Johnny Cash in Norway
On the way back, we pulled into shore to come to an old abandoned village that had only about four or five wind blown buildings still standing. While the tourists peered through windows and ate a packed lunch, I examined old stoves and carts parked among the fallen foundations.
The captain’s friend came to me and told me that the captain’s grandfather’s house was opened up and that if I wanted to, I could come in and take a look around. The captain had a face that was really hard to tell the age of. It was likely that he was nearly 60, but he could have just as easily been 45. Either way, his grandfather must not have lived in this home for quite some time. However, it was clear that someone had been there recently. At the back door, a pile of empty beer and wine bottles waited to be returned to the mainland for recycling.
I slowly began walking toward the house assuming that the rest of the group would be trudging through at the same time. Then I noticed that I was the only one going into the house. I had received a private invitation. I went in to find the captain and his friend smoking hand rolled cigarettes. They pointed out the 150 year old organ that had never moved from the house, and the next thing that I knew, the captain was playing old Johnny Cash songs for me. It was great. We shared fishing stories and they told me all about the good ol’ days of Norway. Every couple of weeks or so, the captain and his friend came to the old house after a long day of fishing to relax.
“Yeah, I figured that,” I said. “I noticed the empty bottles and figured that someone had been coming here regularly.” The men chuckled. The captain told me that in two years, he would have his grandfather’s house fixed up and he invited me to come back and stay there. I told him that I would come back and I would bring my father as well.
Then, the rest of the boat came in and the captain picked up his guitar and sang some more wonderful old country songs that the Italian and French tourists had never heard.
As we started off on the boat again, one of the yuppies asked the captain and his friend if he could go fishing with the giant reels that were attached to the boat. The captain and his friend nodded. Then, the captain’s friend came by and asked if I would like to fish. “Sure, why not,” I said. So, they stopped the boat, lowered a line and then he yelled for me to come over to take it. The yuppie guy looked a little bit peeved. I hadn’t even asked to go fishing and they had given me the line. Well, we had another line at the front of the boat too.
Each line had four hooks on it with rubber worms. In about 10 minutes, we were able to bring up nearly two dozen fish. Every time I pulled the line up, there would be a fish on each of the four hooks. Finally, we had to go back to shore. There were no buckets and now, bloody fish were taking over the deck of the boat. From the cabin window below, it looked like we were going to be attacked by the large fish as they stared through the window gasping at us.
Luxury on the Night Train
I took a larger ferry back down to the mainland of Norway and then booked a couchet on the night train back down to Trondheim. This time, I was determined to get a good night’s sleep. Indeed I did. After sleeping in hostels and such, I felt quite posh to receive small containers of mineral water, soap and shampoo and a full out bed in a tiny room with a sink and a window. It was wonderful. I even had a small seatbelt that kept me from rolling out of my upper bunk bed when the train stopped. To top it all off, my breakfast was included in the price.