Acclimatising

Regardless of wherever I've been before, there still needs to be time to acclimatise to the here and the now. As I may have intimated in the previous post, this place is truly incredible. As with all the residencies I apply to and aim for, the common theme is isolation and remoteness. The site here is about as remote as they come, while not resorting to something harsher and more primitive. 

I worry that I'm comparing too much to Iceland and Queenstown. Of course it's not a good idea to veer too far away from my regular/established style, but I also don't want to create the same work in every location. If that becomes the case then what would be the point of coming out to these residencies in the first place? With the much tighter timeframe here, I also wanted to jump straight into working, and not waste time wallowing in my own thoughts and fears. But if my initial sketches are anything to go by, that might not have been a great idea. I scrapped my first few drawings but I think I'm closer to embarking on something more definitive here, or at least the start of something...

This Place

This. Place. 

I don't know what to say, I feel a bit overwhelmed. This is my home for the next 20 days. It's everything I could have hoped for and then some - it just all feels so right. 

Of the eight artists (including yours truly) scheduled for this iteration of the residency, five actually made it to the base today. The other three got messed up by overlapping ferries so they should get here tomorrow. There are three Brits, one American, one Singaporean, one Mexican, a Kiwi, and myself. Sofie and Victor are the masterminds behind this project - La Wayaka Current - (read more about the incredible project here) and they greeted us at the house when we all arrived.

The site is a dream. The main house (white building) is an old converted farmhouse four stories tall with a maze of rooms, a basement sauna and workspaces dotted throughout including in the upstairs attic. The main communal areas are warm and cosy with plentiful wifi for me to keep this blog going as well as keeping up to date with Game of Thrones. There's also an old barn and boat shed nearby with so many beautifully dusty nooks and crannies - perfect to set up a little temporary studio.  

Cheese, wine and dinner was waiting for us when we arrived, and it just felt so gratifying to be in the company of other artists and creative types that all understood why I've travelled so far to be here. I can't wait to get stuck into some work tomorrow. I need to be present, aware, and just live in the moment. Three weeks will be over in no time at all and I want to soak in as much as possible while I have the chance. Watch this space.

First Last Stop

Hammerfest is smaller than Tromsø, but the streets and houses seem to be more spread out across the hills surrounding the main harbour, so you could be fooled into thinking that there are more than ~7500 Norwegians living here. With every place I've visited so far it's so difficult to imagine the same locations blanketed in snow, darkness and sheer cold when I'm walking around in a t-shirt and zero concern for any potentially violent changes in the weather.

I'm currently sitting in my Airbnb waiting to set out for my ferry later this afternoon. I just found out that another artist will have to wait an extra day to get to Akkarfjord because her flight from Tromsø was cancelled for the same reason as mine. I'm glad I threw in an extra buffering day.

So with that I had all of yesterday to wander around town. There was a steep but short zig zag path snaking up from the town centre which offered a decent lookout over the harbour and across to Sørøya in the distance. I still had most of the afternoon to kill after coming back down and luxuriating in a bakery for a while (only 10nok for a coffee refill!) so I set off for another hike up to nearby Tyven (Norwegian for the thief, as it steals the sun from Hammerfest each winter). Compared to the other mountain hikes that I've attempted, this trail was miraculously well kept and easy to follow with signposts and cairns constantly pointing me in the right direction. It took around a couple of hours each way and I hung out with some grazing reindeer at the top before scrambling back down home.

In some promising news, it turns out that there IS wifi in at least part of the house at the residency. I've been warned that power may or may not shut off if too many outlets are being used simultaneously, but at the very least I'll have enough juice to edit photos and to keep this blog updated semi-regularly. I think I had anticipated some legit off grid cabin-in-the-woods experience but I guess this way I'll be inducing a lot less anxiety in family/loved ones.

God Tur!

Sweet baby Jesus has this day been rough. It's still not quite over but I have some time to kill now so I'll begin the retelling while the memories are still hot and fresh. 

It was an early start. My alarm was set to 4am so I could catch the first airport shuttle at 4.45 in time for a 6am flight up to Hammerfest - the penultimate stop before La Wayaka. The boarding call never came, as Hammerfest was supposedly blanketed by a thick impenetrable sea fog which meant it would be impossible to land. 

