Midnight Sunset Worthy of a Viking

Up in the Windjammer Room, which overlooked the bow, the harpist--Lois Colin of New York--played “Sunrise, Sunset.” Passengers and ship’s officers offered Norway’s traditional toast, skoal, with glasses of mulled wine.

We squinted into and celebrated the midnight sun.

While a few of us had gone ashore to explore the old Nazi submarine pens at Trondheim, and everyone had marveled at Norway’s majestic fiords, nothing to that point on the Royal Viking Sea had prepared us for this black-tie ritual in broad daylight.

Although it was July, Santa Claus walked the deck, a reminder in addition to the real reindeer we saw in the morning at Nordkapp--or North Cape, our northernmost stop--that we were only 1,300 miles from the North Pole (and 800 miles from the Arctic icecap).

Despite the soft natural light of day, midnight had arrived. For three midnights in a row, it was our luck to see clearly the phenomenon that early Norsemen north of the Arctic Circle called haalog or “high flame.”

The name fits only at the windup. At first the sun circles to starboard just above the horizon, bathing the shimmering sea with a warm orange and dimming, sinking light. Nothing flames high.

Off to a Blazing Start

But just as Old Sol seems about to touch the horizon and drop from view, the opposite happens: The sun arcs upward, brightens to almost white intensity and, continuing to rise, validates the old Viking name as another day starts in a blaze by about 1 a.m.

We were halfway through our 13-day sail out of Copenhagen, with 715 passengers and almost as many crew, more than 3,867 miles along Norway’s coast, up and back from North Cape above the Arctic Circle.

Seeing the midnight sun came as a relief.

Until we boarded ship, nobody had mentioned how iffy the midnight sun’s visibility is--not the cruise line’s literature, not even our travel agent.

We soon learned chances were excellent that the Arctic’s erratic clouds would obscure the midnight sun totally. After we were underway, the ship’s weather reports mentioned the possibility daily. At the North Cape, reported visibility ranged from sporadic to zilch.

For five days the suspense built.

The midnight sun has a short season. The Royal Viking Sea makes two runs, one in late June, the other a month later. This year, the ship’s first try followed a week of clear 80-degree weather at the North Cape--only to have clouds blanket the midnight sun all three days the ship was there, even dropping snow.

On our excursion, the goddess of luck smiled--all three midnights were clear. It was nippy, but snow-free.

Aside from the midnight sun, however, spectacles on this cruise are down to earth.

Submarine Pens at Trondheim

The German-built submarine pens at Trondheim, Norway’s third-largest city, still stand. Nobody puts them on travel posters, and Norway would like them to vanish (along with all other memorabilia of the Nazi occupation).

But in their own way, these indestructible structures are a remarkable monument.

To Allied convoys in the North Atlantic during World War II, the Nazi U-boat base was infamous. The Trondheim submarines turned the sea lanes to England and Murmansk into graveyards.

The pens were impregnable to American and British bombs. And even after the war they couldn’t be demolished. The Norwegians tried with their heaviest explosives and finally gave up.

At their thinnest point, the walls of reinforced concrete are 3 1/2 meters thick. Most of the walls have 4-meter thickness “and the roofs are even thicker,” a guide said.

While the pens are not off-limits, the Norwegians don’t advertise them.

Shore Excursion Arranged

Neither does Royal Viking list the U-boat pens among available shore excursions. But when I asked if it was possible to see them, the ship’s courtesy desk was happy to try. Within 24 hours, the ship’s staff had arranged for a van and guide to escort us and a few friends from the ship.

The pens lay within two structures--both drab, faceless buildings with gray slabs for walls that reminded me of prisons. They lay close to the pier at which the Royal Viking Sea had docked.

Underneath one building were five submarine slips, a pair of them wide enough to accommodate two U-boats at a time. The other building covered two slips, both singles. Overhead, spanning high ceilings, massive steel crossbeams that once bore torpedo hoists and other lifting equipment are still in place.

Within the sea-level entryways where U-boats slipped into the docks for crew change and resupply after 10- to 12-week missions, seawater still slaps against concrete walls and rises and falls with the tide. It’s the only sound and motion in these chambers.

Spectacular Views

But Norway’s jewels are the fiords.

Fingers of sea that cut into mountainous hinterland for up to 100 miles and more, the fiords open up to the seaborne visitor some spectacular views of sheer rock cliffs and waterfalls that cascade from glaciers hundreds of feet down mountain walls.

Each of Norway’s fiords has its own attractions and lore. In navigating these fantastic inlets, oceangoing liners such as ours bring the sights practically into the passenger’s lap.

When we navigated Geirangerfjord, one of Norway’s most famous natural sights, the passageway through which we reached the head of the fiord seemed to be little more than a slit between mountains. It led past the Seven Sisters waterfalls to the village of Geiranger.

After we dropped anchor, motor launches delivered us to a jetty from which we took a bus to a summit 5,000 feet above the inlet. Awaiting us was a spectacular view: our ship, small as a toy, mirrored in the inlet’s calm water, waterfalls fed by shining glaciers, clusters of farmhouses with sod roofs among stands of pine.

Cruising along other fiords we saw orchards and goat farms. A mountain rail line took us from sea level to 2,845 feet in 12 miles of switchbacks (the train is equipped with five sets of brakes).

Greetings From Kristiansund

If ever a town captured the hearts of a shipload of tourists it was Kristiansund, a community of some 18,000 people who don’t make a lot of money out of their principal pursuits of fishing, canning and textiles, but who offer a wealth of courtesy to visitors.

For the ship’s arrival at 8 a.m., the town’s 21-piece marching band greeted us. A visitor who appeared lost had instant, smiling help. In World War II this town lost 700 homes to bombs.

Incorporated into Kristiansund is the island village of Grip, about nine miles and half an hour (by motor launch) away and sparsely populated. Dominating the island is a gem of a small wooden, 15th-Century stave church, in continuous use for 500 years.

In Oslo, old Viking ships stole the show.

On display in the Viking Ship Museum, three of the craft, dating from the 8th and 9th centuries, were unearthed near Oslo at the turn of the century. They seem as small but more seaworthy than the ones sailed by Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis in the 1950s film, “The Vikings,” which the Royal Viking Line movie theater featured along with contemporary offerings such as “Crocodile Dundee,” “Turtle Diary” and “84 Charing Cross Road.”

For classical music lovers, cellist Julian Lloyd Webber and guitarist George Sakellariou held audiences spellbound with their performances.

For cabaret lovers, a troupe of singers and dancers recruited in California won the hearts of the audience. A ventriloquist, comedian and variety of performers put on shows.

But for those inclined to simply sit back and relax, nothing impeded. You set your own pace, chose your own program, timed your own day. If you chose to miss one of the eye-popping gourmet meals, room service or a snack bar was available.

In a casino that offered blackjack, roulette and slot machines, a casual but gentle atmosphere pervaded. Sports enthusiasts had a well-equipped health center as well as a deck for jogging and paddle tennis.

Over the 13 days, the ship made 10 stops and at each one we participated in a shore excursion--not one of which we found disappointing, but which took half a day or more from the ship.

“Here we are out in the ocean with nothing to do and not enough time to do it,” my wife said.