A Day in the (Midnight) Sun
Jane Sandell
The day didnt so much start as continue. As Wednesday rolled into Thursday, I was gazing at sunlight reflected off sea. I knew I was tired and should go to bed but the passing scenery distracted me. The appropriately named MS Midnatsol was gliding inexorably on towards the northernmost point of continental Europe.
There were to be many highlights on the 12-day voyage from Bergen to Kirkenes and back but for me the real magic would be on this Day Four. In the wee sma hours we reached Bronnoysund and, in a fit of madness, I ran down to Deck 6 as we arrived to watch the cargo come on and off. The day was changing from dusk to dawn and was pleasantly warm as I watched the bustle on the quayside. We left around 1.30am and I headed for my cabin, deciding that some sleep was necessary if I were to be awake for the days main event.
Five hours later, clutching coffee and camera, I was back on Deck 6, my vantage point of choice throughout the voyage. Endless sea streamed ahead as I gazed towards the horizon. Just over half an hour later a small rocky island topped by a globe came into view and at 7.07.21 the ships horn blared as we crossed the Arctic Circle.
Id always wanted to visit the Arctic and this trip on MS Midnatsol, one of the Hurtigrute fleet, was a particularly pleasant way of doing so. I had expected to enjoy myself but not to be so totally and immediately captivated. I loved everything: the ship, the people, the scenery and most of all the light and the sea. I felt as if I had found my right place; I was relaxed, confident and happy, the person I wish I was all the time. I found it hard to sleep but only because I didnt want to miss anything. I saw many ports at two or three in the morning, in daylight for this was early July in the land of the midnight sun. Often it felt as though only I (and the crew) were awake and by the time we reached the Arctic, Midnatsol had become my ship.
On this most memorable of days, I spent the morning sunbathing on the open deck. Yes, really! It was beautifully warm. It seemed that the further north we travelled, the sunnier and warmer it became. Lulled by the rhythm of the sea and drunk on the spectacular scenery, I almost resented our ports of call. Hurtigruten started as a lifeline service to small communities on the west coast of Norway. In the early days it carried freight and a few passengers. Now, the modern ships transport tourists along with some cargo but they are still all small enough to be able to dock at the same 34, often tiny, harbours.
Of course, there was no halting the ship and early in the afternoon we reached Bodo. Its not a particularly attractive place but it does have the wonderful National Aviation Museum. I could have spent all day there, wearing out my feet and exploring the history of flight. But time and tide wait for no man (or woman) and Midnatsol had a schedule to keep.
From Bodo we headed north-west to Lofoten. The weather continued to be glorious and sitting on deck was the only option. As we approached, the Lofoten Wall, the line of mountains running the length of the islands, came into view. At Stamsund, I watched the cargo being unloaded. I found it a continually fascinating pastime and that evening I was delighted to see a family arrive to take delivery of a new three-piece suite.
Back on board it was time for dinner which was doubtless delicious. The food was consistently excellent but theres no room in my memory for food, crowded as it is by thoughts of the scenery and the light. I never travel anywhere without reading all I can about my destination and this trip was no exception. Id been reading books and websites and pouring over maps for nearly a year but I still wasnt prepared for the awesome beauty or the vast distances of Norways west coast.
In the course of my reading I made many notes about places of interest and one of those was in our next port. Svolvaer is one of the prettiest harbours we called at but for once I wasted no time admiring my surroundings. It was the Lofoten Krigsminnemuseum for me! The owner was a very interesting man who seemed to speak limitless languages and enthusiastically greeted his visitors in the right one. His collection details the Second World War as it affected the people of Lofoten (in the main). Its not a glitzy streamlined museum but rather a personal collection and is fascinating because of that. The scariest thing I have ever seen in a museum is there: a mocked-up Gestapo HQ. It might be a re-creation but all the artefacts are genuine and I was genuinely terrified. I left the museum feeling embarrassed and ashamed about how little I knew about Norway during the Second World War. It was horrible: awful acts and immense deprivation especially in the north.
By the time we left Svolvaer the day was almost over. But there was one more adjective-defying scenic delight to come. The Trollfjord: not much wider than Midnatsol is long and with mountains rising 1000 feet on either side. The captain navigated the ship into the fjord and turned on the spot to head back out. I felt small and insignificant and over-awed but content. Ahead of me the Arctic frontier town of Tromso, the majestic North Cape, the Russian border and Hammerfest, the most northerly town in the world awaited; behind me lay evocative Bergen, picturesque Alesund and beautiful Trondheim. But, as Thursday became Friday, I lay back on deck and gloried in being where I was, basking in the warmth of the midnight sun.
