Sorry that it has taken us so long to get these photos up! Kaia is thriving. She is now 3 months, just under 7kg and absolutely gorgeous. She sleeps from 10pm until 9.30am with only one feed. Bliss! Her eyes are still dark blue but her hair is getting blonder and blonder. Her first tooth is just coming through, which she isn’t too happy about, but even so she smiles and babbles happily for most of the day. She really is such a good baby and her Dad and I are both absolutely smitten.

The last two months have been pretty hectic. When Kaia was ten days old we left Norway for London. Matthew then travelled on to Kangaroo Island while Kaia stayed on to be spoiled by her grandparents and aunty. After three weeks we headed for Sydney, accompanied by bestemor Bjorg. Matthew flew up to meet us and we spent four days catching up with family and friends before heading back to Kangaroo Island. Having mum here to help me settle in was absolutely wonderful but, alas, all good things must come to an end. So it was that after two weeks we all jetted off to Melbourne to introduce Kaia to the Australian side of her family, and to farewell Bjorg in style.


Kaia, The Jet Setter


Enjoying The Qantas Club


Breakfast at Ripples


Brian & Cynthia meet their first great grandchild


One very proud Oldefar


Kaia meets her 'cousins'




Kaia gets a tour of Southern Ocean Lodge




Playing tourist at Remarkable Rocks, Kangaroo Island


Baths can be nice!


Bjorg shows us how its done!




One Cute Baby!




Meeting the Australian grandparents


Pram Dad's!

Greetings All

At approximately 10:03pm on Sunday 19th August 2007 (Norway time) our little girl Kaia was born at a very healthy 4.095kg and 52cm long.

Whilst Carolina wasn't too impressed with the exceedingly long labour, it fitted in quite nicely with my plans. Yes, after being in transit from Kangaroo Island to Norway for in excess of 40 hours, I managed to sneak into the delivery room at Hamerfest Hospital approximately 50 minutes before the birth.

What an amazing experience - an understatement of very big proportions. Well I won't bore you with any more of my dribble, here are the photos:


Proud Parents with one very cute baby


How cute am I?


Just in case you need a better angle


One very chuffed aunty!


Bestafar (need we say more)


Bestamor (who constantly reminds us that the baby has her good looks)


Dad and Bub getting to know one another after the big ordeal


Last but not least, Caroline with new bub

As 2005 begins to draw to a close and we get ready for a 5 week vacation in Australia (yes, it feels kind of strange to be saying that!), I think its time to post a long awaited update onto our beloved website.Its now just under two years since Caroline and I left Australia to pursue our dream (well mine anyway) of living and working in Europe. As it so happens everything that we hoped would eventuate has and no, Caroline is not pregnant.


The Girl finally turns the big 24!

Our seven months in Norway (2004) was a blast but I am sure you have heard well and truly heard enough about those goings on! Since October 2004, things have settled down quite a bit. We’re still living with the in-laws (I mean really, why wouldn’t you!) in beautiful Richmond by the Thames. Caroline is in her second year of studies (and doing very well indeed) and I have just achieved the one year anniversary milestone of working for a construction management company called Mace.

Working in England has been interesting to say the least. I first started off doing some consulting in Manchester, the work related to buses – a field in which I had few clues about. Thankfully the bullshit factor kicked in nicely and by the end of my 3 month stint I was the resident expert! Then came the prized stint of working on the giant new terminal at Heathrow that is T5. You see they needed a crack team (6 of us) to tell them how to finish the bloody thing off. Once again, I found myself exposed to a field of construction that I wasn’t particularly well experienced (i.e. little or none). Wouldn’t you know it, excelled yet again!

After living the high life as a consultant for 6 months, the powers to be at Mace decided that it was time to collect. Now back in delivery mode, I find myself project managing a £15m shed for for British Airways World Cargo. The only problem now is that I find myself reverting to my old ways where the days are long and that cherished thing known as balance is something hard to find. Mmmm, not quite the working holiday that I had planned!


Back to reality!

Apart from work, life in London has been a lot of fun, we have met loads of people – even a few poms! Yes, as one would expect there are quite a few Australians over here. Dan Knight as many of you will know is a mate from Melbourne and yes - another keen cyclist. As you would expect there are many weekends spent flashing it up doing circuits of Richmond Park.


If nothing else, at least we look good!


Going for the sponshorship points - your shout Capey!

Back in October I had a little birthday and to my amazement, there were quite a few individuals who made damn sure my departure from the 30’s club was memorable. You wouldn’t pick it though would you – someone this youthful and good looking is actually 40!


That sinking feeling......


Sunk!

During term break in July, Caroline decided it was time to leave the country for a well earned break in Northern Norway – leaving hubby to his own devices and to bring home the bacon. As it turned out, I did manage to grab some time and headed up to Norway myself. Once again a truly remarkable time was had. This place is God’s own country where one can be assured of finding a real sense of peace and tranquillity.






Even Imelda managed to catch a fish or two..


Sorry about that one Ali!

At the end of our little adventure in Norway, Alistair decided it was time that we all took part in a days sailing in Oslo. Originally; I was going to skip it since Caroline described it as just another days sailing. As it turned out, Alistair had hired a world class 60 foot racing tri-maran with crew. Needless to say, I changed my plans. Sailing on this baby was an experience none of us will forget.


Not only was it good to mimic the life of the rich and famous, but the shear buzz of screaming along at 30 knots is something to behold.



Not sure where to from here, however it is looking increasing more likely that we'll spend a couple more years in Europe - unless of course there is some amazing opportunity presented whilst on holiday in Australia. Then again, reckon you'll find it hard to track us down on that beach in far North Queensland.

Here's cheers and hoping you all have a great festive period - mine starts the first week of December!

The stress of living, working and studying in London was beginning to be felt by all and sundry. After all, since arriving back from our little trip to New York we had gone almost seven whole weeks without a holiday!

Christmas this year was to be spent in Northern Norway (Tverrfjord) where we were to join Kransburg (who Lina insists I describe as ‘a close family friend’ rather than ‘that crusty builder bloke), who had returned to Tverrfjord to complete the renovations. The only member of the family who wouldn’t be joining us was Tonje, who apparently saw more value in sharing the festive season with the Beau – Andreas from Stavanger, in Southern Norway.

Caroline and Bjørg decided to make tracks for Tverrfjord a few days before us blokes on account of needing to get the house ready. Yep in this country Christmas comes complete with Christmas curtains, table-cloths and more santa figurines than you can shake a stick at!

After hearing all the oohs and ahs regarding how fabulous the renovation was looking (more photos later), Wednesday 22nd of December – the day of Alistair’s and my departure had arrived. Early that morning, Bjørg had phoned to tell us that there was a storm-warning issued for northern Norway and that the fjord was being battered by gale-force winds. By this time I had come to have a healthy respect for the elements inside the Arctic Circle, so when Alistair and I arrived at Oslo airport we were quite surprised to learn that our flight North was not cancelled; it was in fact ready for boarding. Two hours later, however, we started to wonder if our decision to board had been the wisest course of action that we had taken that day!

We were within spitting distance of Alta when we were advised by the Captain that we were now circling while we waited for the weather to calm long enough for a bunch of planes (all parked at different altitudes) to land. Some twenty minutes later we commenced our descent: experiencing some of the most bone-jarring jolts and stomach-turning drops ever would not have been so bad were it not for the sound-track of screams and prayers (I kid you not!) coming from the other passengers. Suffice it to say there was a plane-full of relieved passengers when our Captain decided that an alternative airport was the order of the day. Tromso, here we come! The only thing that made it possible to land there was the fact that the wind was blowing in line with the runway. Not that it made any difference to us passengers; this was probably the scariest ride that I have ever experienced.

To cut a long story short Alistair and I arrived in Tromso to the news that all airports within the Northern reaches of Norway had been closed for the foreseeable future. The only saving grace was the fact that the Hurtigrute (Coastal Shipping Service) was still operating and arrangements had been made for us to continue our journey by sea. Thankfully in our case Øksfjord (directly opposite Tverrfjord) was a normal designated stop for the Hurtigrute thereby cutting out further delays that could have added another seven hours to our journey.

