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.

Summer Solstice…and Back to the Mainland

Time for another anchor watch.

Upon leaving Trollfjord, we retraced our steps toward Lillemolla but kept right on going…for another 70 miles or so back across the open water to the mainland. With gale warnings in the forecast, Boogie wanted to get back to within striking distance of Bodø in case things got really nasty. So we’re now anchored at the head of a fjord near a tiny settlement named Eidet. It’s not far (as the crow flies) from Mannbåer, our anchorage last Saturday, but this time we’re on the other side of the mountains from the open water, the fjord we’re in having snaked east and south and back around west.

And as if in response to yesterday’s observation regarding wildlife, once into this fjord we were surrounded by a pod of pilot whales, some of whom swam quite close to the boat. And after they’d wandered off, a couple of otters could be seen on shore along the waterline. Boy Wonder says there are several stands for hunting moose in the canyon above our anchorage, so I’m hoping a hike might reveal one of those critters.

That might happen. We’re not heading anywhere later this morning. Instead, we’ll stay on the hook here and people will kayak and fish in the protected waters, or hike on shore, while up along the ridges and out in the open water, the storm rages. You can see the low clouds racing over the mountaintops above, and yesterday’s sail including a raucous stretch near suppertime when we bounced and rolled beneath low skies and cold rain while running under yankee sail alone. Poor Marlies was cooking a huge pot of noodles with peanut sauce while Polar Bear rocked from side to side through 90 degrees or more.

Given the crappy weather and a change in the watch, I adjourned to my bunk around 6pm and observed the solstice all snug in my sleeping bag with the lee cloth securely fastened to keep me in my bunk rather than on the cabin floor. I plugged in the iPad and noise-canceling headphones, listened to some music and, shortly after the 6:16pm solstice, nodded off for an hour’s nap. Then it was up for the remainder of the run to this anchorage, which we made at about 1am this morning. A long day, to be sure.

But later today is all about having fun, so once this watch is over (in 10 minutes) I’ll head back to bed knowing that I won’t have to get up again in less than an hour to shove off. Instead, I’ll tuck in and sleep as long as my body (and the noise of 15 other passengers) allows.

I just poked my head out of the hatch to check our position (all good) and noticed a couple of tiny spots of blue sky scattered in among the scudding clouds. A waterfall can be heard from the thick, green woods on shore. And the broad, rocky cirque that forms the headwall above the canyon is littered with gossamer waterfalls as well; it’s all quite lovely (yet again), so, yes: I’m thinking a hike will be in order today. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even conjure some more haiku.

Haiku on the High Seas

We’ve been seeing a lot of these jellyfish on our journey this summer

I met a German woman named Lynn on the dock shortly before leaving Nusfjord yesterday. She asked me about the iPad case I was using (I was on deck, checking email one last time just before Polar Bear sailed) and we talked about the various accessories available to those who’ve devoured the Apple Kool-Aid over the years. I mentioned that I also used the bluetooth keyboard (I’m using it now) when I was writing and that took our brief discussion into literature. Language segued into poetry which segued into haiku.

So while Polar Bear headed out of Trollfjord today I sat on the foredeck, pulled out my little moleskine journal (thanks, H) and dabbled. Bear in mind: while I love poetry, I’m a horrible and completely incompetent poet. “Roses are red, violets are blue” would be an epic were I to have penned such verse. And bear in mind, too, that I regard this blog as simply me puking on a keyboard. So what better than a pathetic attempt at poetry in a post of proverbial vomit?

What the hell?! I’m having fun on this trip; writing poetry is good discipline; and Trollfjord was a lovely, peaceful place with which quality haiku-writers could do wonders. And dammit: this here be my blog. So, you’ve been warned. Here goes:

Trollfjord waterfall:
downy flow in emerald wall
To or from heaven?

Journey to Trollfjord
Sky and earth, water and rock
paint your name on cliff?!

SoCal sprawl, decay,
Graffiti on Trollfjord cliff
Koyanisqatsi
(semi-obscure film reference…go with it)

Slate seas and gray skies
Mercury is falling fast
Gale warnings are up (or: Hatches are battened)