Today, the weather has been utterly incredible. Northern Norway is experiencing a period of freak unseasonably hot temperatures. Whilst today in Edinburgh the average temperature was forecast at 14 degrees, at our campsite in Alta it was forecast to rise to 25 degrees, whereas in Nordkapp it was destined to be 28 degrees – unheard of! Whist we are loving this lovely hot weather at last, I find it pretty worrying that at 71 degrees north it can be so hot – climate change is well and truly upon us.

We had a relatively leisurely start in the campsite this morning, eating our breakfast in the sunshine. Our drive today was also at a more relaxed pace than the last two days – a modest hundred mile drive, which took us nearly three hours after stops. We first headed to the supermarket in Alta for supplies and diesel, then retraced our steps back down the E6 southwards. I felt a pang of sadness as we crossed out of Finnmark and into Troms again. Finnmark had exceeded all my expectations – a stunningly wild beautiful lace with wide open skies and crisp air. I think we would be hard pushed to experience this area under such ideal conditions again – we really were very lucky indeed, especially with the addition of Oliver tagging along on our long road trip.

We stopped for a picnic lunch at a lovey beach just after Reisafjorden, at a narrow strait of water called Rotsundet. A couple of other people were also on the beach, enjoying the extraordinarily hot weather. First one couple, then another, braved the ice cold temperatures and plunged into the water. Oliver couldn’t resist a quick paddle, but opted not to go the whole hog and have a swim. The boys enjoyed a couple of cold beers from the fridge, after I offered to drive the last leg to the campsite.    

We are staying on a small campsite on the shore of Straumfjord. It is a sublime spot by the water, with a splendid panoramic view. Once set up, we took a FaceTime call from Thomas and Katy, who leave for Australia tomorrow. They are obviously very excited about their new adventure, and I am happy for them, although I had waves of sadness as we disconnected the call. A year away is a long time – but I’m sure we’ll manage a visit at some point.

The boys are currently cooking tea – salmon, potatoes and salad for Howard and I, grilled halloumi and vegetable burger for Oliver. Howard and I had anticipated eating salad for much of our trip. In reality, it has been so cold a lot of the time, that we have opted for warmer meals. I think the last time we ate salad was in May! So we will make the most of this wonderful warm evening – the last of our camping days with Oliver. Tomorrow we drive back to Tromso, and give him a real bed for two nights – talk about over-indulged children! I think we had now reached his camping limit, but he has done well to fit in with our routine. I don’t know how we would have coped if the weather was bitterly cold or wet, so we have picked a really good time to have him with us.

Tonight we will raise a glass to Thomas and Katy – happy travels in Oz!!

Oliver survived his night in his tent in the most northerly campsite in the world. Pretty impressive! Despite gearing him up with extra thermal layers, he reported that he was hot in the night. That must speak volumes about global warming!!

We opted for the optional breakfast at the campsite – a first, and very much appreciated. After packing away, and went to visit the tiny fishing village of Skarsvag, just along from our campsite. It’s claim to fame is the most northerly fishing village in Europe. Unlike Hammerfest, the day before, this place had real charm. Reindeer wandered across the football pitch, and the harbour was lined with attractive fishing craft. We then headed back to Nordkapp, to make the most of our 24 hour ticket.

The day was unusually warm, and once the sun was out, it reached 17 degrees at this most northerly point. After another look at the view, we went in side to see IMAC presentation of Nordkapp throughout the seasons. After that, we visited the underground exhibition space, and took a look at the tiny chapel, where some people opt to get married. We grabbed a quick coffee, then it was time to leave this extraordinary place. Despite the tourists, it has a kind of draw to it – this place at the top of the world. The light is unique, and there is something very ephemeral about looking out over the Barents Sea towards the Arctic. It is hard to describe, but it leaves an impression on you – an experience that I will never forget.

We headed south again, stopping off at Honningsvag, claiming to be the most northerly city in Europe. It is a Hurtigruten port, and on cue, the black, red and white Hurtigruten was sitting in dock, waiting to depart. We had a walk around the harbour, which looked gorgeous in the sunshine, and opted for another coffee before departing. A slightly inebriated local came and talked to us. He was a fisherman of King Crab and cod. He claimed to have caught his quota for the year, and seemed to have earned a shed-load of money as a result. His wife also ‘owned’ a fishing boat, meaning that in effect he had two quotas, although I am almost certain that his wife doesn’t fish.

We escaped our dodgy friend, and headed back to Oscar. We had a long drive back to Alta, but the scenery, particularly on the road leading down from the Cape was sublime. We had to keep pinching ourselves about how lucky we had been to catch this wonderful ‘weather window’. To experience Nordkapp in wall to wall sunshine is quite exceptional. We had been very lucky.

