘Flea-Toe-Guh).
I tried to buy my ticket, and asked the man, ‘How Much?’ and he said several times, ‘Two-fifty’. I’m looking for two kr and 50 cents. What he really meant was two-hundred-and-fifty, which was about $25.
A smooth forty-minute train-ride through lush green fields (with grey overcast skies). Even with the gloomy skies, it was beautiful. There was a TV monitor on the train, so we could see the weather forecast for New York (sun, of course). Occasionally a Norwegian voice would announce the stops, and then again in English, but the English was un-intelligible.
With my fine Norwegian language knowledge I understood that our stop was next and the exit was to the right. I managed to get Barney and his friend, the soft grey carry-on (‘the Grey’), to the appropriate door. ‘I think it’s to the left’, said Mom. ‘No, I understood it; it’s to the right.’. Well, I never knew my rights from my lefts, and I had to sort out getting myself and my luggage up the steps and around the TV monitor stand to get to the ‘Left’ exit. We arrived at the National Theatrat station, took a taxi to the Comfort Hotel Savoy on Universitaritat near the National Theater.
The hotel was small and friendly. The elevator fit only about two people. It itself had no door, and you had to push open this heavy corridor door in order to get into the elevator. It was masterful maneuvering that got me, Barney, and my Grey in and out of the elevator, along with Mom. Luckily Duffy, as the Black was later known, had gone up with Dad.
My single room was small, and looked out onto an inner courtyard. But it was fine. Mom and Dad’s was much larger and had a bathroom ‘you could hold a dance in’. It looked out onto a side street – right onto the National Library, I believe.
We went out for sightseeing in the City. I had planned well (naturally, I had spent days, and weeks on the Internet), and our hotel was only two blocks from the main drag. We passed the National Theater again, then on down to the ‘Radhus’ (or town hall). It was such a surprise.
A building made of several squares, looking blocky and unimaginative, but between two of the square wings was a long, cascading fountain, with a statue of two long-necked courting birds. There were wood-carved bas-reliefs mounted on the sides of the wings, painted in bright colors and looking very Viking-ish. The interior was a huge empty room lined with bright tile and bright painting, in a very Egyptian style. It cost money to enter, so naturally we just peered in through the door and I took a picture.
We strolled on the Bryggen (wharf) a bit; it was chilly and overcast. But fresh feeling. I realized I needed sugar. I popped into a kiosk, grabbed a coke, and then to be really Norwegian, asked ‘Hvor Mye??’ (voor-mi-a). (After all, I had spent the previous months listening and babbling to Berlitz). I guess my Norwegian was good, because he answers, but I couldn’t understand it. I smiled sheepishly at him, and said “I’m sorry, that’s all I know. I can’t understand Norwegian!” That was the last of my spoken Norwegian for ten days.
We went around the block several times trying to find an open bank, believing that the exchange rates would be lower in Oslo, since we were flying to Bodo the next morning. Finally we found the American Express Office. Mom as usual runs off in search of a ‘toallette’. Dad tries to exchange money, gets half-way through the transaction and then discovers he has no passport, that it is in the Ladies’ room with Mom. Everything stops until Mom returns with passport. Dad, as usual, seems to think he needs to make some smart remark to the teller about needing a weapon to protect himself after he has cashed so much money. Mom and I get mad at him because he’s not funny and it’s dangerous and not nice to the tellers, even though he’s smiling.
We strolled up the Franz Joseph Gate, past the Storting, which is the Parliament. The road then turns into a pedestrian walk. The amazing thing was that there were few buildings in the city taller than 5 stories.
It was very nice and just a little crowded. We saw the Domkirke (church). All the while, the sky was leaden and grey, and it was just a bit chilly. But it didn’t rain on us. We then decided to find somewhere to eat. I guess we were tired, because nothing looked good to us. We had finally decided to go to Friday’s (yes, that’s TGI Fridays) because the other prices looked so high. But then there was a long wait. So we didn’t stay. We finally got almost to our own hotel street, and saw an Italian restaurant, Brasserie 45. And it appeared to be less expensive. So we popped up, and discovered there’s a wait there too. This time we were so tired, we just decided to sit and wait at the bar. No sooner than we were seated than the maitre d’y says our table is ready. I can’t remember what I ate there, but it was pretty good.
