The Trollfyord August 21, 2006

We once again woke up to the sights and no sounds that surrounded the rorbu where we had stayed for the last two nights. We had breakfast, finished packing, had a quick chat with the daughter of our host and headed north toward Solvaer. Solvaer is touted as the busiest town in Lofoten and with four ferries and over 4000 residents it’s easy to see why. This is where we went to catch a tour / fishing boat for the Trollfjord.

The Trollfjord is a narrow high walled fjord that is located about 10-15 nautical miles north of Solvaer. We boarded the Orca, our tour boat, along with 8 other poor souls looking for fulfillment in nature’s grandeur and headed up the Raftsundet Channel. After about an hours run we turned west into a narrowing passage that would pinch down to about a hundred meters wide while at the same time the walls rose to about 500-600 meters. At the head of the fjord there are steep mountains that are crowned with snow and today set in a brilliantly blue sky. If fulfillment is what you want the Norwegian landscape is determined to deliver. I will again ask you to look at the photo site and again I will caution you that pictures do not do it justice. (We will try to upload the photos again tomorrow as our connection tonight is not fast enough for pictures.)

When we exited the Trollfjord it was time for fishing. The captain motored twenty minutes south toward Solvaer before suddenly stopping the boat and telling the mate to start fishing. The method was a hand line with several jigs and spoons attached just above a large weight. You dropped this over the side to undetermined depth and started jigging it up and down. The captain joined us after a few minutes and pulled in three before anyone else had caught anything. Another guy caught a nice fish but the captain gave the order and we pulled up and moved. Again we stopped and again we dropped our lines over the side. After 8-10 jigs I felt something and started to haul up the line. I had a fish! Oh the joy of hauling in my first Norwegian sea creature in a land that takes for granted that you know how to catch fish. I peered over the side and saw a silver flash deep in the water. Was it a white fish, a cod or maybe even a salmon? The line was alive in my hands as I wrestled to retrieve more of it, and then just as success was a few arm lengths away the wily Norwegian regained his freedom while dashing my hopes. It was the only chance I had as minutes later the captain announced fishing was over and to haul all lines up. The pain was eased by watching the mate throw fish parts to the seagulls and then toss whole small fish to a couple of sea eagles that were attracted by the gull commotion. Additional salve was in the form of fresh fish soup that the mate had whipped up in the galley after the last fishing stop. I believe what the other people were catching were white fish and coolfish. At least that was the closest thing I could find listed on the chart in the cabin. Holly had decided not to fish so she was taking pictures of the fast and furious action.

We docked and Holly and I jumped in the car and drove to Fiskebol to catch the ferry back to Melbu. We arrived as the ferry was pulling out and had an hour and ten minute wait that we took advantage of and had lunch at a small store / burger joint. Once we had crossed the Hadselfjord we drove to Sortland where we decided to spend the night. We spent the evening looking for replacement shoes for me as the sole on my left shoes is falling apart. These are Montrails which I bought when we came through Hong Kong at the end of June and they are the second pair of Montrails that I have had prematurely fallen apart. I will write to Montrail just for the satisfaction of voicing my dissatisfaction.