Our time in our remote granite walled anchorage came to an end and we motored out looking for wind. We needed to get south to find an airport for Fi’s next adventure.

The wind in northern Norway at this time of year had not been big red sail wind. Big wind shifts and constantly weaving between islands doesn’t make the big red sail happy. But today we had some open water and found a consistent (ish) light breeze.

We sailed with Lofoten visible in the distance to contrast the big red sail.

Whales passed us, then we spotted dolphins and then…

We thought some dolphins had come to play, but as they approached we realised they were actually small sharks! I grabbed the phone, quickly tried to turn it on three times and snapped this memorable image of sharks with Lofoten in the background!
During the evening the wind was too light even for big red. But the reflections were kind of cool.

We were expecting a more modest anchorage after the previous few nights, but it looked ok as we pulled up near a white sandy beach and a whale swam past us heading south. Summer in Norway is absolute bliss.

Even by our new high standards this was a pretty spectacular spot and not too crowded.
Next day we had a look around while we waited for the wind to fill in.
There were some pretty bays.
And some sandy beaches. A dip in the water was as breathtaking as the scenery.

At lunch time we headed off to make the best of some northerly winds.

Big red sail two days in a row! This island was our view for 6 hours as we headed down the coast.
An AIS target called ‘Norwegian Submarine’ appeared, so we sped up to make sure we passed as close as possible. Sure enough it was a Norwegian submarine, or perhaps a foreign submarine cleverly disguised as a Norwegian submarine.

We made the most of the northerly winds and sailed into the ‘night’. The wind finally died as we closed in on the coast and we motored the last few miles into Bolga around 2 am.

Sunglasses and beanie are mandatory equipment for a midnight watch and firing the laser.
As midnight struck we energized the flag pole laser and shot a hole in the sky.
We burned this hole in the sky which looked quite pretty, although there was nobody else around to appreciate it.

With wind from the south for a few days we decided to rest, regain our sanity and explore Bolga.

The season for growing is short, so lush green and colour appear almost overnight as the grey and white receed.
In Australia this would be fenced off with some over judicious signage warning us of certain peril. In Norway its the not-wheelchair-friendly part of the intermediate round-the-island walk. The useful rope has no doubt been added after too many tourists slid from the slippery rocks into the just-above-freezing water, especially when there is snow and ice on the rocks.
Of course when you have this level of natural balance and ability to find those micro finger holds there is not much to go wrong. It looks like I have a chalk bag which is standard equipment on an intermediate walk, but its just a poo bag holder.
Bernie watched on as we showed him where the best paw holds were after falling in the water.

The island had been home to fishing people who dried ship loads of fish on the rocks during summer until the early 1900s. We chose to traverse the south side of the island first as it was open the squally southerly weather. This is Norway so the protected northern side was also somehow open to the squally southerly weather.

The path headed up a cliff and some non wheelchair friendly sections where even big ears needed a lift. And then, Mum are you sure we go into that hole?
Yes Bernie, you should know by now, all island walks in Norway go through mountains.
Dad did you fit through that hole in the mountain?

After our walk we noticed many motor boats arriving at the island and people setting fire to huge bonfires. We realised it was mid summer and everyone was out for a party. Not only was the restaurant open (they often close at most times of the year and days of the week), but it was packed with revellers creating a vibrant atmosphere that we had not been expecting. We had a great dinner and chatted with loads of people. Bolga was a great place to visit and very beautiful.

Looking for our next anchorage, Fi noticed that the glacier we missed on the way up was only a few miles away. After filling up with diesel, we headed round for a look before it melted.

A peaceful dock at the end of the fjord with a view of the glacier.
The view from the boat. Pictures taken in 1920 show the glacier accessible from the water. Our guide book from a few years back described it as an hours walk to the glacier. Today its more like two hours.

We set off for the glacier on our bikes before the first ferries arrived and followed the path up to the ice.

The second largest glacier in Norway.
The glacier meltwater looked inviting for a quick dip, but after toeing it, the biggest surprise was that it actually flowed more than the glacier.

Heading south from the glacier the winds pushed us between the islands until they died completely and we parked on the arctic circle for a while. After a pleasant evening motoring, sailing, motor sailing, avoiding ferries and ducking under low power lines, we dropped anchor in a quiet bay for a few hours rest.

The winds decided we should park here for a while before leaving the arctic.
Dropping anchor just before sunset or sunrise or sunlowish.

The potential winds the next day were just that, and we motored to a quiet little spot just north of Forvik. By design this spot was a breakfast distance away from Forvik.

A day full of potential wind.
Another quiet evening on anchor.

The next morning we took the brave step of travelling the 5 miles south to Forvik, before coffee.

We had visited Forvik on the way north. There is one excellent reason to re-visit Forvik and its not to sniff the daisys.
This is why you come to Forvik, for the locally roasted coffee and locally made cake.

We discovered they are now open for dinner too as the season is in full swing. A slightly overcast day with the slight chance of thunderstorms was enough to justify staying in port and sampling the dinner menu.

15 miles south, Brønnøysund was to be Away’s home for the next 10 days. After a short trip we found, with some relief, there were plenty of vacant spots in the harbour. Reversing into a berth in a solid crosswind was worthy of some adventure scars on the hull, but nobody died.

Away parked up, nose sticking out per usual to catch unwary motorboats.
Fi is off for new adventures.
But not before a suitable ‘I’m leaving my husband behind to look after the dog on his birthday’ dinner.
I’m not leaving while that nice lady who feeds me is in that terminal building!

Next time its Fi’s racy adventures and too much sniffing around Brønnøysund.