Finding the Top of the World

This is an after-the-fact transcription of the journal I kept on a two week trip to Norway.

May 19, 2030, 5:10 pm
The Hjornevikbua Restaurant, Florø

What a long day. The alarm went off at 5:30 and I was up slowly. I think I was too early, as I had to wait until the restaurant opened for breakfast. I just got a bowl of cereal and bolted it down, not at all sure about timing. Of course I was silly early at the ferry.

I asked a passerby about the ferries, and she pointed out the sign on the back of each, much like the route sign on a bus. Easy enough. OK to board early? Yes? No? Anyone? Jeez, how unsure can I get?

I walked into the passenger cabin and sat down. Ten minutes later another guy got on. And then we were off. This boat could probably seat almost a hundred but there were just the two of us.

I took a few pictures of the islands sliding by, but the windows were pretty scummy from the sea spray.

The guys who drive these things are pretty talented. When we pulled away from the dock, we turned in a space not much bigger than the boat itself, then backed into a berth to load something on the back.

We arrived at Kinn and there was the same deft handling of the ferry. We seemed to roar up at full speed, and at the last minute we slowed to a standstill inches from the pier.

The ferry worker lived a ramp across to the pier, and I asked for a pickup in the afternoon. Then I set off down the road. The only car had delivered a child to the ferry, probably heading to school at Rognaldsvag. It had left ahead of me to park in front of a house. That was all the traffic I had to worry about.

The road took me past several houses and small farms. Sheep lounged here and there.

There was a large farm where the road bent westward around the north side of the island. Across the road was a grove of trees, through which a stone wall wove. I suddenly began to see stone walls everywhere.

The lane continued between well fenced fields, sheep grazing between the road and the shoreline.

I saw the peak of the roof of the church first. Then around the bend, the gatehouse and that marvelous split mountain, Kinnaklova.

Nothing quite prepares you for the first dramatic glimpse of that mountain. It doesn't look quite real.

I walked up to the first building, a cottage like place. Past that, the gatehouse. It's a dramatic structure in its own right.

Iron gateposts are on each side of the arch, but there is no gate to open. I later found the gates beside the stone arch, perhaps awaiting repair.

Through the gate and mere steps was the front door of the church. The front porch looks quite modern, probably a recent addition to accommodate modern locks and an alarm system.

The rest looked like whitewashed plaster over stone. The church seemed larger than I imagined, dominating the setting. The rest of the scene seemed smaller.

I walked through the surrounding grave yard, looking at the names on the markers. Some headstones were too badly weathered and lichen encrusted to make out.

I walked around the church and found a collection of headstones, probably awaiting restoration work. There are likely many more graves than the ones that are marked.

The ramp up to the stage built for the annual Kinnaspelet pageant was gated and a sign asked that I go around the outside of the yard. At the corner behind the cottage, a farm fence met the stone wall of the church yard with a small gate.

I walked through and along the stone wall, and climbed on the stage. It's huge, very wide and with multiple levels. At the back, several levels looked like they could accommodate tiers of seating.

AT the far edge of this structure, the mountain rose sharply. This steep meadow had several natural shelves and benches, mostly tufts of vegetation, where the majority of an audience would sit.

I climbed above this to a juniper carpeted outcrop, and took a few pictures. The I descended back to the stage. The path from the gate toward Kinnaklova was obvious from above.

I followed the path along the base of the cliff that was the face of Kinnafjellet, the central mountain of Kinn. It was damp in spots, a little marshy.

About half a kilometre on, there was a series of stone walls, like an abandoned settlement. More likely they were corrals for the sheep. A little farther on, another stone wall ran from cliff face to sea, and in it was another small gate.

Not long after that, I reached the base of a boulder strewn slope, covered with lush vegetation and dotted with sheep. The slope isn't visible from the church, being hidden behind Kinnafjellet, but it's obvious there is a gap between the two mountains.