The Wonders of Tverfjord

Even though the journey time and the adventure factor had been doubled when we arrived at the small hamlet that is Tverrfjord there was little doubt that it had all been worthwhile. You see, we love this place – it is one of the few places in the world that I feel such an incredible connection to. Probably the only thing that bugs me centres around the fact that at times I tend to feel a bit of a dumb-ass in relation to my mastering of the Norwegian lanuage. Sometimes it all feels like a bit of a “Catch 22” situation: the better I get, the faster they speak, and the less I understand. At least Lina had made one aspect of this problem simpler: she had long ago advised me to dispense with the formal ‘Kan du jenta det?’ (‘can you repeat that?’) and stick to the wonderfully nasal local version: ‘heh?’ Believe me, you have no idea!!

Just to recap, Tverrfjord is located 400km’s within the Arctic Circle and as a result the light of day doesn’t make a big impression this time of year. Each day we are graced with approximately 3.5 hours of a rather dim twilight (definitely no direct sunlight) between the hours of 10am and 1:30pm. Taking photos represents a challenge as what looks like daylight when you take it usually ends up looking like the dead of night. Luckily for all of you avid followers of Macaba, you’re in for a bit of a treat – yes Giltrap has his act together in this department: he even knows how to play around with shutter speeds and F-stops. Now that the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights) had made it’s return I could finally have a go at capturing it with a little help from my trusty tripod (thank you to Anna & James!). Although a spectatular full moon was not regarded as prime conditions to view the Northern Lights, we were provided with one opportunity to experience the wonders of this electromagnetic & solar phenomena.





Next time the shots will be even better – after a bit of trial and error, I have the feeling that 15 seconds at an F-stop of 5.4 is grounds for a little over exposure.

As I think has been mentioned previously, the concept of having so much darkness to play with is not all bad. You see there are no foul insects hovering around the bbq (for that matter there aren’t any bloody bbq’s)… you never feel guilty about relaxing instead of making the most of the beautiful weather… lethargy can strike at any time… there’s never really a bad time to have a drink … all in all it gets pretty damn cosy at times!





Even given the enforced stays within doors, we did manage to get off our bums and do some exercise each day. Nothing too serious (or else Lina chucks a wobbly!), just the odd bit of skiing and posing!







Then there were the days when all Lina wanted to do was to play the fairy Godmother to the twins.



Funnily enough I don’t get much support when I suggest that we adopt a twenty-five year old with his own apartment.


The sounds of two babies crying makes Giltrap get all clucky!

The joys of having a sauna, freaky in-laws and the wonderful renovation.


Still the lean, mean thrashing machine that you have all come to expect!




They call this one, "the Lapland Fling"

Carolina:

As much as I love and miss Australia I have to admit that an antipodean Christmas doesn’t hold much appeal for me. Lying on the beach on Christmas day, watching fat men perspiring through their light-weight santa-suits… so, so wrong! Luckily everything was in place to make Christmas 2004 the best ever.

It really is a different world up in Tverrfjord. I remember one summer, years and years ago, two of my young cousins were working on one of the local fish-farms. They had gone out to tend the rings and hadn’t come back. I was used to my grandmother worrying about everything and everyone, but I have to admit that when they still weren’t home by 3am I got out of bed and joined her at the kitchen window. Watching the fog swirl over the water while she told me stories of boats lost at sea felt so elemental: so many generations of women had sat like that, just waiting and watching. Luckily in this case the boys turned up safe and sound, and just like she had done for the last 60 years my grandmother called them in for coffee and breakfast- albeit an extremely early one!

It felt a bit the same listening to the blizzard shake the rafters and tear up everything not tied down, knowing that Matt and Dad were in the air. With such extreme weather conditions the pilots up there really are amoung the best in the world, but despite my total faith in their abilities I was pretty relieved to hear that our boys had landed safe and sound in Tromso and were on their way North via the slow, but sure, Hurtigruten! It’s not quite as much fun when you know people out travelling, but I really love storms in Norway. The wind is strong enough to blow you off your feet, and the power almost always goes out. You just light candles, lie in front of the fire, eat, drink, sleep and listen to the wind howl… Actually, apart from the aucoustics it’s not too different to a normal day in Tverrfjord…

The renovations were finished by this time which added an extra element to the enjoyment. The open fire-place downstairs became the new focal point, and the sauna was used daily. Bliss!

Christmas passed in an indolent blur of food, wine and card-games. Naturally Matthew’s presence added a competitive edge to these… you can take the boy away from the Giltrap’s, but you can’t take the Giltrap out of the boy! New Years arrived and was celebrated with champers and sparklers. Sending up fire-works here is amazing: the snow reflects the colours and the mountains pulse red, blue, green… Absolutely spectaculour! We had agreed with the neighbours that we would send up one rocket at the stroke of midnight and then have a minutes silence as a mark of respect for the tsunami victims. Unfortunately no-one had explained this to Matt so in the middle of all the solemnity he whoops ‘let’s get this show on the road!’. No wonder everyone in the fjord thinks he’s adorable!


Happppppppppy New Year!




The honeymoon continues!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!

In the midst of entertaining and feeding the many visitors who had come to pay their respects, we still had the renovation to take care of. Thankfully after encountering a number of delays we finally managed to have Kransburg (the builder) return for the second of his three planned visits.


Kransburg ~ fastidious & obsessive preparations as usual!

Now it was time to start the real transformation. The actual delay in Kransburg’s arrival had worked to our advantage. It now meant that all those; materials, fittings & fixtures which on average comprised a 3-month lead-time (instead of the 6 weeks as promised by the suppliers) had arrived. This little project has taught me two things: firstly, never rely on Norwegian stockists to have anything to you by the promised deadline, and secondly, Lina can be fierce! My Norwegian wasn’t quite up to abusing tradesman, so it was left up to my wife to determine such things as why a shower with a two-week delivery time was absent after two months. After a few false you-catch-more-flies-with-honey starts, the girl was off and in no time we had the entire bathroom fitted out in wholesale-priced fixtures. You go girl!

Now there were no excuses, it was time for Kransburg and his two little ‘lap-dogs’ to get their acts together and start working. Kransburg must have felt a little like one of those builders in a reality television make-over programme ~ yes all those preparatory crappy jobs had already been completed by yours truly. Now all we needed were the creative touches of a skilled tradesman.

First off, all of the masonry walls needed to be ground-back and re-rendered. Apart from the fact that the grinding-back of such walls is a very dusty and messy job everything seemed to be going swimmingly well. Or so it seemed from the now distant vantage point of the resurrected Project Manager (well, you didn’t think that I was going to stay in the trenches for the entire job, did you??)

As the weeks progressed Carolina’s relentless slave-driving of Kransburg and I started to have the desired affect ~ at last our visions of splendour and grandeur were being realised. Walls had been rendered, slate floor tiles & ceramic wall tiles had been laid, the vanity and shower were installed, and timber linings fitted into place. Finally came the day Lina had been waiting for since we started: the curved, 190cm long bathtub was fitted and rendered into place, and Mark and I were finally allowed out of the basement.


Getting ready to lay slate


The finished product




Although the sides are yet to be slated, the bath was definitely the focal point ~ as far as Carolina is concerned that is!

Owing to the fact that we had visitors to entertain whilst all of this work was going on, there were numerous occasions when Caroline and I were required elsewhere. I was quite amazed to see the amount of work that Kransburg actually got done without my guidance and specialist supervision. As a treat we did manage to let him out of the cellar on the odd occasion.


Real beer, pseudo Australian!

After a super effort lasting just over 4 weeks the time had come for Kransburg to bugger off back to Oslo. Now it was time for Giltrap to show that he had learnt a two or thing over a 15-year career in the building industry. I mean there was a hole in the floor to be cut, preparations to be made for a new stair, numerous walls that still required timber linings & skirtings, and doors to be hung.


Opening up the basement to the rest of the house

On one particular day our electrician Raymonnnnnnnnnnd had come around to change over the switchboard and upgrade the power supply to three-phase. The thing that really amuses me about electrical tradesmen the world over is that they really are a bunch of whimps at times. These just guys love laying cable and making a mess but when it comes to cutting holes in things so as fixtures can be installed – they just downright refuse. You see there was this new switchboard that needed to be installed within the upstairs corridor. Not a big deal you would think, that is not until you saw the depth of it – basically it was going to jut out into the corridor just shy of a foot. I said to Raymonnnnnnnd in my best Norwegian, “what about recessing it into the wall a bit”. He gives me this quizzical look and utters, “do you have a saw”. Answering no he then says “what, not even a chainsaw?”

