I put my clothes in the washer after Stamsund, moved them to the dryer before Svolvaer and had them out in time to wear on deck for the midnight sun. That’s what it’s like to do laundry on a ship above the Arctic Circle.
The cruise is the Hurtigruten, a word Norwegians utter in bouncing-ball syllables, with a glow on their faces like the one Moses must have worn after his meeting with God. The word translates to English verbatim as the Fast Route, English vernacular as Norwegian Coastal Voyage. This fleet of 11 vessels operates a 1,600-mile Norwegian lifeline, year-round, from Bergen in the southwest to Kirkenes on the Russian border in the north and to 32 other towns and villages, like Stamsund and Svolvaer, in between.
Several days earlier in Oslo, before I embarked on the cruise, I engaged in conversation a Norwegian I guessed to be about my age; I mentioned I would soon be taking the Coastal Voyage. As fortune would have it, Solbjorg Gjertsen had grown up in Kirkenes, and one of her fondest childhood memories was of the Hurtigruten, pronounced with the bounce. The ships, she said, always brought foodstuffs, building supplies and, sometimes, a wave of excitement.
In those days, Americans rarely traveled the route–that’s still true today–so it was big news in Kirkenes whenever any were aboard.
“We thought the Americans were s-o-o-o weird,” Solbjorg Gjertsen confided in unsteady English and a stage whisper, “because the ladies would wear headscarves and sunglasses.” And her eyes shone behind cat-eye frames as she said it.
I remember the laundry day because it was the most eventful of the five I spent aboard the M.S. Vesteralen, one of the Hurtigruten’s 11. By 5 a.m. that morning, I was already sitting in the Panorama Lounge, empty but for me, watching to starboard as waterfalls spilled into the Norwegian Sea.
We were northbound, and stopped at Nesna long enough to leave a supply of tomatoes, red and green onions, oranges, lettuce, several cans of paint, three skids of paving stones and some sheets of what, as I leaned out from the F Deck’s railing, looked to be some sort of paneling. It was an odd trade, for in return the 356-foot-long, 318-passenger Vesteralen took on lettuce, grapefruit, potatoes and two skids of black tubing; the captain himself let down the gangway to hail the forklift driver.
Nesna was a place more pier than town, a place more of boats than of houses. Those who lived there did so on a curb of verdant farmland at the edge of the sea, pushed to the brink by a theatrical backdrop of toothy peaks. In beauty and situation, it was a typical Hurtigruten call. Many of the other ports looked much like it, and our dock time at most of them ticked off in minutes. So in other words, the stop there was more comma than period, and we were quickly under way again.
Soon, other passengers began to stir from their cabins, tugging their jackets on to brave a morning chill that before long could be factually described as Arctic. It’s strange, the way an invisible line drawn ’round the Earth can lure a shipload of people outdoors to “see” it.
The night before, there had been a contest to see who among the passengers would come closest to guessing precisely when we’d cross the Arctic Circle. The truth would come out later, scrawled on a marker board. Time of crossing, 7:11:25 a.m.; Johann Mathis, winner. But none of us checked the clock as the Vesteralen eased through the glassy water. Everyone was on deck, scanning a herd of formations to the west for Hestmann Island. Unless its summit is ringed in clouds, as it was that morning, Hestmann is recognized by its silhouette: something like a sphinx but with a shrunken exclamation point where the head ought to be. The island sits right on the Arctic Circle and makes it easier to spot a rocky outcropping–just in time to snap a few pictures to port–where a simple hollow orb marks the crossing. Then we could relax enough to eat breakfast.
Scarcely an hour later, some of us transferred to the jaunty little Meloycruise II, a shore-excursion boat that would take us chugging past salmon corrals and sea-bird nesting grounds. We were going to Svartisen Glacier, Norway’s second-largest at 143 square miles, south of Ornes.
