A photographic look back over some of the favourite places we visited in 2017
A photographic look back over some of the favourite places we visited in 2017
Ringstad Part 2: Cooling swims at local lakes, foraging for berries on local islands, midnight camp fires and mountain hikes.
Our work continued day to day, with each day a simple variation on a theme. The weather stayed bright and clear, the views out to sea remained spectacular, the beauty never diminishing with familiarity. The restaurant was busy and the house and apartment turnover high, so there was always plenty to be done. I chipped in with cleaning a house when required, but managed to avoid the kitchen or restaurant in favour of more outdoor gardening work. Each night Nicky and I drank and chatted late with Karina, learning more of the history and future of their busy lives and business. The more we heard of the wild beauty of the Vesterålen islands in winter, its pristine snow glistening bright under green aurora skies, the more we vowed to return.
One night, after closing the restaurant, we all walked a short way around to a comfortable timber shelter and spent the remainder of the late evening barbecuing on an open fire. The site was kitted out with woolly blankets, cushions and lots of seasoned firewood, all we needed for a good night. The sun turned the sky pink over the barbeque place, reflecting the lines of coloured-in clouds on the still, dark water of the adjacent sea. When the flames died down a little, we devoured tender slabs of steak and pork straight from the metal grill, with sides of various potato salads. Afterwards we sat around the dying fire sipping red wine, chatting into the small hours under the midnight sun. Nicky and I were the last to leave, reluctantly abandoning the fire and the mesmerising pink skies around 2.30am.
The next morning, after a few hours work, the full group of Workawayers decided to take kayaks out to visit a few small islands to forage for berries, and perhaps wild mushrooms if they were ready. We all paddled as a group out to a nearby spit of sand joining two small islands and exited our kayaks, with empty tubs in hand. We walked through the low, springy bushes searching for ripe cloudberries, but we were a week or so early, as we could only find hard red fruit on each plant.
To compensate, there were many ripe wild blueberries, so we picked those instead. We then kayaked to another grassy island, again landing on a small sandy beach between pointed rocks. We all foraged for blueberries and found there to be an abundance, and ate many as we picked. The collected blueberries were later made into very enjoyable sweet dumplings by our lead kayaker and resident chef, Xervin.
Over the week, we had a few short sea dips to cool off from the heat of the day, lasting only a few minutes each time but we emerged from the chilly sea water cooled and refreshed. One afternoon we had a quick cycle to a popular sandy beach set on the end of a local lake. It was only 3km away, an easy free-wheel down past a few other small lakes, huge expanses of wild lupins and a neat strawberry farm. The tiny stretch of beach was packed with families, the parents sunbathing and the kids playing raucously in the water. We slumped onto the short grass at the side of the sand and lazed a while, then tried to have a swim in lake. The only issue was the shallowness of the water, and we had to walk a long way out to get deep enough water to cover our knees. It was perfect for small children to splash around in, but not ideal for a proper swim. Still, it cooled us down very nicely in the warm afternoon sun.
On our last day in Ringstad, we worked through the busy morning shift to help out, even though it was a scheduled day off for us. Mid-afternoon we borrowed our host’s battered old jeep to drive a short way around the coast to where we could begin a climb of a nearby peak. The 467m high hill, Vetten, had formed the solid backdrop of our stay and we had long talked of standing on its top to look down over the islands we had kayaked around, and the time was now. It was a short walk, around an hour and half up to the top, with an initial steep climb turning into easy walking for most of the well-worn route. We passed and examined a neat green cabin available for hikers to use before continuing up to the top of the hill where another small hut had been built for walkers to seek shelter. We sat inside out of the chilling wind to eat our lunch, signing the scrappy visitor book as we took in the expansive view.
Even on this rather dull, cloudy day, the setting was incredible; below us there were calm, protected bays scattered with rocky islands covered with green vegetation and nesting sea birds. It was an eye-opener to see the scale of the area in one vista. Ringstad, where we had based ourselves, was visible on the end of a small peninsula, and we could just pick out Benny awaiting our return in the car-park behind the main house. Ringstad was positioned on one of many small inlets scattered throughout this small tongue of the mighty fjord, with many other stretches of water and tall dark hills stretching to the horizon and beyond. We could see why boat traffic and travel was so important here; a thirty minute jaunt on a fast boat to cross the fjord could be a three hour drive around the difficult, winding coast road. Our high overview literally gave us a different perspective on the terrain we had immersed ourselves in.
