Exploring the Lofoten Mountains and Fjords of Norway
Dear Friends,
Despite miserable weather…wind, rain, fog and 49 degrees, we pressed onward today to discover the area around Lofoten. It’s truly a shame that the fog was so bad but we tried to get as many photos as we could to show off the region. We had hoped that it might clear after lunch, but just didn’t happen. I can only imagine how gorgeous it must be on a clear, sunny day.
The weather for late June is a bit unseasonably cool but it is Norway!
Lofoton is, of course, known for its fishing, especially cod, and is a quaint tourist town snuggled among the fjords with more than one million tourists per year. If you’ve ever been to Peggy’s Cove in Nova Scotia, then you can relate to what we saw today.
Here is the description from Wikipedia: “Lofoten (Norwegian pronunciation: [ˈluːfuːtn̩]) is an archipelago and a traditional district in the county of Nordland, Norway. Lofoten is known for a distinctive scenery with dramatic mountains and peaks, open sea and sheltered bays, beaches and untouched lands. Though lying within the Arctic Circle, the archipelago experiences one of the world’s largest elevated temperature anomalies relative to its high latitude.” It was a four-hour drive over for a short lunch and a look around, then four hours back. Thanks to Pierre who was our chauffeur the entire time.
I will try to caption the pictures to better identify certain photos. Enjoy!
Our other stop was at one of the few all-wooden churches in the area, Vågan Kirk Lofotkatedralen. It was lovely on the inside and built originally in 1110.
Well, once again, there was no midnight sun for us. Maybe before we depart on Saturday, but the weather certainly has to give us a break.
Á bientôt,
L & B
June 27, 2018 @ 7:29 pm
Beautiful, beautiful scenery and photos… but then we love fog, and Monica is Scandinavian. Laurie’s lunch would be just our choice.
June 27, 2018 @ 7:40 pm
Beautiful photos of a beautiful area. We’re being subjected to highs of around 100 degrees today, tomorrow, and Friday. Half way between that and your 49 degrees would be really nice.
June 27, 2018 @ 7:46 pm
Loving the pics of Norway! Many thanks, Linda – looks cold, tho….. 🙂
June 27, 2018 @ 8:02 pm
Wonderful pics despite the weather! Very moody. I agree Laurie’s lunch looks delicious.
Paris is sunny and hot! We need to average out these temps. Really admire your and Bernie’s travel adventures.
June 27, 2018 @ 8:47 pm
This is just wonderful Wonderful pictures wonderful setting ! ENJOY ! This is great This looks like my perfect place ! Bonjour Linda et Bernie !
June 27, 2018 @ 11:22 pm
Brrrrr! I am wishing you sunshine and warmth but know the camaraderie is warm. Miss you!
June 28, 2018 @ 3:22 am
Must be lovely long days!! Any Northern lights?
June 28, 2018 @ 3:37 am
Betsy, no Northern lights, only in the winter. So glad you’re reading the blogs. How are you?? (To fellow readers, Betsy is a very long-time friend from early school-teaching days in 1970-72 in Atlanta. We survived some craziness together as new teachers in a difficult situation. Both taught English and literature often to kids who couldn’t read!)
June 28, 2018 @ 12:57 pm
The landscape, fiords, & fishing villages are all so inviting. And the church is stunningly beautiful. It’s a positive thing you’re in good company because that weather would be enough to seriously dampen my outlook.
June 28, 2018 @ 1:03 pm
Been under the weather today and stayed in the room. So no blog for today. Think the chilly wind and rain got me plus my super sensitive system. Hopefully, tomorrow will be back on track.
June 28, 2018 @ 1:09 pm
Great photography, beautiful area. Can’t imagine how it would all look with blue skies and sunshine. What a wonderful adventure. Thanks for sharing.
June 28, 2018 @ 7:58 pm
Ran across a poem I thought you would enjoy!
Ode to American English by Barbara Hamby
I was missing English one day, American, really,
with its pill-popping Hungarian goulash of everything
from Anglo-Saxon to Zulu, because British English
is not the same, if the paperback dictionary
I bought at Brentano’s on the Avenue de l’Opéra
is any indication, too cultured by half. Oh, the English
know their delphiniums, but what about doowop, donuts,
Dick Tracy, Tricky Dick? With their elegant Oxfordian
accents, how could they understand my yearning for the hotrod,
hotdog, hot flash vocabulary of the U. S of A.,
the fragmented fandango of Dagwood’s everyday flattening
of Mr. Beasley on the sidewalk, fetuses floating
on billboards, drive-by monster hip-hop stereos shaking
the windows of my dining room like a 7.5 earthquake,
Ebonics, Spanglish, “you know” used as comma and period,
the inability of 90% of the population to get the present perfect:
I have went, I have saw, I have tooken Jesus into my heart,
the battlecry of the Bible Belt, but no one uses
the King James anymore, only plain-speak versions,
in which Jesus, raising Lazarus from the dead, says,
“Dude, wake up,” and the L-man bolts up like a B-movie
mummy. “Whoa, I was toasted.” Yes, ma’am,
I miss the mongrel plenitude of American English, its fall-guy,
rat-terrier, dog-pound neologisms, the bomb of it all,
the rushing River Jordan backwoods mutability of it, the low-rider,
boom-box cruise of it, from New Joisey to Ha-wah-ya
with its sly dog, malasada-scarfing beach blanket lingo
to the ubiquitous Valley Girl’s like-like stuttering,
shopaholic rant. I miss its quotidian beauty, its querulous
back-biting righteous indignation, its preening rotgut
flag-waving cowardice. Suffering Succotash, sputters
Sylvester the Cat; sine die, say the pork-bellied legislators
of the swamps and plains. I miss all those guys,
their Tweety-bird resilience, their Doris Day optimism,
the candid unguent of utter unhappiness on every channel,
the midnight televangelist euphoric stew, the junk mail-voice mail
vernacular. On every boulevard and rue I miss
the Tarzan cry of Johnny Weismueller, Johnny Cash, Johnny B.
Goode, and all the smart-talking, gum-snapping
hard-girl dialogue, finger-popping x-rated street talk, sports
babble, Cheetoes, Cheerios, chili dog diatribes. Yeah,
I miss them all, sitting here on my sidewalk throne sipping
champagne verses lined up like hearses, metaphors juking,
nouns zipping in my head like Corvettes on Dexedrine, French verbs
slitting my throat, yearning for James Dean to jump my curb.
June 29, 2018 @ 3:34 am
You are SO right, just love it. Oh to write like that! Jeanie Thompson, hope you see this. Do we know Barbara Hamby?
June 29, 2018 @ 4:37 pm
Yes, I know Barbara! She and her husband, David Kirby, are great poets. She taught at Spalding some years back for a semester or two. They are in Florida.
We are mourning the passing of former US Poet Laureate Donald Hall this week. Lots on line about him and Fresh Air ran some previous interviews today.
June 28, 2018 @ 8:10 pm
Love your photos and the narrative. I believe that the N147V on the wall at your lunch stop belonged to a 1968 MCEWAN M-2-153 Glider originally owned by a gentleman in Richmond VA That number has long been cancelled. It would be interesting to know how it ended up on the wall at your lunch stop.
June 29, 2018 @ 3:30 am
Thank you, David. Unfortunately, we won’t be going back to ask that question but perhaps someday you can visit and find out!!