The thought of using a petrol powered chainsaw inside the house had actually escaped me, surely if I was to follow this course of action than I would have to be the biggest hypocrite of all time. Hypocrite in the sense that for years as a Project Manager on construction sites in Australia, I had been administering quite stringent health & safety requirements. Ah well, ‘when in Rome!’


Giltrap takes to the wall with a certain GUSTO!

No doubt by now some of you will have been wondering as to what my dear wife Caroline had been up to whilst all of this fun and excitement was going on. Not only had she managed to take care of most of the cooking and cleaning but she also set about painting nearly everything that stood still for more than 2 seconds and then there was her masterpiece – the rock wall! After getting a few professional tips from Kransburg, she was off collecting rocks, mixing countless batches of mortar and then painstakingly sculpting the rocks into their final form.


Caroline shows the boys a thing or two!

As August blended into September, our time in Tverrfjord was almost up. In a mad rush to have as much work completed before leaving we basically ran ourselves ragged. Hardly a fitting end to such a unique and overall wonderful arctic experience one might think. However when put into real perspective, I think this little project gave a real sense of purpose and achievement to our stay. Particularly when we ponder our next 3-6 month stay say next year or the year after when we are in need of yet another escape from reality.

As the seemingly endless Arctic Summer wound on and people got news of our secluded hideaway the number of visitors who made the epic journey to see us was amazing.



Bjørg, Alistair & Tonje
I guess you couldn’t really regard these guys as visitors, but Bjørg kindly stated from the first that this was our time in Tverrfjord, and should continue to be enjoyed as such. Although Caroline’s excitement at their arrival was tempered by nervousness as too what they would think of the alterations to the house. She was soon assured that she wasn’t going to be bludgeoned into unconsciousness with one of the curtain rods she had relegated to the attic, and we settled into enjoying our time with these amazingly generous and supportive people.



Anyway, enough of sucking up to the in-laws. It was good to have them all here, yes good to catch-up, good to share the brunt of chores (Giltrap manages to perfect his disappearing act when there are dishes or general cleaning to be done), and good to show off the improvements that we have made to the house. Definitely good to learn that they liked what we had done to date and that we hadn’t turned their once charming country style home into a sleek and cutting edge pad.

Being here to experience the sheer beauty of this corner of the globe is one thing, but witnessing the effect that Bjørg has on the place is something else. With suitcases full of presents for nieces and nephews she slots right back into the dynamic of the Fjord. Days are spent catching up on all the comings and goings that have happened over the preceding months, and nights are spent reading all the old tabloid magazines and brushing up on which minor Norwegian celebrity is shagging who. Nice to know that some things are universal, eh?



Having witnessed the intensity at which Bjørg and her cousins go about the task of re-acquainting themselves it was also good to see that Alistair was acclimatising, albeit in a much more subdued manner. His three girls were very excited, as three weeks away from the hustle and bustle of boardroom meetings, and regular international flights was the longest holiday in memory. One gets the impression that Tverrfjørd is the place in which he relaxes totally... Pretty understandable really. Whether it is fishing, taking a hike into the mountains or relaxing with a drink on the jetty life is quite chilled – as were the drinks!



You never quite know when Tonje is likely to turn up, but you can always count on her making an Appearance when she does. This visit was no exception. Fresh from five days of constant partying at the “Roskilde” rock festival in Denmark, Tonje arrived off the plane at Alta wearing a cute skirt, pretty singlet, and sporting a pair of gumboots. Apparently it was so wet and muddy at Roskilde that these were the only accessory to be seen in – although why she extended this fashion statement to Norway is a little less clear! Hmmm, perhaps if I am unable to find meaningful employment in London I should consider life as a gumboot salesman at rock festivals!



Owing to the fact that Carolina and I had been madly preparing for the family’s arrival, we hadn’t really had much of a chance of late to enjoy the good weather. This soon changed as we proceeded to take regular excursions in the boat to far off destinations within the fjords and regular hikes into the mountains. Even though we were blessed with great weather, I was more excited about experiencing life as a family once again.





Brian & Cynthia
First to arrive on the heels of Alistair & Bjørg were Brian and Cynthia, Carolina’s grandparents from Australia. This was their third visit to the area and it is clear that they have a passion for the country and it’s people. Apart from wanting to see family Brian was keen to renew the friendships he has developed over the years with the locals; after all, what is a language barrier between kindred spirits?



A certain degree of civility began to take control of our lives at this point. Not only were we now eating meals at regular hours but you always knew when it was six o’clock and time for afternoon drinks. Yes we love our afternoon drinks, especially when there is someone around to remind you that such rituals are a must – thanks Brian!



Brian & Cynthia are old hands at the fishing game. They have long ago become accustomed to the way in which people fish in this area – or rather the way in which a particular son of theirs does. Alistair is renowned for his love of fresh fish, and when he says ‘fresh’ he means caught within the hour. As Caroline’s late grandma used to tell her ‘if it’s twitching in the pan, it’s fresh’ Those looking for a days outing in the boat – forget it, if enough fish are caught within the first 10 minutes then home it is we head for.

I guess you can now see why I chose not to open the chest freezer and show Alistair all of the cod fillets that I had been stockpiling over the winter months…

Brian & Cynthia are probably two of the most active people that I have ever met, always managing to make something of each day. They are ideal visitors, maintaining their independence while still having lots of special time with the family. Welcome back guys!

Joy, Kevin & Scott
Earlier in the year I had been bragging about my fishing exploits to my ugly older brother Scott. He soon returned an email saying “nice fish Matt… you know Kev’ likes his cod!”



I didn’t really think too much of this threat at the time but one should never underestimate Scott. True to his word, he managed to do the impossible – prise Kevin and Joy from their tranquil life on the farm within the Mitta Valley. Apart from a bus trip around New Zealand a few years back, this was the first overseas adventure that Joy and Kevin had embarked on.

After what must have seemed a horrendous journey (at least they got to travel business class!), they arrived in Alta. Having missed their connecting flight in Oslo, it was after 10pm when they landed, still faced with the prospect of the two hour drive home. But hey, its not as if it was going to get dark or anything around there.

The drive home to Tverrfjørd was all we could have hoped for. The midnight sun was out in all it’s splendour, drenching our very own glacier (Europe’s 7th biggest) in dazzling orange and pink. There were several encounters with road hogging herds of reindeer and then a boat ride across the mirror-calm fjord to our house (ferry’s don’t run at this hour). One soon sensed that this place had already made an impact upon our visitors – Scott assured us they were “totally blown away” by it all. This was lucky as they had experienced most of our unique features on the drive out… We still had a few tricks up our sleeve though…

Having obviously been close to my big brother for all of my life, one ceases to be amazed at what next he is likely to dish up. Upon entering the house it went something like this “can you give me a hand unload my luggage” (one small back pack & one large red hard plastic suitcase). Visions of dirty underwear were soon displaced as he proceeded to hand out a dozen bottles of premium quality red wine, three bottles of pure malt Scotch whiskey, a bottle of gin and a bottle of vodka. Yes, Scott had managed to bring this all the way from Australia, what was even more amusing is the fact that his clothing fitted within the daypack.

Having stayed up long enough to make a fair dent to two bottles of Scotch, I thought it only fair to wake Scott early and have him escort Carolina and I across the Fjørd so as she could collect our car and return on the morning ferry. Upon the return journey in the boat, I decided to see if we could catch a cod for breakfast. Wouldn’t you know it, within two minutes the big fella’ got a bit excited “I think I might have something here Matt!” A 10kg cod was soon hauled in – beginner’s luck! But then again any fool can catch fish up here.




Bad luck big fella’, at only 10kg you don’t get to beat the King!

As the week progressed you could sense the impact that this place was having upon my parents, everything from the scenery, the hospitality of the locals and of course the cooperation displayed by the fish. For the last few weeks prior to my parent’s arrival, the fishing had been anything but spectacular. But now the Cod had flooded into the shallow, warm fjords and nothing less than 5kg was considered a ‘keeper’. Poor Kev was almost seen shedding a tear as particularly fine specimens were thrown back. Even with these stringent measures we had too much to eat, and ended up supplying the entire fjord with fish- talk about carrying coal to Newcastle! God help all of those people back home in Australia who must now have to listen to his stories!!





I guess it would be easy to joke and downplay the importance of this visit by my parents and Scott, but those of you who have been away from home for any length of time will know what it means to have family come to stay. It was wonderful to see Joy and Kevin embracing everything new with such enthusiasm, and Carolina and I both loved being able to share a place we love so much with some of the people who matter most to us.