So 6am was cancelled, and we were lumped in with the later 7.45am service. That was also cancelled and eventually we all got pushed into a fresh attempt at 9am. That plane did manage to get airborne, and we landed at Hasvik about 30 minutes later to pick up a few more passengers. From Hasvik to Hammerfest it should've been a blink-and-you'll-miss-it 10 minute flight, but our pilot wasn't optimistic. He attempted two descents down onto the tarmac from different directions, and after the third attempt decided that it was too dangerous to attempt the landing. So, we turned around and flew all the way back to Tromsø once again. 

Being the only foreigner in a crowd of Norwegians, I had to remind staff to translate everything in case I missed a new gate number or departure time. It felt so wildly ludicrous to hear the flight attendant's weak attempt at a 'welcome to Tromsø, have a pleasant day' when we touched down back at square one five hours after the first botched attempt.

I was given my first apology voucher (150NOK/24AUD) in the morning. The next one was a bit more - 250NOK (~40AUD) to play with while I waited another three hours for the next flight at 2pm. In Norway 250NOK will buy you a limp cheeseburger, fries and a soft drink.

2pm came and went and to no one's surprise that flight was also cancelled. Finally giving up on ever reaching Hammerfest by plane, the airport staff redirected us to another flight bound for nearby Alta. I'm writing this now from the airport terminal, where they've stuffed me with a third voucher also worth 250NOK. There's only so much food one can eat out of sheer boredom, and it felt so dumb and trivial to scour the kiosk trying to lump together enough lip balms and bags of nuts to somehow get my money's worth. A shuttle bus should be arriving soon to pick us up, but Google Maps tells me that a drive from Alta to Hammerfest will take at least 2 hours. It's now 6pm and I've been in transit for 14 hours. Would have been quicker if I hitched (or walked, or swum).

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So against all odds, I'm finally in Hammerfest! All in all the commute took 16.5 hours when at last I stepped foot inside my Airbnb. The bus did in fact take just over two hours, and after getting unceremoniously dumped at the Hammerfest airport I spent another 20 minutes walking to the Airbnb (thanks to some dodgy directions I also managed to get a bit lost along the way). 

The fog was gone by the time I arrived, and my host was a bit confused when he told me he didn't think the fog was all that bad. I guess air traffic made the safer call not to land, but the whole day was just such a painful drawn out slog. Obviously there've been flight screw-ups that drag on longer than 16 hours, but it just made my blood boil knowing that if everything had gone to plan the commute would have just taken 1 hour at best. I paid about 90AUD for this leg, but with all the vouchers being thrown at me throughout the day, I really ended up getting paid by the airline to fly. Just wish those vouchers could be exchanged for cash instead of stale coffee and limp cheeseburgers.

God Tur [Norwegian] - Have a good trip!

Frisør Frisør Frisør

Tromsø is a funny little place. Based on sheer numbers, it seems like the three core industries here are hairdresser, Thai massage parlors and driving schools. For 72,000 people, there’s just such a disproportionate number all in close proximity to one another. I’m not sure if maybe Norwegians are really pedantic with their hair, or if there’s a lot of pent up stress that constantly needs to be managed by firm-yet-gentle Thai women. All the photos below I took on my iPhone on a short walk in the blocks around the hostel so I barely scratched the surface. You do you Norway.

Wanderings

I made an 'attempt' to venture outside of Tromsø yesterday, but it didn't quite pan out as well as I had hoped. The island of Kvaløya sits to the north and west of Tromsø and contains the usual Norwegian elements of mountain peaks, fjords and sandy beaches in between. There are a number of hikes to do across the island but most of those are more easily accessed if you have a car on hand. I opted for the cheaper option of a 24h bus pass, which came with the one caveat of being at the mercy of the hugely indecipherable Tromsø bus network. I suppose it makes sense to locals, but too often I went to find a way to get to a certain place on the island, only to see that there either wouldn't be enough time to catch a return bus, or that the buses mysteriously stopped running to the end of the line halfway through the day. 

I ended up trekking out to what I thought would be something achievable, but ended up walking along the road for an hour or so instead. Hiking trails in Norway never seem to be very well marked/signposted at the best of times, and in this instance I completely failed to find the start of the one I was looking for. Nevertheless, it was another glorious day - neither too hot or cold, clear skies, and a faint breeze in the air. The walk was nice and I spotted a few reindeer casually grazing along the roadside coming back. I also got passed by a number of buses all on the routes I wanted to take, because apparently I really can't make sense of Norwegian bus timetables, or the timetables are used by the drivers merely as a rough guide.

