Fjord Adventures

The weather gods, whose beneficence shone upon us throughout our time in Norway, stayed with us all the way home and rounded off the cruise perfectly. We had a wonderful trip and, at the same time as I packed my belongings into my suitcase this morning, I packed a very special set of memories into my mind. If this happens to be my last cruise I want to be certain that I remember everything.

And so to lunch …

With Jean asking, “Where’s my lunch?” …

After lunch I caught the end of the opening ceremony at the "Village Fair," where the entertainment team, authentically dressed as Morris Dancers, gave a very good performance. David joined me and hung on tightly as we made our way along the rolling deck. “What’s the name of that dance?” asked a passing passenger with a grin.
"It’s called the Post Stroke Wobble,” I replied with a laugh. “And it’s very easy, it just comes naturally."
We tried panning for gold at the “Village Fair,” (apparently an Olde English custom that I was previously unaware of), and David tried guessing the weight of the cake - hoping he might win it for his sister’s birthday gift … No such luck!

The Gala dinner was a formal affair so we dressed in our best bibs and tuckers and dined like millionaires. Dinner ended with a parade of Baked Alaskas. Here’s Ariel again ….

Is he smiling because he loves serving us or because he knows this is our last meal aboard and he’ll get a few hours break before the next lot arrive?

The evening show – Ye Olde Tyme Music Hall - was followed in the lounge by a cockney sing-song. There we all were, dressed to the nines, replete with champagne and petit fours, waving Union Jacks and belting out songs like "My old man's a dustman" and “Roll Out the Barrel.” It's amazing what you'll do in a crowd!
Then it was back to our cabins and luggage outside by 3am. Thankfully clocks had to be retarded by an hour!
On our arrival in Harwich David arranged for a wheelchair to get me from ship to car. I felt sorry for the poor steward who had to push me the long way round just to get my feet back on dry land.
We had lunch at the Princess of Wales Pub overlooking the pond at Blackheath when we arrived home, but the view across the pond couldn’t hold a candle to the vistas of Norwegian fjords we’ve enjoyed for the past week. No matter …. I have the memories – and it’s always nice to be in one’s own bed.

So now it’s time to say “Goodbye,” and “Thank you” for taking this little excursion with us. Thanks also to the captain and crew of the Ocean Majesty for giving us such a wonderful time; to the other passengers who made it fun; to David and Jean for looking after me, and to Jim and Sheila in Canada who helped with the blog.
Bye for now – hope to see you next year.
Eileen

P.S. I forgot to mention that Roger’s reindeer made it safely through Customs and was last seen heading south on the A2 towards Worthing.

If Norway is “The Land of the Midnight Sun,” Bergen is “The City of The Midday Rain.” All hotel rooms here are fully equipped with beds, baths, TV’s and … umbrellas. I have many soggy stories of Bergen, so this time I put out a prayer to the Norse gods and it worked. Only a few white clouds scudded across the sky in the fresh sea breeze this morning as we slipped past a string of rocky, windswept islets towards the seemingly impenetrable coastal mountains. Bergen, the capital of the fjords and the second largest city, straggles along the lower slopes of Mount Floyen and is protected from fierce storms by a double screen of islands and peninsulas. We threaded our way along a watery blue ribbon as we passed grey rocky outcrops tinged green with scrubby crabgrass and wind-battered bushes. The treeless shoreline was dotted with wooden huts with landing stages – once the humble abodes of fishermen, now probably holiday retreats for yuppie Bergenese. Then, after squeezing through a snaking fjord, we burst into the open water of Bergen harbour. But we were not alone … No – Not the Germans again. This time we were dwarfed by an ugly block of floating Italian appartamenti. Having sailed twice with Costa lines I know their ships’ interiors are comfortable and stylish, but why do they have to look so awful outside?
However, berthed directly alongside us, was a beautiful, super-luxury, (read … very expensive), cruiser, the diminutive Hebridean Princess – carrying 38 crew for just 49 passengers. I think that John, our travel agent friend, was surprised I knew of her.
The fjord pokes its watery fingers into many different areas and over the years I have found myself berthed in at least four different places. I am quite nostalgic about the first time I set foot here on Norwegian soil in 1962. Back then, the £2 it costs today to send a postcard to England would have bought four club sandwiches, (or a whole bucketful of herrings). At that time the daily coastal steamers were the lifeblood of the country and the locals used them as buses. Now, bridges, tunnels and airfields have made life easier, though they lack the charm and character of the ferries.
Lots of folk on board Ocean Majesty today have made this voyage before, but I've not met any who travelled so long ago. In the sixties, Norwegians were still feeling the aftermath of the occupation and were proud of their new buildings and eager for tourists to see them. But it is the old buildings of the Hanseatic Quarter, (1370-1754), that are the main draw today. David and Jean went ashore to see these iconic gabled buildings which are separated by narrow cobbled twisting alleys…