Norway’s fiords were formed by glaciers. Long ago, the glaciers began to melt and recede; the ocean moved in to fill the void. But in several places, Svartisen among them, a low shelf of earth called a moraine formed between the dwindling glacier and the saltwater fiord. As these glaciers continued to melt, they created freshwater lakes, separated from the saltwater fiords by only a few hundred feet of moraine. That’s what Svartisen is like: snowy mountain tops, forested slopes, emerald lake, wooded moraine, blue fiord, glacier creeping down the gorge.
We could have studied the glacier from inside the log-cabin visitors center, where a buffet of cold pancakes–a treat that sets Norwegian faces aglow almost as much as the Hurtigruten does–had been spread for us. But the sun was strong that morning, the air as crisp and fresh as the first bite of an apple. So some of us took seats on moss-covered rocks in nature’s amphitheater, humans on one side of the lake, Svartisen Glacier on the other. It was unsafe to get any closer. Someone explained that the ice was expanding, which accounted for the rumbles we heard. There also was the sound of rushing water, too loud to attribute to the waterfall across the lake. That was the sound of glacial melt, the explanation continued, which was being collected by a hydroelectric plant built inside the mountain, under the glacier. We would see no evidence of the plant’s existence until we boarded the bus that would take us ’round the mountain and to points beyond.
The bus rambled north, more or less, toward Bodo, where we caught up again with the Vesteralen (and a late lunch aboard) in mid-afternoon. The weather was still in our favor as the ship ventured away from the coast and made for the Lofoten Islands.
So much of the Hurtigruten’s course is through protected waters, the few stretches that take to the ocean come as a surprise. Like the cruises that follow North America’s Inside Passage, Norway’s Hurtigruten is guarded by a string of islands. Most of the way the waters are so calm it’s easy to mistake them for a mountain lake. The roll of the Norwegian Sea is a different matter. I rode it out in my cabin. I developed a theory: This must be how Norwegians learned to speak in bounces.
I didn’t venture forth until we were pulling out of Stamsund, on the protected side of the Lofoten Islands. In leaving Norway’s coast, we’d abandoned the ordered universe of blue sea, green farms, evergreen mountains and white-tipped peaks. We had entered a stark and rocky world where the wind cut coarse music from the Vesteralen’s rigging.
In this wild archipelago, it was as if nature had gotten things backward: The sea seemed solid and the land seemed fluid, and neither of them real. Even with my warmest layers in the wash, I stayed on deck, stung by the cold, spellbound by island-mountains as fierce as glass shards; they loomed like advancing waves about to break upon the ship, upon each other. I wondered: If Solbjorg Gjertsen in her cat-eye glasses thought Americans with headscarves were weird, how would she have described all of this?
The Vesteralen docked long enough at Svolvaer so that those passengers who wanted to could prowl a few craft booths just as they were packing things in for the day. In the middle of summer, June 30 to be exact, I bought a pair of handmade felt boots, fashioned by the very hands I was counting kroners into, made from the wool of Lofoten sheep. And I wouldn’t buy the wooden mug, reputedly made from a type of birch that is able to grow above the Arctic Circle, until the craftsman who carved it agreed to sign the bottom. On the way back to the Vesteralen, I picked up a post card of Trollfjord, which the ship would enter later if sea conditions permitted.
As fortune (and the ocean) would have it, the 55-foot wide Vesteralen entered the 328-foot wide mouth of Trollfjord at 11:15 p.m. Graffiti at the water line welcomed us across the liquid threshold. A power station met us at the end. In between were the rocky walls of the fiord and many waterfalls. It was a short trip, and we were out again by 11:30. All that was left was to wait for midnight, in clothes still warm from the dryer.
Since before Trollfjord, clouds had been forming on the western horizon, and the sun had dipped behind them, turning them pink with gold edges. It occurred to me earlier in the trip that this night would be my only one north of the Arctic Circle, my only chance to see the midnight sun. I worried that the clouds would ruin it. I paced the deck and checked my watch: 11:44, 11:45, 11:46 and counting. There was a break in the clouds.
