Ski and Paddle Norway 2009

With the late night and the stiff shoulders I slept until 0830 and didn’t get up until 0900. It was glorious day and it was almost completely windstill. The weather was just as it was last night. It seemed a shame to have wasted such good conditions.

It was just a short day today as I had to go to Bugoynes to get the flares which were probably not there and also I needed time to write up a couple of days which would take much of the evening. So I intended to spend the night there.

After a relaxed breakfast on the beach I eventually packed the kayak and set off at 1130. Jon having left a few minutes earlier. It was a stunner of a day as far as the wind was concerned but it was overcast. There were some porpoises in the bay as I left

Once out of the bay I headed west past the headland and then over a short sound to Kjooya. It was set in the middle of a dark steep sided fjord. The bird life here was not as rich as I was perhaps a km or two from land.

After passing Kjooya I headed North West over some 8 km of open water. There was a very gentle swell behind me and a very slight breeze against me, so conditions were perfect. The makeshift footrest I made seemed to be working and gave me something to push against and stopped me slouching.

The 8 km seemed to take a long time to cover but it was just really an hour and a half. I suppose the distance seemed longer as the view never seemed to change and the mountains on the far side remained distant for so long. Eventually I approached the base of the cliffs and snow filled gullies on the west side. I then turned north for a km to enter the sheltered Bugoynes harbour protected from the easterlies by the Bugoya Island.

The harbour had a number of jetties and seemed to be a landing place for the larger boasts to land king crabs. There were at least two plants to process them. Otherwise the small town seemed very charming. I landed at the beach where Jon had already arrived. I then went to investigate my flares.

The first thing which struck me about Bugoynes was just how helpful and friendly everybody was. At the shop/post office/chemist the owner bent over backwards contacting everybody who might know the whereabouts of the flares. They had not arrived. I just told myself it was up to the firm in Kirkenes to sort it out. They would just have to get some to Vardo or beyond.

The shop owner offered us coffee and we took it. While sitting there everybody who came into the shop chatted. It seemed Bugoynes had a population of just 220 with a couple of shops, a secondary school and couple of crab businesses and a crab research station. It had a quaint church and some nice older houses. There was also some accommodation on the other side of the isthmus by a beach. It was a half km walk or one km paddle.

I later found out that this charming town was not burnt by the Germans. The commander of the garrison at the time had spared the town out in return for transport from fishing boats to evacuate his troops. He was jailed as a traitor in Germany for the last months of the war. He returned he as a tourist in the 60’s ad was warmly welcomed apparently, which was not the norm so soon after the warWe paddled round the small hammerhead peninsula to the west beach in extremely calm conditions. Across the large Varangerfjord on the other side was the town of Vadso under a snow covered plateau. It was tomorrow’s task to cross the 13 km of this fjord and I can only hope I have not squandered the calm weather.

The beach on the west side was idyllic. It was some 250 km of very light brown sand overlooked by a few houses and the same church as we saw from the other side. At the south end of this beach were 5 small cabins. Jon and I would take one for the night.

I set about the blog straight away but it took 5 hours to process the photos and write everything. It seems to be a never ending chore that is really getting a bit all consuming. I sometimes wonder if this is going to be a writing tour with a bit of kayaking in between. I hope not. I eventually finished way too late at midnight and then still had to have supper and a shower.

It had been an easy and interesting day. The paddle was very pleasant but what really took the prize was the jewel of the village of Bugoynes. It was a hidden treasure.

Distance 42km | Time 9hrs | Ascent 0m | Descent 0m

It was grey, but dry when I popped my head out of the tent at 0500. There was a slight breeze from the north perhaps a good force 2. I went back into the tent for breakfast and started to prepare for departure. First I needed to pack everything into the various bags and get into my new drysuit. This took much longer than I thought and I was not ready to pack the kayak until about 0830.

I carried the kayak down to the smaller beach and then did two runs with the drybags. It took a while to get everything in but I had better place this time than in the shed when I tried it initially. With everything in I had final contemplation and then got in the kayak, pushed off and took my first stroke at 0930.

