Nogva holmen to Vågnes. 29 km, 6.3 km/hr average speed. Start 0740 arrive 1420. 1111 km this Year 🙂
For once weather wasn’t on our side. The night brought rain and thunder. At about 0645 there was a pause in the rain. Looking westward it was not clear that that would not last for long. Looking closer there was another cloud…gnats. Quick decision: pack up and go, breakfast could wait for later, maybe when the next wave of rain let up.
We set an RSKE record of 55 minutes to pack down the camp and get paddling. Soon the rain was pouring down, and down, and down….
After two hours paddle breakfast was well overdue. Conveniently we paddled close to an express boat quay at Store Kalvøya. A small community just outside Ålesund with nine year round inhabitants and a shelter where all nine could cram in waiting for the boat. Nice good place for breakfast.
Now we were just a small hours paddle away from Ålesund where we planned to paddle through the famous (?) Brosundet. On the way there we would paddle past Erling’s brother’s office window. He had already sms’ed to invite us for a heavy lunch: Potetball (kumle) with soft ice for dessert..
(For any non-Norwegians who wonder what potetball is and why it isn’t as known outside Norway as Norwegian salmon, let me just say that it is an attempt to make a mixture of potatoes and flour taste like meat. It is an acquired taste. And very calorific)
It was very good potetball (as potetball goes) and the huge helping of soft ice rounded the meal off nicely. Having thus secured an even lower center of gravity in the kayaks we were ready to paddle on through Brosundet and across Borgundfjorden to Sula and Vågnes.
It isn’t over till it’s over and Borgundfjorden is a busy sea lane. At one point we had six ships in different angles in potentially crossing course. For the first time this year Erling put his VHF on deck and listened to Ch 16, ready to make contact if needed.
No need, it all sorted itself. Erling’s parents had driven out to meet us as soon as we came across to Sula. But that was Salen not Vågnes. So we paddled on through some small islets that were Erling’s playground when he grew up.
Then shortly after 1400 we saw Erling’s home harbor and boathouse.
As we pulled into the small marina run by Erling’s father we were again greeted by Erling’s parents and also by the editor of the local newspaper Sulaposten. So there was congratulations, interview, photo op, champagne and flags. And the rain had finally stopped. A very good end to 1110 km of paddling from Tromsø.
Soon Erling’s sister, brother in law and brother were back from work and it was time for a hearty fish chowder on top of the potetball.
After all that we just managed to muster the willpower to go down and cleanse and hang the gear up to dry. Some of it may be beyond rescue.
Tomorrow there will be no paddling whatever the wind and currents.