It’s been nice to have you traveling with me on our recent sailing/motoring trip on Bergen’s Statsraad Lehmkuhl. It’s time to finish the journey!
As you’ve seen in my earlier posts, the clouds and sky seemed to play tag throughout the three and a half hour journey. Sometimes we had warm sun, and other times the clouds covered that sun. Looking at the sky from our perspective was intriguing; the texture enhanced the Norwegian landscape and waters.
We could see the rain clouds moving in as we journeyed south on one side of the island of Bjorøyna, and especially as we turned to begin the journey north back to the Bergen Harbor. Passing Flesland (the Bergen airport) was fascinating for me. We’d just landed there a few days earlier after our trip home from Spain; seeing the planes land and take off from the perspective of the water, especially with the clouds, rain, and wind, gave me a whole new appreciation for the steady hands of the pilots!
As my “sneak peek” showed, the combination of sun and rain created a special moment: a rainbow, its top hidden in the clouds but the other side seeming to end at, appropriately, Lysekloster. Home! The rainbow hung in the air for quite a while: fading, getting more intense, fading again. Isn’t weather engaging and intriguing?
I captured a few images over the side of the ship. The look of the fairly smooth waters being disturbed by the ship’s passing was mesmerizing.
The bow had been full of other passengers while Jan and I were sitting on the stern, but I noticed it had cleared out a bit … and so, after turning north and passing Flesland again (which you’ll see in the video), I made my way up the steep stairs and discovered that, except for the sailor watching over that part of the ship, I was the only one there. According to the time stamps on my images I stood there for about thirty minutes, but it could have been five minutes or five hours; I lost complete track of everything and just lived in the moment.
I watched the play of setting sun and clouds, the wind and seas, the rain drops and sunbeams. It was an introspective time: just me, the wind-chased clouds playing tag with the sun and then covering its light almost completely, the rain clouds and wind enthusiastically pelting raindrops against my face and speckling my glasses and camera lens, and the smooth motoring below me.
I hate being on “the other” side of a lens and don’t normally take (much less share) real selfies, but I had to capture the moment of me at the bow with the masts of the Statsraad Lehmkuhl rising behind me. The sun’s light was amplified by the cloud, but I had to hang onto my hood as the rain driven wind was beginning to hit me — it was refreshing and invigorating and I really wanted to shout “I’m King of the World” (except we couldn’t get quite that close to the bow as portrayed in the Titanic movie).
But I was shouting it in my head!
We approached the Askøy bridge, and of course I captured it, craning my neck up and around, then turning around, to take it all in. Raindrops dotted the camera lens, and added an authentic watery look to the images.
Finally, figuring that my husband was probably beginning to worry I’d fallen overboard, I made way back to mid-ship. As my drenched self was walking up to him, ready to explain my absence, Jan smiled and said, “I *knew* where you were!”
Well, actually he burst out laughing; I think my “drenched self” looked quite amusing, probably like the proverbial drowned rat!
I had a difficult time sitting still. We next passed under the bridge to Sotra; I jumped up to capture that perspective from mid-ship on the starboard side. (These images were taken with a musical accompaniment — a gently-rowdy group who’d enjoyed several pints of Hansa beer began singing “… like a bridge over troubled waters …” to the amusement and delight of everyone.)
And finally, we were back in Byfjorden. I went back up to the bow — more crowded with people now, anticipating the return to the harbor — and looked back towards the Sotra bridge, with the ship’s masts and forward-bell centered in the image …
… and then forward towards Bergen and her familiar mountain silhouettes.
We entered the harbor. Almost back in port!
My camera’s rechargeable batteries almost at their end, I captured a few images of the crew throwing out the anchoring ropes as we moved carefully into port.
The gangplank was set in place.
And finally, reluctantly, it was time to disembark.
What wonderful memories I took with me as I walked back onto solid land! Here’s a short compilation of those shared in this post.
If you’re ever in Bergen during the summer and want to experience an evening trip, visit the Statsraad Lehmkuhl’s website to see what Fjord cruises are available. You can also take part in a longer sailing cruise where you learn how to operate the ship and experience a little real life sailing! (It looks as if they also have Pirate tours … wouldn’t THAT be a fun time with your kids?! 🙂 )