It was the first time I had been in the kayak. It felt comfortable, stable and reasonably fast. It was all I had hoped for. It kept a good line with the rudder up and turned reasonably well when I leaned it. It was big enough for most of my stuff; it was just I had too much stuff.

It was grey and misty on the hills as I crossed the first bay. There were masses of eider ducks, the male brilliant white and black and the female a drab speckled brown around all the islands in the bay. They were mostly on the sheltered south side where the water was calm and glassy.

The landscape on the mainland was bleak. Almost prehistoric. The hills were largely bare rock rounded by ice ages. They were quite dark rock. On the hills which went up to 200 or 300 metres were numerous patches of snow and many snow filled gullies. It was almost a barren rock wasteland and a very bleak landscape especially in today’s misty weather.

There were all the usual birds I have seen when paddling in Scotland. The familiarity was comforting. Apart from the very numerous Eider ducks, Black Guillemots or Tysties were the commonest, closely followed by shags and the inevitable gulls.

There were also a couple of flocks small waders, I think Red Knots. These flocks were about 30 strong and the entire flock twisted and turned in the air at speed before they eventually settled on some rocks near me. They then hopped up and down the rocks as they got washed by the swell obviously looking for small insects.

I passed Pasvik Bay, a large bleak bay with steep crags around it, where there was a lonely cabin on the rocky land behind the shore. This house was obviously a fishing and collecting base of perhaps Sea Lapp origin.

Just here I felt the left footrest and rudder peddle fall off as I wriggled back into my seat. I would replace it when I stopped as I hoped it had just come off the rails. I was wary about the rudder when I ordered it as it did not fold away and was always exposed. I thought the blade might break off so I ordered a skeg also as a back up.

I crossed Jarfjorden which was about 5 km across. It had some skerries at its mouth. I wondered if it was debris the glacier front had deposited or it was the lip of a basin the glacier had carved. Both are quite common features of fjords. On the west side of Jarfjorden was Holmengrafjorden. It went into its entrance and spotted some old cabins. There must be landing nearby so I headed for them.

There was a collection of some 10 cabins. Some had the old Sea Lapp gamme beside them. There were many empty racks to dry fish. Around a lot of the cabins there was fishing equipment piled up, some looked like it had not been used for a while. Indeed the cabins were somewhat tired with peeling paint, rusty hinges and bleached shutters. It was obviously an old Sea Lapp fishing base used for a short period each year as one of many, and now becoming partially abandoned.

An inspection of the rudder did not bring happy thoughts. It was completely broken. The footrest and peddle had snapped at the neck. Totally unrepairable. I fumed. I had expected problems with the rudder but not this and not after 15 km of easy paddling. It looked as if the plastic neck had sheared because it was just too brittle. There were some hairline cracks in it as in burnt Bakelite. I know the new owner of smart track rudders shifted manufacture from the US to China and there was obviously not the expertise with the plastic mix or curing process. My blood was boiling but luckily there was no phone reception.

I continued west with improving weather round this peninsula to Bokfjord fyr lighthouse. It had a house beside it but I am sure it was unmanned and automatic. My thoughts were consumed by the rudder and how to solve it quickly and easily. There was still no reception.

From this lighthouse I could see Kim Island. It was my goal for the day and only some 15 km away. I had to cross the mouth of another fjord to get to it. This was Bokfjord and at the south end of it lay Kirkenes town. Half way across the fjord was an island, Kjelmsoya, and in the vicinity I saw a couple of streamlined terns.

For the second half of the crossing the improving weather suddenly had me reaching for the sun glasses as blue sky opened up. I was paddling directly into the sun which warmed my face. It improved my rudder mood no end and I was soon approaching Kim.

I had wanted to land here as it was a black back gull nesting colony with many eggs which are still collected. However I could find nowhere to land easily in a fiberglass boat. The island was indeed covered in the large gulls all watching me with suspicion and no doubt preparing to launch an attack if I stepped ashore.

