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Norweigan Fjords
With the suspense of everyone turning up on time and in the right place over, we packed our kayaks for our weeklong adventure to Stavanger, Norway.
The kayaks were hauled onto trolleys and we plunged through customs with a cheery smile. As we wheeled our kayaks onto the ferry with an overwhelming feeling of adventure and excitement, we had no idea what to expect. Even the decision of where to camp on our first night had been agreed was a decision better left until our arrival on foreign shores. If the weather forecasts we were looking at were accurate, we had a big challenge ahead of us- strong winds and a hatful of rain lay in wait behind a distant grey sky. The success of any expedition relies on individuals working together as a team, adapting to solve unforeseen problems. It was obvious from the outset that our crop of eager paddlers had already seized the importance of teamwork by the way they quickly and efficiently dealt with collapsed trolleys and immoveable obstacles as we negotiated the terminal and ferry. The first few hours are usually a reliable indicator of the group's interpersonal dynamic and things were already looking very positive indeed.
The twenty three hour ferry crossing from Newcastle to Stavanger offered a perfect chance for a good nights sleep in a real bed, a hot shower and a hearty meal which bolstered everyone's confidence and boosted the team's collective excitement. Over dinner we rolled out the charts to plan our first moves.
It seemed that most of the passengers viewed the crossing as one of the highlights of their holiday, pulling on their gladrags and strutting around the decks as if onboard a luxury cruise liner. Bingo, blackjack, a cinema and a bustling, if laughably retro, night club provided amusing entertainment with our team looking slightly out of place as our fleeces, sandals and dry bags swished amongst the shimmer of Lycra and Spandex.
We glided gracefully into Stavanger and were soon wheeling our kayaks off the ferry. No wind, no rain - so far, so good.
With a convenient launching ramp and a fresh water tap only yards away. We changed, filled up our water containers and set out onto the water. The excitement of the team was infectious. Everyone was absolutely buzzing. Navigating out of Stavanger, Norway's fourth biggest city and a very busy port, was a jaw dropping experience for us all.
Avoiding large boats is pretty taxing and with language differences and unfamiliarity to add to the mix, this provided an intense few moments as we picked our way across the harbour praying that each, seemingly unaware helmsman had taken note of our position. Thankfully the water lay as still as a sheet of glass as we moved together as a close group in an effort to enhance our visibility.
Within an hour of paddling the view turned to beautiful scenery - countless small islands huddled together beneath towering mountains. Every thing was so green and so silent, providing an unbelievably tranquil experience.
We were heading towards the infamous Lysenfjiord noted by lonely planet as Norway's most beautiful and dramatic fjord. With the weather as good as it was, we paddled a good distance without great effort, enjoying both the company and the dramatic backdrop. We paddled on into the early evening before starting to look for our first campsite. In the distance I saw a clearing on one of the islands, and sprinted off to check it out. Upon arrival I could not believe my eyes. Cut grass, picnic benches, recycling bins, long drop toilets, views from a small col to both sides of the island. The flexibility of our plan had paid off and my feelings of concern finally gave way to contentment. I had been warned before departure that decent campsites were few and far between and with 12 people to accommodate I was keen to avoid, tussocky forested, hard rock mosquito hell.
I very coolly summoned the rest of the party over with a slow leader-like, smug, self-righteousness wave.
Soon we were eating heartily and enjoying each person's account and impression of the day's experience. In such a beautiful places I've grown to expect insect bites as a natural pay off but in this state of downtown Nirvana there wasn't a critter in sight. We woke up to more warm still weather and couldn't find a bite between us to compare.
With the weather so good I knew there was a good chance we could reach Lysenfjiord so I announced we should set off early and to my astonishment everyone agreed. In fact they all seemed delighted at the prospect of getting back on the water. We left 'camp paradise', pushing up and around the west coastline which was dotted with the most amazing wooden houses. The kind of houses dreams are made of, where your nearest neighbours would need to employ a range of unusual transport to borrow a bowl of sugar and would be highly unlikely to ask you to turn the music down regardless of your audio-visual equipment budget. We pulled up to stretch our legs on a convenient grassy bank with enough seating for us all, which set us up nicely for a leisurely forty-five minute crossing before lunch. We enjoyed a scenic lunch at the foot of the Lysenfiord, sharing the clearing with a lone, inquisitive reindeer.
Lysenfjiord's grand entrance is spanned by an impressively majestic bridge which on description you would expect to ruin a natural wonder but in reality seems to enhance it's beauty. Now the paddling turned from inspiring to awesome. Sheer rock faces pierced the water, driving up endlessly on either side of us and the water seemed stretched between the walls like a mirror as we slid through the sleek, still liquid onward to our next camp.
To our delight, this site was even better than the previous night's an equally well placed, government maintained campsite with everything we needed including it's own beach which was home to a very friendly and curious seal. We were also a stones throw from the start of the walk up to Pulpit Rock the well-known base jumper's heaven and a postcard money-spinner.
The next day we weighed up our options - climb the 600 pulpit rock climb or paddle further up the fiord. The spilt was even. We set off together in the kayaks before dropping Ben, my fellow leader and the Pulpit climbersoff for a days walk up to one of the best views in the world.