Warrick
Warrick is an old friend of Caroline’s from Sydney, and this visit was his penance for not being able to attend our wedding in November last year!



As per the demands placed upon all of our guests to date, there would be stiff penalties imposed upon anyone not bearing suitable gifts. We had thought about going a little softer on Warrick since he was a recent university graduate and back-packer. To our surprise he exceeded all expectations. His booty included at least two bottles of premium grade red wine, two giant bars of Toblerone, coffee from his favourite Sydney café and even Vegemite. It was almost as if he was trying to make a good impression or something!!

Unfortunately the weather decided to remind us that, summer or not, we were still 400km inside the Arctic Circle. Still, I have a sneaking suspicion that Warrick wasn’t too upset by a bit of rain; a month of living in hostels had left him very amenable to a few days of reading, relaxation and gossip, all carried out in front of a blazing fire.

He and Lina made the most of the sunshine we did have, driving around to a few tourist sites and even making it to the ‘beach’ one day. Still, when old friends reunite there can only be one main order of business, and I am sure that by the time we dropped Warrick back at the airport absolutely everything in both their lives was discussed, dissected, and giggled over.



Ben
For roughly eight years, Ben Turner occupied the apartment next door at Athol Street. Although a little unexpected (both of us shy and reserved), an enduring friendship has developed. Ben has always been there for me; ready at a moments notice to sacrifice yet another bottle of red in attempt to make sense of the lives that we led.



When Ben says that he is going to do something you can always count upon him doing so. Paying us a visit at the other side of the world was to be no exception.

Upon retrieving Ben from the arrivals gate at Alta, it was amusing to see that he had arrived with just one small bag. I mean what more would you expect, all one really needs is a change of clothes, a few toiletries and enough room for a few bottles of red.

Unfortunately the weather continued on the dreary side with only brief periods of sunshine. We made the most of these opportunities though, and were able to show Ben the splendours of our Northern hideaway by taking him out fishing and hiking on several occasions. As such, Ben was able to display his true fishing talents and apart from catching the odd cod he proved quite adept at getting into the worst line tangles imaginable. Even worse than my dear old dad!


Does anyone get the feeling that we are getting this whole visitor sightseeing thing downpat!

Ben is also King when it comes to abstract conversation. As you could guess it was amusing to experience yet again the witty incites that one comes to expect from this extraordinary individual. Not as amusing as his earnest attempts to convince us that ‘boozing’ was a legitimate entry onto a Scrabble board though… Nice try Ben!

And so, with yet another fantastic week spent sharing experiences with another dear friend, the influx of visitors had come to its end. It was time to re-acquaint myself with my wife on a one to one basis and continue on with this unique journey that must be nearing the official record for the longest honeymoon ever!

Apart from the fact that it is easy to lose oneself in thought in a place as idyllic as Tverrfjord, there is good reason as to why we have been a little tardy with the Macaba updates of late. What with the renovations, fishing and the odd bit of cruising around trying to look as if we are actually having a holiday, we have been busy!

A number of weeks back we were joined up here by Mark Kransburg from Oslo (soon to be Hobart if he manages it), the official builder for the mammoth project. In Norway Mark is regarded as a masonry builder, which basically means he is skilled in bricklaying, rendering, tiling and various other forms of construction. Mark is another one of that strange breed wherein he has both Australian and Norwegian parentage. He is currently in the last stages of relocating back to Hobart, which is where the Fjellstad-Baillie’s originally met him in 1986. To Carolina and Tonje he is the ultimate favourite ‘uncle’… guess we’ll see just how strong that friendship is now!!



Having already removed enough rock from the basement to build a causeway to Øksfjord we were ready for Mark to do his thing. Pretty soon concrete was being poured, beer was being drunk, bricks were laid and rendered, and I was being introduced to the finer qualities of Aquavit (sorry about those supplies Alistair). All in all, it was a very productive week, can’t wait for the next instalment within a couple of weeks when Mark returns to show me how good he is at the all-round builder type trade skill that he boasts about. Photos will follow!







While Mark and I were busy getting ourselves very dirty Caroline has embarked on a few projects of her own. These range from exorcising the house of doilies and frilly curtains, to stripping the main staircase back to its original glory. A lot of sentences now start with ‘hmm… do you think Bjørg will notice…?’. Yep, be prepared for some fire-works!






Backstreet Boy impersonation wearing Father-in-laws old clothes.

The scenery here has changed completely over the last months. All of the snow has melted and it doesn’t get dark anymore – yes we are in the land of the midnight sun! Quite a strange thing to get used to at first especially when you are awakened at 3am by the sun blaring in through the window. All I can say is - thank god for the new timber blind that we have just installed!

I have gotten used to it to a degree, but walking out of a pub or a late movie into blaring sunshine is still quite disconcerting. Caroline and I look after cousin Rune’s pub in Øksfjord over the odd weekend (‘you want what mate?!’). Well after midnight one Saturday I decided to take a walk and check if the boat was still tied up as I had left it. Walking through the streets at this hour in full daylight is quite eerie, as though all the other inhabitants have mysteriously disappeared.







We have now retrieved Alistair’s boat out of storage. It is quite a machine really, with a 115hp outboard motor. As warned by Alistair, you have to be fairly conservative with respect to the amount of throttle you apply – too much and you might as well stand at the back throwing $10 bills over your shoulder. Having the boat is the absolute freedom. It enables us to explore the neighbouring fjords, catch copious amounts of fish and visit Øksfjord for supplies without the need to rely upon the ferry system. Very good indeed.



As we haven’t yet found a way to live off our good looks and charm we have decided that it is high time we earned a dollar or two. As luck would have it, there is Rune’s pub to mind on occasions and Caroline, as a Norwegian citizen, is entitled to catch and sell up to 3000kg of fish. At 17kr (AU$3.50) a kilo the quota provides a bit of extra pocket-money. We might even have enough left to take a holiday at the end of this ordeal!

In case there is any doubt – Giltrap can fish. On three separate occasions I have managed to haul in the biggest fish of my life, all Norwegian Cod weighing in excess of 25lb. To be truthful, you’d have to be a bit of a mug if you couldn’t catch fish up here. When the fish are on, things definitely get busy – as most lines have 4 or more hooks it is quite common to catch 2 or 3 fish at a time.





I guess that will do for this update, we just wanted to make sure that you were aware that this is anything other than just a boring holiday up here…

LIFE IS GOOD

I know, I know… We have been incredibly lax at updating this site, but we do sincerely promise to get our act together. And so without further ado I would just like to say ‘Hurrah for Syttende Mai!’. Our national day is a chance for young and old to don their ‘bunad’ and take to the streets. It also seems like an appropriate chance to give a brief overview of the history of Matthew’s adoptive country…



9300 BC: The Beginning. The first Norwegians to leave behind evidence of their presence appeared around this date. Retreating ice-sheets enabled them to migrate from southern Europe, probably in pursuit of wild reindeer. They were hunters, gatherers and (of course) fishermen. They lived around Alta and left behind incredible cave-paintings depicting reindeer hunts, family groups and even people skiing.

1800-500 BC: The Bronze Age. Believing that material goods could be taken with them to the afterlife people built large burial mounds which contained clothing, jewellery, household goods, horses and, on at least one occasion, the deceased’s maid. While this was bad news for favourite servants it does mean that their society can now be re-created in poignant detail.

800-1030 AD: The Viking Age. You all know about the rapine and plunder but the Vikings were also skilled ship builders, craftsmen, navigators and merchants. They opened trade routes linking Western Europe to the Byzantine Empire and the caliphate of Baghdad, and journeyed from the steppes of Russia in the east to America in the west. Not to mention their contributions to the world of millinery.

1030-1349 AD: The Indecisive Age. To say that Norwegian rule was fragmented would be like saying the ocean is a tad damp. Noblemen fought amongst themselves, as well as with the Swedes and the Danes. Whoever was victorious would rule for a while, before being usurped, assassinated or displaced. Those that did survive to ripe old age were few, and anyway left behind uncles, brothers and sons, legitimate and not, all fighting for the throne. My favourite story: While seeking to convert Norway to Christianity and do away with pagan traditions King Olav alienated several powerful clan leaders. Together with Knut the Great, King of Denmark, they forced Olav to flee the country. He returned but was killed in battle, and Knuts illegitimate son Svein became King of Norway. He was ten years old. His mother acted as sovereign in his place, but heavy taxes and poor crop yields turned the populous against them. One year after he was buried King Olav was exhumed and carried to St Clement’s Cathedral where the bishop elevated him to sainthood and declared him rex perpetuus Norrvegiae- ‘the Eternal King of Norway’. The rebellious noble that had personally slain Olav then sought out his eleven-year-old son Magnus and deposited the bemused lad on the throne, amidst cheers from the (one can only assume) slightly chastened Norwegian chieftains.