I searched round for an alternative spot and spotted a beach so 2 km to the south. There were some Sea Lapp cabins here also. As I paddled towards the beach I saw smoke and as I got nearer I saw a kayak. I landed and met Jon. He was also paddling Norway’s coast. He was going at a more relaxed tempo and had taken three days from Grense Jakobselv.

After a chat I put up my tent. Made a few phone calls about the rudder and the flares I was to pick up tomorrow in Bugoynes. There was no answer about the rudder and the flares had not arrived and nobody could help. I then inspected the rudder again. It was difficult paddling without the footrests so I decided to remove the entire cancer of the rudder and build up the end of the footwell with bits of foam lying on the beach. I then realized just how over designed, over complicated and overpriced the rudder system was. The rudder systems I have on my two Q-kayak boats from New Zealand and the Prijon boats I have tried is more robust, simpler and easier to repair in the field.

After supper I sat down on the beach with Jon and we made a huge fire. It was roasting hot and I did not notice the frost forming on the tent at all some 50 metres away. The sun headed towards the horizon at a very shallow angle indeed and it would only be a few days now when it would not set at all.

With the time taken to dismantle the rudder and insert the foam I had lost three hours and it was midnight before we left the warmth of the fire. Beside the fire in the setting sun it could almost have been Greece or the Caribbean with the flat calm sea. Away from the fire one was quickly reminded you were still in the Arctic. It was too late to do the blog so it was postponed to do in Bugoynes tomorrow.

It had been a very good day as a start. The boat was as I had hoped and the weather was kind and got better. The scenery and birdlife was out of this world especially the former which was surreal. The only thing which marred it was the rudder which would cost me a day or two to fix sometime and this irritated further as I had better things to do.

Distance 0km | Time 0hrs | Ascent 0m | Descent 0m

I woke early and listened to the rain on the tent. It was not heavy but it seemed consistent. There was little wind and the tent barely flapped. The skies were dark with cloud and hardly moving. It looked like the wet weather was here for a while. The forecast said all day.

Rain does not really hamper the kayaker at all. It is of little consequence compared to wind which is the big consideration. However it makes camping and breaking camp a bit of a nuisance. In addition I had a lot of writing to do which I had postponed for the last days. I would make a start on this and see what happened.

After breakfast at 0800 I got the laptop out and experimented with various positions to be able to write comfortably in the tent. I had bought an attachment which turned my thermarest mattress into a floor level chair, and used my solid foam paddle float as a desk. It seemed to work.

I processed a few photos and then wrote up three days. This whole procedure took about 4 hours but there was a lot of inefficiency and it could have taken just 2 hours. In the end it was all ready so I went on line with the smallest of signals and managed to upload it all.

It was about 1300 now and the rain had not ceased. It was perfectly possible to paddle but given the good weather forecasts for the next days I decided to wait a day. Things were also still a bit of a jumble and I needed time to find things like the GPS which was mislaid in the wrong bag hopefully.

After sorting out my possessions again and luckily finding the GPS I had a siesta. It had been quite a long day yesterday and the late night meant I was tired still. It would not be a waste of a wet afternoon if I had a sleep rather than paddle I thought. It was a long sleep indeed and I did not wake until 1700.

In the late afternoon I went to get more water and then cooked pasta and pesto. It was not a good camping combination as it was too much fuss. I had brought it as a reserve but it took up too much room so I ate the lot.

After supper I went for a walk along each of the beaches. At the far end of the bigger beach was the Jakobselv river and beyond that a Russian lookout post on a knoll. The smaller beach was perhaps the nicer of the two as it was more sheltered and was hemmed in by outcrops.

There was a power spot in an electrical box near a couple of old cabin full of fishing tackle and a couple of small dinghies. This was very useful as it meant I could recharge the batteries after the mornings work. I am not sure who paid the bill but my use would have been negligible.

In the evening I wrote up yet another day which went quite quickly and then got an early night. I was more prepared to leave now than I was this morning which would have rushed things a bit.

It had been a lazy day really but perhaps one I needed. The wet weather made it quite easy to take the day off.

