Hammerfest - My Midsummer Night’s Dream
I’m on top of the world.
I was feeling on top of the world when I arrived in Hammerfest, the most northerly city in the world, on the summer solstice, 21 June, 2019. Hammerfest, with a population of only 11,000, was the ultimate destination of a 22-day, 15-country, SUPing and camping adventure through Northern Europe. A trip I christened the Midsummer Night’s Dream SUP Tour 2019.
Hammerfest lies 70° N, more than 1000 km inside the Arctic Circle and well and truly within the land of the midnight sun. It literally doesn’t get dark here between 15 May and 31 July. My quest was to stand up paddle in the land of the midnight sun, at midnight on the longest day of the year. I had been checking the weather forecast diligently over the preceding days, my despair at the predicted bad weather turning to joy as the forecast improved with every passing day. I was looking forward to calm and wind-free conditions.
Driving north from Malmö, almost the entire length of Scandinavia, through Sweden, Finland and Norway took longer than expected, with three overnight camping stops en route. The highlight of the one night I spent camping in the wilderness in Finland, if not the highlight of the entire trip, must be the giant, inflatable pink flamingo that I saw on the River Torne. If it wasn’t for the existence of actual photographs, I would swear it was a hallucination.
(But that’s a story for another day.)
John McFadzean at Hammerfest. June 2019.
The other highlight, of course, was the breathtaking Scandinavian scenery, particularly once I reached Norway. With its hills and mountains and fjords, Norway very much reminded me of my native Scotland. And I was thrilled to see reindeer wandering the roadside.
Arriving in Hammerfest mid-afternoon, my first task was to look for a suitable location to get onto the water. I did find two half-decent candidates, but I felt I could do better and resolved to check out the marina later.
The Storvannet campsite was just a few kilometres out of town, right beside a small lake. I don’t know if it’s just me, but every time I see water, I have an overwhelming desire to paddle on it. That’s the addiction of stand-up paddleboarding!
‘Maybe tomorrow’, I thought to myself.
I was delighted to park up and pitch my tent so close to the lakeside and even more delighted to see the most unusual out-of-order sign I have ever seen (photos at the bottom of the page!).
The Storvannet campsite. Hammerfest.
After dinner, I could feel the excitement building as midnight approached. I wondered how the locals would celebrate the summer solstice, as I had been told that it is a big thing in this part of the world. I imagined huge crowds surrounding the harbour, maybe some music and fireworks? A pile of firewood perched expectantly in one corner of the campsite, ready for a celebratory bonfire.
Finally it was time for my night of destiny. Leaving Storvannet at 22.30, I went to check out the marina. It was a perfect place to get on the water, and there were no signs of any restrictions to entry.
Passing a small boat on its journey back to shore, I exited the marina and headed for open water. Although there was no wind to speak of and the sea was relatively flat, I was conscious that I was paddling alone, at midnight, with a water temperature below 4°. Turning right and paddling north as I left the marina, I chose to hug the shoreline. Although there was unbroken grey cloud overhead, the sun was shining brightly to the north. A burst of yellow and orange from 150 million kilometres away made my midsummer night dream come true. It truly never got dark that night.
The Midnight Sun. Hammerfest.
Like a stand-up paddleboarding version of Icarus, I kept moving towards the sun until midnight. But then, unlike the unfortunate Greek adventurer, I turned back, paddled past the marina and went further south to the main harbour. It was deserted. Where were all the people celebrating the longest day of the year? Where was the music? Where was the singing and dancing? Where were the huge crowds of people lining the harbour’s edge? The bonfires and the fireworks?
Nothing! Zero! Nada!
Maybe they don’t celebrate the solstice here after all.
I wanted to celebrate. My quest to SUP the Summer Solstice in the Land of the Midnight Sun had been a massive success. But where was the party?
Hammerfest
Hammerfest Harbour.
I paddled around the little harbour, rather sadly, as I was the only person awake in the entire city. Although conditions had been calm, I must confess to feeling tense and nervous about the possibility of falling in. Perhaps for that reason and also because it was nearing 02.00, I was ready to end my Hammerfest stand-up paddleboarding adventure.
Back to the marina.
Back to the campsite.
Back to my tent.
And sleep!
The following morning, Saturday, I chatted to my neighbours on the campsite while I was packing away. They told me the bonfire on the campsite would be lit on the Sunday to celebrate the solstice.
AAaaargh!
My timing was out by a couple of days. I knew I had calculated the longest day correctly, but I had the day of the party wrong. I was slated to miss all the fun. I was destined to be in Finland by the time the match was lit.
The incessant itch of multiple mosquito bites had plagued me ever since the wild camp at Sjon Skagern in Sweden. I resolved to get some treatment before I gouged any more chunks from my broken, fragile skin. I called back into Hammerfest centre to find a pharmacy for some anti-histamine cream and a final walk around the harbour. It was then that I learned of the astonishing and somewhat sad tale of Hvaldimir the Beluga Whale.
I couldn’t help imagining how frightened I would have been if Hvaldimir had appeared in front of me in Hammerfest harbour when I was SUPing through in the early hours of the morning.
Hvaldmir is a male beluga whale who first appeared offshore of Hammerfest in April 2019, not long before my visit. When first spotted, he was wearing a camera harness, which led to speculation that he was an escaped Russian spy whale. The name ‘Hvaldimir’ is a cross between hval (the Norwegian word for whale) and Vladimir (for Vladimir Putin, the Russian president). Of course, no one knows if this theory is true, but the Russian military are known to use belugas.
Hvaldimir is tame and comfortable around humans. He will take food from fishermen and, a few weeks before my visit, he rescued a mobile phone that a woman had accidentally dropped in the harbour, bringing it back to her safely.
Unfortunately I didn’t see him. Not this time anyway. Perhaps that’s a good reason for me to go back to Hammerfest one day.
In his book ‘Neither Here Nor There ’, the travel writer Bill Bryson famously spent some weeks in Hammerfest in the winter of 1990, cold, miserable and dreadfully bored as he waited hopefully for the northern lights to break the gloom. Perhaps Bill’s visit was too long for his liking, but my one-nighter was definitely too short for me.
Not for the first time on this trip, and not for the first time on my entire SUP the World quest, I wished I had more time to spend at a destination. But it wasn’t to be. I had a long drive ahead of me back down through Norway and Finland to Helsinki.
Norway had been added to my list of countries paddled in; now it was time for Finland.
The best thing about the campsite in Hammerfest?
It’s got to be the out-of-order sign in the gents toilet!
