Prologium: Like Star Wars, this saga begins with part three. Why would anyone go on a Norwegian Cruise, write it up as a diary on a Palmpilot, wait four years before posting any of it on the web and then start with a piece on forklifts? There is method in the madness. I intended to post the stuff immediately on my return, but as webmaster for a large consultancy I walked back into chaos and by the time I left at the end of the year these pieces had been overtaken by others. However, last year I found the Gn15 railway modelling list and as a result I'm modelling a fictional Hurtigrute boat with trains in it, inspired by the pictures I took. This has resulted in my dusting off the text as well, and over the next week or two I'll post the rest - churches, scenery and so on. But for now, read on...
The ships provide a lifeline for freight along the coast. The Hurtigrute cruising brochure just mentions big places like Trondheim and Kirkenes. The book they put in the cabin mentions a lot more (sadly, it's way out of date as are the glossy sheets describing some of the sights each day) but the way to work out what really happens is to get the schedule sheet from reception. Okay, this now means you have three separate things to correlate, but better too much information than too little.
It's eleven thirty at night but there's still plenty of light for photography, so I climb into yesterday's clothes, and hack out onto the back of deck five. Despite the gulf-stream, it's cooold, especially as yesterday's clothes were selected for 20C/70F.
I spot some particularly photogenic packages waiting to be loaded and leg it down to deck three and the passanger ramp. The 'be on board by' screen says "short stop", which means that they'll pull the ramp as soon as loading finishes.
Standing on the quayside, I read the placename - Havoysund - on the dockside. This is useful, because the buildings at the tiny places mostly look the same. I look around and see the safety officer and a fellow photographer. Watching the trucks working together under the portable lights, it looks as if they're dancing.
The photgraher is there because he's spotted that the Hyundai trucks are indoor models with an all-weather roof improvised by taping cardboard to the roll-cage and waterproofing it with cling-film. He's from New York State and I lent him some batteries earlier in the week. We exchange the same conversation about how the folks back home would think we're mad.
The safety officer is normally there to take the mickey out of the forklift drivers and radio the bridge when there are two loads left to go. On one occasion when a pallet broke he fished the bits out and propped it up so the driver could get the forks under it, but I missed that excitement.
I get busy photographing parts of a fish farm being loaded, and bananas from the ripening facility at Finsnes being unloaded. I'm fascinated by the packing algorithms - I know how fiendishly difficult this stuff is to manage. I agree with the photographer that the forklift makes a cute shot, then we see the safety officer on the radio and leg it back to the ramp (they don't sound the horn at night).
The ship is moving again before the top portion of the main ramp is closed (at least twice, they didn't tie off, just used the thrusters to keep us alongside). In England I might feel slightly worried but over the past week I've seen how much everyone cares about doing absolutely the best job they can: it would be impossible to be worried.
The bar on deck seven is (just) still open, so we sit nursing 'en ol' each and watch the lights disappear. If this is your idea of fun, start saving now. Next stop is at four forty-five, and I'll bet at least one onlooker is there to watch two pallets of electric cable and one of computer paper come down the ramp. By now this seems quite normal, and not just because of the 'ol'