1349-1400 AD: The Contagious Age. The Black Death was carried to Bergen on an English ship in the summer of 1349. It spread quickly. A third of the population died that winter, and in the years that followed that number increased to half. Superstition had it that the plague travelled the country in the shape of an old hag ‘Pesta’. If she carried a broom all the community would die; if she had a rake a few would be spared. Bloody English.

1537-1814 AD: The Danish Age. There were numerous political, economic and religious reasons as to how and why Norway was taken over by Denmark, but I don’t even pretend to understand them. Suffice it to say that Norway became ‘a part of Denmark’s realm and under Denmark’s crown forever’. The Norwegian nation lived on in customs and dialects, but it’s written language became Danish. That is why I can read a Danish newspaper but barely understand a simple greeting (Danes talk ‘with a potato in their mouths’). Nowadays there are two strains of Norwegian, ‘Bokmål’ which I speak and ‘Nynorsk’ which I can almost partly understand given a bottle of wine and a lot of gesticulating. Literally meaning ‘new Norwegian’ the latter is actually Norwegian as it was spoken and written prior to 1537. Anyone who has read Chaucer can sympathise.

1814 AD: A Very Busy 10 Months. In 1792 France declared war on Austria and Prussia and, as war raged, country after country allied behind the two principle antagonists- Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte or the naval power of Britain. Initially Denmark-Norway managed to keep itself neutral, but as the situation escalated this became more and more difficult. In an effort to prevent ships carrying goods to France the British attacked Copenhagen in 1801. After a short but bloody battle Denmark-Norway ceded to the British the right to inspect the cargo of their merchant vessels. In 1807 the British attacked again, this time destroying or appropriating most of the Danish-Norwegian fleet for fear of them falling into Napoleon’s hands. Eleven days after the ‘filching of the fleet’ King Frederik VI chose to ally himself with Napoleon. This deflected the French from attacking Denmark but left Norway, forced by the Danish to blockade Britain, with no supplies from abroad. When Sweden (allied with Britain) went to war with Denmark Norway was completely isolated. Norwegian peasant soldiers defeated the Swedish army in several minor battles and by the end of the year a cease-fire was signed, but things in Norway were going from bad to worse. Crops had failed after a succession of cold summers and ‘all that is heard here is cries for corn and food’. The peasants rose in several places but whether the insurrection would have spread we won’t know; Napoleon was defeated in Russia, and Sweden, supported by Britain, marched on Denmark in 1814. After a short war Frederik VI surrendered and signed the Peace of Kiel, ceding Norway to the Swedes.

Free of Danish rule after 434 years the country’s leading citizens and officials gathered to discuss Norway’s future. Together with representative’s elected by the people they drafted a Constitution. It was a liberal one, based on the premise that the monarchy took its power from the people, and as such must be directly governed by their wishes. It was completed on 17th of May 1814, and Norway presented itself to the world as an independent and self-governing nation. Alas, they were not recognised as such and an army of 50,000 war-hardened Swedish troops were dispatched to implement the terms of the Peace of Kiel. Resistance consisted of 30,000 poorly trained farmers and peasants; the Norwegians soon surrendered and prepared to negotiate a union.

1814 – 1905 AD: The Contrary Age. Despite their defeat he Norwegians stood firm by their newly drawn constitution; they would be under Swedish rule, but demanded that the King share power with the Storting (council). The King could not declare war or peace without consent, nor could he appoint Swedes to official posts. Norway had it’s own bank and flag, and saw itself as ‘a free, self-governing, indivisible and inalienable realm’. It was not, however, allowed an independent foreign policy.

Initially Sweden had been keen to reach a peaceful agreement with Norway, but by 1821 the King thought it was time to bolster his own power at the expense of the Storting. He proposed several alterations to the constitution, amongst which was the demand for an absolute veto in legislative matters. Norway refused. The proposals were put forward again, this time under threat of military action. Once again Norway refused, and Sweden was forced to back down.

The Swedish King, Carl Johan, was also unhappy about people observing May 17th. While only a small portion of the populace celebrated it, he viewed it as a sign of revolt and felt it would be more appropriate to celebrate November 14th; the day Norway came under Swedish rule. On the 17th May 1829 people gathered by the docks to cheer as the steamship Constitutionen pulled into Kristiana (now Oslo). It was a warm and sunny Sunday afternoon and the peaceful throng set off through the city, laughing and waving Norwegian flags. The city authorities viewed this as a ‘potential uprising’ and sent in soldiers to disperse the crowd. No one was killed but ‘the Battle of the Market Place’ diminished support for Swedish rule even further. The governor-general bore the brunt of the people’s wrath and was ‘spat on and reviled from all sides’. After this it was impossible for the King to appoint a Swedish governor-general to Norway, and in the years that followed it became a sign of dissent to march on May 17th. As foolish people often do Carl Johan had brought about the very thing he feared.

The spring of 1905 saw both countries fortifying their border defences as disagreement on foreign policy brought the union to the verge of collapse. Norway, with close historical ties to Britain, was nervous about Sweden’s views that ‘Germany is, and should be, our closest and most natural ally’. They demanded an independent foreign policy; Sweden refused. The Storting voted unanimously to sever the union. Swedish conservatives called for war, but fortunately moderate forces prevailed and both sides agreed to dismantle their border fortifications.

All Norway needed now was it’s own King. They approached Carl, a Danish prince, who agreed, provided that it was the will of the people. 80% of the population voted for him so Carl changed his name to Haakon and became the democratically elected King of Norway. I love that.


2004 AD: Nowadays 17th May is a day for folks to don the national costume and parade through the streets waving flags. There is no military presence at all, no marches, bands or fan-fare. It is a day of the people.




As always Giltrap fits right in...

Yes, another year has passed and once again we were getting ready to celebrate Carolina’s birthday, this time in true Tverrfjord style. Lina turned the kitchen upside-down for day’s prior, producing enough goodies to put Laurent out of business. Left overs, anyone?



I have to say that gift shopping in Tverrfjord requires a bit of ingenuity… I couldn’t see Lina getting excited about a set of shiny new fishing lures. Luckily I had the services of two excellent personal shoppers at my disposal and Kirsten and Bjørg were able to procure the best that Melbourne and London fashion had to offer (although I have a sneaking suspicion that the birthday girl was more excited about the month’s supply of strawberry & cream chuppa-chops that the former sent over!).





We had a great day with family and friends, but after all the guests had departed thoughts went back to the same time last year when we were all gathered at Kojo Brown in Richmond. We are loving every moment of our adventure, but occasionally thoughts of Melbourne intrude. For Lina these usually follow ‘drunkeded’ conversations with Kirst, while for me they seem to occur after being served a brown, gluggy liquid that people try to tell me is coffee. Apart from all you lovable tossers over there in the antipodes there are a few other things that are sorely missed:

His:

7:00am Coffee at Café Racer. Pouring into Café Racer with numerous other early morning weirdo-cyclists after the regular Tuesday and Thursday morning North Road Dash. Strong Long Machiato’s and lots of bullshit talking about bikes.

10:30am Coffee with Cam at Benito’s. After the exchange of some very covert emails ensuring that we can both get out of the office undetected, it is good to enjoy the daily ritual that is our weekday smoko’. Definitely miss the usual crap that flows from Cam Lester.

Relaxed alcohol laws. Norway’s obsession with having to control the flow of wine and spirits is basically a pain in the ass. Not being able to nick around the corner and buy a nice bottle of red for under $20 is definitely something that takes a lot of getting used to.

Casual wining and dining. Its not as if I expected to find anything that would be in the same league as Ciccolina's, Il Solito Posto, The Pound, Benito's etc etc, but I must say that I miss the simplicity and consistency (yes-the frequency of my attendence)of such places.

Hers:

Prahran Market. Quince paste… cheese… sashimi… fresh fruit and vegetables… herbs that haven’t been crushed, dried and packaged in plastic… thai meatballs from Cleo’s Deli… actually, everything from Cleo’s Deli…

Thy Thy. Having a three-course meal at a restaurant with crisp linen and an extensive wine list is wonderful. But happiness is not found in a 5-star restaurant. It is found in a $5 take-away. Picking up a steaming, aromatic paper bag at the end of a long day and eating Salt & Pepper Squid straight out of the container to save washing up. The ultimate luxury.