Distance 62km | Time 8hrs | Ascent 610m | Descent 630m

I started to write the blogs for the last two days after breakfast. I had managed one before James at the border post phoned to say he would be there in a couple of hours to pick up the kayak and gear and drive it to the border and my start point. He would also bring a bicycle for me. It was earlier than expected so the writing was abandoned. I had to move fast now.

First thing was to go and check my old bike onto the ferry to Mehamn. It took a good half hour as it was well over a km away. Then I took my rucksack to the post office and posted both it and my ski boots, both of which had been very good to me. Then I had to buy a couple of bottles of malt from the government liquor store. The selection was poor and the prices were double the UK.

Next I had to try and find some tide tables but didn’t succeed. They were not that necessary and I felt I would soon get an intuitive timing for the flow and ebbs without neurotically consulting tide tables continually. It did not really matter too much about the tides as I was not going to wait for them. If I was in a sound and it was against me I would just have to find eddies or have a pause, and if it was with me I was lucky. The tides here were smaller in amplitude than in the UK but there were larger amounts of water on the move. Generally the tides changed direction every 6 hours. I did not even know what phase the moon was at as I had not seen it for ages due to the near 24 hour daylight.

After my goodbyes at the hotel I returned to the shed to await James. He arrived promptly and with a bike. We chatted for a good hour about Norwegian mountains, the West Coast of Scotland, kayaking and his job. He was one of the 4 in charge of the border post. He was very much into the outdoors and found the job at Grense Jakobselv suited his interests.

We unpacked the kayak into the van and then put the kayak on the roof. He then set off and I followed on the bike. Immediately I realized something was seriously wrong with the crankshaft on the bike. I took it two the two sports shots in town. They were not interested and said it would make it the 60 km. I was not so sure but had no choice. Indeed I was disappointed by the reaction of the sports shops where I had spent some cash over the last days. They were mainly run and staffed by older scruffy men who stank of stale tobacco smoke.

I then returned the key to Kimek with a bottle of whiskey for their invaluable help and generosity. Stein Ulvang had been extremely helpful and had taken care of every problem and provided me with a great place to store and pack the kayak.

With the clunking crankshaft I peddled off on the road to Murmansk. Just after the turn off to Grense Jakobselv and after some 25 km, the whole thing fell to pieces. I cursed. There was still some 35 km to go. I could use the bike as a scooter for some sections and freewheel the downhill sections, but it would still take 6 hours. I phoned James now back at the border post with his team on duty. He said he would see what he could do.

It was a very pleasant walk along the road here at the southern end of the Jarfjord. The sun was out and the sea was calm. The tide was also out exposing silt flats and seaweed beds.

Then I started up a long climb up to the Jarfjordfjellet Mountains. Here the road climbed to almost 200 metres. It was a different world up here. The lakes were still ice covered and the hillsides still had considerable snow on them. The drifts at the side of the road were a few metres high. This section of road is blocked in the winter. Just before the top an army jeep stopped and a chirpy young soldier hopped out with a bike. It was in perfect working order. He took the knackered bike.

It was a nice pleasant cycle across these mountains for some 10 Km. There were a few lakes under the steep ramparts of many dark crags. These crags were shaped by the ice but seemed to follow much older fault lines and went for kilometers in the same direction. The rocks here were some of the oldest in Europe at 3 billion years old. It was cold up here and I had to put gloves and a hat on.

The run down to the border post was quick. In the valley I was heading down to was a river, Jakobselv. The deepest point of the river was the border with Russia, so as the meanders move slowly so does the border. On the other side of the river was a birch forest with large snow patches still and this was Russian territory.

James showed me round the border post and the vehicles. One vehicle which was especially robust was a two sectioned troop carried with 4 belts for traction. It was amphibious and could go through the soggy spring forest with deep icy pools without any problem. From this base there were many smaller lookout posts where soldiers monitored the border up the entire valley.

There was still another 10 km to the sea itself so I set off on the bike. There were a few farms down here but all agricultural activity was abandoned some 30 years ago and the farms were mostly leisure houses now. The problem was the blocked winter road. The military had their vehicles but the farmers did not and it was too difficult to eek out a living here. There were some 10 farms and 40 cabins in the valley. The river ran on my east, often flowing swiftly through ice debris and trees, as it was in spate.