We eventually arrived back at our campsite in Alta gone seven. The sun was still blaring, and we enjoyed a pleasant supper outside in the warmth. Gone eleven, people were still sat outside, enjoying the sunshine – what a treat!

It has been the most remarkable couple of days – a real ‘road trip’, but worth every long mile. It is an experience I will never forget. We have been very lucky to have seen Nordkapp at it’s best. I count it amongst one of the remarkable experiences of our trip so far. I give a big thumbs up for Nordkapp!!

We all slept well, although I think Oliver was awakened a couple of times by Howard’s snoring. Welcome to my world! 

Before leaving Alta, we decided to check out the museum, which is host to the UNESCO listed Prehistoric Rock Carvings. The carvings date back to the Stone Age, and were inscribed between 2,000 – 7,000 years old. In total there are about 6,000 figures depicted, an exceptional testimony to aspects of life of the hunter-gatherer societies in the Arctic. They were discovered in the 1970s by a father and son who sat down for a rest on a flat rock leading down to the sea whilst walking. The first section of rock paintings has been painted with red pigment not long after they were first discovered, to make it easier to pick out the pictures. I imagine if discovered today, this would not happen, since to my mind anyway, the red paintings takes away some of the authenticity. The painting are mainly of men hunting or fishing in boats, or of animals – mostly reindeer, but also bears, elk and wolves. In addition, the archaeologists also claim to see whales, halibut, cod, salmon and cormorants – they must have a better eye than me!! The second group of  carvings were unpainted, and in my opinion, by far the best. In the bright light they were quite hard to pick out, and apparently the best time to view them is later in the day, when the sun casts shadows on the inscriptions. Overall though, it was remarkable to see such a collection of prehistoric art-work.

Leaving Alta, we headed first to Hammerfest, the mainland Europe’s most northernmost town. Historically, Hammerfest was an important way station for shipping, Arctic hunting and fishing. It was set alight by the British in the Napoleonic Wars, and again by the retreating Nazis in 1944 as part of their scorched earth policy, so there are very few old buildings in Hammerfest. The subsequent regeneration resulted in mainly functional utilitarian buildings, rather than anything of beauty. As a result, it is not a particularly attractive fishing port, and the large offshore liquid gas installation does little to enhance it’s appearance. However, we were keen to visit Hammerfest for one particular reason – to visit the Royal and Ancient Polar Bear Society. Only visitors to Hammerfest itself are entitled to join this quirky society, which donates it’s proceeds to conservation, mainly of Polar Bears, obviously. We couldn’t resist the chance to join this prestigious society, so having looked around the exhibits, we duly signed up!

After a quick look around the town, we tended to agree with Bill Bryson’s summation of the town, and I quote, ‘an agreeable enough town in a thank-you-God-for-not-making-me-live-here sort of way’. We made our way to the campsite that we had searched online, and all agreed that it looked pretty grim. We parked up in the lay-by just outside, and considered our options.

In the end, we decided to head for Nordkapp, three hours drive away.

It was, in fact, the most glorious evening, and what could have been a tedious drive, turned into an absolute pleasure. Once we had turned north onto the road that led up to Nordkapp, the scenery was absolutely magnificent. The landscape transitioned from flattish moorland into spectacular mountains and beautiful little coastal communities, hugging the shoreline in increasingly isolated locations. The evening was sublime, a clear blue sky with a glowing sun, and the most magnificent light. I tried hard to bite my tongue, to stop making Howard pull over every mile or so, and had to resort to taking iPhone photos out of the car window – a photographer’s nightmare.

We arrived at our designated campsite ‘Nordkapp Basecamp’, just before nine o’ clock. It had a lovely situation by a small lake, and the added bonus of a small onsite restaurant. The lovely lady on reception told us that the restaurant was just about to close, but if we ordered quickly the cook would stay on. So we ordered a couple of pizzas and a fish soup, and scuttled off quickly to set up camp.

We were all hungry, and the pizzas tasted delicious. Over dinner, we discussed our plans. In the end, since it was such a gorgeous evening, we opted to drive the five miles or so up to Nordkapp, to witness the midnight sun on the Cape. It transpired to be a brilliant decision, since arriving just after ten thirty, we had enough time to take a few photos of the iconic globe, before watching the sun, still way above the horizon at midnight.

We retreated back to our campsite, and were all tucked up in bed by 1am. All credit to Oliver. He slept outside in a flimsy pop-up tent all night, in the most northerly campsite in the world. Talk about tough parenting – I think this beats the lot!!

