9. Stavanger – Lyse fjord.
Overnight we sailed to what was to be our last port of call before heading homewards. I was hoping that Stavanger might make up for the disappointments of Voss, but the little information I had about Norway's fourth largest city didn't exactly inspire me. The city's history is built on sardine canning which has now given way to oil refining - it was with some trepidation that I took my first look out of the window.
I was pleasantly surprised, and it wasn't just that I'd happened to look out of the right window. When I went up on the top deck to get the panorama I was surprised just how close in the ship was to the centre of the city which sprawls around the harbour in which we had docked. There were a number of brightly coloured buildings not dissimilar to the ones we'd seen in Bergen and there were jaunty looking sailing boats everywhere. Behind us the harbour opened up into a bay which was spanned in the distance by a huge and quite attractive modern bridge. To the right, and closest to the ship, a hill rose up with lots of white buildings dotted around between fir trees; looking at my map I could see that this was the old part of an otherwise pretty modern place.
The only slight problem was that there was a steady drizzle of rain - the first persistent rain we'd had on the entire trip which was something of a miracle according to any Norwegian that you cared to ask. I'd eschewed the city tour this time precisely because I wanted to explore the old town on my own, so it was very pleasing, given the weather, that I didn't have miles to trudge to get there. I donned my waterproof, took my smaller camera that would fit in one of the pockets and set off up the hill.
I've explained before that wooden buildings don't have the same air of age to me as stone ones. This was again true here, but the way everything is set out and maintained is almost painfully quaint. All of the wooden houses are painted in regulation white - you're not allowed to use any other colour. Many of them are decked out with hanging baskets full of flowers. Between them run little cobbled streets with old fashioned lampposts and, as you walk up the hill, the view over the rooftops and across the harbour improves the higher up you get.
Not surprisingly, many of the houses have been in the same family for generations, and there is a waiting list should any of them finally fall vacant. You’d probably need about £500,000 to even think about putting your name down for one, so it’s best to put thoughts of what it must be like to live there out of your head as you wander round marveling at the tranquility, cleanliness and pride in this little area. How they keep the graffiti gangs away would be interesting to know.
Even in the rain I took lots of photos of the houses before they finally ran out (the houses that is) and I found myself on a footpath which led through a little park and came out in the town centre. I made my way back to the harbour side and had a walk around the colourful shops and buildings that I’d seen from the boat and a good look at the moored boats. The rain was still drizzling down, but I didn’t mind, having been put in a good frame of mind by the very pleasant atmosphere that seemed to dominate this place.
After a rest and a coffee
I decided to walk back through the old town and stare at the houses one more
time. I took a slightly different route and was surprised suddenly to stumble
across something that seemed completely out of keeping with the rest of the
area. What I’d failed to bear in mind was that at one time these now pristine
houses had been occupied by much poorer people (rather like Victorian terraces
in
I don’t really know why I wandered in, never before had I been particularly fascinated by sardine canning and what I saw there didn’t particularly change my mind. Amazingly there were about half a dozen other tourists already in there which made me feel slightly less silly about going in. I wandered about a bit aimlessly before my eye was caught by a series of picture frames that were on display on one of the walls. What they were displaying were sardine tin labels – all sorts of different designs and colours, though all pretty much the same size of course.
It transpired that sardine label design had been elevated to something of an art form in the thirties and a lot of top artists had risen to the challenge. As a result some of these labels are now very rare and very collectable. The display on the wall was certainly quite fascinating to anyone interested in art or graphic design – I‘d never have expected to find something artistic hiding in this unexpected location. A lot of the labels are quite witty and humorous and it would be quite fun to have a collection of them. I suspect however, that the only collections are owned by local people who hope to see them on the Norwegian version of Antiques Roadshow one day where they’ll be valued at a huge price.
There was a little bookstand next to an information desk where, to my surprise, there was actually a book detailing the history of a number of the labels. It was in Norwegian, but fortunately had lots of nice photos, so I bought a copy. I have to say it was one of the most unlikely purchases I’ve ever made, but one which amused me a great deal, being an admirable souvenir of Stavanger. I’ll have to have it translated one day.
After this unexpected detour, I returned back down the hill, admiring the white houses for the last time, and made my way back to the ship. As I did so I could see signs that the weather might be improving in the distance and hoped that it would as I had my final organized trip still to come after lunch. If it continued to rain it could even result in the trip being cancelled, so I kept my fingers tightly crossed.
When the time came it had stopped raining for the time being, but clouds were racing across the sky and it was impossible to tell what was going to happen. The trip involved going to the Lyse fjord on a small boat which was currently moored just behind our ship. The concern was that cloud and mist could obscure a lot of the sights of the trip and that the sea could actually get too choppy and unpleasant for it to be enjoyable. The boat’s captain finally decided to give the thumbs up and we all boarded, hoping for the best.
