Naustholmen, Norway
One Evening
Tom had a favor to do for our neighbor to the west, Randi Skaug, whose island is called Naustholmen. She had left the week before, heading south to spend the winter in Oslo, but needed Tom to check on something in her house. I had the night off and tagged along for something to do, Hernan had the same idea. The three of us bundled up, lately every evening seemed colder than the last, and headed across the channel in the boat.
It took all of two minutes for us to cross the channel to Naustholmen. We tied up the boat and as the guys walked off towards Randi’s house, I hung back for a moment. Standing at the edge of the pier I admired Manshausen from this perspective.
Time and time again, living here had introduced me to the refreshment in a change of perspective, a remedy to island fever, small town fever, arctic fever: looking down from a hill, the top of a climbing route or from the local peaks near 700 meters high, looking up from the sea while swimming, in a kayak, or from the motor boat.
I had been to Naustholmen many times. The first time was back in March, four days after arriving in this beautiful corner of the world. Chunks of ice floated in the sea then and I crunched through fresh snow as I hiked around Naustholmen and Grøtøya, an island connected to Randi’s by an old wooden bridge.
Before leaving Randi had us all over for a traditional fish dinner, which included sampling cod liver, a rich resource of vitamins for people who live off the land. Dinner was followed by many hours drinking wine and sitting around the fire. So, this was hardly a new perspective I just hadn’t taken the time to notice before.
The change of season had also made everything feel different, winter had arrived in the last few days with a dusting of snow in the mountains. A shift in perspective, a change of season, or simply the everyday weather created great variation in living remotely. The light of this particular evening was interesting, the sun’s rays blocked by rain clouds slowly creeping towards us from the south, chasing the last patches of blue skies away. The forecast called for rain the next day.
I remained at the edge of the pier for some time, admiring the way the Manshausen cabins, the whaling ship and the white house. We were not far away and yet everything looks so small. From this perspective the peaks of Hellesund were visible behind Manshausen, a higher collection of peaks they all donned much more snow than our local mountains.
One of the most beautiful features of this landscape are the layers of mountains. Every view includes some variation of mountains in the foreground and mountains in the background, mountains everywhere.
Naustholmen used to play a central role in the trading post that was strewn across the many islands of the area, hence the industrial fuel tower in the photograph above. I believe this island was a fueling station, and a collection of docks projecting out into the channel where goods were loaded and unloaded. Grøtøya to the west of Naustholmen was the heart of the operation with an established Inn and most important of all, where the bank was built.
Manshausen also played a role in this trading post, ten men lived in what we now called the main house and produced 100 wooden barrels a day. These barrels were then likely filled with herring and cod bound for England and Germany. Today, the main house is the restaurant, library, my little flat and a spacious attic for storage.
I think it is quite cool that these neighboring islands are both owned by Norwegian explorers who share their island oases with people from all over the world.
an old dock left over from the original trade settlement
A Walkabout The Island
I had never walked out to the north end of Randi’s island. Several trails lead through a moss carpet to a collection of campsites that, during the summer season when her island is open for visitors, offer accommodation in the form of tree tents, a hybrid of tent and hammock. Brightly colored, they look beautiful strung up in the trees all summer.
You can see the tree tents here.
Our local peaks & the mountains of engaløya in the distance
Before witnessing autumn here I had never seen nor given much thought to the reactions of moss and seaweed to the changing of seasons. The lush carpets of Norwegian alpine moss, so lush they bounce when you walk across them like a mattress, are like miniature forests.
Studying them closely reveals many different species interwoven to create the great carpets, and just like the birch trees who turned bright yellow in autumn, the moss turned various colors of red and pint, except the reindeer moss who stayed its unique color, white with a green tinge. The seaweed changed too, to hues of dark yellow.
Views Of Grøtøya
Grøtøya and Naustholmen are connected by an old wooden bridge that crosses a narrow channel of sea water. Somewhat sheltered in this gap between the two islands, the bridge also acts as the harbor for those living on Grøtøya, with several boat slips attached.
Grøtøya includes an Inn called Villa Haugen, a few summer homes, traditional boat houses, and one or two homes occupied by people who live there year round. Just south of the collection of buildings is a hill that offers just enough elevation to see the entire Lofoten Mountain Range as it stretches out like a giant arm into the Norwegian sea.
Back to Naustholmen
a sweet cabin for rent on naustholmen
The maine House
the barn
It was nearly dark when we headed back over to Manshausen. Snow on the mountains had been an unreliable indicator of winter, the light powder sugar dustings melted easily when the sun came out. More so, it was the ever shortening days, the fact that evening existed at all that reminded us all summer was gone and winter was building.