Our ten days in residence in Ringstad proved to be a wondrous experience. We worked hard, and played just the same, taking all kayaking opportunities, swims and hikes whenever possible. The eagle viewing on the rib-boat nature safari was a visual treat, and the calm, ever-changing views of the surrounding inlet and far-away mountains were a constant delight. We enjoyed the long chats with our hosts and our quiet, contemplative row boat trip under a cloudless sky. We were hesitant to leave but equally hesitant to stay on, as we could easily have become trapped by the visual enchantments of such a place. It was sad to drive away, but life is but a series of meetings and partings, that is the way of it, as a wise frog in a muppet movie once reminded us all.
Part 1: Arrival at our WorkAway in Ringstad and settling in with our hosts, our allocated jobs and our responsibilities.
We left our fjord-side aire in Årstein and headed west, deep into the Vesterålen islands. The weather was incredible on the way over; clear, bright skies with light wispy cloud and the temperature stuck around 24 degrees. The bodies of water we passed as we crawled our way through to the Vesterålen islands were of such luminous light green colour, mineral rich with blonde sand visible below, each framed with brooding, dark mountain peaks. We passed through the main town of Sortland on our way, pausing for a quick look at the famed blue houses at the harbour. We also passed the town’s bronze statue of their recently retired, very dedicated and much loved litter-picker.
The winding route we followed hugged the coast, avoiding any of the large, jagged mountains that formed the ever-present backdrop to our scenic drive. We arrived into Ringstad , at Huset på Yttersiden, after around three hours driving, where we met the proprietor Ian, originally of Cornwall, and several of the other current WorkAwayers, who were mostly young students from various places around Europe. The WorkAwayers were all living in the same house and we were offered a tiny room with bunks alongside them, but politely declined, deciding to live in Benny instead. The house’s clutter, grime and noise was just a little too much of a reminder of our own student days, times we had left behind us twenty years ago, and we didn’t want our old, grumpy heads to cramp their laid-back student style.
After having been on site for less than an hour we got invited to join a beginner’s kayak trip, out around the local skerries, but with only one spare kayak remaining Nicky bagged the only available spot. She was to be trained up to perhaps lead future kayaking trips, once she learned how the site was set-up and where the standard local route goes. She followed the group out, led by Ian, taking in the direction of the route and learning how best to deal with novice kayakers in what could be a dangerous environment if the winds or weather were to quickly change or someone went over. The trip took a leisurely three hours or so, and Nicky enjoyed every minute on the calm water.
That evening we finally met the lady of the house, Karina, when we all sat down for dinner. Ian and Karina had met many years ago in Germany, before returning to Karina’s homeland of Norway where they had now run their hospitality and tour business for over ten years. Along with many kayaking trips, Ian led rib-boat bird-watching and photography tours, local hiking tours and hired out fishing boats to guests. There were bookings to manage for their houses and apartments, along with all associated house cleaning, laundry and daily maintenance. On top of that, they ran a busy bar and restaurant, the only one in the local vicinity. No wonder the welcome assistance of keen, hard-working WorkAwayers was something they relied upon.
We all sat on the external decking as we ate dinner, looking out to sea, the night still and beautiful. Seagulls were nesting on a nearby island and they were the only disturbers of the peace, with their raucous calls and squawking the main background noise. With the skies entirely cloud free the views out to the far mountain ranges were simply incredible, but the temperature had cooled dramatically and we shivered in the cold air for a while, until thick, woollen blankets were brought out to help warm us. Even in the summer, being this far north we should have expected to experience cold, crisp nights. Wrapped up well, we talked late into the night as we continually stared out at the island-filled view, enchanted by its simple, still beauty.
I was put on gardening and maintenance duty, a job that suited me just fine. I strimmed edges and pathways, raked off moss, trimmed hedges, weeded and cut grass all around the site on their sit-on mower. It was sticky work under the hot afternoon sun, but it involved a level of pleasant effort that kept me very active and produced immediate, satisfying results. I also engraved a couple of fishing gaffs with personal messages, to be presented as a small token of their appreciation to long-term returning guests. I was also tasked with sketching up a quick site plan for both WorkAwayers and customers, so they would know where each property was located for cleaning or visiting respectively. I was later asked to help with producing fire plans for each of the properties, and sketched up quick floor plans of each, noting escape routes and positions of fire extinguishers and break glass points, that were later to be framed and hung in the properties.
