Ski and Paddle Norway 2009

Distance 41km | Time 7.5hrs | Ascent 0m | Descent 0m

It was quite a windy night down by the shore with frequent heavy rain showers. Each time I was about to get up another shower would come through and pelt the tent. It probably sounded worse than it was on the taut nylon. I eventually got up at 1030. It was blowing a good force five but straight out of the north as forecast. I would have a strong wind in my back all day.

I set off at 1200 and immediately was pushed down the north end of Karmsund with waves breaking over the cockpit. Soon I got to a more sheltered part of the sound and the waves got smaller as the fetch was less. Karmsund is the 300-400 metre wide sound which separates the maritime town of Haugesund from its more industrial half on Karmoy island across the water.

Initially I went down Karmsund itself for the northern part of Haugesund town but then discovered I was to the west of a line of islands in the sound and to the east was another narrower sound, a canal through the town. This formed an artery through the middle of the city and I took it.

I was blown through the centre of quite a charming city. Old herring wharfs had been tastefully converted and there was quite a collection of traditional wooden boats. There was also a metropolitan feel with plenty of glass, metal and concrete buildings. Many ritzy cabin cruisers and sleek modern yachts were moored along this canal. People drinking Chablis in expensive cloths on their boats waved and made friendly comments as I passed. Market stalls lined the main street. There was a jazz festival on for a few days. They called it ‘SildJazz’ or ‘Herring Jazz’.

Haugesund ended with more waterside apartments and a large bridge over Karmsund to the more industrial Karmoy island. I was blown under the bridge and then entered another basin with more industry on the Karmoy island side. There were also 11 large ships moored here. Most seemed container ships sleeping out the recession and waiting for Europe’s hunger for Chinese consumables to reawaken.

I did not have to wait long until I reached an escape route from Karmsund. On the east side was a peninsula with a medium sized island off the end of it called Fosen, and separating this island from the peninsula was Roksund. I turned into it and entered another world.

Between the spruce forests on each side of Roksund sound was a quiet, sunny, strip of water. It was a sanctuary and on each side it was lined with older wooden cabins and boathouses all set in mature colourful gardens. There were about 30 swans in one of the wider sections. There was activity here also but more of the small, artisanal, boatyard type, rather than the huge multinational concerns along Karmsund.

At the east end of the 2 km long Roksund I entered Forresfjord. The wind was back and by now it was a force six. I got bundled down the fjord and hardly had time to take photos. I was doing nearly 8 km per hour. I kept closer to shore as the waves were smaller here. If the waves get to big the kayak slows considerably. It cannot catch and surf these fast moving waves which pass under it. It therefore tends to wallow a bit sliding down the back of one wave and accelerating down the face of the next for a second or two. If the waves are small however a strong following wind pushes me along well.

I made good time down Forresfjord towards the green, pastoral Bokn islands ahead going round the east of Hovringoy and then south through a cluster of rocky islets, which were very rugged and angular.

I was going to cut over to Vestre Bokn from here but suddenly there was about 4 ships and the express ferry in the Boknsund between the two main islands so I kept to the east and went to Austre Bokn island instead. Once I reached it I paddled down under the bridge with the waves suddenly rising to nearly 2 metres under the bridge due to the flooding tide. It made for a very choppy sea where I could not let go of the paddle at all for support strokes.

As soon as I was under the busy bridge the sea calmed down and I could cross the sound to the west side and continue down to the south of Vestre Bokn island. I understood why the bridge was so busy now because this was the main road to Stavanger from the north. All the vehicles were also heading to the south of Vestre Bokn where two large ferries crossed Boknafjord constantly.

As I paddled to the southern tip of the island I passed an islet with about 30 herons resting on it. Birds seem very wary of my yellow slow moving kayak, and the heron especially. They were all airborne while I was still 200 metres away. Yet they won’t bat an eyelid when a speedboat goes past.

I passed a couple of campsites but continued south past the breakwater for the busy ferry terminal where I hoped to camp. However round the breakwater was just a bleak wave ravaged shoreline of bare rock. There was nowhere to camp here and I had run out of island.

I did not want to cross the 10 km Boknafjord in this force five wind. While it looked benign here with the spray just lifting of the wavelets I knew on the other side the waves would be big. This was a problem in itself but more importantly the ships and express ferry would just not see me among the breaking waves. I had no option to return to the herons. It was a good 3 km back into the wind. It took almost an hour and I was irritated by my lack of foresight and this wasted effort.

As I approached the herons I noticed a bridge and inlet which I had missed before. I paddled into it and a large basin opened up. On one side were tasteless modern cabins with flat roofs but on the other was an old farm with fields of grass and juniper forest and a muddy beach. It was ideal.

I landed and found a campsite beside a juniper. I then noticed some sheep and a very old man tending them. He must have been nearly 90 and walked with difficulty yet he had overalls on. I approached him and asked him a question. He switched his hearing aid on and said off course I could camp. He then herded his sheep down the grassy track to an older barn. I felt a lot of admiration for him, this old man who should have been in a nursing home but refused to give up.

I had the tent up in the evening sun with a good breeze to keep the midges at bay. By the time I was in my clammy damp sleeping bag it was 2130 and I could not be bothered to write. Instead I had a very early night and was asleep while the sun was just setting.

It had been an OK day. The wind had really helped and had also made some interesting moments. Roksund was perhaps the highlight and backtracking against the wind in a bad mood was the low.

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 13th, 2009 at 11:08 am and is filed under Update. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.