The Quiet Thread
Issue No. 02 A knitting Journey to Svalbard. Part I: Heading North
Stories from our home at 682.5 metres above sea level
A Knitting Journey to Svalbard. Part I: Heading North
July 28 — Extra Baggage
We left Oslo with more luggage than dignity. Admittedly, we never pack light — we should have founded Overpackers Anonymous years ago — but this time, the real excess baggage was Carlos himself, who had managed to twist his ankle quite badly and was now hobbling about on crutches. Arne had the honour of checking us in, guiding three bags, one limping travel companion, and absolutely no patience through the airport.
Carlos refused any special assistance — no wheelchairs, no priority boarding — only sheer stubbornness and an elegant grimace as he navigated the journey like a wounded flamingo.
In Bergen, we limped (gracefully) into town and spent the afternoon shopping for shoes more suitable for the days ahead. That evening, we met our group: a fantastic collection of knitters and companions from the US, Canada, Australia, the UK, and France. There was immediate warmth. The kind you don’t need to knit — it’s already there.
We ended the day at Bryggeloftet, a Bergen favourite, where we tucked into steinbit (wolffish) and tillslørte bondepiker — veiled peasant girls, a dessert made with apples that sounds far more mysterious than it is. It’s one we’ve actually featured on our YouTube channel, complete with recipe and apricot-related enthusiasm.
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July 29 — Yarn and Sea Legs
We woke early to a classic Scandinavian hotel breakfast — abundant, orderly, and quietly thrilling. Our group was lovely: someone brought Carlos fruit from the buffet (he may never walk again, if this keeps up).
Then off to Hillesvåg Ullvarefabrikk — a pilgrimage site, really. Yarn was purchased (obviously), machines admired, and history quietly absorbed between rows of spinning wool and smiling knitters.
After a light lunch, we returned to Bergen and boarded MS Trollfjord, our favourite ship in the Hurtigruten fleet. There was the comforting familiarity of deck chairs and wooden trim, and the disorienting realization that we know the ship’s layout better than we know some of our relatives.
We’re ready for long hours out on deck, soaking it all in.
As the ship pulled away under a warm Bergen sun, we gathered with our group on deck for some gentle knitting and sea air. We’re heading north toward Svalbard — the last place in Norway still graced by the midnight sun this late in the season. The rest of Norway has, like us, already begun turning down the brightness.
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July 30 — Hairpins and Peasant Pride
We woke in Åndalsnes — a town so beautiful it makes your camera feel inadequate. On the itinerary: Trollstigen, the legendary Troll Ladder, which had been closed for much of the past year due to a rockslide. It had reopened ten days ago, then promptly closed again. So we’d spent days wondering: open? closed? partially open? Trolls involved?
But the news came: it was open. The excursion, however, was unfortunately named Hairpin Bends and Soaring Mountains — which, as marketing goes, is just short of “Why Not Stay on the Ship Instead?” Ten of our fellow travellers did exactly that, citing motion sickness and acrophobia. Which is fair. You’re on holiday — not auditioning for a car commercial.
At the top of Trollstigen – “The Troll Ladder” – on a magical day.
Still, those who joined were rewarded with majestic views and a meandering ascent that’s more postcard than peril. Carlos made it — bus to viewpoint to bus again — all on crutches, at a stately snail’s pace, as is only proper in the mountains.
Back on board, lunch led into an afternoon of knitting in the panorama lounge. There was clicking of needles, bursts of laughter, and the quiet hum of camaraderie. The non-knitting spouses fidgeted with cameras, books, or the existential joy of being surrounded by knitters — which, we must say, is a very fine kind of silence.
Tomorrow, we cross the Arctic Circle.
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July 31 — Træna and Other Small Miracles
It was — and there’s no better word for it — fan-bloody-tastic. 25 degrees. Clear blue skies. Almost everyone in T-shirts. If you’ve ever believed Norway is a permanent snow globe, we understand — but occasionally, even we get a proper summer. And this year, it’s been showing off.
Most of the day was spent on deck. Knitting, chatting, storytelling. There’s something about sunshine and salt air that makes people loosen their stitches — and their guard. We’ve always said that knitting and storytelling belong together, and up here, they do.
We’ve also made a new friend aboard MS Trollfjord: her name is Magdalena, and she lives in the restaurant on Deck 8. She’s bubbly, complex, slightly temperamental — and she makes extraordinary bread. Magdalena is, of course, the ship’s sourdough starter. She spends lunch and dinner hours lounging by the open kitchen bar, like a grand dame overseeing her domain. For breakfast, she disappears into the kitchen — apparently that’s when she’s put to use. Whatever they do to her in there, it’s working. The bread is sublime.