It had been the most wonderful day – incredibly full, but absolutely superb. We had achieved one of the key goals of our trip – we had reached Nordkapp, 71 degrees 10 minutes north, and witnessed the midnight sun. Utterly brilliant!!

Our first night camping with Oliver went remarkably well. We had selected a lovely campsite, surrounded by mountains, with a glacier in the distance. We pitched up on a grassy area so that we could put up the awning and place Oliver’s tent inside. Howard cooked tea of tortellini and vegetable sauce, and we had a pleasant evening sat outside in the evening sunlight.

This morning we treated Oliver to our breakfast ritual of cereal with blueberries and banana, yogurt and orange juice, which he seemed to appreciate.

We then packed up, obviously taking longer than usual since we had to work out how to pack up the tent (much to the amusement of our neighbours!), and take down the awning.

We had quite a long drive today, all the way to Alta, at 69 degrees north. We stopped a couple of times at splendid viewpoints, looking out over the fjords. At one stop, we spied a herd of reindeer grazing on a patch of snow – remarkable. We stopped for coffee at the only real town that we passed through – pleasant enough.

The scenery on our route was utterly stunning – quite different from what I had expected. I was anticipating scrub and arctic tundra. Instead it was green, with steep mountains and fjords all along the route. We were lucky with the weather, and so we saw the fjords at their best. These fjords easily matched up to the more popular western fjords further south in Norway, but without the crowds.

We arrived at our campsite late afternoon, a small site but perfectly adequate. We had arrived just in time for Howard to see the second half of the World Cup final between France and Croatia – France won 4-2. Once more we managed to find a nice grassy spot to set up camp. We had vegetable omelette for Howard and Oliver, and I had scrambled egg for tea (pan not big enough for a three person omelette!). We also opened up the limoncello that we had bought in Positano, which went down well with Oliver. We purchased a new zappy insect bat, since I had managed to sit on ours – and we certainly needed it, even with the insect repellent coil burning in the awning. We are definitely in fly country now!

We got chatting to a Dutch couple and their 11 year old son, who had just travelled down from Nordkapp in their VW California. They were very interested to see our awning and external topper. I put them in touch with the California Club website shop, where we had sourced ours. Cali owners are always interested in each other’s set-ups. It’s also remarkable how much more friendly Cali owners are. Big White people generally tend to keep themselves to themselves, I guess because they have a living room and TV, and don’t need to sit outside with the bugs! They left us saying they would buy their son a pair of ‘eyes’ like Oscar’s night-time windscreen cover for his next birthday. I love Cali owners!!VV

We spent the first half of the morning trying to get vaguely organised for Oliver’s arrival tomorrow. We really hadn’t given it a great deal of thought up until now, apart from picking him up in Tromso. The plan will be to head north, and explore some of the remotest part of Arctic Norway, called Finnmark. I must admit, I do have considerable reservations! Howard has decreed that Oliver should bring a sleeping bag with him, and sleep in the pop-up tent like Edward had done in Croatia. I keep saying to him, ‘Yes, but that was Croatia in the warm spring – this is Arctic Norway in their very cold summer’. But Howard is taking none of my suggestions on board about perhaps renting a cabin. We will see. If the poor lad starts to freeze, we will have to re-think, I suspect. Talk about tough parenting!!

Back to today. After a very murky start, the sun peeped through for about half an hour, I guess. We drove first to check on times for the ferry tomorrow morning, to take us into Tromso. Job done, we headed along the northern coastal route, first to a lovely little village called Husoy.

Husoy is in fact a tiny island, joined to the mainland by a man-made 300 metre causeway, that also acts as a breakwater for the small harbour. At one point in it’s history, Husoy had one of the largest fishing fleets in Senja, and clearly from looking round the harbour, fishing is still the mainstay of income here for the two hundred residents.

The people who live here must be tough to survive the harsh winters. Many of the older timber houses had wire stays fixing the buildings to the ground, to help protect against the fierce winds. I’m not too sure how I’d feel about living in a place where you had to wire your house to the ground, for fear of it blowing away! But today, there was no sign of bitter conditions. In fact, Howard and I were totally stunned as we walked around the village. All the pretty wooden clapboard houses had beautifully kept gardens, many with a profusion of flowers growing. It was extraordinary to see blue Himalayan poppies in bloom, alongside lilac, roses, pansies and penstemon. Once more, we had to prick ourselves that we were in the Arctic Circle. I’m guessing that Senja must also benefit from the Gulf Stream, like it’s neighbour Lofoten – although this afternoon, once the sun had disappeared, it definitely felt like Arctic temperatures.

