Camping Under the Midnight Sun

My last weekend at the FabLab, I went on a overnight excursion to the N end of the Lyngen Peninsula with Sophie, Beau, Simen, Tonje, and their Husky puppy named Gaisa (might not have the spelling right on that one).

The trip started out pretty lucky, as we encountered a whole herd of reindeer on the road. This guy is pretty big for a reindeer.

I hopped out to snap a photo, and they lit out across the fields. We could get MUCH closer to them in the car than on foot. Strange.

Apparently, all the reindeer belong to Sami herders. The herds commingle, and to separate them out the Sami get together, herd all the reindeer into a big corral and run the deer in a circle. The baby calves stick close to their mothers when they get scared, so the herders can tell to whom the new calves belong.

Close to the N tip of the peninsula, there are the remains of a HUGE German gun battery from WWII. The battery guarded the passage to Tromso, where the fleet was based, from the White Sea and the northern coast of Russia.

There are many stone and concrete foundations, with magazines and tunnels dug into the hillsides.

The weather was cool and grey on the short walk out, but we were promised clear skies in the evening. We brought poles for fishing our supper, and plenty of extra food in case we didn't catch anything (which turned out not to be a problem).
At the very northern tip was a beach strewn with pieces of many shipwrecks.

Our destination was this lighthouse, about 20m above the water.

This nice aluminum medallion driven into the rock indicates that the area is under the protection of the crown.

It doesn't get used anymore (Norwegians are mad for helicopters), but this windlass is how they used to haul supplies up the the lighthouse from the shore.

The old keeper's cabin is now a hut used by campers and day hikers alike. It's not really intended for long term habitation, but is kept open for emergency shelter and a little respite on cold and rainy days.

The hut book is full of stories and poems from years of visitors.

The shelves are fairly well stocked-with food left by former users, and the kitchen equipment and wood stove are ready for action. It's quite a cozy little spot, with a sleeping loft above.

After some drizzle in the early afternoon, the skies cleared and I pitched my tarp on a nice little flat spot on the rocks.

The fish were plentiful; we cut many pollock, and I landed 2 cod. This one was the bigger one. I was very proud.

We cooked up an enormous batch of super-tasty fish soup for dinner (after a round of quesadillas), and settled in with coffee to enjoy the views. The Hurtigruten, or Coastal Express, operates a 7-day trip from Bergen all the way to Kirkenes on the Russian border. The northbound and southbound ships crossed right off the point. Would be a nice trip someday.

The sun never went below the horizon, but it dipped into a very distant cloud bank around 12:15am. We're at 70 degrees north, and the only thing between us and the North Pole are a few islands.

Around 1am, the sun popped back out of the cloud bank. Good morning!

After a little sleep, we awoke to a truly gorgeous day.

After returning the frying pan that we borrowed, and writing our names in the hut book, we set off for civilization (or as close to civilization as Lyngseidet gets).

On the way back, there was another beach with halves of two different, recently wrecked ships. Haakon said the most recent was about 15 years old. Beau, of course, climbed on top of the larger wreck. I'm too safety-conscious for that sort of behavior.

The more recent wreck still has a lot of its paint and interior woodwork, as well as its nets and floats still stuffed into the holds.

It was a fitting last weekend in Lyngen, and I'm so glad that my new friends were generous enough to share it with me. Maybe someday I can return the favor if they ever decide to make a trip to the Pacific NW.

Last Day in the Arctic

Today was my last day at FabLab Norway; tomorrow, I fly to Oslo to continue my summer adventure. Fittingly, tonight the sun will go down for the first time since mid-May.

We've had quite a few gorgeous days these last coupla weeks, including a real stunner on Sunday when we were out camping (I'll devote a post to that trip this week, once I've sorted through all the pictures).

Tonight, we had a real American Farewell BBQ with hamburgers, potato salad, and potato chips. I'm going to miss this crew; it's been a really sweet month and a half working on projects and exploring the Lyngen Alps. I hope to come back sometime with the whole family; maybe in the winter when we can strap on some skis and gaze at the polar lights.

I've spent a lot of time this last week on the ShopBot, cutting out parts for a viking ship chandelier that will hang over the conference table in the lab (I'll devote a post to that project as well). The machine is out in the barn at the farm across the street.

This sheep liked to hang in the barn and guard the ShopBot. Most of the rest of the 85 or so of Jorgen's sheep roam around at the base of the mountains, but a few are homebodies. There are also several Lyngen horses on the farm, the local breed of short and stocky mountain horses. While I've been here, two camp sessions have seen the farm overrun with little girls who stay in a dorm above the barn and spend most of the day out riding. They seem to have a lot of fun.