We set off across the large harbour towards the bridge that spanned the two arms of mainland. To the right was the city and then a big oil refinery, the area to the left was mainly residential, and as we got nearer to the bridge we could see some very expensive looking new houses with their own marina. Once we’d passed under the bridge we were then into the Stavanger Archipelago, some of the larger islands inhabited and displaying a range of plush holiday homes. As we went on the islands got smaller and signs of human habitation petered out and we crossed a huge expanse of water with the entrance to the fjord in the distance.
As we made this crossing, the clouds were still racing furiously, but thinned enough in parts to let huge rays of semi-sunlight through and down onto the water. They were almost like searchlights, changing angle and direction according to the ever changing cloud formation and provided us with quite a spectacular show. Every now and then it seemed like it was going to pour with rain but, after a few spots it would thankfully cease and spare us a drenching.
The boat held about thirty people, over half of whom had chosen to sit inside. I’d opted for a front row view on the bow, gripping tightly to the rail with one hand and operating my camera with the other. The people who’d chosen to sit under cover may have been warmer and slightly drier and able to hear the commentary, but they missed some of the most beautiful sights that the entire holiday had offered. The wind was very strong at times and stung my face, but I didn’t care as this marvellous landscape unfolded before us.
We reached the fjord at last (it had taken an hour to reach here) and as we entered the wind dropped in the shelter of the land and the boat slowed down to a steady cruise. Lyse fjord is long and narrow, the water being as deep as the mountains are high, which is a very good reason not to fall in. It has some spectacular rock formations of many different shapes and colours and holds a number of surprises along the way.
The first surprise was a stop at what I can only describe as a little beach at the foot of a very high cliff – it’s only accessible by boat. Someone had conceived the idea of putting a covered eating and drinking area here right up against the cliff face. Coffee and Norwegian style waffles, with jam and sour cream, had been prepared in advance and laid out on the tables ready for us. I must admit this was quite welcome after the buffeting I’d had from the wind. It was a curious experience to sit and scoff this lot at the fjord’s edge, watching lots of other little boats go by.
Back on the boat, we headed deeper into the fjord admiring more colourful rocks as we went. As we rounded a bend, a grassy area came into view on our left, it looked almost vertical and with rocky outcrops pushing through the grass everywhere. I noticed we were getting closer to the cliff as we approached this, then suddenly I could see something moving across the grass and coming down to meet us.
Three goats were apparently living there, though how they managed not to fall off was beyond me. The boat people obviously visited them regularly and threw them chunks of bread which they munched up hungrily in between bleats. This was by far the most precarious habitat for a flightless creature I’d ever seen; even David Attenborough would be hard pressed to find such gravity defying goats.
The next surprise was something we could appreciate from our lowly viewpoint, but something which I’m sure is best experienced from the top of the cliff. 1500 feet above us was a phenomenon known as the Pulpit rock – a large almost symmetrical and smooth block that hangs out over the edge in another impressive gravity flaunting trick. People picnic and sunbathe on top of it and I should imagine that the views are spectacular. From our vantage point it looked fairly small, but had it suddenly dropped off and tumbled into the fjord I should imagine that it would create a small tidal wave.
The captain had one more trick up his sleeve before we had to turn round and make the return journey. There had been quite a few small waterfalls visible as we’d been cruising along, but now a much larger one came into view and we were heading straight for it. Those of us on the front deck were ordered to retreat and one of the crew came and placed a large bucket as far forward on the bow as possible. The boat was steered extremely carefully right under the huge gushing stream of water only inches from the rock behind it. When the bucket was full we withdrew and the two crew members filled cups from the bucket and handed them round for us to drink. This was probably the purest water we were ever likely to taste directly from nature and certainly the most dramatically obtained. It’s one drink I’ll certainly never forget.
It was time to turn back and now the clouds were at last giving way to longer periods of sunshine which allowed us to enjoy the scenery in a different light. By the time we sailed back under the bridge and towards the harbour the clouds had almost disappeared. Everything sparkled and looked brand new as it does when the myriad reflections of the sun ripple from gentle sea waves. The final glory was when a large sailing boat, in full sail, came past us, the white hull and the sails bright ochre. Everyone waved at everyone else and I just managed to get a photo of it as it sleeked by at a fair old tilt – the wind it seemed was still with us, but a marvellous, benign travellers wind that had conducted clouds, sun and sea so magnificently, just for us, on our final wonderful afternoon.
That night we set sail for
1. Dover
2. Ijmuiden
3. Cuxhaven
4. Bergen
6. Trondheim
7. Olden - the Briksdal glacier
9. Stavanger