Flight to Bodo and Hurtigruten to Lofoten – Thursday, June 7
I slept well the whole night, and woke just before my alarm. I was in the shower and my alarm went off. I just have to learn to shut the darn thing off. So I was running across the room, soaking wet. I popped to Mom and Dad’s room (after dressing, that is) and found them in lesser spirits. Apparently their lovely side-street room was a rowdy one, including road construction and party-carryings-on. Dad was staggering around (but not from paryting!)
I was so ready to go, that I decided to pop out to the Seven-Eleven for some cookies/snacks for the airplane flight. The walk was longer than I expected and turned into about six blocks there and six back, which made me late to breakfast. The promised huge Norwegian breakfast buffet didn’t happen at this hotel. There was a breakfast buffet but it was moderate by American standards and wasn’t that tasty. And then to top if all off, I left my cookies in the hotel dining room.
Off to the airport, via taxi, flytog. Caught the flight to Bodo, everything going smoothly. Lunch was good on the plane. We arrived in Bodo and the skies were still heavy and overcast. We quickly found the car rental, and we were the only people wanting to rent. She told us that we will be very happy with our car. We found our car and we were! It was a fairly large Toyota. The back seat, my home, actually was built for three, so the middle seat, where I always sit, was very comfortable.
We got on the road and quickly arrived in Bodo. It is a small, workaday port town, with several ferry terminals, and commercial quays as well.
It seemed bleak, with the snow-drapped mountains, and fog, the mountains not being high enough to be impressive, just looming. People don’t seem to put themselves out much for the tourist. The window at the terminal was closed and the people that were there in the next office tried to ignore us. So, we took off back to town. Mom remembered this town from their previous Hurtigruten cruise, and was able to remember us back to a very nice store, where she had bought her Norwegian sweater. I didn’t find my sweater there, but beautiful linens, one of which I bought for Margaret, especially considering they are Swedish!
Naturally we stopped for food at the grocery. You will find that while some cars and people can’t pass a pub, our car couldn’t pass a grocery store without popping in. That’s us, popping in, not the car. Back to the ferry terminal, waiting in queue for the lift to bring us down to the lower innards of the ferry. Some of the Hurtigruten are new, fancy cruise ships, and others are vintage ships. We were traveling in a vintage ship which wasn’t intended for RORO (roll-on, roll-off, as the Scots say).
So, we had to drive on to the lift, and be lowered down. Once down in the hold, among the food and building supplies for the Far North of Norway, we gathered our things and headed for a lounge.
To our dismay, the ship was packed with people. We went from lounge to dining room to deck to cafeteria and everywhere were people, standing in the aisles, waiting to grab a seat. This isn’t what the guide books said would happen, and not what Mom and Dad remembered of the Hurtigruten. We joined the throng, standing in the cafeteria; then two people left a table; Dad and I grabbed the chairs, one of which was a bench-seat, and the three of us squeezed in. The people we joined didn’t look too pleased, but with a four-hour trip ahead of us, we just smiled and acted friendly.
The couple we joined warmed up to us slowly. They explained the reason for the crowds. They were a part of a party which had just joined the Hurtigruten and was on the cruise until the Vesteralens. That’s why there was such a mob scene. The good news was that if anyone wanted to leave the table, to go to the store, catch a view, there was always one of us to watch the luggage. We were also right at the door to a lower outside deck. I went out several times just to sit on the chilly deck and watch the weather. We watched the luggage for our new friends, and they for us. Never would have done that in Boston, but in Norway… Mom showed pictures of Maine, and gave the woman a picture of Portland Head Light. When Mom was up on deck for pictures, the woman told me how touched she was by Mom’s gift. Turns out the man was a mayor of a small town in southern Norway, and as a parting gift, gave Dad his mayoral pin.