Nicky had been on cleaning duties, either in the kitchen or turning over apartments between guests. But with our host Ian feeling rather ill one morning, Nicky was tasked with leading her first kayak group, with my back-up support. Nicky led them out of the bay, after explaining all the basics; how to put on spray decks, how to get in and out of the kayak safely, and how to paddle correctly and efficiently. I followed behind, carrying the safety tow line, medical kit and spare paddle, staying at the back to keep a watchful eye over the novice paddlers. I had to correct a few, those somehow using their paddles upside down or back to front, and taught several how best to steer their kayak, but generally they all managed to muddle their way through the peaceful island tour with no real issues. The sea was mirror-calm and the warm sun glimmered lightly off the flat surface, making the whole experience quite idyllic, perfect for their first ever sea paddle and for Nicky’s first kayak guiding experience.
Afterwards, as we hadn’t lost any paying guests to the sea, we were rewarded with seats on the rib boat for a Nature Safari trip. There were ten paying guests so we sneaked on at the back as the last two extras. Before setting out we were all dressed in full fleece overalls and life vests, with hats and gloves optional. The powerful rib could run at over 60 km/hour, bouncing smoothly over the small waves. We visited Hellfjorden, a spectacular, narrow strip of water with high cliffs, and the site of many nesting arctic terns. We watched the very pretty but highly territorial birds until they grew slightly irate with our presence, then moved off before we disturbed or upset them too much.
After a fast crossing of the wide Eidsfjorden, we reached a scattering of small rocky outcrops where a large colony of cormorants nested. They sat dramatically on the top of rounded bumps thickly coated with guano, their bodies neatly silhouetted against the greying sky. We next travelled to view a colony of yellow headed gannets, where they similarly stood around in large groups, resting in the afternoon sun. We cruised past many small lighthouses or stone day-markers, and later passed a very remote house on a small island that the current owner was transforming into a hotel to offer an exclusive, peaceful experience. It was perched precariously on a steep, rugged cliff and reachable only by boat.
On our return leg, close to home, Ian suddenly veered the rib boat violently to the left, turning a sharp bend and then cutting the engines to glide towards a small island. He had spotted the main focus of the trip, a sea eagle, watching us from its high perch. Ian threw a fish into the water, knowing that an eagle could spot it from up to 2km away, and we sat back with pregnant anticipation. In only a few moments, we saw the huge sea eagle take off, with its wing span of two and a half metres, then elegantly swoop down and take the fish from the water, talons first. It was the definite highlight of the rib-boat trip, and we felt privileged to have witnessed it at such close quarters.
That night we were offered a la carte in the restaurant, and we both chose to have peppered steaks with frites from the menu, which was a very tasty, richly sublime and rare treat. We later celebrated our wonderful day, and dinner, with a fun trip around the sheltered bay in a small rowing boat, peacefully floating around and absorbing the view. After a few days we have expected the beauty to wane and our enthusiasm for it all to wear off, even a little, but we were both still deeply enthralled by the subtlety of the changing light on the islands and on the extensive saw-tooth mountain backdrop. We could see the peaks of the Lofoten Islands far to the back, with the island of Hadsel standing tall in front, set just across the deep blue Eidsfjorden.
Part 2 to follow.
Volunteering for a WorkAway week at Norrsken Lodge in Overtorneå.
We drove north on the Finland side of the river Torne, until we reached Overtorneå. After a quick look around the town, we moved on and parked up at Norrsken Lodge, quietly admiring the scale of it all. It was a long, thin site, with over 300m of prime riverside frontage, with a small forested area to one end and a cycle path back to town on the other. We parked up and wandered a little around the site’s pretty location and timber buildings, where we ran into the owners Max and Yasmine, along with their two boys and their huge slobbering bloodhound Brian.
