From: RobertBail@aol.com
Date: Sun, 21 Dec 2003 11:44:06 EST
Subject: PB Rpt 2003-7 Norway, South
To: W5TFY@amsat.org
POOH BEAR REPORT  Norway South - 2003
 
Starting:  Bergen, Norway 28 July 2003
Ending:	   Oslo, Norway 24 August 2003
 
In the last Pooh Bear Report, Norway North, we had traveled 
from the island of Espevaer north almost to the Sognefjord 
and back with two stops in Bergen.  With 500 miles of 
coastline and magnificent scenery to the south, it was time 
to move on.
 
Our cruise south through Norway evolved into four segments, 
each vastly different.  First was Bergen to Stavanger, with 
protected waters and spectacular views; next the boom town 
of Stavanger and the following exposed offshore section to 
Lindesnes, the southern most point of Norway; then 
northeast through the intricate inter-island channels
bordered by the northern Skagerrak and leading up the 
Oslofjord; and lastly, the capital of Norway, Oslo, the 
city of a thousand statues. 
 
In the first segment, we were generally retracing our 
earlier path, but with the labyrinth of channels, seldom 
did we view the same scenery - never the same anchorage.   
Each anchorage was different, most were outstanding, and I 
can mention only a few.  Early on we spent a night in an 
extremely popular, picture book cove on Lysoevagen.  The 
cove on this island, the home of Ole Bull, a famous 
Norwegian violinist in the early 1900s, became crowded with 
local boats, both sail and power.  It was one of only a few 
anchorages where we found it necessary to moor Scandinavian 
style with a stern line to a tree.  Ashore, we spent the 
morning touring the rugged island and visiting Ole Bull's 
home. 
 
High on our southbound 'must see' list was the narrow 
passage of Lukksund - not much over a mile long and 
narrowing at one point to only 30 yards, had sheer 1500 
foot cliffs.  The cruising guide warned that an ill timed 
passage would encounter fierce currents, overfalls, boils, 
whirlpools and other dire happenings.  Nevertheless, we had 
to do it.  After considering the timing recommendations and 
checking the tide table enumerable times, we motored 
towards the entrance, licking dry lips, prepared to brave 
the maelstrom.  
The passage was anticlimactic.  We did see boils and 
whirlpools, but nothing really scary.  The GPS did climb to 
8 knots, but nothing threatened to wrest control of Pooh 
from her stalwart helmsman.  Instead we swept smoothly down 
the canyon, through the narrowest point and under the 
towering road bridge.  Our greatest hazard was developing a 
sore neck from looking upward at the vertical cliffs.  
Oblivious to all of the beauty, a yacht astern motored 
slowly, landing fish after fish. 
 
The name 'Lukksund' highlights a problem in Norway; that of 
multiple spellings.  Sometimes much imagination is needed 
to find a name on a map or chart.  For instance, Lukksund 
can also be found spelled Lokksund and Loekksund.  And 
often common endings, such as 'vagen' are abbreviated '.v' 
or '.vg'.  For example Uttaskavagen may be written on the 
chart as Uttaska.v.
 
Like a watermelon seed when squeezed, Pooh was spit out of 
Lukksund into the Hardangerfjord, conveniently the next 
item on our 'must see' list.  Here also the cruising guides 
have dire warnings of 'flat calms and violent squalls'.  We 
encountered neither, but time only permitted us to cruise 
into the first third of the fjord.  I hope my readers will 
forgiven me for all of the superlatives when describing the 
scenery, but what else can I say; the views in at least the 
first one third of the Hardangerfjord were magnificent.  I 
suspect it would only have improved had we the time to go 
farther.
 
Southbound from the Hardangerfjord and the Bomlafjorden, we 
encountered our first direct exposure to the North Sea 
since arriving in Norway.  With about 12 miles unprotected
to seaward and a rocky shoreline to leeward, strong onshore 
winds can be a problem.  As luck would have it, a fresh 
southwest wind was blowing up the Bomlafjord. While still 
in the fjord, our progress deteriorated almost to a 
standstill and, reluctantly, we turned back to Vatslivika, 
a tiny unlisted anchorage only visible on a large-scale 
chart.  We huddled there for a day and a half as a 
southwest near gale drove the rain horizontally.  It 
actually was wonderful; an enforced stay in a tiny cove 
with nothing to do but read and rest.  
 