Daylight

We've been blessed with a few days of blue skies and brilliant sunshine here in Tromsø (and I think the forecast is for more of the same). It's really the first place I've visited outside Oslo that I can confidently describe as a city.

I finally arrived on Friday after the flight mix up, and the past few days have been slow and fairly lazy. Despite feeling wide awake from the eternal daylight, I also don't feel like there's any rush to do much either. The days and nights blend seamlessly into one and you always think of the possibility of starting something tomorrow, rather than right now. I'm sure things will change once I land in Sørøya. With any luck the perma-light will just result in a longer and more sustained work schedule, but for now I'm just happy to let myself go and enjoy being in civilisation for a few more days.

Most of Tromsø sits neatly on the island of Tromsøya sandwiched in a strait between the mainland and the larger island Kvaløya on the farther side. The best views are from the viewing platform on nearby Storsteinen which is accessible by a cable car. Silly stubborn me decided not to fork out 170 krone for the 4 minute ride and instead tackle the near vertical climb directly underneath said cable car. The path was clearer and more straightforward compared to any other hike that I've attempted so far, but it was probably the most gut-busting due to every step just going UP. I arrived at the peak (421m above sea level) completely and utterly drenched in sweat and my knees/thighs/calves on fire  - probably not a good look when there was a wedding going on in the restaurant right next door to the cable car. 

I stayed long enough to get some shots of the sun resting on the mountains at midnight alongside the hordes of other tourists, then clambered painfully down to earth again. 

A Hiccup

As much as I'd like to say that I have everything under control, planned and paid for, that really isn't the case! Hiccups and problems are bound to crop up, which makes for great anecdotes later on down the track.

I'm writing from the small fishing town of Melbu north of Svolvær where the original plan was to crash here for a night before flying north to Tromsø today. It was only when I repeatedly failed to check into my flight that I realised I had borked the dates, and that instead of flying out today (Thursday 20/7) I'm actually flying tomorrow! (Thank god it was a day late rather than a day early)

I doubt that my hostel in Tromsø accepts cancellations this close to the date, but my Airbnb host here was kind enough to let me stay on for one more night. I could have changed the flight itself, but the airline tried to charge me about $300 to push the date forward. Not gonna happen.

So here I am stranded in quiet sleepy Melbu, which unfortunately seems to be an exceedingly dull place. The only thing coming up on Tripadvisor is a fishing museum, which doesn't exactly sit high on my bucket list. I'll just sit tight, do some drawing and wait until tomorrow for a fresh attempt at heading north.  

Cheat Day

In an alternate reality I could have gone on and kept hiking every day until my feet detached from my body. However I do enjoy my feet where they currently are and it felt more appropriate to pace myself for the rest of this preposterous trip that I've cobbled together. 

I opted for the main tourist route today and signed up for a leisurely boat trip from Svolvær to nearby Trollfjord. It felt like such a luxury to just take in the views while remaining seated for a change. The trip lasted about 3 hours, with classic Norwegian views of high mountains, deep fjords and tiny log cabins throughout. Trollfjord is quite steep and narrow, and we spotted some sea eagles lazily circling up above as we stopped briefly to enjoy the surroundings over a cup of fish soup. My camera wasn't really up for getting a shot of the eagles, unlike some of the other passengers on board who very much came prepared with their enormous cannon-sized telephoto lens'. I just can't imagine having to drag that much equipment with me across Europe, no matter how good the photos turn out.

Unpronounceable Mountains to Climb

The adventures in Austvågøy continue! After packing up from the hostel laden with breakfast foods, I moved over to a charming caravan parked in the yard of one of the oldest houses in Kabelvåg. Lone is a giggly and bubbly woman with a beast of a great dane and her caravan is delightful (rent it here). I have my own desk, bed, fridge and kitchen in here, and I can go use the basement bathroom inside the house whenever I need so wheels aside it's just like any other homestay. 11/10 would recommend.