They had moved their lives from Switzerland to build a new, more relaxing, lifestyle. Over many years of visiting they had fallen in love with winter in the north of Scandinavia; the crisp nights under the Northern Lights, the outdoors lifestyle around a crackling campfire, from learning simple survival and bush craft skills, to the thriving cultures of supportive friendship, reindeer herding and smoke saunas. Max had once been a global supply-chain manager, but suffered from burnout and was seeking a new, much less stressful and much more rewarding, path in life. His long-term plans included the possibility of setting up a high-end burnout treatment centre on this quiet stretch of river, to help introduce those in a similar situation to the enduring qualities of peaceful reflection. In the shorter term the goal was simpler – to ensure all visitors here had a ‘Fantastic Time’, the chosen strap-line for his Norrsken Lodge re-branding.
We picked out a spot to base ourselves for the week, at the far edge of the site and right on the banks of the river, and settled in. Later we met some of the other WorkAwayers – there were six other volunteers on site presently. One girl, Akiko, arrived directly from Japan on the same day as we did, to make a total of nine WorkAwayers on site. Many others were volunteering for a month or more, but we had only one week to spare. We all had a beautiful salmon dinner and a local beer in the site restaurant as we chatted to each other and learned a little of the history of Norrsken Lodge and that of the new owners. Max and Yasmine had bought the lodge only four months ago and this was to be their first summer in charge. The ice and snows had receded only in late May and its transformative disappearance had highlighted the extent of the maintenance work required in order to ‘bring back the shine’, our motto for the week.
Our first evening, around 10.30pm, we took a small wooden rowing boat out on the river, under the slowly setting but not quite managing to set sun. We took turns rowing up the river and back, slowly relaxing and soaking up the idyllic setting and enjoying the late sunshine. The water was clear and still, reflecting the campsite frontage and nearby tree-line with exceptional clarity. We returned to Benny and stayed up until nearly 1am watching out our window as the mirror-calm water glowed with the redness of the midnight sun. It was quite difficult to finally close the privacy blinds and make ourselves go to sleep, although we really needed to; we were to start work at 8am.
On our second evening we drove Benny, with two other WorkAwayers on board, an hour north and east, to visit a local reindeer farm. We had been invited to watch the herding and collating of new births on the site where the reindeer were seasonally penned, numbered and tagged. The last 5km of road was a tight single-width gravel track with huge bumps and ruts, making our progress very slow, with the constant worry of grounding on our minds. We finally made it to the small car-park and walked the last few hundred metres to where the timber corral was positioned. There were lots of cars in attendance; all locals holding interests in the herd were here to check on their investment and count the new generation of herd members.
Soon the silence of the forest was disrupted by the incoming herd. It was wild, chaotic and very noisy with the deep bleating and echoing low grunts of the stampeding reindeer. Temporary fencing and many volunteers shepherded the deer along the required path to the pen. Many hundreds were finally gathered up, with a few lost stragglers running wild around the corral, feeling obvious separation anxiety. The reindeer were in the process of losing their thick winter fur and looked rather mangy and ragged, patchy and mottled. The blotches of lost hair looked, from a distance, a lot like areas of rotted flesh. They seemed were like how a horror movie might imagine undead zombie reindeers to look, the white ones especially having a ghostly, unreal presence.
Whilst the tagging of the new-borns took place, we toggled between watching the myriad reindeer herd scatter and regroup within the corral and sitting around the nearby birchwood campfire, cooking sausages on sticks for dinner. We enjoyed the process of cooking over an open fire, searching out the best glowing embers to evenly cook our meat. We were joined by the locals who cooked salmon and large chunks of thick sausage as they chatted animatedly in Swedish. We enjoyed setting our own fires and learning how best to strip bark thinly to provide suitable kindling that would take under a single flint spark. The evening in the forest was a small but powerful introduction into the collaborative, sociable lifestyle that had so intoxicated Max to move to these Northern Wilds.
We were both drafted onto a beach project, where a slightly sad stretch of sand was to be expanded and tidied up to provide a focal point for the site. Nicky was given the task of researching SUPs, kayaks and canoes, weighing up which would be most suitable for the business to offer for paying clients on this river. She produced detailed spreadsheets, price comparisons and contacted suppliers to set up ordering accounts. She created sign-out sheets for hired equipment, standardised liability forms and other essential items for management to consider, allowing them to get started on offering water sports services for the summer months.
