From: RobertBail@aol.com Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2003 07:37:31 EST Subject: PB Report 2003-6, Norway, North To: W5TFY@amsat.org POOH BEAR REPORT - 2003-6, Norway, North Starting: Espevaer Island, Norway - 14 July 2003 Ending: Bergen, Norway - 28 July 2003 OK folks, get out your North Sea charts, both large and small scale, a good sharp 2H pencil, and your plotting tools. Now, look on the east coast of Scotland and find Peterhead. Now, draw a line from the harbor (more correctly harbour) entrance on a heading of 057.0 degrees (magnetic) for 251 nautical miles. At that point make a sharp dot. Look carefully on your detailed chart - no, I mean really DETAILED, and there you will see the island of Espevaer. And it was there Pooh Bear made landfall on the coast of Norway - not coincidentally also where the navigator intended to make landfall - on the morning of 14 July 2003. As cruisers, we think flexibility should be the norm and concrete plans should be avoided. But, despite deciding to skip the Orkney and Shetland Islands, we arrived in Norway at least two weeks later than we had hoped. We had arrived in a country with a lengthy coastline extending over 800 miles to our north and 200 miles to our south around to Oslo. With less than eight weeks of summer remaining, we had to accept we could see but a small part of Norway. Relying heavily on advice and recommendations from Johannes and Aud, our Norwegian welcoming committee at Espevaer, a general plan evolved. We would cruise north through the myriad of islands to Bergen where we could get proper paper charts and possibly additional cruising guides. Then northward to the Sognefjord, Norway's longest and arguably, most beautiful fjord. Then we would need to retrace our steps, past Bergen, past Espevaer to Stavanger and the Lysefjord, then around the south coast and up to Norway's capital city, Oslo. We actually left Espevaer with our sights set a bit farther north than the Sognefjord. We intended to accept Johannes and Aud's invitation to visit their island. But, at the same time, we had to keep looking over our shoulder - winter comes early and suddenly at these latitudes. And we had to remember that upon leaving Norway there was still a lengthy path back to London. Our first anchorage in Norway was almost too perfect. Soeroeyvegan. A tiny rock bound cove with an entrance scarcely greater than Pooh's beam. Not a ripple marred the mirror surface inside. While we did drop an anchor in the center, we followed the Scandinavian practice of taking a line to a tree ashore. We need not have - we were the sole occupants. Our actions though, did not go unnoticed. Four goats watched us with suspicion and voiced their concerns. Ashore, we walked about the island under sunny and near windless skies, needing only shorts and tee shirts. With such peace we slept late and did not get under way until after noon. Could any later anchorage top our first, Soeroeyvegan? Probably not. I believe it was my favorite. But do let me assure you there were many more wonderful anchorages, each beautiful, each protected. Usually we were anchored in total isolation. As many of our thousand plus photographs will confirm, there were no poor anchorages - just some better than others. And I mean this from both an aesthetic and technical viewpoint. All were rockbound but never barren, there always being trees and shrubs almost to the water level. At night, in most, the only light to dim the brilliance of the heavens was the moon. In each, our anchor dug in and held firmly, though seldom was there wind to test our tackle. And usually, the chain and anchor came in mud free. Unlike our first anchorage, usually a house of some sort was in view. If fact, it became a joke that any more or less flat rock of greater than ten feet square would have a summerhouse. Seldom were they occupied so did not intrude on our isolation or tranquility. And Pooh sampled only a tiny fraction of the protected coves south of 61 degrees. It was fortunate there were so many fine anchorages as there were few marinas outside of the bigger cities. And there weren't many bigger cities. Our first city, albeit a small one, Lervik, did have a marina. There, we did formally check into Norway by having our passports stamped at the police station. Likewise we cleared customs, located above the post office, with the completion of a single simple form. Of particular interest was the date stamped in our passports. It marked the start of the ninety-day period we could legally remain in the Schengen signatory countries. As the cruising season drew to a close 89 days later, we sailed from our last Schengen country, Holland (more by luck than planning). Had we overstayed our period, I can't imagine who would have noticed. Six weeks after Lervik, upon entering Sweden, we went to immigration expecting to have our passports stamped. They declined, pointing out our entry into Norway, a Schengen country, had already been officially recorded in our passports. They had no additional interest in us. I might add that based on this overpowering lack of interest by officials, we made no attempt to contact immigration, nor customs, authorities through Denmark, Germany or Holland. And back in England, UK officials had no interest in us either! For the benefit of fellow cruisers, let me explain that the Schengen Agreement pertains to persons only, limiting aliens to 90 continuous days in all Schengen countries. It was kind of a shock to realize we were considered aliens. It is entirely different from the question of VAT (value added tax) on the boat. Entering Norway, a