Whatever is cooking away under the lids, I have no idea, but as with every Sunday, the general miscellany of the market on St George’s Square proves attractive. Food, trinkets, old military uniforms — nothing as useful as a pair of shoelaces though. For such things, we are forced to leave town.
Fruit is just so much easier to grow than vegetables. You really don’t need to do much work and that suits my gardening style. While we were in Norway, the garden experienced ten days of warm weather with occasional showers, and things have responded accordingly. I didn’t pick these two today — they’re not quite ready — but there were plenty more around the place.
Back to work — for a day, anyway. This photo is very low quality thanks to being taken through not one, but two windows, but I couldn’t resist capturing it. In Doctor Who the evil Cybermen, half-organic, half-robot, always had these headphone-like contraptions clamped to their heads. The attendees at whatever conference sub-group was happening in University Place this morning were clearly wanting to try out the look; what’s more, they seem to be offering a rather Irish take on it.
Most things in Norway are expensive. Public transport, however, is not one of them. Our bus back to Tromsø airport this morning cost 50 krone each, which is about £3.50, and for a 90-minute ride through stellar scenery that is undoubted value for money. Farewell to this very beautiful place: I hope it is not 2032 before I return.
I sort-of promised another landscape from our last full day here in Norway, so let’s call this one — at the micro-scale, anyway. Sommarøy doesn’t have much of a social life and you’d think you might be able to get some decent food here (fresh fish, for a start), but it is a staggeringly beautiful place. Look, even the shingle is pretty.
Climbing to the summit of Hillesøya, the sibling island to Sommarøy, made for some needed exercise in the morning, for me, Clare and the two hikers you see here, as well as a bunch of others who hauled themselves up its rocky and awkward slopes. Still, it’s undoubtedly an easier walk than Håja, in the background. This pointy little island apparently inspired the shape of the ‘Arctic Cathedral’ in Tromsø, which can be seen on the left-hand side of the first picture I took of the city back in March 2017.
One full day to go here, and you’ll probably be seeing another landscape tomorrow — but there are reasons for that.
Time to get out of the big city (well, Tromsø) and out into the countryside for the remainder of our time here. The name of Sommarøy means ‘Summer Isle’, which is appropriate for the time of year, but not for today’s weather, which certainly reminded us that we are at 69º 37′ N. On the other hand, who doesn’t like a Wicker Man reference. Somewhere over there a policeman may or may not be landing his seaplane on the loch, sorry, fjord and dropping by to make inquiries about a missing girl. OK, we are in the real Norway, not a fictional Scotland, but the scene is reminiscent enough.
Seems like an adequate combination of two of my more favoured recreational pursuits. In the background, Tromsdalstinden, the summit of which stands at 4,055 feet (1,236m) above sea level and which I hauled myself up on 30/9/2017 — in weather that was a damn sight warmer than today’s ‘Midsummer’s Day’ incidentally, as the snow evidences. As seen from the ground of IF Fløya, the green-clad players of whom are defending here, but they needn’t have worried: they were already 2-0 up at this point just after half-time and went on to win 4-0.
Incidentally, I make this the 100th Norway shot to feature on this blog.
The third ‘midnight sun’ reference in a row, as these people have just set out on Tromsø’s Midnight Sun Half-Marathon. It’s popular, as you can infer from the visible number: apparently there were participants from one hundred different countries this evening. In the background, one of the boats that plies the Hurtigruten ferry route all the way up and down Norway. Somewhere further in the background, Clare, who reappeared at the finish line about three hours later. (Yr. humble blogger does not run, and has not done since his knee became too fragile in about 2008. In all honesty he feels better for just documenting such events these days.)
C is here to run in the Midnight Sun half-marathon, talking place Saturday night, and was obliged to pick up her number today. Along with ten thousand other people, it seems. Well done to the people sorting through all those bits of paper with RFD tags stuck on them.
Being 42 