I asked a local lady walking her dog if there were any cafes in Husoy, since this place is so far off the main tourist route, I had thought it unlikely. It turns out, though, that there is one, in the building that doubles up as the village hall. We walked in and were pleasantly surprised. Many locals were sat around tables, mostly eating some of the delicious cake selection on offer. We opted for coffee, and Howard tried their fish soup, which he reported as excellent. The table where we sat had a white tablecloth, lantern, and white rose in a vase – very sophisticated.

After our lovely coffee /lunch stop, we headed westwards along the wiggly northern coastline. Unfortunately by now, the weather was closing in, and the spectacular views of steep mountains plunging into the sea, largely evaded us. All the mountains were enveloped in cloud and mist, so we just saw the very last fifty feet or so plunging into the deep fjords. I can imagine, on a good day, that this place would look sublime, but just not today. Along the route, there were a series of single lane tunnels, always an interesting game, praying that you don’t meet another vehicle in the middle. Some were almost a kilometre long, with just the odd place hollowed out a bit more, which served as a passing place. There were plenty of cyclists out today, and we both commented to each other how ghastly, and dangerous it would be, cycling through these tunnels. On the way back, we realised how they had solved this problem. At the entrance to every tunnel was a sign, reading ‘Cyclist in Tunnel’. Next to the sign was a button, for the cyclist to press as they entered. This resulted in a post with flashing lights being activated – very smart, but still not attracting me to tunnel cycling!

A little further on we came to a viewpoint. In the lay-by were brightly painted old tyres, being used as plants tubs, with a profusion of plants growing – very effective. There was also a poster on the notice board advertising ‘The Tour de Senja’, a cycle race around the island, which takes place tomorrow. It’s a shame we will miss it.

Also on our route, we passed by Ersfjordstranda, with it’s lovely white sandy beach at the head of the fjord, and famous for it’s rather quirky gold-plated toilet facility. We stopped briefly in Mefjordvaer, another fjord-side habitation, and finished our tour at a viewing platform made from Siberian larch on a promontory separating two fjords. In the tourist brochure we had picked up, it promised us stunning views of the razor-sharp mountain peaks. We laughed – we couldn’t even see the mountains, yet alone their peaks. There was, however, some remarkable rock formations by the platform, carved out by glaciation, along with huge ovoid ‘incidental’ rocks, spat aside by the glacier. Probably a geologist’s dream location.

By now, it was getting late, and so we turned tail and headed back to our campsite. We still have some ‘van tidying’ to do, before we pick up Oliver, and we need to make an early start (well at least, early for us), in order to catch our ferry.

I imagine that since we will be on the road with Oliver, I am unlikely to get the opportunity to blog, so I will take a rest for a few days, and resume once he is away. I’m really not sure how the poor lad will react to this tiny space, and the cold conditions, so I’m guessing there will be lots to report. Watch this space!!

Sadly, as you will already know, England didn’t win the football. In the end, we were gathered with about twenty three other campers of varying nationality, mostly Germans, but also Dutch, French and Norwegians. It seemed that Howard and I were the only ones supporting England, which was sad. We took our defeat in good spirit, having lived through this agony for the past fifty or so years, it came as no surprise really. Howard did concede though and treat us to apple pie for pudding, which was some consolation, I suppose.

This morning on the campsite, it seemed that everyone was being especially nice to us. More people smiled and said ‘Guten Morgen’ or ‘Goedemorgen’, than at any other time. I guess that they were just feeling sorry for us, or perhaps surprised about how well we took the defeat. One eagle-eyed Dutchman commented that we did have a Croatian flag in our boot window. We explained that we had travelled there earlier this year, and had loved the place and the people, just not their football team!

We were also sad this morning, because it was the day we were leaving Lofoten. These islands really are sublime – such beautiful scenery and quirky little fishing villages. We loved them, despite the summer crowds, and are certainly a place I would love to see in another season, especially in the winter.

Before we left, however, we got our final ‘fix’, and travelled the short distance up the fjord to the northern coastal town of Laukvik. On the approach road was a small cottage with a B & B sign outside. The outside of the cottage was decorated in pieces of driftwood and whale bones, including the ribs and vertebrae, and pieces of fishing equipment. It sounds odd, but it really looked most effective, and made one wonder how it was decorated inside.

In Laukvik itself, we sourced a coffee shop near the harbour. I spotted a sign for ’Kaffebrenneri coffee roastery’ and ‘Keens Beans’. I remembered that the baker back in Kabelvag had told us about this wonderful independent organic coffee roaster along the coast. The inside of the coffee shop was gorgeous, very eclectic with comfy sofas. We chatted to the owner and coffee roaster, and as we selected a cinnamon bun, we told him that his coffee had been recommended to us by a baker. ‘Ah – that will be the baker who made the bun you are about to eat’, he replied. Turns out they are good friends, and in Lofoten, I imagine everyone one knows everyone, and mutually supports each others’ businesses. After coffee, we had a quick look at the cod-head drying racks by the harbour – huge triangular affairs, and unusually, still with the cod in place. I cannot describe to you the unbearable stench that exudes from these drying racks – but let’s just say, it isn’t pleasant. After I had taken some photos, Howard remarked, back in Oscar, how much the smell lingered. I didn’t take that as a compliment! 

