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Wild at heart, Northern Norway, part 1

Wild at heart Northern Norway, part 1 SOUTH TVERRFJORD, northern Norway- Flying fish splash back in the glassy still fjord. Sea eagles perch on jagged cliffs. Aboard our fishing boat, we spray the water with pellets feeding 80,000 waiting salmon.

Wild at heart

Northern Norway, part 1

SOUTH TVERRFJORD, northern Norway- Flying fish splash back in the glassy still fjord. Sea eagles perch on jagged cliffs. Aboard our fishing boat, we spray the water with pellets feeding 80,000 waiting salmon.

Henning and Frank pour me cups of fishermen’s muddy, black coffee. I can’t stay awake. My eyelids are as heavy as bricks – too many seasickness pills again. Another typical day salmon farming in South Tverrfjord, Troms, Norway.

I’m criss-crossing northern Norway collecting Midnight Sun stories. It’s a wild ride – living, laughing (and crying), walking a mile in the shoes of Arctic people. We wind along the fjord road; passing store/post office, ferry dock and grazing goats. We visit elderly ladies and a British choirmaster.

And everyone tells me the same wartime story – The Embracing Couple. Fleeing the Germans, they escaped into the mountains and hid in a remote cave. When the war ended, a local boat came to rescue them. The couple were found, frozen together in a heartbreaking, last embrace.

Wild, beautiful, tragically romantic? Northern Norwegians are characters, every last one I meet. Characters straight out of a Knut Hamsun novel or a Monty Python movie. I’ve met fishermen, farmers, adventurers, artists, entrepreneurs… even a German chef named Ringo.

The landscape shapes people born, bred and living here it seems. For instance, many mountain people seem shy, kind, solid-as-a-rock, deep, soulful thinkers. Sea people seem moody like the sea; passionate, spontaneous, charismatic charmers.

Northern Norway is Norwegian Sea, Barents Sea, islands, fjords, mountains, forests, stone deserts, coast, frozen tundra… So maybe Northern Norwegians are a dramatic, frothy blend shaped by it all. "Vesteraalen is the sea, and the meeting of waves with mountain, heaven and horizon," writes Lars Saabye Christensen, in The Other Side of Blue.

The Vesteraalen Islands, Norway’s lush, green mountain islands, lie north of the Lofoten Islands. I meet Ole Petter Bergland, a dead ringer for a skinny Ernest Hemingway. He has eccentric charm and quirky humour. He is the "Safari Man" of Vesteraalen. Deep in the valley of Forfjord, Bergland his sheep farmer cousin Kristin and I hike through swampy marsh and start ascending. The mountain ridge eventually comes into view. Kristin and I straddle the gravelly ridge on our stomachs exchanging looks of sheer panic.

"Ole Petter, I thought you said the ridge was 10 metres wide!"

"Yes, 10 metres wide on average ," he smiles.

It’s only a false top. The real mountain ridge lies much higher up.

I lose it on a narrow mountain ledge. I freeze against the mountain face. I’m terrified to move or look down. Stones loosen under my boots and skip down the mountainside. The falling scenes in Cliffhanger and Vertical Limit flash through my mind.

I feel dizzy. I begin whimpering, begging Bergland not to leave me stranded there. Slowly, I break through my wall of fear.

Bergland chews dried cod on our mountain-top lunch break, contemplating our options. The valley lake is a turquoise smudge below. Sheep bells tinker on the other side of the mountain. Kristin and I can’t finish.

There is no other way. We have to slide down the entire mountain, zigzagging on our asses. The !#&#¤ rocks bang my tailbone. The !@#&¤& shrubs rip open my pants. The !#¤%@ boulders scrape my hands.

"Sooooonya, I’vvvvve nevvvver heaaard anyoooone sweeeear as muuuuch aaaassss yooooou dooooo," Bergland yells.

Finally, we reach the valley floor. I hug Kristin, I hug Bergland, I hug myself. I can barely stand up but I’m so, so happy to be alive.

Bleik Beach, 3 km of white sandy beach on Vesteraalen’s northern island, soothes me the next few days. I collapse in the sand dunes. The crashing waves lull me to sleep. Grassy reeds brush against my tent and wake me occasionally. Far off on the horizon, flocks of puffins and kittiwakes congregate on Bleik Island. Far, far, far off on the horizon is Iceland.

Bleik comes from the Old Norse word "bleikr" meaning light or white.

Villagers still carry on the tradition of gathering down and eggs from the birds’ nests on Bleik Island. Every May, egg-hunting expeditions are arranged and those with most land get the most eggs.

Sortland, the capital of Vesteraalen Islands, is my final island stop before Tromsoe. The Blue City By The Sea , an art and environmental project which is the brainchild of artist Bjørn Elvenes, is designed to unify the downtown in shades of blue. Cobalt blue, sky blue, cornflower blue, baby blue… I wander the eye-candy streets searching for the artist who paints only blue mountains.

Ingunn Judith Moen Reinsnes is easy to find by her little white villa and its blue mountains outdoor gallery. We chat over coffee in her garden. "Mountains are fascinating forms to paint. Mine are becoming more and more abstract. I see mountains in everything, like skyscrapers in New York. What’s special in Vesteraalen is the short distance to the mountains and sea," she says.

Sonya Procenko is an international writer and sometime mountain nomad. She wandered Norway with Bruce Chatwin on her mind— " The Songlines ", " In Patagonia " and " What Am I Doing Here ".

VESTERAALEN ISLANDS

BOROUGHS: Andoey, Oeksnes, Boe, Sortland and Hadsel

SIZE: approximately 2,800 square kilometres

KNOWN FOR: Whale safaris, Arctic Sea Kayak Festival

MIDNIGHT SUN: Approximately mid-May to late July

POPULATION: approximately 30,000

GETTING THERE:

Take Hurtigruten to Risoeyhamn or Sortland, or fly or take train to

Bodoe and then bus to Sortland

WEB: www.andoy-friluftssenter.no

www.naturpartner.no

www.virtual-sortland.com

www.touristoffice.com

www.vesteralen-online.com

www.nordlandreiseliv.no