Eventually, skies cleared, the wind died totally and we 
motored twenty miles to reenter protected waters at 
Haugesund.  For you radio buffs, I should mention that 
during this passage, I saw one of the most gigantic high 
frequency antenna arrays I have ever seen �" five towers, 
each at least 250 ft high, supporting 4 Sterba Curtain 
arrays (I know this information leaves most of you 
something less than thrilled).
 
Next on our 'must see' list was Lysefjord, described in the 
cruising guide as a 'best buy' on value for distance run.  
Its only drawback was lack of suitable anchorage or marina 
facilities in the entire 20-mile length.  We found this no 
serious limitation as we anchored in Aadnoeya, a beautiful 
cove off Hoegsfjord, and on the following day, with an 
early start, motored to the head of the fjord and back 
before dark.  Lysefjord was everything we anticipated with 
cliffs reaching up nearly 3000 feet and walls at one point 
separated by only 1500 feet.  Despite nearing the end of 
the driest summer on record, a variety of waterfalls, some 
tall, some short, some thin, some wide, cascaded from 
cliffs on each side.  At Prekestolen, meaning Pulpit Rock, 
we looked almost vertically to just discern the tiny 
figures of sightseers brought by the motor coaches load 
from Stavanger.  
 
Nearing the head of the fjord we were treated to the 
spectacle of hang gliders coming down the cliff sides to 
land on a tiny outcropping of flat rock.  Exactly where 
they launched from, we had no idea, but a boat picked them 
up and sped away towards Lysebotn, the village at the head 
of the fjord.  While traveling up the fjord, sunlight and 
clouds constantly changed the lighting, but while 
returning, great sheets of rain almost shut out the cliffs
on each hand.  Radar kept us centered between the cliffs 
until the rain moved on and we could again enjoy the ever-
changing views.
 
Only 20 miles, less than four hours of travel, took us from 
the wilds of Lysefjord to the wilds of Stavanger, a North 
Sea oil boomtown.  Choosing not to enter the small marina, 
we moored along the city pier almost under the stern of a 
massive oil field workboat.  We were within 200 feet of 
electric power (yes, our power cords did reach it, but 
barely), within 500 feet of showers and within 1000 feet of 
the center of a boomtown.  And on Saturday night, it was a 
rowdy place.  During the day, the location was both a 
blessing and a curse, with a continuous stream of persons 
of various nationalities asking all sorts of questions, the 
most common being, “You crossed the Atlantic in that?”
or 'How long did it take?' or 'Were you ever afraid?'  We 
tried to answer all, and, in the process, met many 
interesting people including several Americans.  
 
But most interesting was Rune, whom Judy actually first met 
in the laundromat back at Bergen. He insisted we call when 
in his homeport of Stavanger.  Rune and his wife drove us 
about the city and surrounding area and to the landscape 
nursery they own.  It would seem Rune is not only a good 
nurseryman, but also a very forward thinking marketing man.  
At the end of the day, he insisted we be their guests for a 
meal in a very nice restaurant near their marina.  Having 
had a taste of the pricey food in Norway, I shudder to 
think of the bill.
 
One would think fuel would be readily available in an oil 
boomtown, but not so.  However, Rune told us of 
Bertelsen's fuel dock on an outlying island.  There, we 
found probably the best fuel dock and certainly the lowest 
priced diesel of the summer �" less than $2.00 a gallon.
 
Southbound from Stavanger, we spent a night at the small 
town of Tananger.  While mostly a commercial port, we will 
not quickly forget Tananger as it had a marina offering 
free - yes, totally free - dockage for 72 hours - 
electricity, water, and nearby clean showers included.  We 
enjoyed a small meal ashore and, at the city docks, Judy 
bought fish right off the fishing boats.  
 
I was apprehensive of the next 80 mile passage along the 
southwest coast of Norway.  It is a rocky coastline, 
totally exposed to the North Sea with only one port of 
refuge.  Though stable weather was forecast, we prepared 
Pooh as always when making an offshore passage.  Loose 
items below and on deck were stowed with extra care.  We 
brought Piglet aboard rather than towing astern.  Our 
passage worked out well.  Though foggy with a light 
southerly at the start, the wind built slowly during the 
day, eventually reaching 25 plus - but only as we neared 
that one port of refuge, Asperoey Island.  After a pleasant 
night, we followed the channel on around the island, 
exiting on the southeast side to much excitement.  
 
