Sletta south of Espevær, Ryvarden lighthouse (No).
The lighthouse is now a cultural centre with art gallery and cafe, and offers overnight accommodation, see Sveio tourist information.
North of Haugesund – you’ll immediately meet an open stretch – “Sletta”. This water is infamous among ferry passengers for it's heavy seas. As late as 1999 a tragic accident happened when the catamaran ferry “Sleipner” went on the reef "Bloksen" and went down. 16 passengers drowned. As we pass by this reef, the accident gives us food for reflection, but happily, today “Sletta” causes no trouble. It is a summer day. We are beating to windward in a gentle breeze from the northwest. Bømlo and Espevær are still scarcely made out in the horizon. While running north, we proudly outsail a bigger and far more modern boat. While approaching the archipelago of Espevær, this other boat chooses the main lead, we instead, steer towards the light at Marholmen a bit more to the south, fascinated by the complicated web of cannels that seems to wait for us behind the nearest island.
If you are lucky, you have a vessel that doesn’t always ask you to choose the safest and most obvious fairway, that doesn’t quiver when you ask your second mate to run close in with the land, towards something perhaps unpredictable. Maritones doesn’t bother; she is small but capable although both her skipper and her second mate still are novices in sailing and often are worried too. This time, luckily, our adventure is exiting, but no big deal. The entrance reminds me of a poem, The Dream We Carry, by the famous Hardanger poet Olav. H. Hauge. Robert Bly and Robert Hedin have translated the text, and you deserve a complete quote:
This is the dream we carry through the world
that something fantastic will happen
that it has to happen
that time will open by itself
that doors shall open by themselves
that the heart will find itself open
that mountain springs will jump up
that the dream will open by itself
that we one early morning
will slip into a harbor
that we have never known.
We enter the bay in full sail, observing with delight this harbour that we have never known. I cross two third of the water surface, and then turn sharply into the wind while my wife douse the sails. After hours in the open sea, the calm, protected pool really feels like another world, and more of it is ahead. The outboard is started, and Maritornes runs slowly trough the fascinating channel dividing Saugøy in the south from the village island. The small, well kept houses are evidence of prosperity, but today some of them are summerhouses only. In former days things were different and far busier when up to 20.000 fishermen came here in the herring season. The island's three bakeries, I read later, couldn’t cope with the situation, and thousand of bread had to be imported from the mainland every day. People could walk with dry shoes from island to island, climbing from boat to boat, and the fishermen lived and slept in every obtainable chamber, causing – I imagine – terrible sanitary conditions, but also excitement, joy and a lot of hurly-burly. The Norwegian writers Jonas Lie and Alexander L. Kielland are among those who have portrayed this kind of event. Lie depicts in an excellent way the teeming crowds in a Norwegian outport, especially in his sea novel “Gaa Paa!” (1882). Unfortunately the text is not translated. A similar happening, but in an urban setting, is described by Kielland, using Stavanger in the 1840s as his model. In his novel Skipper Worse (1882) a great hullabaloo starts with the news, saying the herring is on the coast
(from page 45).
Prosperity, but unfortunately there is another side of the shield, hidden beneath the surface of the sea. It is the almost untold story of profit maximisation in a global seafood capitalism, a story of pollution, fish diseases and the uncertain fate of the wild salmon and sea trout, and the whole ecological system in the Norwegian fjords.
In former days up to 20.000 fishermen came her in the herring season.
In Espevær it would be easy to find a nice natural harbour among the many small islands. This day, though, we are in a more sociable mood and head for the guest harbour where we make fast alongside a big cabin cruiser. No problem. The "cabin family" has been her for several days already, and intend to stay for many days more. So it is with the motor boating people. More and more they congregate at the guest piers at least if it has electricity, shower and a shop. It is cosy and it is cheaper than running around with a 400-horese-engine, slurping diesel like a summer holiday monster. After all, there is also a boat loan to be paid off, and too much moving around leads to financial breakdown. Furthermore, explains this non-sailing family as they try to gather their sweet, yelling kids for dinner and children's TV: “we enjoy ourselves here in Espevær. No place on earth is better”.
59°35,19’N 05°09,53’E Espevær's visitor berths.
On the port side of us lays a completely different type of boat – it represents both another time and another culture – and another generation. The world is immediately different when there is no father and mother around in a all too expensive craft; only a grandmother and a grandfather on their annual cruise with their grandchildren.
We try to adopt some of their attitude. At least our own ambition is not at all to explore the hole of Espevær, but simply to relax for a day or two, enjoying the seascape and the characteristic ambience of this archipelago, forming the southern point of the much bigger Island, Bømlo, where our next stopover is meant to be.
Something is special about islands, particularly islands such as this, sort of left out in the big blue, and simultaneously closed on itself with it's many islands and reefs. It must be this environment - and the island feeling of life – that makes the islanders slightly different from others. They may be more self-absorbed, but towards those who take the trouble visiting their little empire, they are pure friendliness. Simply staying in this mood is enough. We are content to wander around the island's narrow roads and trails, more or less without any plan. Suddenly we come to the lobster park (No.), the largest in Norway.
Unfortunately, it is late, and the park is closed, but it doesn't matter. We look trough the window, it is free of charge, and besides, we can read the history of the lobster fisheries and the farm on a poster. We then decide to try the islands peculiar self-service cable ferry, connecting two of the islands. But totally bewildered as we are, we can't find it and ends up strolling home to the guest pier, tempted by the prospect of enjoying a bottle of Chilean wine in the light of our gas light, and later – maybe other pleasures as well in the dark corner of our “forecastle”. Not until the day after when gliding out trough the northern sound, we see the modest ferry and regret everything - but now the ticket is thrown.
In villages of the Espevær kind, the grocery is an obvious centre – if it still holds on. Therefore, if you have done all your shopping before departing a city harbour, shame on you. Next time you arrive the island, the local grocery may have throw in the sponge. The grocery is – besides – a nice place to chat with human beings, both natives and “explorers” – that is others than your own crew. The local pub is another obvious option, and according to the tourist information there really should be one somewhere on the island - at least in the weekends (but today it is not). All in all the Espevær community doesn’t seems to go all out for tourism. The guest marina is nice and the island has some rental properties and some attractions, but no heavy promotion seems to be needed. The islanders seem to be content enough, and don’t ruminate on all sorts of tourist industry. By the way, they are helped by supernatural powers. The most famous of all attraction on the island is the so-called UFO-ring, an inexplicable impression in the field – probably made by a circular sailing vessel from another galaxy. I’ll order my masthead man to keep his eyes peeled.
Next day comes with dazzling rain. The morning is spent by chatting with sailors arrived the night before. An experienced, stout, old and ugly (but nice) man sails with his young, sexy (new) girlfriend. She is inexperienced, that is, I guess, with regard to sailing. Of cours the boat (i.e. his boat) is extremely large and I postulate a "law" regarding second marriage sailors: The tubbier the groom, the bigger the boat, the younger the bride. I ask my wife to cast off; we are heading for Meling bay at Bømlo’s western shore.
No comments:
Post a Comment