We can’t get enough of her. In fact, every time we walk in for lunch or dinner, the first thing we do is greet her. Good afternoon, good evening, Magdalena. She never replies. But the bread does.
It’s already the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Meet Magdalena. She’s rising to every occasion.
In the afternoon, we arrived at Træna, a tiny island with just 400 residents and more birds than people. It’s the sort of place that hums with quiet — the good kind. We went ashore and wandered around. The florist, as one might expect in Norway, also sold yarn. If you’ve ever wondered where to buy wool in a town without a yarn shop: try the florist. Or the butcher. Or the supermarket. It’s a national quirk. And a dependable one.
Back on board, dinner was as delicious as it was local. Cod from the Helgeland coast — firm, fresh, simple — followed by a selection of what the menu called short-travelled cheeses. Which is to say: they barely made it down the mountain before being plated. Just how we like it.
And somewhere between dessert and sunset, we crossed the Arctic Circle.
Everyone seemed happy. Sun-kissed. Calm. Content. It was the kind of day you don’t try to top — you just go to bed quietly thankful. Carlos is planning to try walking without crutches tomorrow, which may or may not be medically advisable. But the spirit is willing. The ankle… we’ll see.
Stay tuned.
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August 1 — Magdalena, Kayaks, and a Dancing Ship
We’ve now entered the Lofoten Archipelago — in our humble opinion, the most stunning place in all of Norway. This is where our heart is. We love the Lofoten Islands.
This morning, we arrived in Reine — a village so picturesque it should come with a disclaimer. At breakfast, our first concern (as always) was Magdalena. We asked after her immediately. She was in the kitchen, we were told — being “refilled.” We prefer to think of it as her morning spa session. A gentle exfoliation, perhaps, followed by a feeding and a little quiet time before she resumes her role as reigning queen of the restaurant.
Breakfast was lovely. The sun was already warming the deck, and the forecast promised 26 or 27 degrees with no wind. In other words: perfect kayaking weather.
So yes, today we’re going kayaking — and we’re very excited. The only issue is: what are we going to wear? We packed for every possible occasion. We brought three pairs of shoes each, plus the ones we bought in Bergen. We brought formal-ish, casual, hiking, lounging, dinner-wear, possibly funeral-wear — and yet not a single thing that feels remotely kayak-appropriate.
The current options included:
•One pair of nice cotton trousers
•Two pairs of jeans
•Some training pants (a bit too warm)
None of which scream “nautical adventure.” But it’s probably T-shirt weather anyway. So we’ll be fine. Arne brought a hat. Carlos began searching for sunscreen. We’re not confident we packed any. Which, considering we packed everything, is impressive.
There was also some peaceful morning knitting with the gang, a cuppa tea for Carlos, and coffee for Arne — the kind of slow, companionable start that makes you remember why you love this rhythm: knit, chat, sea, repeat.
After surveying my entire wardrobe — all 27 kilos of it — I settled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater tied around my waist. For footwear, I chose a pair of bright yellow Adidas sneakers — the ones designed in collaboration with LEGO. Very yellow.
To my great delight, when we arrived at the kayak site, it turned out our kayak was also yellow. Perfectly matched. Shoes and vessel, in complete harmony. Apparently, I did have something to wear kayaking after all.
The kayak trip itself was phenomenal.
Paddling through one of Lofoten’s gems.
We’ve been to the Lofoten Islands countless times. They are, in our opinion, the most beautiful place in the world — but they’re also known for some of the roughest weather imaginable. So to find ourselves here in 25–26 degrees and full sun? A rare and wonderful treat. It has happened before, but whenever it does, it feels like a gift.
Kayaking in Lofoten today felt more like kayaking in the Caribbean — if the Caribbean had cod, cliffs, and polite Norwegians. The water was emerald green, shimmering in the sun. There were no palm trees, of course, so it wasn’t quite the Caribbean. But it was close.
I dipped my hand in — the water was probably 18 or 19 degrees. Not warm, exactly, but not shockingly cold either. We paddled into Reinefjord, which is 150 metres deep — deeper than the sea, as fjords often are — and surrounded by peaks that look painted into place. We spent a couple of hours gliding through silence and sunlight.
