RudderPosts

The Ship Preservation Center in Hardanger

We have a very early flight tomorrow, so I'll keep this short. But the windup of this trip deserves a few paragraphs. Yesterday, we visited the Hardanger Fartøyvernsenter, or Ship Preservation Center. Its story was told in the March issue of WoodenBoat this year, so it doens't need recapping here. The central point is this: The place was founded upon the rebuilding of a vessel called MATHILDE (right) in the early 1980s; it preserves the skill required to rebuild old vessels. It is a hybird of research institution, public museum, and boatbuilding school situated in the town fo Norheimsund--an idyllic location from which you can see green hills or glaciers, depending on which direction you look. Old ships, in various states of rejuvenation, lie all about. There's a small boat shop that specializes in Hardanger færings--the local small boat type.
    We're capping things off in the lap of luxury: the Solstrand hotel in the town of Os. We chose this place because it's also home to the Oselvarverkstaden--the small boat shop featured in WB No. 165 that specializes in the construction of Oselvars--the local boat type here. You should be beginning to get the picture about Norwegian boats: historically, each region had its own boat type, and even those types varied within regions, depending on the fancies of the builders and the users. Oselvars are special. They consist of just three wide planks per side; the first is carved from 3"-thick stock to form a propeller-shaped piece--the garboard end, or hals. They row well; our hotel has a small livery, and I took one for a spin this afternoon (photo, right). At left is a shot of the verkstaden, with a new boat being rigged.

    Farewell from Norway. If any missed details reveal themselves during unpacking, I'll report them later.

Sailing LOYAL

If you're reading this, you probably read WoodenBoat. If you read WoodenBoat, you've probably had the occasional boat-restoration fantasy. You know the one: ancient rust-streaked Alden schooner... elbow grease,.. sweat equity... Bermuda... Virgin Islands... Galapagos... New Zealand. But you snap back to reality after a few friends talk you out of it, using phrases like "lifestyle change," "I knew a guy once...," and "return on investment."

Meet Audun Hausberg (photo, right). His father purchased the decrepit galeas LOYAL in the late 1970s, and the two of them spent the next twenty years putting her back together. A galeas, in Norway, is a ketch. But it's not just any ketch. It's a heavy, cargo-carrying one which, if cutter-rigged, would be called a jacht. If schooner rigged, it would be called a… well, a schooner. The term galeas refers to the combination of ketch rig and heavy hull. All galeases are ketches, but not all ketches are galeases.

LOYAL is the last of her type. The Hausbergs, with their unwavering vision, spent one full month just hauling her from the water. They rebuilt the hull, the rig, the deck, the engine, the interior. The engine, by the way, is a 12-cylinder Dutch beauty--a diesel--that runs smooth as silk. The rig carries two squaresails; I had the pleasure, with Jeff Lane, of tending the course. Jeff (on the course yard in the top left photo, and descending in the bottom one) is the man who wrote about LOYAL for us in WoodenBoat No. 156; a course is the lowest squaresail--the one with no yard below it. We did the best we could, Jeff and I, but Audun and his mate, working the sail above us, achieved a much tighter furl. I suppose we'd get better with time--if we didn't scrape all of the skin off our knuckles in the process.

We spent eight hours aboard LOYAL that day, motoring and sailing up Hardangerfjord through tight granite-walled passages and under criss-crossed bridges. The vessel is a beauty; her restoration astonishing. Audun's father John wasn't there, and I regret not meeting him. He's an inspiration to all of us dreamers.

Again: If you're reading this, you are, presumably, one of those dreamers. If you should find yourself going Bergen, Norway, click here first. Call ahead and book yourself a charter on LOYAL. You won't be disappointed, and you might even be inspired to take tools to boat and begin a restoration of your own.

Crossing Norway

To get from Oslo to Bergen, we took a train and then another train. And a boat and then another boat. The first train was the fast one from Oslo to Myrdal. We could have taken it all the way to Bergen, but if you do that, you're cheating yourself out of some spectacular scenery--not to mention a classic train ride. No, it's much better to change over to the Flåm Railway at the alpine station in Myrdal, and to descend through tunnels (right) and turns to the village of Flåm. From there, we took the express boat to Balestrand--a quaint village half-ringed by mountains. There's a famous old Swiss-inspired wooden hotel here--the Kviknes Hotel--and that's where we stayed.

With just a few hours between our arrival and dinner, several of us went exploring. I donned hiking boots and went to the woods, where a steep trail rises to a few thousand feet, and rewards with a spectacular panorama of the Sognefjord--Norway's longest and deepest.

Back to boats. We assembled on the quay in front of the hotel early the next morning (top photo) to await the high-speed ferry to Bergen--where we arrived around noon. From the ferry quay in Bergen, we went directly to the Bergen Martime Museum, whose curator, Arild Marøy Hansen, is a marine archaeologist. He enthusiastically guided us through the collection of small boats (an oselver, a Hardanger færing--stuff like that. We'll be seeing more of these later). He's showing us a large, detailed model of the Oseberg ship at left. (Not sure what the Oseberg ship is? Read the post called "Oslo," below.)