They visited shops crowded with shoppers of all nationalities and David almost burst into fluent Japanese when asked by a Japanese tourist to take her photograph – but words failed him. Then they boarded a sightseeing train near the 850 metre Mount Floyen funicular, (in operation since 1918), and saw many city sights and historic buildings, including an early twentieth-century bath house which has been converted to a restaurant. The train took them up the mountain from whence they had this spectacular view…

Pst! … Want to know a secret? Whilst everyone was ashore I sneaked up the steep ladder-like steps to the top deck and levered myself to my feet. I felt a bit like a child with her hand in the biscuit barrel … But what a fantastic view! I was finally ‘discovered’ by a deck steward who chatted for a while before I took the lift back down to my cabin.

After a final stroll around the bustling fish market to sample the sights and smells of countless types of raw and cooked seafood, David and Jean visited the wharves that were rebuilt after the Voorbode, a German ammunition ship, blew up on Hitler's birthday in 1944, killing 150 people and injuring nearly 4,000.
Here's David at the market - hoping to find something equivalent to a stuffed reindeer as a gift for his sister's sixtieth birthday.

Cruise ship crew members, in whatever capacity, work extremely hard for long periods, both day and night. The entertainment teams clearly enjoy themselves, although they must sometimes get fed up with all the jollity. Once again they had a busy night with two performances of "Pirates;" a lavish pantomime written by Barry, the entertainments officer, involving many costume changes. The pirates promoted the event by roaming the public rooms after dinner pretending to steal passengers’ jewellery. Following the second performance, at 11.35pm., the galley staff and waiters did extra duty at the Buffet Magnifique.

And here are the chefs ...

I wonder what the foreign waiters, whose families back home in Asia might be struggling to feed their children, think of rich white folk who stuff themselves at the buffet after having already eaten a huge dinner!

Away to bed after a very satisfying day.

A tropical sun beat down on the emerald fjord as we sailed past the towering hill that dominates the landscape of Andalsnes.

Ahh … Andalsnes - such a beautiful place – and so many wonderful memories of past visits. I first came on Nevasa in the late sixties and took the Rauma Railway into the mountains. It was a free excursion. But nothing here is free, or even cheap, anymore, and today’s train fare costs more than the entire cruise in the sixties!
Here’s an old photo of Nevasa …

Boys will be boys, and I recall a group from one of the dorms doing some unscheduled rock climbing. Going up was easy… too easy. They climbed very high… too high. Then they froze in terror and a rescue team had to be sent for. The Captain and the Headmaster were not amused and no doubt their party leader got a telling off.
Another visit was aboard the Polish liner "Sefan Batory," successor of the ship which was sunk while taking children to America during the war. Our oldest member, Sidney, was an energetic little fellow of 89 dressed in Alpine gear. During the rail journey he dashed from side to side of the carriage eager not to miss a thing.
Here’s an old photo of the Stefan Batory…


On hearing my reminiscences, David and Jean were very enthusiastic about taking the train excursion into the mountains. However, their enthusiasm quickly waned when they discovered the cost. No matter. Thanks to the magic of the Web I can take you on a virtual tour and show you some of the sights that the ‘youngsters’ missed.
Here’s the train…

And the mountains…

And the rivers…

And the incredible scenery…

In place of the aborted train excursion to view the majestic scenery of the alpine hinterland, David and Jean spent a scintillating afternoon mooching around the deserted town and watching a couple of small boys jump into the fjord – a good time was had by all.

I thought twice about attending the ‘Will Barrow Show’ this evening as comedy acts are sometimes a bit crude. However, the January 2008 edition of The Stage described him as … An assured and witty gag-man … There is nothing here to frighten the grannies. I took a chance and was glad I did because he was very funny and made lots of jokes about Saga cruises. (These are cruises reserved for oldies over 55 – not youngsters like us!) Paul, the Vishwa guy, sat near us and could be heard laughing heartily – another good time was had by all.