Looking back on that night, I realize I might have taken more professional photos of the midnight sun. I might have sought an artful angle that would have included part of the Vesteralen or some of the other passengers. The raw thrill of it, though, was to simply shoot the sun and note the time: midnight, 12:01, 12:02 and counting.
I’d been up a long time, since before 5 that morning. Still, it didn’t seem right to retire when the sun hadn’t. Other passengers were giving up, though, going inside, pulling sweaters off over their heads in the stairwells on the way back to their cabins. I walked through the Panorama Lounge, nodded to a table of Germans who were settling in for a game of cards, waved at the Swiss couple from the Svartisen tour. I was giving up too.
Somehow, a new day had begun without the old one ever ending. I decided: The glow of it never will.
———-
Toni Stroud’s e-mail address is tstroud@tribune.com.
MIDNIGHT SUN
How much sun you see in Norway depends on the time of year and how far north you go. Here’s the schedule Norwegian Coastal Voyage uses:
At Bodo, the sun never sets June 2-July 10, and never rises above the horizon Dec. 15-30.
At Tromso, the sun never sets May 17-July 25, and never rises above the horizon Nov. 25-Jan. 16.
At Hammerfest, the sun never sets May 13-July 31, and never rises above the horizon Nov. 20-Jan. 23.
–T.S.
IF YOU GO
WHAT IT ISN’T
Thanks to decades of image advertising, many Americans have been conditioned to form a distinct mental picture when they hear the word “cruise.” The Hurtigruten challenges that image. There’s no swimming pool, no live theater, no guest lecturers, no kiddie programs. There’s no casino, unless you’d count (on the ship I was on) the two slot machines in the smoking lounge. No one snaps your photo as you come aboard. There’s no lifeboat drill. When you go ashore, there’s no cute little sign at the gangway reminding you when to return. And, speaking of the gangway (again on the ship I sailed), it’s as awkward to climb as a Japanese hump-back bridge; and there may be no one available to help with your luggage.
Meals are adequate but not gourmet. There’s little hawking of shore excursions, and the ship’s officers are introduced without fanfare during cocktail hour. In other words, it’s not the commercial, thrill-a-minute, song-and-dance extravaganza that people have been trained to expect of Caribbean cruises. It’s a refreshing departure from all that. I’ve never taken a freighter cruise, but this is how I imagine one would be–low-keyed and casual. And in fact, the Hurtigruten ships do transport freight and ferry cars.
WHAT IT IS
There’s a reason they market this as “The World’s Most Beautiful Voyage.” The ship is never out of sight of Norway’s striking coastline. The scenery is the star, and there is simply no hoopla aboard to detract from it.
The line has three classes of vessels:
Traditional: two, built in 1960 and 1964 and modernized since then; 164-171 berths. (Accommodations are in cabins and suites, but are tallied as number of berths.)
Mid-generation: three, built in 1982 and 1983 and modernized since then; 312-325 berths.
New: six, built in 1993, 1994, 1996 and 1997; 464-490 berths. Americans are steered toward booking the “new” ships; they’re larger than the older ones and have a fitness room. Because of my travel dates, I sailed on a mid-generation ship. Perhaps that’s why I encountered only two other Americans on my voyage. My cabin needed vacuuming but otherwise was clean and well supplied with towels when I checked in. It had no TV, no hair dryer and no central heat/air controls. Both cabin and ship were comfortable but not luxurious.
WHO GOES THERE?
Americans represent 20 percent of the passenger count May-September, and a considerably smaller contingent the rest of the year. Again, they sail primarily on the “new” ships. However, all ship announcements are repeated in English; many passengers either come from other English-speaking countries or speak English (rather than Norwegian) as a second language.