We wished them good luck and carried on up the fiord. After an amusing encounter with an otter and a fish, the light rain eased from mist to clear and then back to bucket loads. This pattern continued throughout our day making it one of the most atmospheric paddles I've ever experienced.
Lysenfiord means 'light fiord' because of the ambient light, which glows off of the granite even on dull days, and we certainly experienced this as even the mist seemed to illumines. We stopped at a point with three thundering waterfalls alive with playful otters and sat back to enjoy the show as we ate our lunch.
After watching what was truly the 'greatest show on earth' we climbed back in our boats and began the journey back to the tents, which were still pitched at the previous night's site.Within an hour of our return the walkers arrived with tales of their fantastic day. They beamed as they announced that the weather had cleared seconds before they reached the summit allowing them to experience the splendour in glorious sunshine. Pulpit rock had certainly made lasting impression on them all.
Setting out the following day I was a touch apprehensive. The weather had turned for the worse and we were sure to have been misled by the protection of the high sided fiord. I knew that when we hit open water again we'd be exposed to strong winds but I couldn't be sure just how bad they would be. As we poked our noses out of Lysenfiord it was apparent that we were in for a battle. We had to struggle against a force 4-5 headwind in order to make any ground towards our return ferry and with the ferry crossings three days apart I wasn't prepared to fall too far behind schedule.
Tow systems were double-checked and decks were cleared before an additional safety briefing was dished out. Then off we set.
Within half an hour two of the party were under tow and we were defiantly going nowhere and working very hard at it. Surprisingly, after three days of flat calm every one was enjoying the challenge of the swell and the wind and the buzz of excitement had returned to the team. At the first opportunity we stopped for lunch, the group looked weathered but not beaten. The bow of the kayaks crashing through the waves, exploding icy water over our heads and the wind drying the salt on our faces meant that everyone's face was locked in a permanent crusty grimace. After a welcome lunch we set to sea once again. The conditions were worsening and with the wind now blowing 5-6 and the swell rising I had to hold the pose for a few seconds each time I counted the troops as they were lurched in and out of sight. A capsize would have been a very bad thing indeed so I made the call. We would stop at the next opportunity.
That opportunity seemed to take forever to arrive, even longer for some of the team, but when it did come it was in the form of a sheltered bay.
Unfortunately we had to negotiate a point into the bay which turned us broadside to the wind and waves. As we rounded the point the waves were detonating under the cliffs with a deafening roar exploding upwards and outwards with equal ferocity. This was one of the biggest and most impressive seascapes I've seen. It was a wonderful moment to be share with the group as we eased into safety and felt the warm rush of relief, enjoying the view and the drama still raging behind us.
When we landed I couldn't be sure but I though I noticed a couple of the group actually kissing the ground.
It was only two in the afternoon but we weren't going anywhere. I suggested we should wait until five o'clock before pitching tents just in case the wind dropped and forward progress became an option once more. We climbed the cliffs we'd just paddled round to see the view. It was sunny and clear for miles, which highlighted just how windy it really was. We congratulated each other on surviving our epic voyage as we admired the white horses, spindrift and swirling froth beneath.
That afternoon saw no change in the weather so we pitched our tents and settled down to a good night's rest before a five am start the next day
The forecast gave us a crucial weather window early in the morning in which to make some headway. The plan for the day was to get to the islands for shelter, hopping from one island to another allowing a safe passage back to the ferry.
Still half asleep, everyone helped each other pack and move boats in a subconscious display of team cohesion that made us efficiently on time for the early departure. To be flexible with plans and being tested at the end of a week when you are tired is a challenge that is part of the excitement of an expedition. I'm proud to say that every member of our team passed the challenge with flying colours.
The weather was precisely as predicted. The early calm allowed us to make an energetic dash for the islands. The varied scenery our island hopping provided was a superb way to round off the trip and offered our first encounter of tidal movement, which helped push us. We discovered another delightfully maintained campsite (this time with its own trampoline) to spend the night before our departure on the Stavager ferry the next day.
By the morning the weather had deteriorated again and although not raining, it was very windy indeed. Ben led us through the islands where we encountered two small tidal races before the last two-kilometre crossing to the ferry terminal. This was to be negotiated with the first following wind we'd experienced during the whole trip. Although a head wind is physically demanding, it is always much easier to make the boats go where want them to go when the wind is ahead. A following wind is a different matter altogether. All boats have a natural tendency to turn into the wind which means when the wind is behind they constantly what to turn around and the paddler is always fighting the turning motion.
So we found ourselves battling to keep our boats straight when for most it was their first experience of surfing down wind blown waves, a task that's made more difficult in a fully laden sea kayak.
Every one was flying high on adrenalin with the terminal in sight and as the sun glinted reassuringly on every wave's crest we made fantastic time. Whoops and hollers echoed around the harbour as we relived the excitement of the crossing in the calm of Stavager port.
On reflection the whole trip had gone like clockwork. We had achieved everything we'd set out to. There were no hiccups on the way home as the return ferry departed and arrived on time. The ferry crossing provided a great opportunity for us to sit down to a final meal together and to celebrate a very successful and highly memorable trip in style.
Thank you to all that were on the team, it was an absolute pleasure to have shared the experience with you.
Leo Hoare Expedition Leader
