Country: Norway
Distance travelled:
Weather: Mostly clear with occasional showers

We got up this morning with the intention of visiting the information centre we were parked near and then having a look around Å. (I had thought this was the shortest place name but have since found there are at least eight places called Å in Norway alone). The information centre didn’t open until 12pm so we sorted a few things out and sat around generally wasting time until then. When opened, we found that it was more in the nature of a souvenir shop with there being one brochure we could have. This actually covers Northern Norway and has some very useful information in it but only about ten pages about the Lofotan Islands.

From there we strolled around Å, checking out the fisherman huts, most of which appear to be accommodation for tourists these days, and the racks where dried cod is hung for close to three months in the open air to dry. There was some of these racks across from where we had parked last night and I had noticed the pervasive smell while we had been putting the van up on its ramps but I neglected to mention it to Mark. I have decided that it is the fish heads, sent eventually to Nigeria, that smell the worst. The drying fish fillets (which we found a rack of further into Å) are quite mild by comparison.

Mountains around Å

Sealine around Å

Drying cod in Å

Before we left Å, we visited the Norsk Fiskeværsmuseum (Norwegian Fishing Village Museum). This is a fascinating little place where a charming gentleman who speaks six languages has set up historical equipment to show the many steps involved in the catching, curing and export of the yearly cod harvest. He played a very good movie, also in multiple languages, which showed facets of the current daily life of the fishermen on the Lofotan Islands.

Å

The rest of the afternoon was spent driving around enjoying the scenery with an eye to somewhere quiet we could park for the night. I needed to get some more washing done and a couple of slow days allowing for a bit of down time were definitely on the cards. We ended up perched in a small carpark above the self proclaimed museum village of Nusfjord and as the rain blew in again I was hoping for a clear morning and a chance of some colour in any photos we might take on the morrow.

Nusfjord