Although I was much happier being left to brushing up, raking sand and digging out stones, I inevitably got dragged into providing professional services for various larger projects around the site. I attended meetings with building suppliers, redesigned layouts for future cottages, and directed builders on site, providing them with basic drawings and setting-out dimensions. I had to double check their built foundation levels, ensuring the site was set up and properly prepared to receive the soon-to-be relocated timber sauna buildings. I was architect, site engineer, foreman, labourer and general dogsbody all in one. But it was all very interesting, helping out and being a small part of the far-reaching vision Max had for the future of his business.
Away from our daily work responsibilities, we had a few long swims in the pretty side-branch of the river Torne facing Benny. One late evening, under a reddening sky, we got suited and booted and swam up stream in totally still water, the glassy reflection just stunningly beautiful. The water was warm, around 17 degrees, so we were in no hurry to return, and dawdled a slow mile up and down the river. Another day we swam a 2km loop out to the main Torne river, around an island on the junction where our small branch met the main flow, and back. We swam around 5km in total in the few days we were camped on the grassy banks. We mentioned our upcoming Arctic Circle swim to the group and two young Frenchman, David and Alex, were both very keen to see if they could attend the event, so we helped where we could to make it happen for them.
Our final work day brought the moving of the smoke sauna. I removed the old timber boards from the external porch that would later be replaced by a new decking area. This allowed the 3m long forks on the digger to slide in under the concrete base and lift it entirely whole to its new position. Two side strips of concrete, essential for supporting the timber roof, were strapped up around the roof for additional support as only the internal rebar was stopping then from snapping off when lifted. The slow, careful move went well, two separate diggers nudging the sauna around, with only minor tweaks to the pre-prepared gravel base required to level up the smoke sauna in its new position.
It was a good finish to our WorkAway week efforts, seeing the first of several big changes that would happen in the coming weeks after we’ve moved on. The final morning there was torrential rain as we packed up and said our sad goodbyes to Max, and to Norrsken Lodge. We had only a short journey north, to the village of Juoksengi, where our next adventure was to swim back in time, across the Arctic Circle from Finland to Sweden.
Sweden’s north Baltic Coast to Overtorneå
Leaving the north entrance of Skuleskogen National Park and with it Sweden’s beautiful Höga Kusten behind, we drove north following the E4 along the coast. The weather had changed, our blue skies replaced overnight with a solid grey mass of muddy cloud and the constant threat of rain. We passed through the towns of Örnsköldsvik and Umeå stopping only briefly in each to have a look around. We kept motoring along, making good distance under the grey skies. We turned east off the main road just after Lövånger and proceeded up a narrow side road that terminated at a noted lighthouse called Bjuröklubb Fyren. Just short of here was a quiet grassy aire near a small sandy beach where we pulled in to spend the night as the rains arrived.
The next morning we drove a few miles further along the small peninsula to the end of the road, parking where it terminated at Bjuröklubb Fyren. It was rainy and grey, the sky a single flat colour with no sign of an edge. We walked over the nearby hillside first, seeing the ruins of old Russian-built buildings and ovens once used to support raiding parties during a long-past war. We then reached the lighthouse on the rocky headland by way of built timber walkways, where we had a rather wet and dismal view out to sea, before deciding to return to Benny and move on.
Back on the coast road we passed Skellefteå and Piteå as we made our way to the outskirts of Luleå. Our goal was to visit Gammelstad Church town, a UNESCO world heritage site, just to the west of the main town. We parked at what we thought would be our overnighting aire, to find that signs had been put up that very morning by Q-Park to turn it into max. 3 hours parking. We asked in the nearby tourist shop and they seemed a little apologetic about it, all beyond their control. We parked anyway and walked into town, with the visitor centre our first stop for information.
We learned that there were two other areas very near the town where we could overnight, so that solved our first dilemma. Then we visited the beautifully presented free museum upstairs, watching a video on the local area and scanning all the displays. We also noted the official UNESCO heritage certification letter for Gammelstad Church Town was framed on the side wall, a nice touch. The winds and rain continued outside the large windows, so we lingered longer and learnt more than we might have had the day been bright and clear.
At the centre was the late Medieval Nederluleå church, with over 40 different types of rock used in the construction of its fieldstone walls. There were some areas of brick detailing high on gable ends and within window reveals, breaking up the expanse of stone. Inside, the gilded altarpiece had a detailed wood carving depicting the passion of Christ, said to be one of the finest in Sweden. A wall-mounted and ornately decorated pulpit overlooked the single nave, set below the simple, plain white vaulted roof.