Full Disclosure

A Viking ship is a heavy thing, and a crew of inexperienced non-Vikings should have some help. I felt bad for the fellow in the rubber boat. His friend at the Viking ship's helm is probably the most-photographed man in the Lofoten Islands. The guy in the raft is probably the least-photographed one. So, here's a little overdue credit to the guy who assisted us in our safe return to the dock: Erik the Inflatable.

We're in Oslo. It was a slog getting here, with a cancelled flight from Svolvær and the usual resulting chaos. But we kept to our itinerary, and yesterday toured Oslo's museums--the Viking ship Museum, the FRAM Museum, the KON TIKI Museum, and the Norwegian Maritime Museum Museum. Then we sailed--motored, actually--until midnight. I have more to say about these things, but that's going to have to wait. I went to my hotel this afternoon to get my computer and scour the city for a place where I could get a cold beer and a wireless internet connection. I succeeded in that; this post is brought to you courtesy of Harry's Bar, where I'm sitting on the sidewalk under a clear blue sky. But I left my photo disc reader--and the disc itself--back in the room. I don't feel like schlepping back there. A very full day and night yesterday, and more of the same today, and I'm pretty content sitting here with my Ringnes pilsner.

We have an early departure tomorrow for a train trip across the country. We'll settle in Bergen for three nights on Tuesday, after an evening in the little fjordside town of Balestrand. So stay tuned, dear readers. The tour is proceeding at a good clip. There's been little time to sit still.

We Were Vikings Once

Today we were Vikings. We traveled overland to the Viking Museum at Borg, an hour or so south of Svolvær. The principal feature of this place is a reconstruction of a Viking chieftan's hall dating to about 500 AD. In modern times, there was a farm at the museum's site. The farmer noticed the soil was considerably richer in one contained area, and subsequent excavation revealed that a long house had stood there. The reconstruction was not built on the original site. Rather, it was built next to it, so visitors can view the depression in the earth that marks the original.
    There's also a replica of the Gokstad ship at this place. The Gokstad ship dates to 900 AD; it was discovered in a Viking burial mound south of Oslo in 1880. It lies in state now in the churchlike Viking Ship Museum in Oslo, which we'll visit on Saturday. We rowed the replica--or most of us did, anyhow. I ran around taking pictures, and shirking my responsibilities at the oars. But the rest of the gang made up for my absence. That's David Williams at right, wearing the WooodenBoat cap, whose logo is, appropriately, inspired by the Gokstad ship. His wife, Karen Rasmussen, is behind him. They seem to be having fun. David's planning to compare the shapes of the logo and the actual boat during our Saturday visit.
    Below is a replica Viking. He ably steered us through a big circle off the museum's docks, and deftly landed the boat upon our return. When everyone was ashore, he sped off with the crew in a replica Viking Toyota pickup truck--a small one, with a cap over the bed.
    We, on the other hand, sped off to the dark and smoky Viking Hall, where we donned capes and sat down to a meal of lamb, chicken, carrots, and flatbread. We washed it all down with mead. A woman passing through the hall during our meal thought we were part of the exhibition. "Are you always eating?" she asked. "Always," one of us replied, patting his belly.

Trollfjord

Someone on tonight's cruise of the Trollfjord said it was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen, and she wasn't kidding. Adjectives like "spectacular" and "magnificent" and "stunning" are tempting, but they miss the singular beauty of this place. So, let's have a look at some photos. But first, a brief introduction to Gunnar Berg. Berg (1863-93) was an artist from Svolvær. He came from a wealthy merchant family, but gravitated toward the arts at an early age--studying in Paris and developing a strong command for the delicate interplay of color and shadow and light. And form. Nordlandsbåts, the beautiful, high-ended, plumb-stemmed, straight-keeled traditional boat type of this region are one of his favorite subjects, it seems. His most famous work is called The Battle of Trollfjord. It depicts an 1890 incident in which wealthy steamship operators blocked access to the Trollfjord and the best cod fishing--and it depicts the waterborne skirmishes that resulted. Those skirmishes pitted Nordlandsbåt against steamship; click here to see a huge fleet of these boats, painted by the master, Gunnar Berg, when he was just 27. He died of pneumonia three years later.
    Okay. Enough with the art. Let's move on to nature. Our ferry tonight is called GAMLE LOFOTFERGA. She's a retired car ferry owned and run by Nina and Johnny Storvik (photo, right). Her sole purpose today is to take guests like us on fjord cruises. Here in Trollfjord you'll see thousand-foot vertical walls forming narrow halls of granite. If you're lucky, like we were, you'll pass within feet of the Hutigruten--the coastal steamer (above, left). Waterfalls (below, left) are a more reliable sight, but no less spectacular. And the food on board GAMLE LOFOTFERGA? Shrimp, lamb, Akvavit, potatos and... whale. That's right, whale. Norway has a six-week opening for minke whale, which is harvested based on scientific evidence that the population is sustainable. The meat is available in restaurants and grocery stores. There's a fair amount of pride surrounding this fishery—and a sort of bristling at the pressure of outsiders that the country should abandon such an ancient practice.
    You might wonder how I feel about it. I'm going to abstain from giving an opinion. I grew up with a conservation ethic, and certainly bring that bias to the issue. But I don't know enough about it to shout that it's wrong--though that's my impulse. And yes, I had a few bites. When in Rome, and all that. One preparation was smoked--to the point that the original flavor was gone. Might as well have been squirrel. Another was pan-seared, sprinkled with pepper. That was a lot like steak--with just a hint of fish. A third preparation was served raw--sushi style. I didn't have any of that one, but my compatriots did. They seemed to like it.