The sun finally made more than a fleeting cameo yesterday and despite parts of my body wanting to stay put, I took up another recommendation to hike up nearby Festvågtind. The mountain sits about 15km from Kabelvåg at the bottom tip of Austvågøy overlooking the town of Henningsvær. I hitched my way there and walked the remaining 5km from the main road to the mountain in the sunshine. 

The hike up wasn't overly long but consistently steep, and at times the path would diverge over boulders and fields of rocks that needed to be jumped/leapt/negotiated over. It's always encouraging and slightly mortifying seeing Norwegian families with small children and/or dogs doing the same hike without the slightest look of hesitation on their faces. 

I also made life hard for myself by not dressing appropriately. The weather here is such a fickle mistress, and I usually err on the side of over, rather than under-dressing. Too bad yesterday was flat out sunny and extremely hot with all the strenuous physical activity that I was forcing upon myself. Hot tip from me: anything but jeans.

Mud

I've finally left the quaint confines of Moskenesøya and have a few nights in Kabelvåg over on the larger island Austvågøy before I fly north to Tromsø.

The hostel here is great, although I'll be in a cheaper Airbnb for the next two nights. My accommodation in Fredvang was not only a rip (600kr for a night and 100kr for linen) but they had the balls to put a coin slot in the shower and charge for hot water (10kr for 4 minutes). Here the reasonably priced dorms include linen AND breakfast the next day. For an extra 100kr they let you pack as much as you want to take away for lunch (which I would've done anyway, but this way I can at least stash bread rolls in my bag without the weight of guilt).

At the suggestion of a fellow traveller, I set off for the nearby Tjeldbergtinden, a gentle mountain separating Kabelvåg from nearby Svolvær. It wasn't a difficult climb, although the clouds were only just clearing after three days of rain and the track was muddy and wet for the most part. Clever me managed to splash a fair amount of mud on my jeans as well as almost face-planting and going down on my knees when I slipped on a ledge. All that was missing was Shelley Craft narrating and a sound reel of home video blooper noises playing in the background. 

The messy ascent was rewarded with sweeping views of Svolvær on the left and Kabelvåg on the right. After the scramble down I caught a bus back to town where I was disappointed to find that the supermarket was closed, despite the large sign saying '7-23'. Sources tell me that Norwegian supermarkets larger than 100sqm close on Sundays because of 'strong unions'. Fun fact of the day for you.

Bunes In A Gale

I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and ready to pick up from where I left off. Unfortunately the weather had other ideas, and what started as a gentle shower yesterday grew overnight into a horizontal downpour. In hindsight I would have been much better off staying in today and using yesterday for adventure time, but then when has hindsight ever struck at the appropriate moment?

I tried to wait out the storm, but when it became clear that things were nowhere near wrapping up I resolved to just get on with my day regardless. At the least it was an opportunity to give my Goretex + ski pant combo a test run in the elements.

Plan A of catching a ferry to the other side of Moskenesøya to hike to Horseid beach was a no go, as the weekend ferry schedule wouldn't have allowed enough time to get there and back in a day. I opted instead for the easier trek to nearby Bunes beach, also partially reached by ferry. 

The wind and rain seemed to pick up between setting off from Reine to when we disembarked at Vinstad, and I can't say I felt much confidence or intelligence standing there on the Vinstad docks already a bit soggy with four hours to kill before the next ferry showed up. Myself and the handful of other foolish tourists nevertheless trudged onwards to Bunes. 

It was an easy route, just made a whole lot more taxing with the wind smashing into us head on and the rain coming at our faces like needles. Alongside Horseid and Kvalvika, Bunes faces north and is completely exposed to any malicious winds swept down from the North Pole. The beach looked like it would have been stunning on a clear day, but everything just felt cold and sinister in the violent weather. You'll notice the sand being blown up in streams in some of the photos in the slideshow, which gives some indication to the incessantly howling gales.

It took me an hour or so to get to the beach, and after a quick lunch behind the shelter of a sand dune, I allowed myself to be blown back to Vinstad. There was still over an hour before the ferry arrived but mercifully there was a cobbled together cafe at the old school in the village. I use cafe in the loosest of terms, as it was just a single woman slinging waffles out of a waffle iron and baking kanelbolle as we helped ourselves to mismatched cups, a hot water urn and instant coffee for 20NOK a cup (10NOK per refill), sitting in what looked like a disused classroom. It was basic for sure, but more than welcome after the wet ridiculous hike.