Snowcapped mountain peaks look down on the Helgelandkysten (Source: own photo)
A Swedish friend recently conceded that Norway is the most beautiful country in the world. I take her opinion seriously, because she is a seasoned traveller with more than 100 countries under her belt. Based on what we saw on the second leg of our Norwegian odyssey, she may be right.
Second leg of our Norwegian road trip (Source: here)
Our trip took us 1,067 kms north along the Helgelandskysten (Helgelands coastline) from Bud to the fishing port of Bodø. This is central Norway, at least in a geographical sense. The steep valleys of the interior widen as the ranges open up nearer to the coast and the peaks gradually sink into the Atlantic Ocean to become islands that pose obstacles for mariners in this part of Norway.
The mountains sink into the sea (Source: own photo)
Idyllic little fishing huts line the sides of the countless little inlets, each hut with its own rickety wooden pier balancing on stilts to accommodate the large tidal ranges. Low tide exposes rocks swathed in brown seaweed, with the occasional seagull on top.
Tall-legged piers reflect the great tidal range here (Source: own photo)
Bud is the start of the famous Atlanterhavsvegen, the Atlantic Ocean Road. The southern end of this 37 kms drive is pretty; make sure you take detours to visit the villages along the route and take in the viewpoints with deciduous trees, clear streams, and green grass set against the backdrop of the blue sea in front and the steep mountains at the back.
The gentle scenery at the lower end of the Atlantic Coast Road (Source: own photo)
Further up the Atlantic Ocean Road, you encounter the island hopping bridges that have made this road famous far beyond Norway.
One of the landmark bridges on the Atlantic Ocean Road (Source: own photo)
Trondheim, a day's drive from Bud, is a big city, at least for these parts. There is a port and a railway, even an airport outside of town. There are regular visits from cruise ships, a large stone cathedral, a somewhat drab commercial centre, and a very romantic old town with colourful wooden buildings and cobbled streets. Parks line the Nidelva River as it meanders through the heart of the town, past warehouses, before emptying into Trondheim Fjord.
Trondheim (Source: own photos)
After Trondheim, you start to feel the remoteness. This part of Norway has a different weather system from southern Norway with less frequent rainfall. Still, you are never quite spared the weather fronts as they roll in from the sea. They drape the landscape in a darkness reminiscent of death. The waters darken, but the fish are still there; fishermen brave the menacing gloom to catch salmon.
A fisherman pines for salmon in the fjords (Source: own photo)
Talking fish, we stopped at a roadside eatery and spoke with the proprietor. He cursed his job. He would rather be salmon fishing, he said. He grabbed my arm and showed me a picture of his proudest catch – a 15.31 kgs salmon. He emphasised the decimal points – .31 – over and over again and I was puzzled. Then he stretched for a bottle on shelf behind the counter and showed it to me. “Look! A 1531 Akvavit!” He thought it was hilarious that the weight of the salmon and his favourite drink had the same number! His laughted out loud and it was so infectious that I found myself laughing too.
Liverpool Football Club is popular in rural Norway (Source: own photo)
In these remote parts, the only reminders of the outside world are frequently displayed expressions of love of English football and the many memorials to those who gave their lives in the fight against fascism in Second World War.
Forty two Norwegian sailors died in the sea close to here when their U-boat hit a German mine. The U-boat had carried English commandos on a mission (Source: own photo)
The Norwegians fought the Nazis and paid a price; four times more Norwegians died in the War as a share of the total population than in neighbouring Denmark, nine times more than in neutral Sweden.
WW2 gun emplacements hewn into the rock. The instruments to control the big guns were supplied by Siemens (Source: own photo)
There are no fewer than six ferry crossings along the length of Helgelandskysten. You register your car’s registration number and your credit card on a special website before you get to Norway. Cameras then read your number plate at the entrance to toll roads, tunnels, and ferry crossings and charge you accordingly. It is super-efficient. We have not used cash anywhere in Norway so far. About halfway on the ferry crossing from Kilborghavn and Jektvik, we cross the Arctic Circle. An Iphone snapshot captured the exact moment we breached latitude 66 degrees, 33 minutes, and forty seven and a half seconds on our journey due north.
The moment we cross into the Arctic Circle (Source: own photo)
We spent a night in Glomfjord, a nondescript town at the bottom of a fjord bearing the same name. In this, and other remote towns like it, we have noticed that shops, hairdressers, and many other services are operated by immigrants. Young Norwegians moved to the cities, but foreigners are willing to live here and do the work that must be done. Rural folk often vote for political parties that oppose immigration, but here, it seems, the locals cannot do without them. I wonder how they vote...
The hydro power station at Glomfjord; the raiders came down the rocks to the left of the plant (Source: own photo)
At the bottom of the Glomfjord sits a hydro power station, which once supplied power to a nearby aluminium smelter of great importance to the German war effort. In September 1942, ten English commandos and two Norwegians landed in the fjord next door, climbed the mountain, and descended down the steep rocks adjacent to the power station. After they had destroyed the power station, they attempted to flee, but eight were caught, sent to Colditz and then transferred to Sachsenhausen concentration camp. They were executed with shots to the backs of their heads. Two of the survivors of the raid later died fighting in Italy. Only two of the raiders lived to see peace. A 'bauta' keeps their memory alive. The aluminium smelter never re-opened during the war.
A fishing boat takes a break in the morning sunshine in a bay not far from Bodø (Source: own photo)
The sun came out during our final approach to Bodø, bidding us a warm farewell from the Helgelands coastline and welcoming us to the next stage of our trip: Lofoten to Tromsø.
Sea, sand, and sun, Norway style (Source: own photo)
Stay tuned!
The End
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