We wove our way along the narrow northern coastal road until we finally reached the main road, just before it crossed the bridge out of Lofoten – a sad moment. We hadn’t made any fixed plans for our onward journey. We had looked at a coupe of campsites on the way to Tromso, and had thought we would see how far we got before we decided which one to aim for. An hour or so later, we stopped for a pee at a Sami restaurant, and sat with the map whilst we had the statutory cup of flask coffee – the trade off for using their restrooms. In the end, we decided that rather than splitting our journey over two days, we would go the extra mile today, and reach the island of Senja, where we had planned to visit before picking Oliver up. This way, we could spend two nights here, and explore the island tomorrow, before catching the ferry across to Tromso on Saturday morning.

Not long after leaving Lofoten, we passed a sign to Andoya, one of the Vesterelen Islands, home to 333 Sqaudron of the Norwegian Air Force. This squadron was formed in 1940 by members of the allied Norwegian Air Force, after Norway had succumbed to the Nazis. They based themselves in Woodhaven Harbour in Wormit, Fife, now home to the Wormit Boating Club. From Wormit, they flew Catalina Sea-Planes up into the North Sea, providing vital information to our convoys. There remain close ties with Wormit and the 333 Squadron, and is why both the skiff rowing boats are named in their honour – ‘Catalina’ and ‘Flying Boat’.

The drive along the main road was amazing. From a very dreary start, the sun suddenly came out, and the scenery looked wonderful. For much of the drive, we were beside fjords, and in the sunlight the colour of the water at the edges took on a vibrant turquoise colour. It looked more Adriatic than Arctic! It was hard to believe. At one point in the drive, we were incredibly close to the Swedish border, near Narvik, and in the distance we could see the mountains of Abisko National Park, that we had visited at New Year, two years previously.

We eventually arrived at Senja in the early evening, just as the flies were coming out. We took up our pitch by the fjord, armed with our trusty electric bat. It made us reflect on this morning’s antics as we were packing up the van in our previous campsite, which also had been beside a midge-ridden fjord. Inspired by Howard’s downloads of ‘Our Girl’ off BBC iPlayer (you know the programme, about the female army medic), which we had only just watched two nights previously, we had taken on the role of army personnel. So, as I rushed out of Oscar to dis-assemble the table, I had shouted across to Howard to ‘Cover me!”. At which point, Howard rushed out with the zappy electric bat, swotting madly at the little buzzy things. Unbeknown to us, this whole episode was being watched by the Dutchman in his Possl van. As we retreated into Oscar away from the flies, we saw him giving us the most perplexed look. ‘Poor English’, he probably thought, ‘All because they lost the World Cup!’.

Yesterday evening, we were treated to glorious sunshine on our campsite. We sat eating our supper looking out over the water, slowly watching the sun go down. At 11.30 pm, we decided that we may as well stay up (along with most of the campsite), to see the midnight sun. So we stood on the pontoon projecting into the fjord, and watched the sun very slowly nudge it’s way to the horizon. Sunset was due at 12.35 am, and sunrise again at 1.26 am. We waited until ten minutes after midnight, as the sun slipped behind a low bank of cloud, and decided that since we had seen the sun after midnight, we would call it a night. Shortly after 1.30am as I lay in bed, I started to hear the dawn chorus start up.

This morning was beautiful. For the first time since our first morning in Lofoten, we awoke to sunshine, and the fjord view looked completely transformed from the dull vista we had viewed the day before. We ate our breakfast outside, pinching ourselves that we were at 68 degrees in the Arctic Circle. Yesterday had been quite a long day, with a lot of driving, so we opted to take our last day on Lofoten at a slower pace.

We first headed back the few hundred yards along the road to the fascinating mirror sculpture we had seen previously, hoping to capture it in the sunshine. When we arrived, there were two cyclists there, wearing bright orange lycra. I patiently waited until they had finished looking, then stepped forward with my camera. As I did so, a family of five Koreans threw themselves out of their car, and literally ran in front of me as I was taking my first photo. Once more, I stepped back and waited. And waited ….and waited. They seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I had been trying to take a photograph, and had stepped right in front of me, or possibly wondering why I didn’t just include them in it. In the end, I could bear it any longer, and we headed back to the van. Five minutes later, as we headed northwards, who should overtake us at breakneck speed, but the Korean family in their hire-car, no doubt en route to their next photo opportunity!