non-EU country, is potentially very important. As we understand it, having taken Pooh out of the EU reset the clock that allows non-EU vessels 18 months in the EU without being liable for VAT. In Pooh Bear's case we don't think it is important as we have a letter from UK customs stating Pooh, for other reasons, is exempt. But we are keeping records proving Pooh Bear was out of the EU, just in case! Back to cruising in Norway. While in Lervik, we first learned what we were to find throughout Norway - English was spoken everywhere (usually quite well), every person we met was friendly, and prices were dreadful. An exception to the last was our cell (mobile) phone. For a very moderate cost we bought a Norwegian SIM card for our phone and once again we could not only make and receive voice calls, but could download our amsat.org e-mail. Of course, e-mail addressed to our winlink.org address was always available over the single sideband radio. Oil changed, fuel tanks topped and a dripping Perkins raw water pump replaced with a spare, we cruised north through a most beautiful labyrinth of waterways and fjords. Often there were multiple choices permitting completely different routes north and south bound. Our total dependence on vector electronic charts was no problem. They were outstanding - showing clearly every channel, every marker, every rock, though the charting program with them was incredibly user unfriendly. Even had our computer failed, I think we would have been able to carry on, but only with great care and vigilance. Our two cruising guides were adequate, but we wished for something more up to date. Our Norwegian Cruising Guide, printed in English, was dated, being more than 7 years old. Den Norske Los, printed in both Norwegian and English, was even older being more than 10 years old. A newer version of Den Norske Los was available, but with two serious drawbacks - printed only in Norwegian and $65 per volume (and we would needed 3 volumes). Wending our way north toward Bergen, we depended entirely on Perkins as, even had there been wind, sailing in the narrow, winding, channels would have been a challenge. The lack of wind may have been normal or maybe a result of the weather pattern of the summer of 2003. We were blessed with one of the warmest and driest summers Norway has experienced in a lifetime. Everyone, except the farmers, spoke of the glorious summer weather. It had been suggested that instead of taking Pooh all the way into Bergen, we might want to stop at Kviturdpollen, home of the Bergen Sailing Club, and visit Bergen by bus. We located Kviturdpollen on the chart and, on a warm Sunday afternoon, followed the channel east past a large number of boats, obviously the Bergen Sailing Club, but with no sign of a town. On the chart, Kviturdpollen was a bit further north and east. The rocks ahead look ominous, but with Judy at the helm and me at the bow spotting rocks under the surface, we picked our way another nerve wracking half a mile. Suddenly a man in an inflatable roared out from shore waving his arms. Amazed we had come in so far, he explained the path beyond the sailing club was impassable to a boat our size and draft and led us back out. Ignorance is bliss - we never touch a rock in or out. Back at the Bergen Sailing Club, we secured to a mooring and went ashore. To say that we were a bit under- whelmed would be an understatement. Remember, this was a summer Sunday afternoon. We found not a soul in the clubhouse, save a teen-age girl who clearly wanted to be somewhere else. We did eventually locate a couple of men on the docks, but decided we couldn't stand the pace of Kviturdpollen and the Bergen Sailing Club so returned to Pooh for the night. The following day we motored on to Bergen. Bergen was probably our favorite city in Norway. It had everything a cruiser might want, yet was quite laid back. We liked it so much we visited there both north and southbound. It has literally miles of stone quays (docks), all lined with truck tire fenders hung on chains. Apparently, a yacht can moor any place except where prohibited, like where an 800-foot cruise ship berths. Sometimes electricity and water were available within a couple of hundred feet; sometimes not. Sometimes a fee was collected sometimes not. We, and several other yachts, were asked to move when our berth was needed for a deep draft schooner. But we just moved across the harbor. Fortuitously, that berth was adjacent to a fuel dock, a chandlery, and a block from a shop that repaired our raw water pump. During a total of six nights in Bergen, no one appeared to collect a fee from Pooh Bear. Had we gone a quarter of a mile southeast to the head of the harbor, we would have paid a fee, been rafted three or four boats deep, had shore power (maybe or maybe not), been in the middle of town, adjacent to the open air market, and close to the showers. We preferred our privacy and didn't mind the walk to the city-operated showers and laundry facilities. As planned, we found the desired paper charts covering the coast to the north and south, but nothing new in the way cruising guides. Actually, our chart needs were minimal, as Joey Gough, met on the Classic Malt Cruise last year, had loaned us all the charts needed once south of Stavanger. And we found something else in Bergen of great importance; both our American and UK propane tanks were refilled without questions, though at quite a cost. When cruising, we meet some of the most interesting people. One day a man rode up on a motorbike and informed us he had been to Port Arthur. We were in the process of tying up at the time and probably