Hellemobotn, Tysfyorden
"Is this the most beautiful mountain in Norway?" This was the first of many questions as we awakened to another sun anointed morning in the Norwegian fyords.
The answer is of course that beauty is in the eye and soul of the beholder. Why is a mountain or a woman beautiful? Is it because she is distant or close, difficult or easy, unattainable or conquerable, kind or deadly? The adjectives abound as we wend our way around the sinuous arms of the sea embracing the spectacular Nordic countryside.
Drag is our first stop in the morning. Home of the Lulu Sámi, their small well-appointed museum, affords us a glimpse of a way of life of the aboriginal first inhabitants of this part of Norway.
As the wind drops and the temperature rises we continue or way to the landward end of Tysfyorden, where we drop anchor. After lunch we land at the small settlement of Hellmebotyn a group of summerhouses and a small sawmill. There the local Sámi gather for the summer, mainly to pick the much prized cloudberries which grow in the alpine valley above. These are so valuable that they can afford to charter a helicopter to get them into the more distant berry patches.
As the walkers among us make their way up through the birch-pine forest along the mountain streams , the roar of glacial waters, the pure alpen air and opening panoramas continue to delight the senses and sooth the soul. It is a fond reminder that we, urban creatures, were sometime in the not too distant past once part of it all.
"Is this the most beautiful mountain in Norway?" This was the first of many questions as we awakened to another sun anointed morning in the Norwegian fyords.
The answer is of course that beauty is in the eye and soul of the beholder. Why is a mountain or a woman beautiful? Is it because she is distant or close, difficult or easy, unattainable or conquerable, kind or deadly? The adjectives abound as we wend our way around the sinuous arms of the sea embracing the spectacular Nordic countryside.
Drag is our first stop in the morning. Home of the Lulu Sámi, their small well-appointed museum, affords us a glimpse of a way of life of the aboriginal first inhabitants of this part of Norway.
As the wind drops and the temperature rises we continue or way to the landward end of Tysfyorden, where we drop anchor. After lunch we land at the small settlement of Hellmebotyn a group of summerhouses and a small sawmill. There the local Sámi gather for the summer, mainly to pick the much prized cloudberries which grow in the alpine valley above. These are so valuable that they can afford to charter a helicopter to get them into the more distant berry patches.
As the walkers among us make their way up through the birch-pine forest along the mountain streams , the roar of glacial waters, the pure alpen air and opening panoramas continue to delight the senses and sooth the soul. It is a fond reminder that we, urban creatures, were sometime in the not too distant past once part of it all.
