Summer days

The science of meteorology defines a summer day as a day with maximum temperature above 25 degrees Celcius (77 Fahrenheit). That's the international definitions, according to met web sites.

In north we use a more conservative definition: A summer day is a day with maximum temperature above 20 degrees Celcius (68 Fahrenheit). 

So far this summer we've had only three summer days in our town. No swimming in the fjord. Usually wearing a fleece jacket when going outdoor. Some people think it's been a chill summer.

I have a somewhat more optimistic view. I define a summer day as any day with 20 hours of light. We've had many of them, since the mid of May.

And still we're only in July. We might even get some warm days before the fall comes >:)

(A random summer picture from my archives, taken some years ago, on a nice summer day out in the archipelago on the coast, some four hours with the fast catamaran from our town)

Narrow fjords and narrow minds

On the way back home from our summer skiing vacation, we went via the fjords for a weekend together with family.

We took a boat out in the fjord, and were set on-shore on a strip of rock by the steep cliffs. Then we climbed the trail up to one of the old farms on a narrow shelf some 800 feet above the fjord. The farm was inhabited from the 16th century till the 1950s. Now it's maintained by the descendants of the last farmer.

For centuries people along the fjords  have been living from farming and fishing; hard-working and God-fearing. I guess the hard work is what kept them alive. Still they continued with the useless prayers, and they still do.

Nothing fails like prayer. But tourism helps to make a living in the 21st century.

The fjords are scenic, with breathtaking views. Huge cruise ships arrive every morning in the summer. No wonder that tourists come in thousands to see high and snow-capped mountains and steep cliffs going straight into the green water.

I like the high mountains and the open archipelago on the coast. The narrow fjords are not my place. Roads blocked by avalanche in the winter, hazzle with ferries and narrow hairpin roads.

Beautiful, for sure. But most of all, I find the fjords claustrophobic.

It feels like your mind becomes locked in. Narrow fjords create narrow minds.

(Picture taken from the shelf-farm we visited by the fjord. The farm house and barn were behind my back. In the past, goats and sheeps were grassing on the green field, which ends on the edge of a 800 feet vertical drop into the fjord. If you look closely, you can see a similar farm on the other side of the fjord, above the gray cliff  to the right of the water falls.)