rich_jacko (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rich_jacko) wrote2015-03-15 05:43 pm
rich_jacko) wrote2015-03-15 05:43 pm
Tromsø - Part 2
Wednesday 4th March:
Wednesday didn't get off to a particularly auspicious start. We weren't being picked up for the dog trip until 6pm, and we had planned to go up the "mountain funicular" (actually a cable car) during the day. However, as before, the mountain was shrouded in mist and it was rather damp and miserable out. So we had a slow start, not leaving until 11ish, and decided to do another museum as it was indoors.
This time it was the main Tromsø Museum, halfway around the island, which meant figuring out the local buses. This proved to be very easy, with quite good value all day tickets. We noticed two things at the bus stop. Firstly, proof that the Norwegian language resembles Geordie as well as German - A rough working level of German was handy throughout the trip in interpreting written Norwegian, but at the bus stop we noticed the Norwegian for "child" is "barn", as in "bairn". Secondly, we found this old lady waiting for the bus:
The weather had cleared up a bit by the time we got off the bus, and I spotted the sea through the trees. We took a short detour and discovered this little beach. We spent a while taking photos and technically paddled in the Arctic, although without taking our snow boots off - It was a wee bit nippy! A sign told us they have open air rock concerts every summer, and Motorhead have played here (more on Motorhead on Friday...).
Tromsø Museum filled a good couple of hours. There were sections on natural history, Vikings, modern Norway, and the indigenous Sami people - This last was especially interesting as we would be camping in a lavvu (traditional Sami hut) that evening. When we emerged from the museum, to our surprise the sky was gloriously blue.
Back to plan A? The cable car was a bus ride out the other side of town and only ran every half hour. There wasn't going to be a lot of time if we were to get back for 5pm to get "layered up" for the evening, but we decided to go for it. After all, we might not get another clear day (and we had paid for our bus tickets after all). Lunch could wait! There was time to spot this wall art on our way through town though:
After dashing in just in time to catch the 3:30pm cable car (and even then having to split between two cars), we got to the top and, my word, were we glad we came. LOOK AT THE VIEWS! :o)
Unfortunately we could only stay up half an hour to admire them, but we made the most of it. Then it was a bus ride back, quick eat and change, and off to one of the other hotels to be picked up in the minibus for the evening trip.
(There are no photos of this next bit as it was in the dark and photography wouldn't have been practical when clinging on for grim death anyway. I did, however, take lots of photos of the dog trip the next day. Those will be appearing in my next update.)
We drove out for half an hour round to the next island. It was pretty isolated with only a very small amount of light pollution. There were us and one other group. Per Thore, our jovial instructor (who, Neil later discovered on t'interwebs, has dog sledded to the North Pole) decided all six of our group were called Clare for convenience sake. Once there, we were kitted up in snow suits, head lights and sturdy boots (We'd need those!) and it was straight out to the sleds.
We'd been under the impression that we'd ride as passengers on the sleds for a bit, then offered the chance to drive them ourselves for a bit if we were feeling brave. Oh no. We were thrown right in at the deep end. These were two-person sleds with a team of six dogs which we'd be driving ourselves. One person would be sitting - nominally a passenger but still helping to lean around corners - while the other stood at the back of the sled and drove. Imagine two skis with a metal bar between them to dig the brake into the ground, plus a handlebar to hang on to. That's what we had.
The dogs themselves were not pure breed huskies, but were crossed with pointers to make them run faster (Meep!) - "nature's ultimate long-distance racing machine" as Per described them to us. They breed them on site and currently have 105 of them.
After our detailed instruction (two minutes!) on what to do, we walked up the slope to where our sleds awaited. And the dogs went mental, barking for all they were worth as they knew they were about to go for a run. There was something very primal about being surrounded by all that animal excitement under the light of the full moon.
I teamed up with Neil and decided to get the scary bit done by driving first. One of the instructors said she'd be on the back with me for a bit so I could get the hang of it. "For a bit" turned out to be about five seconds! The power the team of dogs had was just incredible. There was no doubt about who was in control here - it certainly wasn't me!
We were headed in a train of sleds around a 20km course through the snow-covered hills, led by the instructors on the first sled with the rest of us following in convoy. After a few minutes we stopped and turned our head lights off, racing through the wilderness with only the light of the full moon to guide us. It was a huge adrenaline rush, enormous fun but also hard work. I was constantly having to hold the dogs back. Every time the convoy ahead slowed, they took it as an opportunity to overtake, which we'd been told not to do. We did overtake once, whereupon I was told off. I pointed out that I'd had both feet on the break and Per declared, "You need to eat more!"
We swapped places from time to time - always ensuring one of us had a foot on the brake during changeover. We were out for about an hour and a half. As we made the last changeover, I felt something was wrong. The brake bar had completely sheared off on the left hand side and was waggling around precariously on the right. It took all the effort I could put in to hold it steady (lest it shear off completely) while still trying to slow our dogs down. Even then, we overtook for a second time. I was exhausted by the time we got back. We went into the main lavvu for teas and coffees to supposedly warm up but, despite the sub-zero temperatures, I immediately peeled off three of my five layers to cool down.