I climbed this to the col, the sheep chasing each other up slope ahead of me. From there, they worked their way up slope against Kinnafjellet. It looked awfully steep, but they had no problem with it.

I peeked over the top to discover a trail leading down. But I wanted to climb that cleft. So I descended the way I came, and worked my way over to the bottom of that slope.

May 19, 2010, 6:40 pm
The Quality Hotel lounge, Florø

This town just shuts down in the evening. Neither hotel restaurant is open, so I ended up back at the Hjornevikbua restaurant, where I went last night. Except looking over at the restaurant in this place, it looks to be open now.

The climb up the cleft was no different than any other scramble, technically. As usual, I didn't see the trail until I was halfway up. It was a nice climb.

At the top, I looked down at a dead end. It seemed that the base of the rubble slope ended at the water and now way past the vertical walls of the cleft itself.

The col in the cleft seemed no more than fifteen metres wide, and three boulders the size of a Smart car dominate. They are quite visible from the church.

I didn't sit too long. The wind was picking up and it had a definite chill. It was weird up there because each side was a sheer vertical wall. Usually there is some upward sloping at the sides of a col, but this was straight across, and straight up.

I started back down. It's a steep slope and I found my Keen hikers weren't quite up to the terrain, missing the side support that my old beat up Garmont boots have. Except for those few moments, they've been a great comfortable shoe.

I took it slow and careful, and got down without a problem. I would have liked to go further around the mountain to the north, but it was pure muskeg from mountain base to the water. A real swamp.

I went back to the first col, and climbed again. The sheep were still well up the slope against Kinnefjellet. I walked their trail over the top and down the other side.

Halfway down, a stone wall cut across the entire slope. It must have taken ages to build. A gap in the middle had no gate.

The path lead down the left side of the south face of the slope. Across the way on the back side of Kinnaklova, an enormous cave came into view.

I would guess the cave was thirty metres wide, close to half that high at the mouth. It was under the left side of a large arching overhang, not even taking up half the space under the arch.

I walked down to a fence and discovered a small cave there, not nearly as dramatic.

The big cave was spooky. None of the rock fall laying around was new, so the whole structure was probably stable. I made my way toward it.

I had climbed to a point directly under the midpoint of the overhang, and probably still had thirty metres to go before I would be at the cave proper. I just didn't feel comfortable going any farther.

I took several pictures, then made my way around to the path back to the top of the col. And then retraced my steps back to the church.

My climbing had taken the entire morning and I reached the church at noon. There was a bench against the wall, sun washed and sort of out of the wind. I lay down on it, and napped for about half an hour.

I woke just before 12:30 and heard footsteps on the gravel path. The lady who is the church caretaker said hello before stepping inside and closing the door.

I took a few more pictures in the noon light, and then slowly walked down the road. I still had three hours to wait for the ferry, so I was in no hurry.

I noticed all kinds of stone wall on the walk back. The wind was picking up even more, and it was cold even with the sun.

Across the way, the mountain behind Rognaldsvag had acquired a gob of foggy cloud on top, and the wind was pushing it around.

At the pier, I kept walking, determined to follow the road to the other end.

There was a long straight channel at the end, pointing south east, and at the far end a light house marked where it met the sea. I checked later and it's the same lighthouse I could see from near the cave. So I almost went all the way around the whole island.

I had over an hour still to wait for the ferry. Actualy I'd filled the day pretty well. I was expecting to have at least two hours to wait given that the island was so small.

The wind was getting really cold now. Thick cloud blew off the mountain behind Ronaldsvag, only to dissipate almost immediately.

On the pier, I found a somewhat protected corner in the concrete wall. The sun had warmed the concrete so it wasn't too bad. But that wind sucked the heat from my body.

Just before 3:00, a water taxi arrived and two people began unloading boxes and packages. A local backed a tractor down the pier with a small trailer attached and with the help of the taxi pilot, they unloaded a yellow white casket. Then the two taxi passengers followed the tractor down the road toward the church, while the taxi sped off. It was a sad little procession.