I’d always wanted to come here, to Tromso. Ever since I was a kid, I loved anything to do with the Arctic. I’d read stories about Arctic exploration, the Yukon Gold Rush, the Inuit, the Sami, anything to do with life at the top of the world. I have no idea why this was. Perhaps it was the solitude that I aimed for. Which is just as well, because I’ve come here on my own. And I’m loving it.
This was going to be a grand affair, this trip. I’d fly to Stockholm and spend the night in a hotel they’ve made inside an old Boeing 747. I’d then catch the train up from Stockholm to the Arctic Cicrle. At Narvik, I was going to catch a six hour coach ride to Tromso, from where I’d first fly to Longyearbyen in Svalbard, before flying back, and getting a ferry boat down to Bergen. And from there I’d fly home. Well, scratch all of that. Instead I just flew to Tromso.
There were adventurers on the plane. Three men in their early thirties. Facial hair, and laptops. They were tapping away, writing articles about snowboarding. One of them was reading a book about Shackleton. Another was reading a book about avalanches. After a while they finished typing and then they started talking. ‘Been to Bristol?’. ‘Yeah. Bristol’s shit’. ‘What was that bar you went to in Brighton?’ ‘Oh, that one? It was shit’. ‘Is Jason still seeing Melissa?’ ‘No, they moved to the USA, but then he realised that the USA is shit’. ‘What do you think of this coffee?’ ‘It’s shit’.
When we got off the plane we were shepherded into buses and someone complained in a very English accent that it was bloody cold, and that they should shut the doors, and hurry up. And I thought, well, what do you expect? We’re north of the Arctic Circle, here. Perhaps she was similar to the sorts of people who are upset because they didn’t realise there would be fish in the sea. I then had my passport stamped by a very friendly border control officer who welcomed me to Norway.
And yes, it’s cold. They had snow last week, it’s all still heaped at the sides of the roads and it’s turning a sort of grey colour. One of the first places I went to was the museum of Polar expedition. It was set up inside an old wooden building and I thought, hmm, just one stray match and this whole place could go up at any moment. They’d put in an exhibition in one of the rooms of LGBT life in Tromso. I overhead someone describing it to his friends in broken English. ‘Gay. Not as in happy, but as in homosexual’. One of the exhibits mentioned a book published in the last century about a lonely miner who comes to Tromso and finds himself falling in love with a young man, but then, just when he’s getting very anxious at this turn of events, they turn out to be a woman. So that’s OK, then.
There was a plentiful supply of stuffed animals on display at the museum including what has to be the most worried-looking bear I’ve ever seen.
I went to the aquarium next, where I communed with a seal. It popped its head out of the water and we looked at each other, and I smiled, and it seemed to smile back. And I did think, well, if you want to see some seals, you can just stay in Brixham. But it was worth it to find out that the French for seal is phoque. And to hear some French tourists behind me talking about the phoques.
I managed to negotiate the local bus network and buy the equivalent of a Dayrider, then went over to the next island and caught a cable car up to the top of the mountain. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it to be snowy and cold, but there you go. It was absolutely beautiful. It was the coldest I’ve been in years, but at the same time so very much what I’d wanted when I started this trip. And it seemed to take me to those teenage years reading all about snowy wastelands, even though Tromso was right there. And when I went back to the cable car station to come down again, I found what has to be the toilet with the best view in the world, of the water and the bridge and the town far below and the mountains and the snow.
As I am a man of culture, I then went back into the town and found what purports to be the most Northern branch of McDonalds in the world. And by this I don’t mean that there are men in there wearing flat caps and talking about pigeons. I mean that it’s apparently the most geographically north branch in the world. And yet, like any McDonalds, there was a table occupied by eight teenagers all surrounding one small Diet Pepsi.
The next day I had myself a little adventure. I got myself a place on a tour boat, travelling around the fjords and seas around Tromso, and it was really quite staggering. The scenery here is unlike anything I’ve seen anywhere else: snow capped mountains, deep valleys, forests. At one point we came into a fjord that was completely frozen, and it was explained that for this to happen there has to be a source of fresh water, which freezes at a higher temperature than sea water. For someone who lives near the sea, to see it actually frozen was mind boggling.
We then visited a traditional fishing village where fish are left to dry in the air. These triangular structures were covered in netting and an electric wire to stop them from being taken by predators. The electric wire was right next to a very slippery ice-packed path on which I was struggling to navigate. It was a case of either fall over, or grab on to an electric wire. Or try not to do either. The smell of the fish was actually quite pungent. The wind whipped up this valley and, although not as cold as the day before had been on top of the mountain, I was certainly very chilly indeed. We then went inside the fish factory to look at monkfish and wow, what an ugly creature they are. The males are sixty percent smaller than the female and because it takes so long to find each other, when they mate the male actually fuses to the body of the female. I made a mental note to look up monkfish later on, as well as Greenland sharks, which are quite fascinating.
So it’s been an amazing time here and I’ve met all kinds of wonderful people. Everyone speaks amazing English, which is convenient, but does tend to make one feel guilty. Tromso really is a magical place and I could certainly see myself living here, if only I could manage the winter months without any sun at all. But it’s more or less the same in Paignton.
Here are a couple of poems, starting with this one which I posted earlier today:https://professorofwhimsy.com/2024/03/22/the-bear/
Tomas
I shouldn’t let it happen,
It really is quite stupid.
The way I sense in any man
The beating wings of Cupid.
You came and sat right next to me
And smiled and something passed.
Passengers both on a pleasure boat,
By its nature it couldn’t last.
We spent the day having adventures
In Fjords and on frozen seas,
Coupled by fate in a makeshift date
So relaxed and totally at ease.
I’ve always had a romantic side
And a lust for far-off places.
And a dream to find my one true love
Amid the world’s anonymous faces.
Oh Tomas, there was something strong
Between us, we each were a cure.
But I knew all the time there was something wrong
Love is seldom so convenient or pure.
It wouldn’t have worked, it couldn’t have worked,
There was no sense in trying.
If I were younger I would have stressed,
Said nothing, and spent the whole night sighing.
So I held back and let you go
And pretended it wasn’t worth it.
Sometimes life comes in monstrous waves
And all you can do is surf it.
We arrived at the dock in the harbour,
My heart beat its pumping refrain,
Left the boat on the gangplank together
Knowing I’d never see you again.
Phytoplankton
Phyto-phyto -phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto -phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
It’s what the molluscs eat,
it’s how they get their meat.
If you should ever greet a krill
Give some to them, let them have their fill
Say here’s a bowl of
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
It harvests CO2.
And gives us oxygen too.
Is there anything it cannot do?
(Well, apart from operate a fork lift).
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
It’s incredibly beneficial.
And any whale or fish’ll
Tell you that it does the planet well
Rolling on the ocean swell.
What was it again?
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
I went round Janet’s house last night.
I said, this is a cracker of a salad,
What’s the secret ingredient?
She said
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
I gave some to a crab
Share it with your friends, I said.
I won’t, he replied.
Such a shellfish attitude!
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
I saw a krill with a black eye
Jeez how did that happen?, I asked.
Take this advice, said he,
You don’t want to
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Phytoplankton, phytoplankton.
Phyto-phyto-phytoplankton
Living in the sea.
Living in the sea.
Living in the sea.
(Living in the sea . . ).
Robert Garnham 