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Posts Tagged ‘Norway travel’

The hunters crossed the globe in search of these small, cute, ungainly birds. Okay, they were crossing the globe anyway, but the birds provided an extra degree of motivation. They knew that it was early in the season, but reckoned that if they missed them at the beginning of their trip, there would be another chance towards the end of the trip. They went armed, not heavily, but with zoom lenses and a tripod, and were full of hope, though had fewer expectations.

Their first serious hunt was in Dyrhólaey in southern Iceland, where dramatic rocky cliffs soared from the North Atlantic, icy winds whipped and cowed even the hardiest of hunters, and any overly optimistic hunter’s tripod would have taken flight towards the ocean below.  Conditions were, therefore, perfect for the little birds to be at home in their nests.

Dyrhólaey cliffs

Dyrhólaey

But the puffins had yet to return from the ocean this year, a little later than usual, the hunters were informed by the staff at the nearby hotel. That explained, they figured, why even the commercial boats that took puffin watchers out near Reykjavik had not been operating. Or maybe it was just that the current, stormy weather had kept them, and the puffin hunters, safely inside, dry and warm. There was some disappointment, but there had been so many other wonders to behold in Iceland that the little birds were forgiven.

So the hunters left bleak, windswept but beautiful Iceland and continued on their journey, forgetting about the puffins until several weeks later. Hopeful and thorough research before their departure had identified a little island on the Atlantic coast of Norway. The island is called Runde, and websites and guide books grandly describe it as a bird island, with a population of around 25,000 puffins, and about the same number of other birds. It turned out that a fully booked hotel elsewhere had presented our puffin hunters an extra day in the area, and so – given that a day exploring Art Nouveau architecture wasn’t really their thing – they decided to take up the hunt again. They set off in the middle of the day, despite knowing that this wasn’t prime puffin-hunting time, and were rewarded with a wonderfully scenic drive, island hopping by ferry, causeway, bridges and tunnels. At first, the countryside was classic Norway, with forest-covered hills and mountains, swooping down to green fields on the banks of a blue fjord. Later, as the hunters came closer to the coast, the islands turned barren, rocky and mossy, typical of the famous Atlantic Coastal Road further north, stark but still beautiful.

The puffin hunters arrived in the mid-afternoon and were buoyed by the encouragement of the guy in the information centre, who advised that although it was early in the day, it was also windy, and that meant some of the puffins would not have gone to sea for the day.

So the puffin hunters drove to the carpark, and looked up, further up, and up again at their intended destination. It seemed that their venture involved climbing to the very top of the island to reach the high cliffs where puffins love to nest. Considering one of the puffin-hunters had been limping around Copenhagen just a few days earlier, they were doing this with crossed fingers. They consulted the map and, in an attempt to minimise the effort required, opted to try the route to the nearest cliffs. The initial ascent was steep, but on a wide, easy gravel path, through a few gates to keep the sheep away from the few houses scattered at the entrance.

They set off, pacing themselves, but enthusiastic. They passed one puffin hunter having a rest. He was heavily armed with tripods and heavy long lenses. It didn’t bode well for him at this early stage that he was using his asthma inhaler already. It was, however, reflective of the steepness of the climb. The ground was a peat bog, and so was soft, with water oozing out all over the place. It was slippery in parts, but not too bad, and the intrepid hunters ploughed on upwards. The carpark got further and further away, the view of all the coastal islands stretched out before them, but the top didn’t seem to get any closer.

There was a moment when disaster almost struck. The soft ground wobbled, the weak ankle tweaked with a shot of pain, and they both worried that this might have been the end of their quest. The ankle stabilised, but they took it slower and more carefully from then on. Their steep climb continued. Eventually, after an hour or so, they reached the first cliffs. There were a few birds soaring around above them, but they were too big and flying far too swiftly and gracefully to be the sought after little birds. The abundant bird life that had been promised by websites and guide books had not yet emerged, however. There weren’t even that many gulls.

The hunters passed a few other trekkers, and asked, hopefully, if they had seen any. Some shook their heads, and one said that she had seen some in the distance only, right at the top. They turned south along the ridge, towards the cliffs at the back of the island, and tried to keep up the pace. The sunny day had turned dark, the clouds had lowered and engulfed the puffin hunters, reducing visibility to metres. They continued on, trying to keep up their spirits. One hunter said, “we’re those tourists we hear about on the news at home. They venture off on a hike when it is fune and sunny, with only a bottle of water between them, the weather closes in and they become a cautionary tale!”

The weak ankle was holding up, but the stronger of the two had disturbing thoughts going through his mind. He was trying to figure out how he’d get his partner down if her ankle ceased up again. His best idea, he confessed later, was to lay one of their windbreakers down on the ground, and have her slide down the slope on it. Fortunately, they didn’t have to put this concept into practice.

Eventually, they came to the other side of the island and cautiously started down to the other cliffs. A slip and a turned ankle here would not be a good idea, toboggan-option or not!  They emerged out of the mist, and found they were not alone on the island. Other hunters had made their way up via another, lower and much easier route, one they had seen several hours earlier, one that had stone paving stones laid out (but which hadn’t been obvious at the junction) all the way. Along with the others, they found a large, flat rock on which to sit and rest and wait. Some of the others set up tripods. Our hunters laughed with each other ruefully; their tripod was still in the car, but they also knew it would have made the climb even harder than it had been.

It was peaceful. The mist rose, the wind died down a little, and the sun even shone for a while. A friendly crow kept them amused as they waited.

P1050488 friendly crow cr ed web

They noticed birds starting to fly in from the sea, and briefly, some excited activity ensued amongst those with the huge cameras and long lenses and tripods. The birds though kept their distance, and it was getting cold, and late, given that the hunters had a couple of hours drive back to their hotel.

In the cliffs below them, they saw an ungainly bird fly in. It was the right size and shape and colour (black and white) with the right flight patterns to be a puffin. Then they saw another one. Anticipation grew, then waned. The birds were all simply too far away to determine if they were puffins. The photographs of the island on the internet, showing puffins within arms reach of photographers, seemed like a cruel joke at this point. It was getting cold. Really cold. Dusk was hours away – in fact, in these northern climes, dusk only lasted a few hours around midnight, and they weren’t so committed that they would stay that late.

So the puffin hunters admitted defeat and made their way down the ridiculously easy path they should have taken in the first place.

Path down and Atlantic view

About half-way down on the road more travelled

Runde nesting birds

One of the few birds we saw on the island

They had to put the disappointment behind them. The day had been an adventure. The drive back was beautiful. But ultimately, these were the only positive puffin sightings of the whole trip:

P1000512 puffin stockings web

 

 

 

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