G&T’s on the back stairs. I know that it is actually winter on your side of the globe, but I can’t help it; to me the sun is always shining on Athol Street. Time to grab a drink, kick off your shoes and have a gossip with one of your neighbours.

One of the best things about travelling is being able to share the experience with loved ones, friends and family. There are many that have promised to visit us here in Tverrfjord – some that we are basing our calendar around and some that we will expect when they physically step off the plane!

Caroline’s school friend Jess was the first to make the arduous journey, with my niece Anna and her boyfriend James hard on her heels. As the time of their arrival neared the preparations became feverish– bread was baked, activities were planned and prays for good weather became fervent.

Fresh from her skiing adventures in America & France Jess arrived via the coastal passenger liner ‘Hutrigruta’. As you could imagine Caroline was so excited that sleep was totally out of the question on the night of Jess’ arrival- despite her not getting in to Øksfjord until 2.30am. Luckily uncle Kalle was ready with the ‘Tverrfjord Taxi’ and the welcoming party set off, leaving me to get a bit of shut-eye.



After a few days of the girl’s reminiscing and re-acquaintance it was time to make the two-hour drive to Alta where I collected Anna & James from the airport while the girls foraged for basic supplies. Car filled to overflowing we headed home, but as I listened to Carolina running through choice snippets of local history I felt a vague anxiety. I love our existence in Tverrfjord, but it is hardly full of excitement. Now here we were with a car full of city folk and a week of nothing more entertaining planned than the chance to catch and gut raw fish. Bugger



There was one light on the horizon though: Anna had shown a degree of ingenuity worthy of a professional smuggler, filling even her toilet bag with bottles of red wine. I would just like to reiterate one point here: the cost of living in Norway is exorbitant – particularly if you are not fortunate enough to be living off the system. Let’s take for example a few commodities quite dear to my heart – yes coffee and red wine.

First the humble bean. Norwegians like their coffee the way I like… well actually I can’t think of anything that I like weak and full of dregs. Up here they’ll boil a pot of water, add grounds, stir once and pour into a thermos. This will sit on the table for the rest of the day. Not exactly Café Racer. The highlight of any Alta trip is a visit to one of the two establishments with an actual espresso machine. Just be prepared to pay AUD $8.00 for a latte.

And then the not-so-humble grape. To an almost ludicrous degree wine sales are controlled by the government. To buy a bottle you must leave behind any sense of irony and head for the nearest ‘Vinmonopolet’ or ‘Wine-monopoly’. And chances are that the nearest one will not be very near at all. As you have probably guessed wine doesn’t come cheap either; you can expect to pay AUD $25.00 for a bottle of Jacobs Creek, while a three-litre cask of something semi-drinkable will set you back AUD$60.00.

So you can understand the orders given to our guests that Anna fulfilled so well: bring wine, bring coffee, and don’t get too precious about the import laws. It was noted that Jess failed miserably in the coffee department but after careful deliberation we decided to let her stay anyway. (The Swiss chocolates and marshmallows she brought had no weight at all in this decision. Honestly.)


Need I say more!

As the week unfolded we were blessed with sunshine and blue skies. Maybe a little too much. Yes, the fact that our fjord lies deep within the Artic Circle has become very apparent; the sun shines strong and it does it all night long. As our guests gradually acclimatised to this and the general pace of things we did our best to show them ‘our’ Norway. Barbeques in the mountains, walks over the frozen lake, nights around the fire at the cabin, beers sipped on the end of the jetty and (of course) cod fishing on ‘Sletnes’. Not to mention gutting fish, hauling wood and being served dried reindeer-heart. Well done guys!


Tverrfjord fashion at its best!









The week flew by and before we knew it we were reminiscing about our adventures over the last supper. Well and truly relaxed (some might describe it as inebriated), there was one last authentic instalment that Tverrfjord had left to offer. Yes, having been herded down from the inland plateau Rudolph and all his reindeer friends decided it was time to put in an appearance. We had a suspicion that a few had passed through the night before- maybe it was the shift in the wind or an intangible scent in the crisp air, or maybe it was the piles of dung, urine coloured snow, and hoof-prints we had found the next morning. Whatever the reason, when the herd appeared on the other side of the fjord, we were ready for them.

It was an incredible sight watching over a hundred reindeer tread single-file along the path that they have followed for generations. From here they cross one last mountain to spend the summer grazing the lush valleys, and come autumn they are herded together again and walk the same path back. Every flock has a leader and they follow him blindly. To get them across stretches of water the Sami’s will take the lead reindeer in a boat and motor slowly across. The flock will swim after them, for miles if need be. We didn’t get to experience that, but standing in the midst of a migrating herd seemed like a fitting end to our week.


Anna all geared to stalk reindeer

Påske (‘Easter’ to all you antipodeans out there) is an extremely important event this side of the globe. Not for religious reasons, but because it marks a turning point: longer days, less snow, and the promise of good times ahead. Norwegians are very passionate about their traditions, and in my case seem intent upon ensuring that the newcomer gets a taste of everything their culture has to offer.

Just to make sure that every one is up to date, in the weeks leading up to Easter Carolina and I have been extremely busy renovating the Tverrfjord house. For those of you who couldn’t help but pass on smart-assed remarks regarding my ability to do a hard days work, let me tell you this – there’s been no such thing as a free lunch up here! Over the past month I have removed the basement ground slab which has involved countless hours of jack hammering, shovelling and wheelbarrowing in excess of 15m3 of concrete and rubble.


Giltrap takes a well-earned smoko break with the locals.

As you would expect, tools were downed on the Tuesday before Easter. The sun was shining and it was a balmy 3 ºC. What better excuse to load up the daypacks and head into the hills for a good old-fashioned bålfest. As usual we had timed it perfectly; by the time we crested the last ridge Kalle had dug out seats and had the fire smoking (would love to say ‘blazing’ but as it took us over three hours even to boil water for coffee it hardly seemed appropriate!). In a setting like this even sausages, cognac and marshmallows seemed a three-course meal.



As I sat and enjoyed this taste of Norway, I couldn’t help but marvel at a vista so stunning that it could make even the simplest of excursions something unforgettable.





There were good intentions of getting back on the tools and down into the basement but as luck would have it the weather was just too good. As we continued to enjoy another couple of days around the campfire, we decided it was time to see who was king of this mountain. Time to get out the garbage bags and do some good old quality butt skiing!






Kalle finds the going a little icy!

Owing to the fact that everyone else had stopped work I couldn’t see much point in getting too carried away with things on the Thursday before Good Friday. Once again another beautiful day was forecast so it was time to help cousin Rune load the snow-scooter and head to Øksfjordbotn. Arriving at a communal fire 5km up the valley we were busily unpacking supplies when someone calls out ‘hi Caroline, do you remember me?’ From the look on Lina’s face she is clearly drawing a blank but she wanders over and chats to one of the ladies. Ten minutes later she is back looking half amused, half exasperated. The woman in question had been mother Bjørg’s teacher in high school, and the buzz that accompanied our arrival had not been ‘check out the sex-god Australian’ but ‘oh look, it must be Bjørg’s daughter’. Having seen photos of my mother-in-law at the same age it is easy to see how Carolina is constantly recognised by complete strangers, but it is still amusing to be known only as ‘the bloke who married Bjørg Fjellstad’s daughter’.

I thought cross-country skiing was big in Norway, but it has nothing on snow-scooters. Every man and his dog seems to own one, from sedate, Sunday-driving type machines to Ferraris on sleds. Rune’s machine is powered by an 800cc motor and can take you pretty much wherever there is snow. Winding it out to 90km/hr over the surrounding slopes certainly does get your adrenalin flowing -especially when your wife chooses to ignore a little thing called gravity... When given the chance to go it alone I managed to get some real air and show the locals how it was done – that’s me on the right with slightly better form than the other snoozer!



Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed my time on the scooter, I can understand the rumblings of various locals. It is definitely a noisy activity and does bring the hoon element to an otherwise peaceful place. Over the Easter break, the police had a field day and netted a combined total of 90,000 kroner in fines (say AUD $18,000). Yes, there are actually police patrols that roam the area on scooters looking for offenders going too fast, not wearing helmets or straying off the designated tracks.