It was an amazing experience though. I wouldn't have swapped it for the world. We were all buzzing as we sat down and couldn't stop talking and comparing experiences. The other group, who were only there for the evening, left us shortly after and we were shown to the lavvu where we'd be sleeping.
They were far from basic - wooden walls to a few feet high with a tent structure above and a stove in the middle. That's my kind of camping! As we walked out to them, our guide pointed up at the sky and said, "Your Lights are starting." There was a faint band of green arching across the sky, only notticeable if you were looking for it. Not the most impressive sight in the world, but still pretty cool. Some of us went in to wait for dinner, others of us stayed outside.
I was just about to head in myself when I happened to look back across the buildings and through the trees. There were bright green bands of light in the sky. Shouting to the others to come outside quick, we gathered outside just in time as Mother Nature's fireworks began. Having assumed all the video footage I'd ever seen of them was time-lapsed, I was surprised at how quickly they moved. Green at first, they rapidly arched across the sky and formed a huge spiral directly over our heads, green and orange and pink. That was over in a few seconds, but the arcs continued dancing spectacularly for many minutes. I got a few photos, but they really don't do the experience justice:
Elated, we went back to the main lavvu as the Lights died down to eat our dinner - a pot of reindeer stew and mash by an open fire. Nom! Just the thing after a hectic evening outdoors.
After that, we were on our own, having the run of the camp until we wanted to go to bed. In an incredible feat of timing, the aurorae started up again just after we finished eating. They were almost as spectacular as before, and went on for a couple of hours. I figured out some settings on my camera and managed to get some better shots this time, although for the really professional looking ones you'd have to go to Clare and Nigel, who were both out with tripods. Nevertheless, I'm still pleased that I managed to capture these images at all:
As it turned out, that was the only night we saw the aurorae, but what a night! The sky was clear, we were out in the middle of nowhere and, according to the camp staff the next day, it was one of the most spectacular displays of the year.
It passed midnight and we stood outside in the snow, watching the Lights and drinking wine and rum, feeling like the luckiest people in the world. To cap it off, Liverpool won their match, which pleased the four Liverpool fans among us and led to a drunken rendition of "You'll Never Walk Alone" under the night sky.
Even when the Lights died down, it was still a gorgeous night - clear, crisp and still, with the full moon shining through the wispy clouds. We eventually retired to our sleeping bags and reindeer skins around 2am, feeling tired but immensely happy.
I'm still thrilled to bits that I got to see the Northern Lights. They really are every bit as breath-takingly amazing and beautiful as you could imagine. I'd recommend a chance to see them to anyone.
:o)
Wednesday didn't get off to a particularly auspicious start. We weren't being picked up for the dog trip until 6pm, and we had planned to go up the "mountain funicular" (actually a cable car) during the day. However, as before, the mountain was shrouded in mist and it was rather damp and miserable out. So we had a slow start, not leaving until 11ish, and decided to do another museum as it was indoors.
This time it was the main Tromsø Museum, halfway around the island, which meant figuring out the local buses. This proved to be very easy, with quite good value all day tickets. We noticed two things at the bus stop. Firstly, proof that the Norwegian language resembles Geordie as well as German - A rough working level of German was handy throughout the trip in interpreting written Norwegian, but at the bus stop we noticed the Norwegian for "child" is "barn", as in "bairn". Secondly, we found this old lady waiting for the bus:
The weather had cleared up a bit by the time we got off the bus, and I spotted the sea through the trees. We took a short detour and discovered this little beach. We spent a while taking photos and technically paddled in the Arctic, although without taking our snow boots off - It was a wee bit nippy! A sign told us they have open air rock concerts every summer, and Motorhead have played here (more on Motorhead on Friday...).
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Tromsø Museum filled a good couple of hours. There were sections on natural history, Vikings, modern Norway, and the indigenous Sami people - This last was especially interesting as we would be camping in a lavvu (traditional Sami hut) that evening. When we emerged from the museum, to our surprise the sky was gloriously blue.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Back to plan A? The cable car was a bus ride out the other side of town and only ran every half hour. There wasn't going to be a lot of time if we were to get back for 5pm to get "layered up" for the evening, but we decided to go for it. After all, we might not get another clear day (and we had paid for our bus tickets after all). Lunch could wait! There was time to spot this wall art on our way through town though:
After dashing in just in time to catch the 3:30pm cable car (and even then having to split between two cars), we got to the top and, my word, were we glad we came. LOOK AT THE VIEWS! :o)
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Unfortunately we could only stay up half an hour to admire them, but we made the most of it. Then it was a bus ride back, quick eat and change, and off to one of the other hotels to be picked up in the minibus for the evening trip.
(There are no photos of this next bit as it was in the dark and photography wouldn't have been practical when clinging on for grim death anyway. I did, however, take lots of photos of the dog trip the next day. Those will be appearing in my next update.)