We walked on through the town, following a short dictated route that picked up most of the historical items of interest. There were once hundreds of such church towns scattered around Sweden, but of the 16 now remaining in existence Gammalstd is said to be the best preserved. There are 408 small red-painted timber houses positioned around the central church. The houses were built to allow parishioners who lived long distances away the opportunity to visit the church for worship and then stay over before making their long journey home. Many of the church cottages are still utilised in this traditional way.
We spent the night in the recommended car-park near a rarely used railway line, under a deluge that cut up the hard gravel into a swamp. We didn’t venture out at all, but watched our unfortunate neighbours parked across the yard struggle with attempting to fix their clearly leaking door in the driving rain; we didn’t envy them their task.
Next morning we drove into Luleå, where we called into a large caravan showroom to enquire about buying propane gas and the required Swedish connection. They sold both, but the prices were staggering – over £60 for the small connection adaptor needed, and an additional £150 for a standard 11kg propane bottle (the same sized ones that are £9 in Spain) and this was one that could only later be exchanged with them. No thanks, that was much too expensive and limiting, and so for the first time we decided to wait until back in Norway to buy something at a more reasonable price.
We continued on through Kalix, before turning off to overnight at Nikkala marina. We initially decided to park nose-out to have a view, but we gave up this prime sea view spot and instead cowered behind the service building, safe and protected as the incredible cross winds battered the entire site into submission. We lost our view but stayed stable and unrocked as we slept. We passed through busy Haparanda the following morning before crossing into Finland to visit a nearby Lidl we had spotted on Google maps. We stocked up as necessary, then rather than return to Sweden we drove north on the Finnish side until we reached the bridge back to Overtorneå, our primary destination.
We entered the village and noted there were several signs pointing the way to our goal. We were here to stay at Norrsken Lodge for another WorkAway volunteer week. First we visited the small town and looked around the pretty, decorative church before progressing to meet our Workaway hosts and learn what tasks awaited us.
After a week of gentle exploring and lazing on sunny beaches around the north of Jutland, we again headed back south of Aalborg, to the area near Svenstrup. It was here we had our second WorkAway project lined up to begin, this time volunteering at Guldbæk Vingård,one of the most northern vineyards in the world.
On arrival we were warmly greeted by our host, Jan, and after introductions we were given a whistle-stop tour of the grounds and facilities. His wife Lone would join us later after her return from work at the local kindergarten. We saw their house, storage rooms and wine production areas, alongside the more public face of the business, their beautiful raised conservatory dining area complete with decked verandah. We noticed maps of Greenland and mentioned our recent kayaking trip there; Jan was pleased we knew a little of the country and would later regale us with tales of the frozen north.
Walking through the door of the main house we were met face to face with a musk ox, staring down at us from the wall. We later learned how this was hunted in Greenland and saw the very hairy pelt, now a large rug, in our accommodation. We had offered to live in Benny for our stay, in case other WorkAwayers were visiting, but Jan insisted they have only one couple at a time and that we should use the available separate annex apartment, so we happily agreed. We could spread out and enjoy the comfortable space in our downtime; perfect.
Jan and Lone’s house was constructed based on a Swedish design; angular, spacious rooms with light double-height sloping ceilings inside, tall, full gable windows, walls heavily insulated, underfloor heating ran off biomass pellets, with a focal-point log burner. The rooms were very comfortable spaces to completely relax in, overlooking the garden and nearby woodland, and we loved that they were very generously willing to share the spaces with us.
We worked stripping the vine trunks of excess growth, to help focus the new growth at the top. Our first day in the vineyard was a little damp and rainy, but we still enjoyed the experience of moving along the rows, clearing weeds and ensuring that we carefully removed all unnecessary growth on each vine. We found our own rhythm and personalised technique as we went along, and soon made progress across several large blocks. It felt good to be contributing, even in such a small way, to something we’re quite passionate about – wine.