2001 CRUISE PRICES
Year-round, Norwegian Coastal Voyage operates cruise itineraries that cover five, six or 11 nights (five nights southbound, six nights northbound, 11 nights round-trip). Highest season in 2001 is June 1-Aug. 31, with rates ranging like this: five-night cruise from $918 for an inside cabin to $2,370 for the best suite; six-night cruise from $1,109 inside to $2,865 for best suite; 11-night cruise from $1,665 inside to $4,305 for best suite. For sailings Aug. 16-31, outside cabins are eligible for a discount. Rates are per-person double and include three meals a day, taxes and port charges. Travel outside of those dates, and the rates go down.
On departures through April 15, solo travelers who book the five-, six- or 11-night itinerary do not pay a single supplement. Travelers 67 and older receive a senior discount of $220 on 11-night trips through April 30 and again after Sept. 1. The line also offers tour packages that pair the voyage with pre- or post-cruise add-ons such as city stays, train excursions and cruises on other lines to various ports in the Baltic.
ALTERNATIVES
An option is to sail port-to-port the way many Norwegians do. They use the Hurtigruten as a water bus. Although this type of travel may be booked before leaving the United States, Norwegian Coastal Voyage’s pricing tends to discourage that, at least during the high summer months.
When I researched my trip, I contacted the line’s U.S. reservations number to inquire about booking four nights instead of five or six, the Norwegian Coastal Voyage operator said that the per-night cabin rate for four nights would cost about the same as the five- or six-night itineraries, once a la carte meals–about $50 per day–were added on.
Meals are included only with the five-, six- or 11-night cruises. Travelers who want to sail port-to-port can try to board the ship in the port of their choice, pay at the purser’s desk and hop off at the intended destination. Cabins may not be available, though. I saw one man sleeping in the booths at the snack bar.
THE WEATHER
In late June last year, early morning temperatures ranged 44-50 degrees Fahrenheit between Bergen, where I boarded, and Tromso, where I disembarked. However, though it warmed up into the low 60s some days, there were times when it felt considerably colder on deck, either because the ship was in motion, the breeze had picked up or it was raining. Plan to dress in layers. It didn’t rain much but often threatened to, what with heavy cloud cover. Some days were sunny. Some were partly cloudy with fog covering the mountain tops.
SHORE EXCURSIONS
What’s offered depends on when you travel and whether you’re on the northbound or southbound sailing. City tours of Tromso (by day northbound and by night southbound) and Trondheim (southbound only) operate year-round and cost $31 each. Summer choices include a day-long bus trip from Geirangerfjord through Trollstigen that operates June 10-Oct. 1 (northbound only) and costs $127, meals included.
The Svartisen Glacier excursion I mention in the main story operates April-September and costs $120. Some excursions may be purchased when you book your cruise; others may be booked and paid for only after you board the ship.
WHO TO CONTACT
I booked my summer 2000 voyage with the help of Rosemary Gwyther, travel agent at Ivory Isle Travel in Kenilworth: 847-256-2108, ext. 121. She, in turn, worked with The Nordic Company, a tour operator based in Madison, Wis., that specializes in travel to Norway: 608-288-8070; or at www.nordicco.com. The cruise was only one element of a complicated itinerary–I was there to gather enough material for four other stories besides this one–that included hotel stays in Oslo, Balestrand, Bergen and Stavanger; and a combination of train, ferry and air connections. The travel packet they put together not only included all of the tickets and hotel vouchers and a sturdy “wallet” to keep them in, but there were also luggage tags, a tote bag and, best of all, tip sheets on Norwegian customs and suggested restaurants. (By the way, my total expenditures on the two-week, single-occupancy trip came to $6,399.)
Several other tour operators specialize in Norway and Scandinavia; among them are Bennett Tours (800-221-2420; or at www.bennett-tours.com) and Scantours (800-223-7226; or at www.scantours.com).
Norwegian Coastal Voyage, formerly known as the Bergen Line: 800-666-2374 for brochures; or at www.coastalvoyage.com.
Norwegian Tourist Board: 212-885-9700; or at www.norway.org/travel.
— Toni Stroud