We drove out for half an hour round to the next island. It was pretty isolated with only a very small amount of light pollution. There were us and one other group. Per Thore, our jovial instructor (who, Neil later discovered on t'interwebs, has dog sledded to the North Pole) decided all six of our group were called Clare for convenience sake. Once there, we were kitted up in snow suits, head lights and sturdy boots (We'd need those!) and it was straight out to the sleds.
We'd been under the impression that we'd ride as passengers on the sleds for a bit, then offered the chance to drive them ourselves for a bit if we were feeling brave. Oh no. We were thrown right in at the deep end. These were two-person sleds with a team of six dogs which we'd be driving ourselves. One person would be sitting - nominally a passenger but still helping to lean around corners - while the other stood at the back of the sled and drove. Imagine two skis with a metal bar between them to dig the brake into the ground, plus a handlebar to hang on to. That's what we had.
The dogs themselves were not pure breed huskies, but were crossed with pointers to make them run faster (Meep!) - "nature's ultimate long-distance racing machine" as Per described them to us. They breed them on site and currently have 105 of them.
After our detailed instruction (two minutes!) on what to do, we walked up the slope to where our sleds awaited. And the dogs went mental, barking for all they were worth as they knew they were about to go for a run. There was something very primal about being surrounded by all that animal excitement under the light of the full moon.
I teamed up with Neil and decided to get the scary bit done by driving first. One of the instructors said she'd be on the back with me for a bit so I could get the hang of it. "For a bit" turned out to be about five seconds! The power the team of dogs had was just incredible. There was no doubt about who was in control here - it certainly wasn't me!
We were headed in a train of sleds around a 20km course through the snow-covered hills, led by the instructors on the first sled with the rest of us following in convoy. After a few minutes we stopped and turned our head lights off, racing through the wilderness with only the light of the full moon to guide us. It was a huge adrenaline rush, enormous fun but also hard work. I was constantly having to hold the dogs back. Every time the convoy ahead slowed, they took it as an opportunity to overtake, which we'd been told not to do. We did overtake once, whereupon I was told off. I pointed out that I'd had both feet on the break and Per declared, "You need to eat more!"
We swapped places from time to time - always ensuring one of us had a foot on the brake during changeover. We were out for about an hour and a half. As we made the last changeover, I felt something was wrong. The brake bar had completely sheared off on the left hand side and was waggling around precariously on the right. It took all the effort I could put in to hold it steady (lest it shear off completely) while still trying to slow our dogs down. Even then, we overtook for a second time. I was exhausted by the time we got back. We went into the main lavvu for teas and coffees to supposedly warm up but, despite the sub-zero temperatures, I immediately peeled off three of my five layers to cool down.
It was an amazing experience though. I wouldn't have swapped it for the world. We were all buzzing as we sat down and couldn't stop talking and comparing experiences. The other group, who were only there for the evening, left us shortly after and we were shown to the lavvu where we'd be sleeping.
They were far from basic - wooden walls to a few feet high with a tent structure above and a stove in the middle. That's my kind of camping! As we walked out to them, our guide pointed up at the sky and said, "Your Lights are starting." There was a faint band of green arching across the sky, only notticeable if you were looking for it. Not the most impressive sight in the world, but still pretty cool. Some of us went in to wait for dinner, others of us stayed outside.
I was just about to head in myself when I happened to look back across the buildings and through the trees. There were bright green bands of light in the sky. Shouting to the others to come outside quick, we gathered outside just in time as Mother Nature's fireworks began. Having assumed all the video footage I'd ever seen of them was time-lapsed, I was surprised at how quickly they moved. Green at first, they rapidly arched across the sky and formed a huge spiral directly over our heads, green and orange and pink. That was over in a few seconds, but the arcs continued dancing spectacularly for many minutes. I got a few photos, but they really don't do the experience justice:
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Elated, we went back to the main lavvu as the Lights died down to eat our dinner - a pot of reindeer stew and mash by an open fire. Nom! Just the thing after a hectic evening outdoors.
 |
 |
After that, we were on our own, having the run of the camp until we wanted to go to bed. In an incredible feat of timing, the aurorae started up again just after we finished eating. They were almost as spectacular as before, and went on for a couple of hours. I figured out some settings on my camera and managed to get some better shots this time, although for the really professional looking ones you'd have to go to Clare and Nigel, who were both out with tripods. Nevertheless, I'm still pleased that I managed to capture these images at all:
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
As it turned out, that was the only night we saw the aurorae, but what a night! The sky was clear, we were out in the middle of nowhere and, according to the camp staff the next day, it was one of the most spectacular displays of the year.
It passed midnight and we stood outside in the snow, watching the Lights and drinking wine and rum, feeling like the luckiest people in the world. To cap it off, Liverpool won their match, which pleased the four Liverpool fans among us and led to a drunken rendition of "You'll Never Walk Alone" under the night sky.
Even when the Lights died down, it was still a gorgeous night - clear, crisp and still, with the full moon shining through the wispy clouds. We eventually retired to our sleeping bags and reindeer skins around 2am, feeling tired but immensely happy.
I'm still thrilled to bits that I got to see the Northern Lights. They really are every bit as breath-takingly amazing and beautiful as you could imagine. I'd recommend a chance to see them to anyone.
:o)