Life in a Norwegian Summer Cabin
The plane descended over a torn landscape. Below me, the earth had been rubbed raw by millennia of glacial erosion. The earth seemed dark and scraped clean. Here and there, I see a tombolo peeking out of the water lapping the archipelago, its back bursting with trees.
The sun sunk below the Atlantic, and shadows ghosted the coast. In the distance, the snow caps quickly turned from white to pink, to grey. Then the world tilted on its axis as the plane swung towards the runway.
The air snapped as I stepped out the plane. It was much colder than expected. I layered, mentally prepared myself, and left the airport to buy my train tickets. Norway was as quiet as I remember. I welcome it.
Norway smells sweet. The earthy musk and the pine needle scent drifted into my nose, even in the city of Bergen. I navigated to the hostel with ease, guided by the midnight light of the Norwegian summer. I punched in the code at the Bergen Budget Hostel and crept inside, removing my shoes at the entrance, and went to find my room.
After a short night’s sleep, I was up, showered, dressed and out the door, my feet tracking along the familiar path to the Bryggen docks. I got there early and yearned for coffee, but nothing was open.
The morning is still steel grey, but the eager tourists and commuters were gathered, babbling and rezipping their bags. I get my ticket and negotiated my stop with the ferry’s captain before clambering aboard. Then I watch the western coast of Norway float by.
Bergen's Bryggen Docks date back to the 14th century and are a UNESCO World Heritage Site
The west coast of Norway is an archipelago of islands that stretch from south to north.
Taking a Ferry to Tungodden
I made a switch to a different ferry at Sollibotn, I was stranded at this random little dock for about twenty minutes before my other ferry came to pick me up, changing their route especially to include me. And it was empty.
So, I sat on the captain’s chair as they told me their stories of the North Sea. We were sailing towards the Sognefjord, Norway's largest fjord that cuts into Norway from west to east stretches 205 km, with a maximum girth of 4.5 km. It also dives over 1km deep at some parts.
“Tungodden, hey?” the captain laughed. “You’re going to have a hard time finding your friend’s cabin there.” We had just begun crossing the open stretch where the Sognefjord opens into the North Sea. I was comfortably reclined on the captain’s seat in the front of the ferry, taking care not to touch anything.
“Ah, there it is,” he pointed to a rock outcrop. As we cruised closer, I could see why he laughed earlier. There were maybe three or four cabins on this peninsula in total. As we neared the pier, I could see a blonde figure at its edge.
It was an eager-faced Oda Tungodden.
I disembarked and embraced my best friend, forgetting about the last ten months we spent apart. All the time and distance between Spain and South Africa fell away between us.
“Here, let me get your stuff. You must be exhausted!” I waved farewell to my merry company on the ferry and set off onto Tungodden.
Settling into the Cabin Life
The cabin is as cosy as they come. Light pine wood floors, a friendly hallway, a clutter of shoes in the corner and the sweet smell of baking bread all greet you when you enter. A homely warmth fills every corner of the cabin.
If you enter the kitchen, you are likely to find Heidi, Oda’s mom, by the counter. She would be kneading dough or preparing fresh fish. Bertil, Oda’s dad, will either be in the fishing boat or stationed in front of the FIFA World Cup. Oda may be curled up on the couch with a sketchbook and a home knitted blanket, a slab of chocolate within an arm’s reach. Otherwise, she’s playing in the sun with her mom.
This was the scene I stumbled into. This was the summer life in Tungodden, a collection of cabins on the Steinsundøyna island in north-western Norway, where the largest fjord, Sognefjorden, spills into the North Sea. And due to this unique maritime setup, it’s a rich fishing industry.
The cosy interior of Oda's cabin on Tungodden Farm. It was originally the grandparent's boathouse that was converted into a cabin and is where Oda and her two brothers spent their summer holidays during the break.
Life at Tundoggen is simple. You wake up in the morning when you want. It doesn’t matter really; the sun would have been up way before you anyway. Then you have breakfast, which with the Tungodden’s includes freshly baked bread, brown cheese, slabs of butter, cured meat and a strong cup of Nespresso coffee.
I sank into the cabin routine quite quickly. In no time, I was curled up on the couch, or on my bunk bed, with I am Pilgrim by Terry Hayes. When I was feeling brave, I would venture outside to lie in the sun with my book. Even the sun shone for hours, there was an ever-present chill that clung to the air and to the landscape. The only refuge was a cement slab at the front of the boathouse, which was sheltered from the cold.
At particularly plucky moments, when sweet-talked by Oda, I would venture to the water’s edge and take a dip in the North Sea. I must say, these plucky moments were very few.