We headed for Svolvaer, the largest town in Lofoten. In all honesty, it was a bit of a culture shock for us both, to be back in ‘civilisation’ for the first time since leaving Trondheim. We had the half-hearted thought that we might catch an excursion boat to Trollsfjord, but when wet saw the boat coming in heaving with tourists, we were actually quite relieved that all the trips were fully booked for today. So we grabbed a quick coffee and skedaddled.

We headed northwards, stopping a couple of times at viewpoints, and then turned off the main road to our campsite on the northern coast of Austvagoya, the most northerly of the Lofoten Islands. We had read that the best spots on the campsite, by the side of the fjord, filled up early. Howard had also sourced that they had a restaurant / bar, which meant that they were also likely to have a TV, so there was a possibility he could watch the World Cup football.

We arrived mid afternoon, and did indeed manage to grab the last fjord-side pitch – just gorgeous. The lady at reception also told us that there were boats belonging to the campsite, down by the jetty, which we could could use free of charge. So we grabbed a late snack lunch, and headed off to investigate. We fitted ourselves out with lifejackets, and headed to the jetty. Disappointingly, the rowing boat had just been taken out by two young Eastern European girls. One was rowing, whilst the other was attempting to fish from the side of the boat. It was immediately apparent, that there was not a hope in hell of them catching anything. For one, they were making such a din, loud chatter interspersed with raucous laughter, that they would have frightened all the fish away. Secondly, the girl rowing was utterly inept, and was splashing her oars, like she was trying to bang a drum. A real fisherman appeared on the jetty, and looked exceedingly disapprovingly at the two girls – a little like the look that Colin Firth gives Hugh Grant in Bridget Jones’ Diary – you know the scene, where Bridget and Daniel Cleaver are splashing around in a rowing boat?!!

Eventually two Dutch girls came back with the pedalo, so we opted to have a go in this instead. The fjord looked sublime in the late afternoon sun, with the mountains as a backdrop. We were so relieved that the Trollsfjord trip was sold out! Secretly though, I would have loved to have had a row – I think my rowing muscles have atrophied on this trip – I will need to get back into training as soon as we get back. As we came into the jetty, the rowing boat girls had given up, but the fisherman was hauling in a fish, glinting in the sunlight.

On returning from our campsite, Howard was alarmed to see that the electricity was going to be off between six and eight – his football plan was looking dodgy. Fortunately though, the electricity came back on, just in time for the start of the England game. I am currently being treated to a meal in the restaurant, just so Howard can watch the football. We have been joined with two Dutch couples. I suspect that they were originally supporting Croatia, but they are being very diplomatic just now! It’s very tense in here – I can’t bear to watch!!  I think my pudding depends on a win!!  

After another rather tardy start, we eventually got going. It is getting harder and harder to get off to bed early, since the midnight sun means that it is never dark at this time of year. Consequently, most people on the campsite are still milling around til nearly midnight – it just doesn’t feel like bedtime!

After breakfast, Howard decided he was going to ‘tidy up’ the boot. For anyone who knows Howard, you will understand when I translate that to ‘make more mess’. He has an uncanny knack of creating chaos whenever he tidies. It may have looked messy, but at least I knew where everything was, before he created ‘order’! The morning was still pretty dull, so I suppose there was no real rush to get away.

When we eventually set off, Howard reluctantly agreed to indulge my photographic lust, and take me back to Nysford, the lovely place we had visited late in the day, on our first day in Lofoten.

En route we stopped off to look at Borge Kirke, a slightly ugly modern looking construction, that sits high up on a hill, with tremendous views. The reason for it’s modern design was that it had been burnt to the ground in 1986, and a more contemporary building chosen to replace it. Despite reservations over the external design, inside the church was quite stunning – very simple, but beautiful. The altar piece was a fine tapestry of Christ, and there were lovely contemporary stained glass windows, depicting the tree of life. We both really liked it, and found the whole building very welcoming.

I had hoped that by the time we reached Nysford, the weather might have picked up, but it remained a rather flat light most of the afternoon. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed myself taking photos. After coffee at the quaint little Baker’s, I went off to do some photography, whilst Howard occupied himself in the museum, and watched a film about the old fishing fleet. For such a tiny community, with an equally small harbour, Nysford, at it’s peak had five hundred fishing boats, and 1,500 fishermen – extraordinary!