Greetings From Svolvær

Thank Odin for snowmobile suits. Yesterday, Tuesday, we departed Offersøy (photo, left) at about 10:00 am in a light drizzle. It was cold at times--maybe as low as the high 40s. Our vessel was a 48', 30-ton former galeas called SYMRA (photo, right), built in 1917. A galeas is, essentially, a ketch-rigged cargo vessel. I'm sure there's a more refined definition than that, and I'll have the opportunity to get it in about a week when we sail LOYAL--an authentic galeas that carries passengers from Bergen. For now, though, let's not bog down on the term. The essentials are these; SYMRA has been converted to power. Her vestigial rig is for steadying purposes only. Her engine is a modern six-cylinder Volvo diesel. She has a wheelhouse aft, a big, open deck space forward, and a cozy saloon with two tables and a galley aft. Most of us spent the day on deck, bundled against the cold and damp in blue snowmobile suits, watching fantastic snow-capped pointy peaks passing to port and starboard. At one point, we saw a whaleboat.
    Our captain was Morten, his mate, Gry. They were more than qualified for the task of delivering our band of fifteen to the town of Svolvær, about six hours away. Morten, you see, is a commercial fisherman in his other life. A clean-cut gent in his mid-30s, he regularly makes two-week trips to Iceland in a factory trawler--which he describes as easy and automated work relative to the old days. But he works the winter cod fishery, too, and says that that one is a lot tougher on a body. Gry, the red jacketed blond woman at left, lives with her husband and children in Svolvær. She has circumnavigated the world twice and spent many years living aboard. So it's no surpirse that we arrived in Svolvær without incident.
     Svolvær is a small city. It's a popular vacation destination, though through the early part of last century was a cod-fishing outpost, choked with Nordslandsbåts. Its shore is dotted with rorbuer, or fishermen's cabins--which have been converted to vacation cabins. We're staying in those. I'll post a photo of them next time. I'm rushing a bit now, as we're about to meet a recently restored wooden ferry for a dinner cruise on the Trollfjord--despite the rain. In fact, we're told that we're lucky the rain is coming down straight. It's considered bad weather only when rain comes down sideways.
    Svolvær is also dotted with big A-frame cod-drying racks; fishing boats share space with visiting yachts. One of those visiting yachts, upon out arrival, was CHRISTIANIA, the Colin Archer lifeboat (redningskoite) that sunk offshore several years ago and spent a year on the bottom before being raised and restored. I had a short visit with the owners last night--just enough time for a quick hello. They're en-route to the nearby town of Henningsvær, and we agreed to catch up there. I hope we do. Theirs is a fascinating story--told by Nic Compton in WB No. 160.

To Norway

Greetings from Newark International Airport. I'm sitting with WoodenBoat readers Ted Christ, Sally Johnson, and Tom Kueny, waiting for the rest of our group of fourteen. We're about to embark on the second Maritime Tour of Norway. This evening, we'll board a series of flights that will take us, ultimately, to Evenes, Norway--a little town well above the Arctic circle where we'll meet a boat for a daylong trip that will thread through rocky Arctic-sun drenched islands...if it's not raining. If it's raining, we'll board a boat that will take us through majestic mist-shrouded rocky islands. We'll spend a few days in the town of Svolvær, and will visit the Viking Museum at Borg--home of an authentic scale replica of a Viking ship and an authentic replica of a Viking chieftan's homestead and authentic replicas of actual Vikings.
I'll be reporting in words and photos as time and web access allow. Stay tuned for reports from:
    1. The Galeas LOYAL in Bergen
    2. The Hardanger Fartoyvernsenter in Norheimsund
    3. The Viking Ship Museum in Oslo
    4. The Oselver Verkstaden
    5. And much, much more-- as time and internet access allow.