The excitement of discovery emanates from every corner of the ship as our day draws toward a close. We would like to say we feel the same as any explorer would upon surveying a new land for the first time. That probably would be an exaggeration, a “fisherman’s tale,” for we have traveled to these places with relative ease and we certainly weren’t the first arrivals. Tidy colorful buildings greeted us at the shore both morning and afternoon but in the eyes of each and every one of us the experiences were completely new. In the spirit of adventure, two new destinations were added to our itinerary and we would vote that both should be a “keeper.”
The coast of Norway is a labyrinth of islands and islets in an amazing array of shapes and sizes. Most have been ground down to rounded mounds by glacial scouring but some retain their mountainous countenance. Vega Island is like the latter, visible from a distance and harboring many surprises. Nestled in a tiny inlet, the village of Nes glimmered in the sunshine. Like an invading force, more than a hundred of us set out on foot to see whatever there was to see and all came back fulfilled. Orchids flourished side-by-side with mountain avens and the extremely rare Scandinavian primrose. Birders were rewarded with a glimpse of the elusive common eider, a bird that for 1000 years has been invited to nest upon this island. With nesting season in full swing, the females are sitting tight so we had to rely upon an excellent museum to enlighten us about their biology and the industry of collecting eiderdown.
Glaciers have rolled across the mainland too, carving deep valleys and gouging the towering walls. Now filled with seawater, these fjords are a pathway to the interior, followed by Vikings and explorers and visitors like us. Velfjorden reaches the sea only slightly south of Vega Island and it was this highway that we followed in early afternoon bound for Lomsdal/Visten National Park. At the end, in Storbørja, mountains rose up on all sides and were reflected in the mirror-calm waters. Birch and spruce trees formed a gallery through which we walked, enthralled by the plethora of plants in the understory. Rivers seemed to tumble from all directions, some bearing the telltale milky color of glacial flour indicating what might be found far away at the head of the valleys. Some of us chose to climb high for a view, others skimmed along the shore feeling mighty small in the grandeur of the scene.
Sunrise and sunset are barely three hours apart today. The brilliance beckons, tricking the body into thinking that the day should go on and on. But occasionally one must lay their head upon a pillow, seeking strength for the adventures of the morrow.