Mom and I found the ship’s store, of course, and it was there I bought my Norwegian sweater. I also went out on the deck; so that’s where the poor souls ended up who couldn’t find a seat… They were bundled up in parkas, sitting on lounge chairs in the open air. If I had had my ski-jacket with me I would have stayed longer because it was fresh, but I certainly hadn’t expected to need it on a Hurtigruten trip, and it was stowed in the trunk of the car, in the hold.
For dinner, we ordered from the cafeteria, which also did real meals. As I said, they don’t go out of their way for tourists here, and this time it meant that the menu was only in Norwegian. Luckily we had a Norwegian Mayor at our table, and nicely asked him to come to the cafeteria line and read us the menu. I ordered Prynn i Panne. It turned out to the best meal I had in Norway. It was sort of like a breakfast, with a pan-fried hash made of tiny cubes of beef, potatoes and onions. Then three fried eggs on top. I still remember it, three months later (and twenty-two years later!)
As we approached the Lofotens, the weather started to clear, and we were able to see the Lofoten-veggan (wall) in mist and sunshine. It was a fantastic sight, especially after all of the dreary weather so far. The Lofoten-veggan is a very long (I don’t know how long, maybe 150 kilometer) stretch of jagged mountains, emerging out of the sea as you approach it from the mainland.
The harbor was Stamsund. It seemed forever before we got out of the hold. They had to unload all these skids of Lettuce and Lumber, and god knows what else, before they had cleared a space for the cars to get to the elevator.
We popped off the boat, and before we knew it, we were out of town, looking for Yttervik’s Rorbuer. Somehow, I thought that since Stamsund was a Hurtigruten port, it would be developed. I expected some sort of luxury rorbuer, with a fine restaurant. Well, being ’right at the port’ did not mean that it was at the Hurtigruten quay, which had no fine restaurants anyway, but up and around, and at the fishing port.
We finally found Yttervik, or his delegate, in a working boathouse, and he escorted us to our fine lodgings. The rorbuer were certainly authentic; they were in two rows, with the road in the middle, and with the huge fish-drying racks tented like huge stilts above the road. There were no fish on these racks, which was lucky for us, as we found out later.
The rorbu (singular for ‘rorbuer’) had three rooms – two tiny bedrooms and a living area. Just shacks; you could see the water below between the cracks in the hall. They had board floors, and built-in tiny twin beds. Unfortunately, there was no heat in one of the bedrooms. And it was cold up there in the first week of June! I ended up dragging my mattress into the corner of the living room which had a small radiator. Apparently the other bedroom, although it had heat, had absolutely no insulation between it and the bathroom! The key to the shanty was tied to a large cork float the size of a baseball (so we wouldn’t lose it when we went boating. Boating, I don’t think so…)
Well, it was only eight or so at night, and the night was young. We went out for a drive, didn’t see anything to photograph, but decided to pop into a local tavern for dessert. Well, what a surprise. It was a really nice and cozy place; the walls were lined with books; we asked if they had dessert, and they gave us a menu. I wasn’t quite acclimated to the cost of things, so when the menu said ’85 kr’ it didn’t register with me that that was $8.50! I had an $8.50 ‘Swan on Glace’ which was a swan made of shaped sponge-cake, floating on a sea of kiwi syrup with forest fruits.
That night was memorable, mainly because it was never night. We were exhausted, and I was on the living room floor, with no curtains at the windows. I awoke at one in the morning, to see a beautiful red sunrise streaking across the sky and the sea-birds calling out the dawn. I wondered when the birds ever slept, and burrowed myself into the corner, and finally woke at around 6 in the morning.
South to Reine – Friday, June 8
Dad was in better spirits that morning. He had apparently not experienced the sunrise, and had actually gotten a full night’s sleep for the first time in several days.