That night Carolina finally introduced me to an authentic Norwegian party– something I had been a tad anxious about for some time. A typical night out here is shaped by the prohibitive price of alcohol and goes something like this; from 7pm onwards people gather at someone’s house to drink wine, beer, cognac or hjembrent (Norwegian moonshine). After 11pm everyone converges on the local venue already well fuelled. Here there is talking, swing dancing, and a lot of raucous singing. This continues until closing time when everyone heads to someone’s house for more of the same. This will last until everyone is passed out, the alcohol runs out, or Monday comes and people have to scuttle off to work. Whichever comes first.

The thought of such a mission left the “Cadbury Kid” feeling a tad bit anxious. Remarkably (meaning that the packet of No-dose really worked a treat), I was able to rise to the challenge (thankfully that moonshine never appeared!). While my wife was gleefully catching up with old friends and displaying a previously unknown familiarity with the lyrics of every ‘Credence’ song ever recorded, I was impressing the local girls with my Australian good looks and charm – at least I’m sure the whispers I heard were ‘delectable’ not ‘decrepit’!

By the time Good Friday came around I felt as if my Easter holiday had already run its race. Time to head back to the ranch for a well earned rest. Thankfully the weather had turned and you couldn’t be blamed for staying indoors.


Can’t go out without socks!

When the weather improved and our socks finally dried we did manage to get out and do some skiing. Carolina had a knack of timing these expeditions so we passed aunt Ruth and uncle Dagfin’s cabin just as meals were being served. Several delicious meals in we were invited over for Bulion. This is reindeer stew as the Saamis make it, rich, hearty and absolutely wonderful.




Carolina exchanges red wine for food!

God Påske everyone!

Matthew…

Having spent just on a month in Tverrfjord, we decided that it was time to get out on the road and see some more of Norway. I soon realised that Caroline had ulterior motives for heading north – yes it was time to meet more of the Norwegian side of the family that I had married into.

Someone had neglected to tell me that Norwegians traditionally have six godparents; a role I have since learned that is taken extremely seriously. Yes, Caroline was intent on introducing me to the godmothers, several of whom live in close proximity to Hammerfest, the most northerly town in the world. (To all those avid geography students out there – there are villages further north, but these have not obtained town status).

In Finnmark all roads lead to Alta, so first stop was with Caroline’s sister Tonje to trespass on her hospitality yet again. From here we popped down to visit more of the clan. Vera is Caroline’s mother Bjørg's cousin, and she and Hans-Ulrich operate a tourist-park situated on the Alta river. In summer they take people salmon-fishing and sightseeing upriver. In winter they run scooter-safari trips across the inland plateau and offer the unique experience of the Ice-Hotel. This is exactly what it sounds like. Everything is carved ice, from the beds to the ornamental chandelier in the entrance. You can sit on an ice barstool and drink from carved ice-goblets, or attend the Sunday service in the ice-chapel. While guests only ever stay one night (funny about that) they insist it is not as cold as you would think. The reindeer skin on the bed has amazing insular qualities and the ice walls keep the temperature at a steady -5º. I think we’ll take their word for it.









With half a day to kill before we were due at Trine (a godmother) and Anna’s we decided that a trip north wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Nordkapp (Europe’s most Northerly point at 71º11’08”). Leaving Alta we wound our way upwards, eventually reaching Sennalande. This section of the inland plateau is notorious for its icy, wind-swept conditions. Despite the blue sky above us it felt as though we were driving through a blizzard, buffeted by the same wind that sent the surrounding snow snaking over the road, giving the effect of dry ice. At least the road was open. In bad weather you are likely to find the road cordoned off. When enough cars are lined up the convoy sets off, led by a ‘broyter’ (a semi-trailer with a huge V-shaped plough across its bumper.) How long you have to wait for this depends solely on how many other cars are heading in your direction.

In contrast to the ruggedness of the coast, inland is mainly rolling, tundra-clad hills and meandering rivers. I couldn’t work out why so many Norwegians have their holiday cabins up there until Lina informed me that in Summer the rivers teem with salmon. But then, having a cabin seems to be one of life’s essentials in this part of the world.





Eventually our route wound its way down to the coast. The roads here have been blasted out of the sheer rock-face, they snake sharply as they hug the coastline, sometimes only metres above the ice-cold waters of the Barents Sea. In places the cliffs are too sheer or the risk of avalanche too great and tunnels have been cut right through the centre of the ice-cragged mountains. The transport infrastructure in Norway is quite amazing. Bridges, ferries and tunnels (some in excess of 20km long) are in place to connect outlying villages and hamlets. It is a monumental achievement, not least when you consider how tiny the population that it serves is.


8km tunnel

In retrospect stopping at one of the many tourist information centres on the way up would not have been a bad idea, but as we really weren’t ‘tourists’ we decided just to push on through. Our first surprise came when we emerged out of the Honningsvåg tunnel only to be presented with a hefty toll. Oh well, it’s not like you’d have to pay again leaving, is it? Actually yes. As the cost of this expedition inflated before our eyes we pushed on towards our destination. Little did we realise that access to Nordkapp in winter is extremely limited. After negotiating extremely icy conditions over the final stretch to Nordkapp we arrived, with only ten kilometres to go, at one very official looking road barrier. Apparently the conditions are considered far too treacherous for tourists to drive and the only way forward is to wait for the tourist bus from Honningsvåg, which only runs once daily in off-season. In an amazing stroke of luck we had arrived ten minutes prior to it’s departure, and so, after finding out from a passer-by that it was reasonably priced, we boarded. Actually it was reasonably priced. Well, if you were an oil-millionaire at any rate.

The Nordkapp facilities are quite impressive in a ‘National Lampoon’ kind of way - yes a lovely 70’s décor with all the trimmings. In true trail blazing spirit we overlooked this. After all, we hadn’t come for the facilities. We had come to have our photo taken in front of a big globe.





We soon retreated back indoors to thaw out and help ourselves to complimentary biscuits (Caroline insisted that having paid such an exorbitant price it was our duty to fill every available pocket). Back onboard the bus again a guide proceeded to relay a bi-lingual history lesson about the region. Having listened to her spiel for a half hour or so I turned to Caroline: ‘Where is this lady from?’
She pondered for a minute: ‘Mmm, probably North but it’s hard to tell’
Feeling despondent I sighed ‘Just when I thought I was making progress with my Norwegian… I can’t understand a word this lady is saying.’
Caroline regarded me for a moment. ‘Um, Matt, you realise she is speaking German?’

Oh well, one language at a time I think.

Caroline…….

And so after this not-so-minor detour we arrived at my godmother’s house to find dinner on the table, courtesy of Anna’s 13-year-old son Jonathon. The food was wonderful, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Matthew was more interested in the red wine that accompanied it!

Like most of the population in northern Norway the women in my family tend to be dark-eyed, olive-skinned and gregarious. My father and I have always suspected this is a result of years of Spanish and Portuguese fisherman trawling our coast, but this theory always receives a very tepid reception. Whatever the reason, Trine is no exception. The evening was wonderful, but as cognac followed shiraz I had a sneaking suspicion that the morning after would be less so…

It was in a rather sorry state that we packed back up and headed for my birth city. As Matt mentioned, Hammerfest is the world’s most northerly town. It is arguably also the unluckiest. In the last 150 years it has been destroyed in a hurricane, lost a third of its buildings in a fire, and was finally razed to the ground during WWII. The latter I fear accounts for its having been voted Norway’s second ugliest city. Pre-1940’s photos show waterfront buildings whose turrets and facades testified to our proximity to Russia and its culture. Rebuilt hastily in post-war depression they now testify to it’s being a fishing port. Beauty is only skin-deep though; with atmospheric bars, real coffee and the chance to spend money on more than groceries or fishing tackle I love this city.




Hammerfest in all its splendour....

And so with days spent café hopping, and evenings spent catching up with Ann-Hege (another godmother) and Felicia (my god-daughter (are you beginning to sympathise with Matthew yet??)the days flew by. Too fast. In a desperate bid to extend our little expedition we petitioned for the use of Anne-Hege’s cabin for a night or so.

I love Norwegian houses, with their brightly painted timber facades, but you sometimes get the feeling they aren’t exactly built to make the most of their surroundings. In older houses windows seem to be a grudging concession, the fact that they look out over some of the most spectacular scenery in the world not having occurred to anyone. To an almost ridiculous degree Hege’s cabin is an exception. Set up on a hill with 180° views over the ocean you feel guilty for doing anything except sitting there with your mouth open in awe. So that’s what we did.