The excitement was fish.  I should explain that Judy likes 
to fish, while I do not.  However, we have an
understanding; she catches them, I clean them, she cooks 
them, I eat them.  At various points through Norway, we 
have motored slowly while she trolled a line.  Occasionally 
the results were mackerel for dinner, but no really good 
luck.  On that morning, as we motored slowly out of 
Egersund, she had a strike and landed a nice mackerel.  For 
the next 20 minutes we were pulling in mackerel, sometimes 
two at a time, as fast as I could remove the hook and Judy 
drop the line back over.  Now the two of us like mackerel, 
but there is a limit to how many we can get into our little 
freezer, so soon the trolling line was stowed and we were 
on our way to Lindesnes.  And I set about cleaning a whole 
mess of mackerel.
 
Lindesnes, also known to English sailors as the Naze, is 
the southernmost point of Norway and marks a transition
from the barren rocky southwest coast to a maze of tiny 
islets and islands leading northeast towards Oslo.  Though 
much slower, we could not resist taking the tortuous 
inshore path.  The islands were still rocky and pine tree 
covered, but instead of the mountains of the west coast, 
they were low, seldom exceeding 100 feet.  And depths were 
much less than on the west coast making anchorage selection 
easier.  And, instead of the unbroken pine forests of the 
west coast, there were literally thousands of homes - most 
holiday homes and unoccupied.  It was in this area we had a 
very close encounter of the undesirable kind.  A medium 
sized powerboat entered the main channel from behind a 
rocky island without slowing or even looking.  We slammed 
Pooh hard in reverse at maximum throttle and avoided, by 
only about 10 feet, poking our bowsprit through his cabin 
side.
 
While the weather was warm and pleasant and the island 
passages beautiful, vigilance and constant attention to 
navigation were required.  We had all of the proper charts 
aboard, both electronic and paper, but as I mentioned 
earlier, even without charts, I think we could have made it 
through.  Throughout Norway, the navigation aids are 
superb, though different.  Except in channels frequented by 
big ships, there were almost no buoys or floating aids.  
Nor were there day marks as we are used to seeing.  
Instead, on almost every island or channel of interest is a 
'varde', a rock cairn, usually painted white.  Often they 
have a pipe or board sticking out of the top and a 
horizontal arm indicating the direction of the channel.  
Frequently, hazardous hidden rocks are marked with a pipe 
sticking above the water.  There are thousands of light 
houses, but not of the type we usually think of.  Inshore, 
they are small white structures with a conical red roof and 
exhibiting as many as 6 or 7 colored light sectors to 
denote a clear approach or warn of a danger area.  In spite 
of all of these aids, we usually had the electronic chart 
going on the chart table and the paper chart in the 
cockpit.
 
The town of Risor marked the end of the island labyrinth 
and the beginning of more open water leading into 
Oslofjord.  The evening of the 12th of August we anchored 
just south of Risor in a beautiful cove that we explored 
thoroughly with Piglet.  The next morning, though we had
about 30 miles of fairly open water to traverse, the winds 
were forecast to be light southerwesterly and we continued 
to tow Piglet.  I think you all know the rest.  The winds 
started to freshen early in the morning; I should have 
recognized the signs of approaching weather not as 
forecast..  By early afternoon the wind had gone southerly, 
exposing us to a hundred mile fetch, and had built to a 
steady 25 knots, gusting 35.  The seas became very large.  
Only thirty minutes from our planned anchorage, an extra 
large breaking wave rolled Piglet vertically up on to the 
port sponson, then a particularly strong wind gust struck; 
Piglet went inverted and dived, the three towing points 
instantly ripped right out of the Hypalon fabric.  That was 
the end of our Piglet.  We spent the night a few miles 
farther north in a safe anchorage playing 'what if'.  We 
stopped for several days in Tonsberg, Norway's oldest, but
quite vibrant city, sightseeing and purchasing Piglet V 
before moving on to Oslo.  
 
I might add, we left Tonsberg with the 'new' Piglet secured 
on the cabin top.  More than two months later, we arrived 
back in London with the 'new' Piglet still secured on the 
cabin top!  We assume Piglet V will float.
 
