[The following added upon my return, as there was a big ‘gap’ in the writing]
Bodø (loosely pronounced "Boo-da") is at the green arrow.
These maps speak for themselves. 1 hour by boat from Bodø to Krokholmen.
Piotr and I drove a boat everyday to the concrete job.
Now, in the time before my next journal entry, life continued pretty consistently. Piotr and I took the 2 man job on an adjacent island, initially laying floor panels, (those klik-klik-klak ones that are the big trend now, but people will scoff at in years’ time much like we do with linoleum now, if we haven’t started already.) but then after that the main job for us is to build a concrete slab foundation for an addition to his guest cottage. Thankfully, no basement. I don’t even think basements are that feasible in many parts of
We worked for a guy named (phoenetically somewhere between) Dogfin and Dolphin. I will hereby refer to him as Døgfin, as in this moment I particularly like the character ‘ø’. Interesting guy, looked a bit like Barry Gibb (of the Bee Gees). Wealthiest man around so they say. He runs his own salmon farm, employing a few guys, and has a couple of massive boats, not to mention the large fish tanks with automatic feeders.
the view where we worked the concrete job.
Anyway, Piotr and I spent 8 days working for Døgfin, and had a great time. There was of course lots of digging, but also lots of conceptualizing, and on this job if not before (as Døgfin was not always around when we needed his counsel in order to proceed), the Poles learned the full extent of the expression “Fucking the dog.” We left that poor lassie very worn out on certain days! It eventually became a good joke, when the 4 of us would reunite at night from our respective jobs:
“How’s your dog today?”
- Oh, fine. And yours?
- Well, she was pretty relaxed this morning, we were pretty busy, but later on we got to her. I think we left bruises.
- In fact, ours wasn’t resting ALL day, but we were pretty kind to her for most of it. Tomorrow however, she’s gonna get it something awful. We have to wait for some more paint to arrive, and there’s nothing to do until then.
As I mentioned way earlier about the
Beards are getting bigger... Peter and me.
Piotr was informed that on the island we were on, there were the ruins of an old German artillery bunker that used to take shots at passing convoys back in the war. So we went to check it out. Not too many photos, but experiencing this bunker in person was so cool. Sadly we didn’t have a flashlight to go down into the living area of the place, but what we saw was cool, and the big guns could still be moved a little bit if you sat at the controls are turned some dials.
Ze Bunker!
For my friends/family back home, I’m finding it really incredible on the European continent how basically everyone I know has some crazy story about what happened to their grandparents during the war. It has always been hard to fathom this until now, that it affected everyone, not just the ones who chose to get involved, like in
We tried to pick off a few ships, but the gun would only move a few cm in each direction
After many days, we were proud of what we had accomplished, and of course, we learned the skill (and art) of mixing concrete, building forms, leveling surfaces, laying bricks, and so forth.
We then got to experience the full meaning of ‘Work hard, play harder’….
On our way home after a long day's work. Some days we would stop to fish, but not catching much worth eating.
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