Today is Vårhjemdagen. Literally meaning ‘Spring home day’ March 22nd is the first date when the day is officially longer than the night. I was very excited about the symbolism of all this until it was pointed out to me that this far North we have passed that point long ago. It is now starting to brighten by 4am (a fact that I will take on faith), and we are well on our way to May 30th when the sun will rise but will not set until the 31st of July.



The term is actually unusually apt as we have been experiencing unseasonally warm weather. For a week the temperature averaged 5º. Hardly tropical but enough to turn snow into rain. The locals were delighted; roads cleared and snow-drifts melted. Doom…

Just as we tourists were getting desperate the temperature dropped again and the clouds dispersed. Our world is now solid. Icicles as long as my arm encrust our roof and my uncles car spent a week frozen fast to his garage floor. Even the fjord started to freeze, diluted by all the fresh water flowing into it.


‘my kingdom for a pair of skates !’

Sleds are no longer needed, you have only to sit on a slight rise and push. (Matthew discovered that sleds were no longer ideal by taking one to the top of our home-made ski-run. He shot over the last rise, feverishsly stomping on the brakes, glanced up, and threw himself off. The sled continued, took flight and crashed into my aunts house with enough force to rattle the doors).







As the sun returns so to does colour. After so many months of white land and slate ocean it is almost dazzling. Emerging tundra is gold and umber, the sea almost irredescent. Matthew tells me the depth of hue is due to the sun hitting us at such an unusual angle. Whether he is right or whether I just experience it through biased eyes I don’t know ! And of course the nights aren’t bad either…




handheld shots(sorry for the shakes)taken from jetty at the front of our house....

Having cruised around Tverrfjord for a couple of weeks meeting the locals, taking in a few ski trips here and there and doing a little work on the house, I started to get the feeling that there were bigger plans for me. Finally Uncle Kalle says ‘Matthew, I think it is time for you to come fishing’. Well naturally I was honoured, a real chance to experience something entirely new !?

Kalle and his brother Dagfin own a 40 foot fishing boat called ‘Sletnes’ (Norwegian for sea monstor). Dagfin was about to take a break in Oslo for a couple of days, so Kalle was in need of some help and company. Luckily Dagfin’s son Rune was available to help, and I was enlisted for company – or at least that was my plan.



Sletnes is geared up to catch torsk (cod), sai (pollock) and heisse (no idea, but it’s great in fish-cakes). A typical day goes something like this :

5 :15am
Sletnes leaves Tverrfjord
6 :30am - 2 :00pm
Sletnes reaches its fishing grounds where up to 4 lengths of 2 metres wide net are set. Each length of net is approximately 600 metres long, and is pulled onto the boat by a mechanical winching system. As each net is hauled on board, the fish are detangled and thrown into large stainless steel vats. Depending upon the catch, it can take anywhere from 1 to 3 hours to sort and re-set one net.
2 :00pm to 4 :00pm
The fish are beheaded and gutted and Sletnes heads for the nearest fish distribution operation/buyer located just across the fjord in Øksfjord. The fish are then offloaded and sold.
4 :30pm to 5 :00pm
Sletnes arrives home



As I was to find out, fishing in Finnmark is not for the feint hearted. Not only do you have to deal with a government that enforces extremely tight guidelines (variable quotas, strict size limits etc), there are the elements and they're not that friendly either. You see it snows a lot, the seas tend to get quite rough, and its usually a little cold (-5°C to -25°C).

Naturally enough I hadn’t really thought of such things on the day of my first big outing. Dressed in my usual wet weather gear, I thought there would be a fairly good chance that I would retain some feeling in my fingers and toes for most of the day – wrong ! Maybe I should have listened to Lina. Thankfully I managed not to fall victim to sea sickness… It may have been close at times but I did manage to retain a certain amount of dignity !


Capitan Giltrap at the helm...

On day one we caught 1200kg whilst on day two we managed to catch in excess of 1900kg. Kalle regards this as good fishing, I’d rather think of it as a bloody lot of fish to gut – yes little had I realised the real reason behind the generous invite!!


Kalle displays a fine specimen


Rune displays certain biggusdickus characteristics..


Giltrap takes a break from cleaning the fish..

Although it still feels like I’m on a boat rocking from side to side, I’m sure to jump at the next chance (probably tomorrow since I am so good a gutting fish) of going out with the boys again.


Away with the birds

Norway is divided into a number of provinces. The northern most, which borders Sweden, Finland and Russia, is called Finnmark. Caroline was born in Hammerfest and spent the first years of her life in the fishing hamlet of Tverrfjord. This area is deep within the Arctic Circle and is reknowned for its rich reserves of oil, gas and cod. If you refer to the map shown below, Tverrfjord lies northwest of Alta.



Tverrfjord consists of ten houses, five barns, four boat sheds, three jetties and two fishing trawlers. We are currenlty living in the yellow house, which once belonged to Caroline’s Grandparents. Like all the buildings in northern Norway these are relatively modern ; during WWII the Germans burned everything in the face of the Allies advancment. Farmers still uncover caches of buried goods in their fields, stowed when the local populace was forcibly evacuated. When the war was over many relocated to the cities, where the goverment offered the incentive of cheap land tracts. Pre 1940 there were over a hundred people in our fjord, complete with fish market and general store. Luckily Caroline’s grandparents chose to return and rebuild.



Having been brought up in the small farming community of Mitta Mitta in Victoria’s northeast, I thought that I knew a thing or two about isolation.Think again! Mitta Mitta has nothing on Tverrfjord. Reaching this place involves a two hour flight from Oslo to Alta, a two hour drive to Øksfjord, and then a 30 minute ferry trip over the fjord. Luckily we were able to break the trip up with an overnight stay with Caroline’s younger sister Tonje. She is at Oytun Folkehoyskole (similar to Outward Bound) doing Artic Studies. She may have been glad to see us, but was less than impressed when we stole the family car off her!



The drive North is spectacular, no less so in winter when the land and sea is stripped to monochrome. Unfortunately the weather had turned inclement, giving no chance to relax and enjoy the veiw. The road had earlier been closed and while it was now passable it was still icy and treacherous. Gusts of wind actually pushed the car sideways and the overnight warm spell turned the snow to sleet. Joyous! As bad as it was we were glad we hadn’t delayed, as an hour later another avalanche cut the road off, this time overnight.


Getting ready to board the ferry to Tverrfjord


We finally arrived to a warm house in Tverrfjord – yes Uncle Kalle had turned on the heating, but unfortunately could do nothing about the 1.5 metres of snow blocking our driveway. Luckily Uncle Kalle had organised to have the heavy equipment brought in the next morning.



We’ve been here for a little over a week and to say that I’ve settled right in is somewhat of an understatement. The first few days saw me getting out of bed at ‘sparrows’ to go for a morning ski, say a two hour* circuit up the valley and around the lake. However after one has spent a few days here you soon realise that there is plenty of light for this sort of caper to be carried out much later in the morning. Yes, sleep reigns supreme here. Mornings are now a much more civilised affair, breakfast, coffee, and then the usual visit from one or two of Caroline’s uncles and aunts, where even more coffee is consumed. According to Caroline, my Norwegian is improving, but I suspect she is only humouring me as most of the time I haven’t got a bloody clue what is being said – yes as per usual, I’m probably the brunt of most jokes!



Getting friendly with the locals…



The most amazing thing about Tverrfjord is its sheer beauty. Whether you are taking a walk, going for a ski or just looking out the window across the fjord, the awesome ruggedness and natural splendour of everything is something to behold.





Apart from when one is feeling particularly lazy or cold there is lot’s to be done outdoors (as long as I tell Caroline we’re having fun, not exercising…). Even though our house doesn’t get the sun for another week or so, there is at least 8 hours of light each day. The other day I even managed to get Carolina out of the house and away from the fire to partake in quite an arduous ski trip(epic mountaineering adventure according to her) to one of the mountains overlooking the fjord. The effort was definitely worthwhile when you consider the following views.





Kalle and Vivian’s kids Helga Sofia & Tobias keep us fairly busy – I suppose up here any new arrival is a major novelty. Don’t know how long it will last but am enjoying being the centre of attention for a while !



* Caroline’s note : I have exerted editorial privileges and changed this figure from the ’60 minutes’ Matt had put in. For a Project Mananger he isn’t that good with numbers… He still misses his ‘three times a week’ bike rides with the boys.