We found Oslo harbor large and terribly busy with every 
conceivable type craft, especially sailboats, even on a 
weekday.  As the Royal Norwegian Yacht Club name had a nice 
ring, it was there we went first and found a slip.  
Although the price was right, we soon found several 
drawbacks.  The docks were quite old, a long and expensive 
bus ride to town was required for sightseeing, and the 
electrical supply was limited to 2 amps; we couldn't even 
turn on our battery charger.  After only one night, we 
moved to the Herbern Marina situated adjacent to the 
downtown area.  We motored in and picked a prime slip.  
After several phone calls by the staff, we were approved to 
stay. Though quite expensive at $28.50 a night, the 
location was outstanding and the facilities were excellent.  
An added bonus, at no extra charge, was each night a 
brilliant Mars in the southeast sky despite the surrounding 
city lights,
 
Joey Gough, the Scotsman who loaned us charts of southern 
Norway, e-mailed us the name and phone number of an Oslo 
sailing friend.  Our first day, we called Haagen and met 
for lunch.  On the following Saturday, he drove us about 
the area and up in the mountains to the Holmenkoller Ski 
Jump, built for the 1952 Olympics.  In the ski museum we 
saw equipment ranging from contemporary to a pair of skis 
4000 years old, then rode the elevator to the very top of 
the jump.  What a view from up there!  And why would anyone 
in his right mind want to start down that slope?
 
Hagen explained about the green license plate seen on some 
cars, including his.  Such cars are intended for businesses 
and when purchased, incur only a fraction of the normal 
very sales high tax.  But the limitation is they must never 
carry more than two persons.  After five years, this 
limitation is removed.  Hence, few families drive around in 
new cars.  As there would be three us, Haagen had to borrow 
a friend's car for our outing.  Back at Haagen's home,
Andreas, his son, cooked us a fine Norwegian dinner.

Among the first of many sites visited in Oslo were the
Viking and the Fram museums.  The Viking museum displayed
several excavated burial ships, the oldest dating to 834,
complete with the royal lady and her accompanying dogs and
horses. The latter museum displayed the ship Fram, built in
1892, and used by Nansen and Amundsen in their exploration
of both poles.  Of particular interest to Judy and myself
was the designer -   Colin Archer.  He designed both Fram
and the Norwegian pilot boats from which the lines of Pooh
Bear were taken.  We also toured the Kontiki exhibit
displaying both of Thor Heyerdahl's rafts, Kontiki and Ra
II.  Heyerdahl was still exploring when, only a year and
half ago, he died at the age of 88.

We toured the Akershus Festning (a fort), and Akershus
Slott (a palace), built in 1299 and still used for
banquets.  We toured the Historical Museum and the
Domkirke, a cathedral.  We watched the changing of the
guard at the Royal Palace, but unfortunately, the Palace
had been closed to tours a few days earlier.

We spent several hours in the most moving site of all, the
Resistance Museum.  When the Germans overran Norway in
1940, a new word was added to the English language; that
of 'Quisling'; a Norwegian collaborationist or traitor.  
Not so well know is that resistance groups quickly formed 
and, despite violent reprisals and executions by the 
Nazi's, they continued to grow stronger, more coordinated 
and more effective.  They continued harassing and 
inflicting great damage to the Germans until the end of the 
war.  We could not help but note these were common everyday 
people like you and me.  Faced with the same situation, I 
have to wonder if I would have the courage to perform the 
acts they did for five long years.
 
We rode a tram to Vigeland Park to view an incredible array 
of statues.  The government built the sculptor, Gustav 
Vigeland, a house and studio in the park where he lived and 
worked from 1924 to 1943.  More than 200 of his life size 
statues, depicting every stage of life from birth to death, 
line the paths and walkways.  One section houses an 
extraordinary collection including, what is claimed to be, 
the worlds largest monolithic carving.  Supposedly, it 
represents 'life', but I think it looks more like a bunch 
of writhing snakes.  Bizarre is what I call it.
 
With the necessary government offices close by, we filed 
for refund of the VAT paid on the purchase of Piglet V.  
While doing this, we learned the agent helping us had been 
to the US many times as his father and stepmother lived in 
Dallas.  Maybe that explains the prompt refund.
 
A bit of shopping for sweaters by Judy, recovering the 
taxes paid on those sweaters, the purchase of fish right 
from the fishing boats almost downtown, and a meal at the 
Cactus, a Mexican Restaurant, were among other high points 
of our eight days in Oslo.  As Judy commented, 'lo feels 
good.' 

But August was almost history and autumn was approaching.  
The next Pooh Bear Report will tell of our passage down the 
west coast of Sweden, through Denmark and the Kiel Canal, 
and around to the Frisian Island of Norderney.
 
 
End of PB Rpt 2003-7, Norway, South.doc
 
 
Bob & Judy (aboard s/v Pooh Bear at St. Katharine Haven in London, 
England) 
 
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