Having re-united, and purchased a rather nice reindeer tea-towel for Oscar, we headed back to the car. We climbed up behind the car park, since I had a hunch that I might get a good view of the harbour. However, after climbing up over the rocks, it was clear that we were in the wrong place. So we walked back into Nysford, and clambered on some rocks there, to aspire to the view I was looking for. Still no good. Eventually, we established that you would need considerable skill in rock climbing to obtain the view that I had seen in all the postcards, and so reluctantly admitted defeat. However, as we were just about to head back to Oscar, a glimmer of sun appeared, lighting up the village for the first time all day. I negotiated another ten minutes off Howard, and rushed to take a few more photos. On the way back to the van, Howard very wearingly asked if I had all the photos I needed. Frankly, a silly question, as any photographer would tell you – you can never have enough photos! I responded that perhaps in the winter, it would look completely different. I won’t tell you his response, because it was rude – but it involved the phrases ‘photo geeks’ and ‘spending days adjusting the reflection off snowflakes’! I read between the lines, and decided that I had pushed my luck with the photography for one day.

In an attempt to appease the old man, I offered to drive back. We decided to take a detour on the way back to the campsite, to the tiny hamlet of Eggum, on the middle island Vestvagoy’s northern coast. This turned out to be a wonderful location. Pretty brightly painted wooden houses sat on the headland, dwarfed by the mountains behind them. We opted for a walk along the headland, passing by the remains of a radar station, built by the Germans in World War II to detect allied convoys. A little farther along the path, we came to another of the Skulpurlandskap sculptures, this one by a Swiss artist, Markus Raetz. It is the sculpture of a head, but quite extraordinary, since as you walk around it, it takes on different faces, and front on, it doesn’t look like a face at all. It goes without saying, that when I caught up with Howard at the sculpture, it was already wearing his bobble hat. What am I going to do about him?!!!

As we walked back to Oscar, many ‘Big Whites’ had parked up for the night. I imagine it will be a superb site for watching the midnight sun. We, however, opted to return to our campsite, where at least there is hot water and showers.

On our return, a lovely German family parked up next to us, came over as we were preparing tea, and asked to look inside. ‘Do you sleep up there?”, the wife asked incredulously. I pulled down the roof cover to show her where we slept. She called her daughter over to see. It may be my imagination, but I think they were admiring our new rug that we had just put in Oscar, along with my soft furnishings. I felt a moment of pride in our lad. Look Oscar – these people think you are wonderful!!

We sat outside, in the last of the evening sun, before deciding that Al Fresco dining was a step too far, and retreated into the van for supper. I have to keep pinching ourselves that we are in the Arctic Circle. Oliver, in his ignorance, asked if a ‘normal’ sleeping bag will do for his visit. Duh! I don’t think so! ‘It’s very cold here’, I replied!

Our day today has been much quieter. The weather was still pretty cold and overcast this morning, so we made the most of our warm room, and spun out the lovely breakfast that was included in the price. I then made a valiant attempt to try to retrieve some of my photos off the cloud, using the hotel’s WiFi. I managed to get most of them, but the download speed was so slow, I started to lose enthusiasm. I did however manage to put a few photos on the blog in a somewhat haphazard fashion, conscious we were due to check out at any minute.

We opted on a walk around Henningvaer in the dull light. It was much quieter this morning, compared with last night, and we largely had the place to ourselves for the first hour. It is a very pleasant little community, with loads of cod drying racks all around the harbour, now empty. Just in the few days that we have been in Lofoten, we have witnessed the full scale harvesting of the dried fish and cod’s heads. The couple of days of dry weather led to a frantic picking of the fish, loaded first onto tractor trailers, and then taken straight away to be packed onto pallets for dispatch onto the ferries and away to the continent. It was a frenetic affair, the fishermen desperate to make good use of their weather window. It has left all the racks empty now, like huge skeletons. In a few weeks time, these racks will be dismantled, and the wooden rods stored until next winter.

As we were walking back, we came across a shop selling hats. Inside, the lady who made the hats was sitting at her machine, toiling away. The hats were all shapes and sizes, some knitted, some made of felt, and many with added tassels or adornments. Having just walked around in the freezing cold, I became tempted by a turquoise-blue one that matched my jacket. I tried it on, and it was a done deal. I wore it out of the shop, my ears already heaving a sigh of collective relief to be out of the biting wind.

We warmed ourselves up with a coffee, then headed out of Henningsvaer, and up the coast a little way to a place called Kabelvag. It was a quiet dreamy sort of place, quite atmospheric with the low mist hanging around the harbour. We came across an old telephone box, now converted into the town’s ‘library’. Essentially, it seemed to be running a sort of book swap service – people would bring books that they had read, and then help themselves to a book that took their fancy. Such a good idea for this little community. It made me wonder if perhaps there was merit in trying it out in our hamlet’s glorious bus shelter, which is already adorned with paintings, magazines, fresh flowers and curtains, as well as the almost non-existent bus timetable, and a phone number for the community pick-up bus.