cut him a bit short. He clearly wanted to talk and when he returned we visited at some length. Johnny was a seaman who had broken a leg many months before and was still unable to work. As we prepared to leave Bergen the first time, Johnny returned. Upon learning we were leaving, he roared off only to return shortly with a gift of a bottle of Blueberry Syrup, a specialty of Norway. We accepted and finding it delicious, have bought several bottles more. I might add that somehow, Johnny was almost waiting for us on our second visit to Bergen, when he insisted we accept a commemorative coin. An interesting, but I fear, a very lonely man. In Bergen we did most of the tourist things of walking about town, browsing the open-air market place, visiting several museums and forts, and riding the funicular up the mountain for a spectacular view. While enjoying the view and sipping coffee at the restaurant on the mountain, we met Terry and Gerta. A few days later they drove us around the area north of Bergen through some magnificent scenery. No less impressive were the Norwegian highways and bridges. By necessity, almost every highway is blasted out of the rock cliffs, or burrowed through mountain tunnels many miles long, one being 14 miles. In several instances, a multilane road emerged from a vertical rock face directly onto a graceful suspension bridge, then disappeared on the opposite side into another tunnel. The cost of dining out in Norway was nearly prohibitive. However, while in Bergen, we did dine out twice. Once was a "Tex-Mex Dinner". Fairly authentic, as well it should have been for over $78. The other was a very good pizza. It was a bit less at about $32 with no drinks. Judy has noted that while English is the international language, pizza is the international food. Despite our dislike for the business of whaling, we did try some smoked whale meat while in Bergen. We found it oily, strong, and not to our liking. However, fresh fish was available both in the market and directly from fishing boats and was delicious. But there remained so much more to see of Norway and Pooh motored on north. Had we taken the outer route, we could have sailed and undoubtedly covered more ground (or water), but we chose to follow the long narrow channels, always protected and often flanked by spectacular rock formations. Again, a plethora of anchorages such as the totally isolated Grunnesundet. On 26 July, a Saturday, we put into the community of Fedje, jutting into the open sea. Fedje was, and still is, a whaling community. Norway has never agreed to a total ban on whaling, insisting that a few of certain species can be killed each year for "research purposes". Unlike the days of Moby Dick, today's whalers are large steel vessels, each with a lookout position high on the mast and a cannon like device at the bow to fire harpoons that explode after penetrating deep into the whale. We found nothing to keep us overnight in Fedje, but had we stayed, it would have been our northernmost night. While still fifteen miles from the Sognefjord and almost 65 from Johannes and Aud's island home, we realized the distance remaining to reach Oslo, how much we wished to see on the way, and how little time remained before the autumnal gales began to blow. We reluctantly pointed Pooh south. Shortly before entering Fedje harbour, Pooh Bear reached our northernmost latitude, 60-47.188N on a gray afternoon, the 26th of July. That seemed far north until I realized we were still 400 miles south of the Artic Circle. We were especially disappointed at not even reaching the Sognefjord, much less exploring it. But all was not lost. With so many waterways, it is no surprise that there is much coastal traffic on fast ferries. The Express Boats are catamarans carrying passengers at 35 knots (over 40 mph). While in Bergen, Judy arranged for us to make a passage on the Express Ferry traveling to Flam. What a marvelous day. Leaving Bergen at eight one morning and, except for scheduled stops, slowing only for the narrowest of channels. Once through some of the most difficult narrows, the captain invited us to the bridge, resembling a 747 cockpit, where we stayed for the remainder of the trip. The scenery was breathtaking throughout, enhanced in the Sognefjord by the captain taking us alongside towering cliffs and almost under waterfalls. Twice, we rendezvoused with sightseeing steamers, one a hundred year old coal- fired vessel, to transfer a crewman and passengers. Before noon we reached the Sognefjord and turned east. Before two in the afternoon we disembarked at the end of the run in the village of Flam. An hour later we boarded a train that climbed over 2500 feet in 18 miles, passing across breath- taking ravines and even stopping on one for passengers to alight for photos of the spectacular water fall passing beneath. At Myrdal, we left our mountain climbing train and, with unbelievably precise timing, directly boarded the Oslo-Bergen express train and were back aboard Pooh before dark. The day was one of the high points of the summer, literally and figuratively. Unfortunately, for several days Pooh was quite cross and muttering something about being "left out". Pooh Bear's cruise south from Bergen, rounding the south coast of Norway and up to Oslo will be covered in the next report. End of PB Rpt 2003-6 - Norway, North Bob & Judy (aboard s/v Pooh Bear at St. Katharine Haven in London, England) NOTE: Until further notice, PLEASE address all e-mail to: W5TFY@amsat.org. DO NOT hit the "Reply" button, even if incoming mail shows a different "Reply To" address. DO NOT address to RobertBail@aol.com. THANKS.