We spent one other, much sunnier, day re-staking new vines that had recently been planted to replace frost damaged ones. We pushed long twisted-metal bars into the ground near the vine root, and secured this to the existing horizontal wire trellis with a special shaped wire twist. Once the support was fixed, the stalk was then taped and stapled to hold it in place and to defy the wind. We progressed along each row of vines, loving the freshness of the warm air and gentle breeze, with the gentle discipline of the work providing a focus that we’d both missed.
Most days we completed 3-4 hours work in the morning, occasionally at their vineyards on the other side of the village. We’d take ourselves over there in the morning on our bikes, and when lunch time was approaching, we’d cycle out of the vineyards, past the Kingergarten where Lone works, through the village and back home – a simple but fun journey with the anticipation of lunch to come, to satiate hunger earned from working in the fresh, clean air. A beer was usually offered and enjoyed over our tasty cold-table lunch each day. Sometimes beer was even brought to us in the fields; a beer-break treat.
Occasionally we’d nip back over to the vines again in the afternoon, once as we were asked and other times as we were keen to ensure we properly completed a task we’d been working on in the morning. Otherwise we would have the afternoons to ourselves, and we took to wandering local paths in the nearby forests or simply relaxing, whether in our comfortable annex apartment or in the vineyard’s conservatory and spectacular timber verandah, from where they host functions and tastings, overlooking the lush green valley with the dutifully tended vineyards in the background.
There were great stories told over dinner, as we enjoyed the vineyard’s own wines each night. We learned of their time in Greenland, Jan working there as a policeman. Along with two other colleagues Jan was responsible for a jurisdictional area larger than France. Policing this involved helicopters and light aircraft, many of which were maintained from a civilian compound set within the confines of a US military base. We heard stories of conflicting legal entities, as contrary to the expectations of most US army bases around the world, local Greenlandic law remained the ultimate authority inside.
We heard tales of an emergency beacon rescue in north eastern Greenland. Unknown at the time, the beacon had been flippantly initiated, due to encroaching timescales rather than a life-or-death situation. But this put in motion a series of complicated logistics right across the country that, once demanded, couldn’t be reined back in. Undertaking a helicopter rescue to a remote point thousands of kilometres away, over inhospitable ice fields, led to multiple shuttle runs with regular fuel dumps, a process that can take over a week of constant flying and refuelling to finally reach the isolated destination. On this occasion the culprit, safe and secure and only hoping for a lift home, was hit by a huge fine for misuse of his emergency beacon call.
The generosity and openness of our hosts, Jan and Lone, was boundless. They cooked the most sublime food for us, such as barbecued Uruguayan beef loin, chosen to complement their own carefully chosen wines. We felt so spoiled. We started early, as we chatted, tasting wonderful sweet wines served as an aperitif, before enjoying a glass or two of deep, rich reds or a sharp, clean whites, depending on the type of food on offer each night. We tried their apple wine and bubbly fizz variations, loving hearing the story behind each as we sipped. It was a real pleasure to relax in vivacious company.
We met Jan and Lone’s two sons, both of whom live locally and are involved in assisting the vineyard business. They both have their own projects and careers, keeping them very busy. We met Kim, his wife Helle and their three children first. They work in IT, keep dogs and chickens as pets, rear a few cattle for meat, along with numerous other side projects. Dennis and his wife Heidi, along with their kids, run a large farm breeding Icelandic horses, where they also design, produce and sell specialist equine leather products; saddles, bridles, stirrups, all specific for use with Icelandic horses.
Our hosts have lived, and continue to live, interesting and full lives; we heard tales of dancing with the Crown Prince of Denmark, being friends with the Prime Minister, hosting important civil parties in Greenland, investigating crimes, of kayaking, sailing and dog-sledging, and they now run a successful vineyard back in Denmark. Their involvement in the wine industry has led them to travel extensively, to New Zealand and Australia, to California, to Japan, to visit other vineyards, increase their knowledge of wine production and make lots of good friends on their way. But Greenland was the largest and most formative part of their lives, with over 20 years spent in the insular, patriarchal society. It was Greenland where their heart lay, the stories most vivid.
We have struggled to find words for the welcoming generosity of our amiable hosts; everything was just wonderful and the experience of our stay could not have been better. We met three generations of this hospitable, happy Danish family and were deeply honoured to have been invited to so closely share in their lives, if only for a short while. The stories we heard and the times that we had will long linger in our memory.
Thanks so much for everything, Jan & Lone; skål!