A trowel and a toothbrush

The statues in Trondheim brought to mind a museum that Christian and I found quite by accident in Naxos last year. It was a close afternoon in September, and we…

In the land of the blind

It’s through their works and not their bones that you see the people who have gone before. The old Nidaros cathedral in Trondheim has had all the chequered history you’d…

Forward thinking

I had tired of carrying my snowshoes strapped to the side of my pack, making me stick in doorways and tearing at passers-by with their zig-zag metal claws. Gone are…

A momentary fit of pique

In a momentary departure from travel tales, I have recently been reading Yes Man, by Danny Wallace. For my own tastes he’s a bit too fond of exclamation marks, and…

Narvik-Trondheim

‘The first time I came to England was in 1950. I had very little money, and they were supposed only to let me stay three days, so I would have…

Polarmuseet

I loved the Polar Museum in Tromso. Mainly because I have a childish fascination with old-school heroes, and also in a small way because it is the sort of museum…

Fragments of conversation

I was talking to a Dixieland jazz player, in his sixties, in a bar in Gamla Stan. I told him how much I was enjoying hearing band jazz played live,…

Moored up

I think Stockholm is one of my new favourite cities. It has a peculiar layout, scattered across a number of islands, and a subtly European feel to it too. I…

Inspiration

I spent last night on a sleeper train from Narvik to Stockholm. Seemed a pity to be in Scandinavia and not at least have a look in at Sweden. Narvik…

Tramping

I have not often declared out loud my love for an inanimate object. I have been lost on mountains plenty of times, but never alone, and never north of the…

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