We spent a week in the far outer islands.
Wind swept, treeless, North Atlantic, rocky shores.
Sanna:
We came to the island, late in the evening.
Heavy skies and a glassy sea of puffins.
Arrived at our campsite after a series of ferries, a fishing boat, and a brief hike in.
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| Photo: Michael Moritz |
Our campsite included:
Poison hemlock, swampy bogland, and the ice-carved cave, Kirkhelleren.
Kirkhelleren was nice and mossy.
Also, festooned with dead lemmings and Viking graves.
No one lives on Sanna but for holidays.
The houses are old and full of whimsical designs.
Hiked up and down the treeless island.
Through dark tunnels and lichen covered talus fields.
We laid in the sun, facing the wide ocean.
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| Photo: Michael Moritz |
The entire island resembles a large sleeping lion.
With tufts of golden grasses showing the furry spine.
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| Photo: Michael Moritz |
The wind bit through all our clothes and made us generally miserable.
The mexican rice was burned
But we made a fancy camp.
The evening:
Bonfire. Cave. Bold stories.
These evenings, the sun stays out late, to play.
Still, Spring surrounds us in snowy storms.
To be continued on Træna
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