We had a wander round the harbour, and came across another glass studio, with yet more glass hearts – it’s clearly a ‘thing’ in Lofoten. A sign on the local bar / restaurant reminded us that we were now over 68 degrees north, although depressingly, a sign we had seen in Henningsvaer informed us that we still had over a thousand kilometres to reach Nordcapp. We stopped to buy some bread in the baker’s. The baker himself served us. He apologised, as being Monday, he had sold out of bread by 8.30 am. He did still have some interesting sour bread baguettes, which he insisted we try, before buying.

We then took a quick look at the nearby Vagan Kirke, a large wooden church, known locally as the ‘Cathedral of Lofoten’, apparently able to seat over a thousand people in the congregation.

The weather was still cold and dull, so we opted to drive to our campsite for tonight. En route, we stopped at Lyngvaerstranda, and one of the ‘Skulpturlandskap’ sculptures. This glass fronted sculpture from one side looked just like a metal box, but when you walked around the other side, it’s polished metal concave surface reflected the local landscape. It was quite stunning, and a great improvement on the rather underwhelming sculpture that Howard had hunted out further south. I was trying to take photos of the reflections, when I became aware of a bright yellow thing in my camera lens. Turned out it was Howard wearing a sou’wester, doing a credible impersonation of Captain Bird’s Eye. Another couple who had stopped to look at the sculpture gave me a sympathetic glance. ‘It happens all the time,’ I responded, trying to explain away his strange behaviour.

We reached our campsite in good time to cook tea and put some washing on. When we parked up, we were the only camper van at this end of the site. However, as the evening has worn on, we have become surrounded by eight ‘Big Whites’. We have taken to singing the theme tune to ‘Jaws’, every time one turns in. We have maybe been on the road too long. Simple things like this now reduce us to hopeless laughter!

We awoke early to high winds and rain, and decided we should get up and take the roof down, yet again. Despite assurances last night that they were endeavouring to fix the showers, there was sadly still no hot water. Howard and I opted to have a quick wash, and depart. The morning, in all honesty, was pretty dreich. We headed first to the town of Stamsund, which is a Hurtigruten port. In the rain this morning, it did not look particularly appealing, and we couldn’t even find a coffee shop that was opened, so we moved on.

I was speaking on What’s App to one of my friends who has been to the Lofotens earlier this year. I told her it was wet and windy. She advised us to head for Unstad Beach, on the other coast. She told me that it was a surfer’s beach, and would be full of fit, hunky, blue-eyed surfers catching a wave! She also recommended the surfer’s cafe which she assured me would be full of the same fit surfing types.

So off we headed. I didn’t tell Howard about the surfers, just the cafe. We arrived in stair-rod rain, having first having to negotiate a single lane 0.8 kilometre tunnel with passing places. Having had to back up in the pitch black tunnel twice, to let cars get by, Howard was less than enamoured by the beach. ‘So, why are we here?’, he enquired. I had to fess up that it was supposed to be full of surfers. On a day like today, the surfers obviously had more sense, and had stayed at home. Just two solitary female surfers sat on the beach, contemplating going in the water. I amused myself for ten minutes or so, taking photos of pebbles, then gave up.

The surfer’s cafe was another matter. It must have served the best coffee we have had in the Lofotens, and their cinnamon buns were sublime. But still no sign of hunky surfers!

At this point, Howard and I felt a little defeated by the weather. We had eyed up a campsite along the coast, but it really didn’t seem like camping weather. Howard did a quick search on his phone, and announced he had booked a room in Henningsvaer for the night. What a relief!

We headed northwards to this charming little coastal fishing town, which even in the rain looked quite charming. We checked into our room – bijou, but clean and warm, and with copious supplies of hot water. We were like kids in a sweetie shop. I never thought I’d whoop at hot water!

The rest of the afternoon, we had a little wander around (still in the rain), and bought Oscar a new brightly coloured floor rug. We then headed up to the lighthouse, past the town’s football ground, which must have one of the most beautiful aspects of any pitch in the world, looking out to the fjord and mountains, surrounded by cod drying racks – very unique.

We headed back to our room for a lovely hot shower, and have just enjoyed supper, cooked for us, in the local hotel. Tomorrow, we’re hoping for better weather, and will be back in Oscar again. But for tonight, we’re savouring a real bed in the warm. And tons of hot water!

I’m still trying my hardest with the photos. I’ll post a few, but most are still floating around in the cloud somewhere!