This labyrinth dates from the Iron Age, and was moved to its current spot on the farm from its original site, which is where the lab now stands. There have been a few excavations on the Polleidet over the years, and Haakon has his own little museum attached to the barn.

The oldest building on the farm dates from the late 18th century, and is a tiny 2-room cabin which is now used as a sauna. Unfortunately, one of the attendees at the Climate Conference cooked the hot tub dry and burned a hole in the wooden tub the week before I showed up. Bummer.

The sauna is a log building, as are most of the buildings on the farm and at the lab. These logs are about 4X6, and obviously hand cut and fitted. The chinks are stuffed with wool.

Many of the newer buildings are made with machine cut logs. When you want to build a new building, you call up the lumber yard and give them your exterior dimensions; a few weeks later, a truck drops off your lincoln logs and you get to assemble them into a house. Pretty cool. All the local building suppliers also have premade log sheds out front for purchase (like the plastic ones we have at Home Depot, only without all of the suck). The logs in this house are about 5X8.

The lab is built on an entirely different scale than the other buildings, and is made of logs that are around 12X18 inches. That is biggish. The logs are planed with a machine, then fit by hand using axes. The geometry of these corners is really great, as the logs are flat-faced with round corners along their length, but shaped into hexagons at the joints. Apparently the master log builder is a young German guy. Very impressive.

Off to sleep; big day tomorrow.

Store Julenissen

Lyngseidet has chosen to honor its proximity to the North Pole with an enormous fiberglass statue of Santa Claus (Julenissen in Norsk) overlooking the harbor.

It's unbelievable ugly up close, and has apparently been named one of Norway's worst tourist attractions (it's said that only the giant fiberglass reindeer a couple of fjords away is uglier).

I've been joined for the last couple of weeks at the lab by Beau and Sophie. Beau is an American (Coloradan, to be specific) who's been in Sweden for about 6 years. He and Sophie, a Swede, are in Lyngen for the summer while Beau works on a couple of projects at the lab. It was such a beautiful day yesterday that Beau and I rode into Lyngseidet to pick Sophie up from work, grabbed a 6-pack of Mack Pilsener, and hung out under Santa Claus soaking in the rays. It was exceedingly pleasant.

The ferry coming into the harbor and some kids swimming off the pier was the big action for the afternoon. After we rode home, we got a call from some friends who were hanging out a beach down the road a ways. After a false start (wrong beach) and some pretty technical mountain biking, I arrived at this picturesque little farm.

And a short walk down the shore, the destination.

Pretty great. We might return this week for some fishing (fishing is one of the major topics of conversation around these parts). After the ride home, I was tired and a little sunburned, and just in time for a dinner of Reindeer carpaccio, homemade lutefiske, and stewed rhubarb. I'll post about the fabulous local food some other time.

No More Boot Camp

It's been a few days since I posted; Boot Camp has ended and Roman and Josh have gone home, but we took a hike up to the cabin in the mountains before they left. Above is one of the antenna that were the original MIT projects which led to the creation of the FabLab. The idea was to create a network of antennas in the mountains so that the locals can communicate across and through them, since them range occupies the majority of the peninsula and people only live in a belt around their bases.

Anyway, we were much higher than on our hike the other day, and got some killer views.

This one is looking back down at the lab from the top of a waterfall. The FabLab is the cluster of sharp-gabled buildings in the center.

On our way down, I was struck by the shocking green carpet of young ferns in the birch wood. The trees here are mostly pretty small; long, dark, arctic winters will do that to a tree.

We saw a bunch more of Jorgen's sheep on the way; today I asked him how quickly sheep grow up, and he replied that they are born in March and slaughtered in August. The sheep here are all grown for meat, not wool. The price of wool is so low that it's very nearly not worth paying someone to shear them every year.

Since I last posted, I've worked on a few projects (including this ShopBot-made sign), fixed some bikes (which were promptly taken by some girls at horse camp and left in town when it started raining), tried to teach myself Blender (AAAARGH!!), and gotten a little more serious about my Valle work and about learning Norwegian. It's hard here, cause everyone speaks excellent English (even the little kids), and it's frustrating for them to try to watch me struggle in Norwegian. Anyway, the Tour de France has broken the barrier a little; I was watching in the lab the other day, and one of the grandkids joined me for the end of the stage. We cheered Thor Hushovd on to victory together; it was pretty sweet.

The sun has been coming out more often the last few days; it's supposed to be warm for the rest of my time here. This was the view last night on my way into bed