I should mention that, on the way to the kayak centre, I managed to twist my ankle again. Same foot. Not ideal. So getting out of the kayak, I had to rely entirely on the other leg — not the easiest exit, but manageable. After all, I’ve gotten out of kayaks and into Zodiacs in Antarctica and Greenland. This was just a bit of Norwegian gymnastics.
Back on board, we had lunch and spent a peaceful afternoon out on deck. That’s becoming a theme now: knit, sun, sea, repeat.
This evening, after dinner, the ship entered Trollfjord — one of the most magical places in all of Norway. It’s a narrow, dramatic passage where the mountains feel close enough to touch. The usual manoeuvre is a single 360-degree turn inside the fjord, a show of skill by the captain.
Tonight, he did ten.
We were briefly concerned. Was the rudder stuck? Had something gone wrong? But no — another boat was entering the fjord, and there wasn’t room for both vessels. So our ship turned, again and again, waiting for the right moment to retreat — a bit like a dignified waltz with some very tight choreography.
We didn’t eat in the main restaurant today, so we didn’t see Magdalena. We miss her. Hopefully she’ll be back on duty tomorrow at lunch, and we’ll say hello then — as one does with old friends.
It’s been a spectacular day in a spectacular place. We’re off to bed soon, happily exhausted.
Stay tuned for Day 6 — we’re heading to Tromsø, the Paris of the North.
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August 2 — Paris of the North, Crutches, Yarn, and Alan
We arrived in Tromsø this morning — the so-called Paris of the North. Who coined the name is unclear, but it fits in its own way. The city has it all: a university, cafés, yarn shops, thrift stores, mountains, seagulls, and excellent people-watching.
Unfortunately, Carlos stayed on board. After re-twisting the same ankle during the kayak outing, today’s plan was rest, elevation, and mild sulking. Arne, meanwhile, led our knitters into town for yarn and treasure hunting.
Carlos – Quiet Deck and Slow Recovery
With everyone ashore, I had the ship more or less to myself. I found a shaded spot — because Norwegians retreat into shadows the moment summer finally arrives — and sat with my knitting, caught up on correspondence, and enjoyed doing absolutely nothing with purpose. After the ankle drama, it felt good to be still.
Arne – Yarn, Potholders, and an Unexpected Purchase
I began at a favourite vintage shop, where I found two crocheted potholders and a very odd table runner I couldn’t leave behind. At the yarn store, I picked up a ball of yarn for doll dresses and a pair of 2 mm needles I’d forgotten to pack — naturally the size I needed most.
Then on to the charity shop, where I scored two cross-stitched fabrics for our hexagon quilt project and a couple of shiny old ties that will come in handy for some future, questionable idea. At a second-hand bookshop, I found three vintage Nancy Drew books — all new to my collection.
And finally, I gave in and bought something I’d been watching online all week: an original Alan doll — not Ken, but his more interesting friend. I paid full price, which I assume means he’s mine now. He’ll likely arrive home before we do.
Here is the gorgeous Alan Arne bought online today – in pristine vintage condition.
Together Again – Pageants, Bread, and Bookends
When Arne returned to the ship, he called from the pier and insisted I wave at him from the top deck — crutches and all. So I did. It was undignified. He was delighted.
We had lunch — and checked in on Magdalena. She was back at her usual post by the open kitchen, looking well-rested and slightly smug. We nodded. She knows.
The afternoon was hot and slow. I worked on my sweater, which I finished this evening — roughly 15,000 stitches in two days. Carlos knit 148 stitches on a secret project before switching to his Kvígjót hat using yarn from Greenland. It was a peaceful rhythm: knit, sun, knit again.
Tromsø’s Long Goodbye
In typical Hurtigruten fashion, the ship left Tromsø’s main dock only to relocate to the outskirts of town and load supplies for Svalbard — where we’ll arrive in two days. Flour, butter, cloudberries, and the rest of life’s necessities came aboard as we knit contentedly in the sun.
Dinner was excellent. Carlos had boknafisk — dried, rehydrated stockfish with peas and butter sauce — and briefly considered moving north permanently. After dinner, we had a quiet drink in the bar and watched the light stretch on toward midnight.
Paris of the North? Perhaps. But today, it felt entirely our own.
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August 3 — Laundry, Ornaments, and the Foggy North Cape
This morning began — as many do on a ship halfway to Svalbard — with laundry.
Carlos usually handles this at home. His preferred setting is 40 degrees, quick cycle, done in 40 minutes. Functional. Efficient. Scandinavian. But today, Arne took over. He selected the slow cycle: 40 degrees, yes — but 2 hours and 38 minutes long. The clothes were treated to a proper journey. Slow-travelled laundry, we now call it. Just like the cheese they served for dessert last night — minimal mileage, maximum flavour.