After all my research on Rorbuer and Norwegian accommodation, it never occurred to us that ‘You must supply your own Linens’ includes ‘Towels’. Well, we had brought our Bed Linens, but luckily Mom had brought One Towel. That morning the three of us shared the One Towel. In addition, the shower ‘stall’ had no separate floor; the water from the shower just landed on the floor, and supposedly went down a drain. Well, for the 2nd person in the bathroom that morning, which was me, that meant that when standing at the sink, I was standing in a inch of cold water.
We packed up, and headed up the road towards Leknes. We stopped at a local church which was on the side of a hill, overlooking the harbor. There was a beautiful garden and cemetery, very private, with a memorial to the sailors lost at sea. Just before we got to Leknes, we came over a rise, and the town was spread in a bowl-shaped valley, with the lake in the distance, and the mountains all around. The guide books had said that Leknes was a hum-drum administrative center. They said nothing about the breath-taking view.
And if grocery stores and gas stations and restaurants are hum-drum, well, I can live with hum-drum. The town was actually big enough to sport two rotaries, which meant two more opportunities for us to have a three-some panic-attack as we decided what direction to go. We stopped for lunch fixings, searched for, and found, Towels, and headed south to Flakstad, the island just south of Vestvagoy.
The mountains grew wilder and wilder; unfortunately so did the weather. The beautiful dawn deteriorated into rain and fog. We stopped for lunch at Flakstad beach, a beautiful place we were to visit a number of times (and in better weather), and continued on our way to Reine. We took a detour down to Nusfjord, not knowing if we would ever see these sights in sun.
We arrived at our Sakrisoy Rorbuer, on a small island named Sakrisoy, just north of Reine. These were the ochre-colored (mustard) rorbus I had seen on the Internet. But the sea was not turquoise and the mountains were not visible.
These too were ‘authentic’ which in this case meant racks and racks of drying fish right outside the inland window. Although they did smell, they didn’t smell as much or as bad as they looked, with their tails tied together, hanging over the wooden rails. And if that isn’t a grimace of death, I don’t know what is. It’s hard to believe that Stockfish is a delicacy in Italy.
Set on an inlet, we did not have a view of Reine, which I had hoped for, however, that afternoon no-one had a view of Reine, as it remained cloudy and foggy. Bummer, to arrive in the Lofotens and the weather to be ugly. It’s not as if I hadn’t studied the weather forecasts on an hourly basis during the week prior to the trip. In fact, those forecasts said that it would be ugly all week. We had been teased by the beautiful morning into thinking everything had changed. Well, it hadn’t. So we settled in and I took a nap. The really nice thing about the rorbuer was that while you couldn’t see Reine, you could see down the coast to the in-coming weather. I woke from my nap, looked out the window, and saw a band of light to the south. I watched and watched and it grew bigger and bigger.
With excitement we bundled ourselves back into the car, and headed the few miles south to Reine. The weather was really breaking and Reine was beautiful. We stopped several times for pictures, and headed south towards Å that’s the name of a town).
The villages, Sorvegan and Å, were tiny towns, and the only restaurant in Å wouldn’t open for an hour. So, hungrily we headed back towards Reine. We went into Reine, and found the only restaurant. It looked on the expensive side, so we decided to buy some ingredients at the gas station and make dinner. We bought canned spaghetti. At the time it seemed a good idea. But in retrospect, if you are eating cereal for breakfast, sandwiches in the car for lunch, it is just a good idea to brighten up your culinary day with a dinner out. I mean, who eats canned spaghetti in the US? Why should we do it in Norway?
We decided we’d like some bread with the meal, and the nearest grocery was just a mile away, so we sent Dad to get us some bread. Since he was the only person allowed to drive the rental car he became consistently the ‘errand-boy’. The minutes passed, and passed, and soon it was at least forty-five minutes and no Dad. We started to get a little worried. How could he get lost on a straight road?