Just before the beach James caught up at the Oscars Kapell, the much photographed church built to try and encourage a community and establish sovereignty some 100 years ago. Just beyond was the beach. It was a kilometer of fine sand with a couple of smaller beaches nearby. It is one of Norway’s finest beaches. It was also the end of the road both in reality and for the rather fraught 400km bike ride from Mehamn.

The bike ride was just a way of joining up the skiing and paddling trips without resorting to vehicles. It was not well organized by me as I did not know what to expect. I would probably not do it so differently next time but I would have a better bike with panniers.

We unpacked the van and unloaded the kayak. Then we went for a walk around the area at the end of the beach. The border post has a weekly swim here every week of the year. In January or February the air temperatures can be minus 30 so warm vehicles are used to dry off in after a icy sprint up the dark beach.

There was none of that now. It was about plus 6 with streaks of snow on the hill. The waves were relatively small and the sun was going to set in a half an hour. It was a very pleasant evening. There was the odd iceberg which had got swept out of the river and was melting on the shore. James told me the water temperature was around plus 4 throughout the year.
There was another paddler, Tom Amundsen, who was also doing the same trip. He set off from here about a week ago. I found a small stone message he wrote stones in the sand. “LYKKE TIL JAMES – TOM”. A very nice touch. He was already up in Batsfjord area so I would be unlikely to catch him up but hopefully we can share a beer sometime.

After the extremely helpful James left it was already 2200 and getting cold. The sun had just gone below the horizon for a few hours. In a week it would not set at all. I put up the tent and collected some water. Then I tried to organize myself and get the new petrol stove going to warm the tent. While cooking supper I tried to write the blog but there was just too much going on in a small area. After supper it was midnight and I was just too tired after the cycle. I would write it tomorrow morning before it got out of hand.

As I went to bed on the sandy grass I had a chance to reflect on the enormity of the journey I was about to take. I did not have the same apprehension as I did in Lindesnes the night before the ski trip, in fact I was eager to start. However there can be no doubting that the kayaking section is a more serious undertaking than the skiing section.

It had been a good day. Despite the best efforts of cheap Chinese bicycles to hamper my cycling trip it had been interesting and enjoyable. Cycle touring is not really for me though as I find the confines of the road far too limiting. I was now ready for the main course.

Distance 0km | Time 0hrs | Ascent 0m | Descent 0m

The very helpful receptionist at the hotel managed to enquire where I might get a flare. It was in one of the sports shops I tried yesterday. I went there but it was another false hope. However he suggested a ships supplier which I had so far not tried. They could get them in 36 hours. I ordered three and will get them delivered to Bugoynes in 36 hours and then I can pick them up from there as I paddle past.

Then I wandered around Kirkenes again getting some more small supplies before returning to the hotel to pack everything into drybags. This took a while as I kept reorganizing things into different bags so I could try and get a system, so I knew where everything was. Everything which was not going with me was put into the rucksack.

After many hours packing I then had to carry all the bags from the hotel to the Kimek shed where the kayak was stored. It was a huge pile. I have got quite used to bigger boats at around 380 Litres and the Explore X was in that category. However I had never had a skeg before and was surprised at how much room it takes up. After a few hours I had pretty much everything in the boat. It was not a voluminous as my other main boat, but far more streamlined.

In the evening it was back to the Kurdish pizzeria for some last junk food before the diet of pasta and mashed potatoes starts again. I was leaving tomorrow at around midday. There was a Norwegian guy who worked at the border post and he had kindly agreed to come and get the kayak and drive it to Grense Jakobselv which is the border with Russia. He was half Scottish and had spent a lot of time and some school years at Mallaig and had relations in south Skye. It is a small world.

I was too tired and uninspired to write the blog as it was essentially quite a tedious day again just packing up everything. The Barentsfrokost Hotel was a small friendly hotel and it was the perfect base to run my errands in Kirkenes. The reputation it once had is now ill deserved.