While the machine churned at a meditative pace, Arne left the ship. For the second day in a row. This time, he ventured into Honningsvåg — the northernmost town on the mainland — allegedly just to look around.
Carlos, meanwhile, kept an eye on the laundry and quietly wondered if he should be concerned. Arne unsupervised in a town full of shops? That’s not nothing.
Once the 2-hour-and-38-minute cycle finally ended, Carlos managed to hobble downstairs, transfer the laundry to the dryer, and return to his place on deck. All without incident. Or at least without witnesses.
Arne returned with no visible bags. A relief. But just as we were heading to lunch, he remembered the thing he hadn’t done yet: buy Christmas decorations.
So off he went again — back through town to the Christmas shop, which is open year-round in Honningsvåg. He came back holding two large boxes, very pleased with himself. He won’t let Carlos see what’s inside, claiming they’re too fragile to unwrap and re-wrap on board. So now we’re carrying two mystery parcels home, along with the rest of our already generous luggage. A festive surprise. In August.
Lunch was delicious — as was Magdalena. She seemed especially bubbly today. We’re convinced the bread she helps produce has a soul. Or at the very least, a highly developed personality.
In preparation for tomorrow’s day at sea, we signed up for afternoon tea. Sixteen of us from the group will be attending, which should make for a proper occasion — hopefully with Magdalena in attendance. If not in person, then in spirit. Preferably in the scones.
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Knitting. Tea. Some gentle swaying — the ship, not us. And during dinner, we rounded the North Cape.
Honningsvåg – Carlos keeping his balance at Europe’s top.
It was, we’re told, extremely foggy. We didn’t see it. But our group did — or at least they tried to. They were on an excursion led by Daisy, a legendary local guide who apparently gave the performance of a lifetime. She played Norwegian music on the bus, narrated the coastal history, and provided a full cultural briefing. Everyone returned starry-eyed and informed. Which means that, after 39 visits to the North Cape, most of our group now knows more about it than we do.
As the ship turned eastward into the Barents Sea, the motion became a little more noticeable. Arne took his seasickness pill and promptly fell asleep. Carlos is watching him closely — not out of concern, but admiration. He’s out cold. Like a log. Like someone who did slow laundry and bought secret ornaments and is now, quite reasonably, done for the day.
Tomorrow: a full day at sea. Carlos has already had two. So really, nothing new — except maybe the board games. One of our guests works for a board game company, so recommendations are expected. Weather permitting, we’ll also do some birdwatching on deck. Afternoon tea is at three.
Stay tuned
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August 4 – Monday, August 4, 2025
At sea – heading toward Svalbard
07:00 – Woke up. Arne made tea. Good start.
Then he tried to make coffee. The Nespresso machine had been replaced during cabin cleaning. It refused to stop pouring water. Took him 30 minutes to win the argument. He threw the first cup away. Made another. This one stayed in the cup. Success.
08:00 – Breakfast. Pancakes instead of eggs on toast. A radical departure after eight days. Magdalena not present. Presumed in the kitchen.
11:55 – Strategic queuing begins for the à la carte restaurant. We timed it perfectly. Ate salads. We hate queuing, but today it helped kill time.
13:00 – Arne changes shoes in case he has to go outside. Spends 8 minutes on deck in dense fog trying to spot birds. Spots fog. Binoculars still not working.
14:30 – Afternoon tea. 16 of us from the group signed up.
Cucumber sandwiches conspicuously absent. Salmon and ham instead. Magdalena present. I sat beside her. She had grown. Perhaps she liked my company.
15:45 – Arne unravels the body of his sweater. 7,999 stitches lost. I knit 73 stitches. Not a race. But if it were…
17:00 – Passed by the gym. Looked inside. Moved on.
18:00 – Outfit change #3 for Carlos. Arne didn’t change clothes but did change back into indoor shoes.
20:00 – Dinner. Five courses. Because: what else is there to do.
21:30 – Quiz in the bar. Arne wins by confidently shouting out the wrong year for the Lillehammer Olympics. (It was 1994. He said 1996. He was born in Lillehammer.) Still wins. This says more about the competition than it does about him.
23:30 Still fog. Still sea. But tomorrow’s forecast promises sun. The midnight sun might finally return. We may check on Magdalena again in the morning. She could be confused by the eternal daylight.
Land in sight – Svalbard at last!