Monday 19 September 2022--The Trollfjord is a small but dramatic fjord off Raftsundet, the strait that separates Austvågøya (and Lofoten) from the mainland. I'd have seen it last week, if I'd stuck to my original itinerary, as the Hurtigruten ships pop in en route between Tromsø and Svolvær (and also in the other direction). I didn't, so I'm taking a Trollfjord cruise out of Svolvær today. I'm up reasonably early for once, to make the half-hour drive into town for a 10:00 departure. The weather forecast is for one of those "partly" days, and it looks like the morning is going to be the cloudy part.

It takes about 45 minutes to get to the fjord. On the way in, the crew lower a camera into the depths so we can see, on video monitors, what lurks beneath. The Trollfjord is very narrow at the entrance, about a hundred meters wide; passengers on the Hurtigruten must feel like they can reach out and touch the walls. It's a mile and change in to a cul-de-sac. There's a tiny hydroelectric plant in there, small enough that it wouldn't bother you, if you didn't know that it diverted a waterfall that's no longer there. Sea eagles soar overhead. Wikipedia says there was a battle in the fjord in 1890, between traditional open-boat fishermen and new-fangled steamboats, over fishing access. Further details, sadly, are not to be found.

The sky clears on the way back to Svolvær, the sunny part of the day, and the scenery is specatacular. I notice that most of the passengers are a tour group from the Eastern Townships of Quebec--the luggage tag on one fellow's backpack has an address in Granby. I wonder if he's been to Le Grimoire.*

We sail back into Svolvær, past the statue of the fisherman's wife watching for her returning husband, and the empty fish-drying racks. I go to Bacalao for a lunch of fish soup and a pint. Back in Henningsvær, I take a long nap. Spend the evening in, chicken dinner and beer on the balcony.