6. Trondheim
The next day was to take us to our most northerly port of call, the city of Trondheim, the original capital
of
We actually arrived during breakfast, having sailed non-stop overnight in order to reach the city. It’s not in a fjord, but quite open to the sea, and it sprawls around a large semi-circular bay with industry to one side and green hills to the other. There’s a large harbour which included our docking point with a passenger terminal that borders the industrial area. From here the city sprawls, relatively flatly compared to what we’d seen so far, though it eventually seemed to rise into some gentle looking hills in the distance. As we trooped down the gangway to another little fleet of coaches I could see a row of very smart looking marinas stretching away to what was obviously the posher side of town.
The coaches drove us out through the industrial area and it became clear that Trondheim is largely a modern city with the occasional old bit scattered here and there. We had two main places to visit on this trip; a heritage park, which contains all sorts of old buildings that had been brought here and re-assembled, and the famous Nidaros Cathedral in the centre of the city which as far as I know has always been in the same position. Our guide for the morning was, in her own way, just as typically Norwegian as Gunn but she couldn’t have been more different. Her name was Elin and she was tiny, but with the classic blonde hair and blue eyes. She was so thin that she was almost invisible in profile and she gave off an ethereal air, almost like some sort of ghost from the distant past. This image was heightened by the fact that she was wearing 19th century clothes, ordinary peasant’s clothes, to help get us into the mood.
We visited the heritage park first, which entailed trailing round after Elin
and looking at the various different buildings and structures that had been
gathered therein. There were two things that I will remember this experience
for and I’ll put them in reverse order of impact. We went into a typical
19th century Norwegian cabin and, I suppose not surprisingly,
there were great similarities with the cabins I’d seen on my trips to
After this Elin led us up a little path and informed us that we were about
to see a Norwegian stave church. This is a term for a particular way of building
with wood involving upright staves which made the frame for the construction.
These are the oldest surviving wooden buildings in
We followed on behind her back to the coach, lost in our thoughts of what we’d just witnessed. I wondered how many times she must have performed this little ritual just this summer alone, yet she had still sung with such feeling. I decided that between them Gunn from Stryn and Elin from Trondheim could probably sort out most of the world’s problems.
The coach went merrily on its way and contrived to take us via the highest point in Trondheim, giving us a very good panorama of the city and the bay. Unfortunately we didn’t stop, so I couldn’t photograph it which was to lead to a little series of events over the next day and a half; so easily is the course of history altered.
We went back down into the city and eventually the coach pulled up in a tree lined street that ran by the side of Nidaros cathedral. Approaching it from the side is not the best idea; it’s famous for the highly decorated stone of the main wall at the southern end which also contains the main entrance and some beautiful stained glass windows. It dates back to the 11th century and is allegedly built over the grave of St Olav, the holy king and founder of Trondheim.
Elin handed us over to a special cathedral guide, also in some sort of traditional dress, who took us all round the building and told us lots of things that we wouldn’t have dreamed to ask about it. I must admit to being more interested in photographing it from the outside, especially the southern end, so I slipped quietly away to give myself time to do so before we were whisked off in the coach again. As it turned out I needn’t have worried, as Elin gave us the option of walking back to the boat under our own steam armed with some simple directions from her. Apart from giving me more time to photograph the cathedral, it would also give me time to try to find a postcard of the city panorama that we hadn’t stopped to photograph. This led to the change in the course of events that I recently mentioned.
Having negotiated the centre (and found my postcard) I followed Elin’s advice to keep heading south, until reaching a marina, then turned west as she’d also suggested to take me towards the harbour. What she’d failed to mention was that the one–way traffic system through the industrial area cuts straight across the pedestrian’s path, with no discernibly safe way of getting to the other side to continue in the desired direction.
So it was that I wandered up and down for a bit, found some dead-ends and eventually sat down on a wall and watched the traffic going by. There wasn’t any real panic, I could go back to the centre and get a taxi if necessary, but I was a little tired now and started visualising the ship’s buffet lunch spread out before me. I’d just decided on having another attempt to find a way across when a little party of German women came ambling by and I recognised one of them.
For the second time in the holiday my schoolboy German came into play as I walked up to them and asked if they were going to the Triton. Fortunately they were and, having walked into town in the first place they knew the way back. I trailed along gratefully, not minding the fact that one of the women, obviously impressed by my four-word German phrase, started babbling on at me about heaven knows what. I just nodded now and then and smiled, which seemed to suffice, as she carried on all the way back. Once on board I said my danke schon’s and rushed off to the buffet, not really expecting to see her again, just grateful that she and her friends had come along at the right time. My expectation was destined to be wrong.
We sailed late afternoon and I stood up on the top deck watching the city slowly recede. It’s nothing like Bergen, though the cathedral is impressive and the tree-lined streets that surround it are pleasant enough. These alone wouldn’t suffice to lure me back there, but if I could be guaranteed another song from Elin, I might consider it.
That evening our dinner was to have a theme to it, namely ‘Greek night’. This
was because it was a Greek ship with a largely Greek crew all captained by
a very Greek captain. Having a Greek night while sailing down the coast of
Towards the end of the meal I noticed that some of the photographers were making their excuses, some already had their cameras with them and seemed to be heading outside. I remembered someone saying earlier in the trip that the sunsets in these parts could sometimes be spectacular, so I decided to have a look for myself.
Having retrieved my own camera, I went outside to a cool, verging on chilly evening and the sun was indeed setting over the sea. About six others were there clicking away, but I couldn’t say that the sky was particularly spectacular. I caught the atmosphere nevertheless and took a few shots for myself, focussed on the distant, golden globe as it sank, not sizzling, into the waves, then went with a curious sense of peace to wash down my octopus with a few glasses of beer.
1. Dover
2. Ijmuiden
3. Cuxhaven
4. Bergen
6. Trondheim
7. Olden - the Briksdal glacier
9. Stavanger