Then he arrives, full of pride in his accomplishment. He has fresh bread. Well, sort of fresh, at least hot. Turns out the grocery up the street was closed and he had to go back to the gas station in Reine. There he didn’t like the bread, and asked if there was any other. They said, could he wait? They would make him some. It’s not quite as homey as that sounds. The Mobil Mart-type places in Norway, known as Tiger-buttiks (that’s pronounced ‘boutique’, not the other word) have these refrigerated breads that they periodically bake to always have fresh bread. But it doesn’t taste quite like fresh bread. Well, anyway, it was an acceptable meal, canned spaghetti, and fresh bread.
But the day was not done. In the north of Norway, where the sun doesn’t set, when the day is clear, you just go and go and go. Why sit at home in the evening when there are sights to see and clear skies to see them with? So, off we went, heading back north to the beach at Flakstad.
We parked at the beach, and wondered if we should wait until midnight, to see the midnight sun. But it was only 10:30, and the sun was still very high and we were getting very tired.
But as we pondered, a storm came tearing through, giving us a beautiful double rainbow.
So, we packed it in, and headed back to our rorbu.
The end of the road in Å – Saturday, June 9
Well, so much for the clear skies. That’s why you stay up all hours when it is clear, because you just know that the next day will be like this day, foggy and drizzly. We breakfasted on Fyreskake. We never did figure out the ingredients on this ‘Hostess’-type goody. Mom attempted to make milk out of the ‘Dried Milk’ she had bought. Well, she thought it was Melke (milk) because it was labeled Melle. Well, the powdered sugar didn’t make the best milk. (We later ditched it in one of the rorbu. You tended to find the oddest things in the cupboards of the rorbuer).
We headed south to Å again, because I knew of the fishing museum in Å, and thought, well, if it has to rain, at least we’ll stay dry and see something. Well, it was a zero on both counts. It rained, and we discovered that the fishing museum, so touted in the guidebooks, only contains about five buildings. And you have to walk between them. With only one umbrella and a soggy map which we were obliged to return after our tour, we dashed from building to building. There were no interpreters, only Norwegian labels on things. A very unsatisfactory visit.
Especially exciting was the ‘Woodshed’, a lean-to in the back of a building with a band saw. That was one of the five buildings open to the public. We gratefully hiked back to our car and high-tailed it back to Reine.
One bright spot in the day was our visit to the Antique shop. There are not very many of them in Norway, and our Rorbu hosts had an Antique shop that also sold Waffles. We browsed around, and then had several waffles with strawberries, for lunch. Back to our rorbu and another nap.
For dinner that evening we used some food we had bought in the gas-station the night before. Naturally my dictionary was not in hand at the gas station, and we saw this packet of who knows what. Then upon getting back to the rorbu, and the dictionary we found that we have bought Noodles and Cheese Sauce. Some things just seem more adventurous abroad! Well, one thing that is adventurous is following directions on packages when they are in Norwegian, none of the words are in my handy-dandy pocket dictionary, and all the measurements are in metric. However, following the directions exactly, I was able to make a very decent dinner, if you consider quasi-Kraft’s Macaroni and Cheese decent.
Remembering our experience the night before, when the weather cleared, we decided to head north again. I wanted to see the Artscape which was just north of town. Northern Norway, because of its sparse population, had commissioned thirty or so sculptors and artists to create art that would sit in its natural surroundings, rather than in one single museum. We had seen the sign on the side of the road, and decided to investigate. We all wandered around and around, looking for the Artscape, with no success. Dad found a Fork in the Road (actually a fork in the hiking path).
He later, on many, many occasions, when we needed to decide a direction, would reach down and flourish his Fork in the Road. Other than that, we found zilch. As I say again and again, they don’t seem to do much for tourists in Norway. They go to the bother of putting up an official signpost, and then don’t tell you which end of the parking lot has the artscape. The weather never did break, and we returned forlornly to our rorbu.
Click here for Part 2 – My First Foray into Norway – Lofoten Islands the Fjords
