Letters from high latitudes : being some account of a voyage, in 1856, in the schooner yacht "Foam" to Iceland, Jan Mayen, and Spitzbergen . make the northern entrance of the Throndhjem Fiord, you have first to find your way into what is called the Froh Havet,—a kind of oblong basin about sixteen miles long, formed by a ledge of low rocks running parallel with the mainland, at a distance of ten miles to seaward. Though the space between this outer boundary and the coast is so wide, in consequence of the network of sunken rocks which stuffs it up, the passage by which a vessel can enter is very
Letters from high latitudes : being some account of a voyage, in 1856, in the schooner yacht "Foam" to Iceland, Jan Mayen, and Spitzbergen . make the northern entrance of the Throndhjem Fiord, you have first to find your way into what is called the Froh Havet,—a kind of oblong basin about sixteen miles long, formed by a ledge of low rocks running parallel with the mainland, at a distance of ten miles to seaward. Though the space between this outer boundary and the coast is so wide, in consequence of the network of sunken rocks which stuffs it up, the passage by which a vessel can enter is very narrow, and the only landmark to enable you to find the channel is the head one of the string of outer islets. As this rock is about the size of a dining-table, perfectly flat, and rising only a few feet above the level of the sea, to attempt to make it is like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. It was already beginning to grow very late and dark by the time we had come up with the spot where it ought to have been, but not a vestige of such a thing had turned up. Should we not sight it in a quarter of an hour, we must go list. 0 H o O o > <X < U ?Mi hii al II XL] LET GO THE ANCHOR. 213 to sea again, and lie to for the night,—a very unpleasantalternative for any one so impatient as I was to reach a as I was going to give the order, Fitz—who was cer-tainly the Lynceus of the ships company—espied its blackback just peeping up above the tumbling water on our star-board bow. We had hit it off to a yard ! In another half-hour we were stealing down in quiet watertowards the entrance of the fiord. All this time not a ragof a pilot had appeared; and it was without any such func-tionary that the schooner swept up next morning between thewooded, grain-laden slopes of the beautiful loch, to Thron-dhjem—the capital of the ancient sea-kings of Norway. LETTER XII. THROXDHJEM—HARALD HAARFAGER—K1XG HACOXs LAST BATTLE—?OLAF TRYGGVESSOX—THE LONG SERPENT
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Keywords: ., bookau, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectarcticregions
