What I’ve learned from this very short time in Lofoten is that the weather is extremely unpredictable, even for March and apparently, the Norwegian weather service. We’ve had good weather, followed by bleak, miserable snow.
Rinse and repeat.
There were only small, short walks that we did because of it and with our pseudo hiking poles, looked as though we knew what we were doing. A short hike up Tjeldbergtinden – thanks to a lovely employee at the Avis/Budget car rental – yielded precious views of Svolvaer and clearing skies worked wonders for photography.
I was grateful, nonetheless, more so when the road to Reine cleared for a gorgeous drive down southwest. Yet what was supposed to be a mere 2-hour-ish journey took up nearly the whole day because we stopped multiple times off the national tourist road (also known as the E10) to gawk at the landscape, even walking up a bridge which I’m not sure we were supposed to. A random turn off led to Haukland, a gentle walk around a mountain filled with Norwegian families enjoying their holiday by the beach and its crystal-clear waters.
We reached Reine finally after a series of twisty roads, checked in quickly and got going again, hoping to catch the rest of the sunny day up until the end of the road. The coastline is dotted with Rorbuer, or rather, cabins painted in red fish-oil paint built on long poles that go straight into the water, originally used to house fishermen and their fish storage.
The Easter break meant we were on our own and that was when a series of things started to go wrong at Eliassen Rorbuer. The hot water ran out quickly despite my army-style shower and the rest of the night was spent boiling water by the pots and kettle to refill a pail of lukewarm water so that TC could take a proper shower. The fuses blew in the morning before breakfast, killing the heating along with the cooker hood. Several switches were still working however, which meant some matter of improvisation that ended up with moving the oven to the floor near the shoes and cooking bacon, eggs and our bread there.
Which set off the shrill smoke alarm that we disabled after donning ear plugs by yanking out the damn battery.
My irate (early) phone call to the reception was met with an apologetic response that nothing would be fixed until she gets in at 9 am, and hopefully with an electrician in tow.
What was there to do but wait, on a dreary Good Friday?