A shaft of bright sunshine lit a pathway across the sea and guided us into Molde this morning. As we glided gently towards the harbour, a procession of tiny verdant islands floated out of the dawn mist and passed serenely by on their way to a new day. Above us the mountain snow sparkled white against a pristine blue sky, while beneath us the azure fjord lay as silent and still as a sleepy alpine lake … Please excuse the lyrical waxing, (and the excessive use of sibilants), but some moments are simply too beautiful to describe any other way.
According to the guidebook ..... "The idyllic city of Molde is situated on the northern bank of the Moldefjord and provided inspiration for Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytales. It is known as the ‘Town of Roses’ because the surrounding mountains provide shelter and a temperate climate conducive to roses growing."
However, after such an inspiring introduction, the small city of Molde failed to live up to expectations and David and Jean’s shoreside excursion was somewhat disappointing. The market was undersubscribed by vendors and grossly overpriced, the cathedral was unadorned and uninteresting, and they couldn’t find the Romsdalsmuseet, the fisheries museum; a supposedly magnificent collection of preserved fisherman’s cottages, wharves and canning factories. However, the town's gift store was an absolute tour de force and, as you can see, David is having a hard time choosing between a very life-like stuffed reindeer and an ugly troll wearing a viking helmet as a souvenir for his brother Roger.

This is Molde - Not exactly as pretty as a postcard!

And we had company again – the blinkin’ Germans had beaten us to it and their amphibious block of flats was blocking my view. It may be called Mein Schiff but it certainly isn’t My Ship!

Another vessel keeping us company is the Mona Lisa. Coincidentally, I recently read in "Sea Lines," the magazine published by The Ocean Liner Society, that she, along with Ocean Majesty and New Flamenco, was used for accommodation when the Asian Games were held in Doha. She also spent time as a Round the World Educational cruise ship. I have happy memories of the many educational cruises that I participated in and, as I headed for my favourite table on deck, it dawned on me that my enjoyment of this cruise is probably based on past memories – although I never previously visited Molde.

David and Jean’s sojourn ashore was short lived and they joined me on deck where I was having coffee with John, together with his new partner. The two forty-somethings had met on a blind date in his brother's restaurant and he was clearly out to impress his new love by taking her on the best cruise available. John is a cruise specialist for a travel company and was interested in reading the books published by the the SS Uganda Trust. I was able to give him a leaflet (because the ones I left in the library had been quickly snatched up), and I recounted many tales of my shipboard adventures.

Now we are off to Andalsnes, located on the banks of the River Rauma at the head of the spectacular Romsdalfjord. (Once Roger's reindeer has been safely stowed aboard).

August 4 – Dateline … Stavanger, Norway.
Howdee folks … Please excuse the Yankee welcome but we are now in Stavanger - Oil Capital of Scandinavia – which, until the Texan oil giants rode in and started drilling holes in the bottom of the sea in the late sixties, was a quaint little fishing port with gaily painted wooden warehouses and red-brick canning factories lining the wharves. The fish and the fishermen have long been driven out of town, but the buildings remain; now filled with fancy fish restaurants and shops stuffed with touristy bric-a-brac. Interesting … but definitely not cheap.
It is said that Stavanger was chosen by the Americans as their ‘Oil Capital’ because it has more golf courses than Bergen – something for which the good citizens of Bergen may well be eternally thankful.
I decided to make full use of the deck lounger today, so I sent David and Jean on a city tour while I lay back under a clear blue sky and took in the breathtaking vista of the surrounding mountains – this is the life!

The city tour took the ‘youngsters’ to the Domkirke - the best preserved cathedral in Europe. (It was built between 1100 and 1125 and its Patron Saint is St. Swithin who is buried at Winchester Cathedral). From there they did the museums, the airport, the beach, the churches and the homes of Stavanger’s toffs and, finally, Ullanghau Tower, where 29 ceremonial stones represent Norway’s original kingdoms.(Phew! … I’m exhausted just writing about it all).
Here's a view from the tower ....

The busy couple also went over the 3 kilometres 'City Bridge' which links the city to 10 islands housing traditional shipyards and other craft workshops. One island, Hundsvag or ‘Dog Island,’ is supposedly named in honour of a hound that survived a medieval plague. (Although this could be a shaggy dog story).
Their charming guide, a pretty New Zealander, took them to see three swords that represent the Norwegians' aspirations of peace and freedom from the Vikings. She then told them of the Norse Sagas which suggest that, in order to marry a Danish princess, King Harold spent ten years defeating the many kings of present-day western Norway, culminating in a final battle in 872 A.D. when he defeated King Kjotve and an army of Icelanders and Scots. (But this might be another shaggy dog story).
Here are the three swords...

Talking of stories .... the Vishwa guy at our table is Lord Lieutenant of his county and his tales of meeting members of the Royal Family started a round of name dropping – did I mention that I met Princess Margaret and the Queen Mother at Kidbrooke? The Canadian couple were interested in my war stories which reminded me of my age. I always forget I'm that much older - although I'm certainly not alone in that respect here. There is one old gent who is in and out of the Jacuzzi and swimming pool all day - I am quite envious.
Here's David taking a dip....

And so to bed - more comfy now that I've persuaded the steward to double up on my mattresses. Goodness knows how much tip he'll expect!