“A Winter Morning”

For better insight into how life was on Lånan before people moved away, here is an excerpt from Helge A. Wold: Utvær. (J.W. Cappelens forlag 1985).

A Winter Morning, February 1952

The mountain to the east shows up in sharp profile against the sky. It will be a cold day. The wind from the shore is chasing wisps of frosty mist through Lånan Sound; the small boats at their moorings are surrounded by a film of ice. When it is frosty outside, one must stoke up even more indoors.

There is soon a shimmering warmth climbing from the dark cluster of houses near the shore. The women have already been up and lit the fire. The kindling crackles vigorously. The fire has taken a good hold, so now all one needs to do is to feed the hungry beast from Trolla Brug with some dry logs and put on the kettle.

The smoke curling up from the silhouetted lead chimneys indicates that preparations for a new day have begun. Everything seems to be so in harmony. The smoke wafting skywards, the warming light from the kitchen windows the whole length of the wall: At Hjørdis and Edvart’s on the northern island (Nordøya), at Ingolf’s close by, at Ester and Johan’s, at “Bakken” where Ingeborg and Henrik live and in “Gammelstua” the home of Meier and Kristine and the younger generation Hansine and Birger. At Sverre and Marianne’s, at Henny and Eilif’s, at Henry and Jensine’s. Yes, the men are in Lofoten of course, but the house is nevertheless full of people who need food and warmth and fortifying with coffee on a frosty February morning.

Seven dark houses are huddled in the weak morning light which slowly brings out the details in the landscape. The wind was strong in the night. It has drawn strange patterns in the snow and ice on the walls and window-panes. They are thinking that on such days it would be nice to have electricity. One year a man passed by selling electricity shares; he was of the opinion that it was only a question of time before electricity came to Lånan. They did not really believe the man. Nowadays it was possible to fantasise about so much. However, no one would persuade them they that could shortly throw their Petromax and coal shovel out on the shore.

It was a thought one could toy with when the weather was at its coldest and the stove stood there gasping for more fuel. The houses were cold and draughty. Some families used 7-8 fathoms of wood a year in addition to their hektoliter of coal in order to keep warm. They were also constantly off to the woods to gather windfall free of charge.

Seven houses is not many, but they are clumped together and they still carefully light candles in the windows each morning every day of the year. The tiny community has become like a small village these past years. One would not expect to find such an optimistic collection of houses and barns, boathouses and quayside sheds so far from the heart of the world. 37 people varying in age live here, even if there are seldom so many there at the same time. Many of the men are in Lofoten and the schoolchildren are on Skogsholmen for lengthy periods at a time.

On such a chilly morning it requires an effort to emerge from the warmth of the duvet. The frost bites through the outerboards and timber, finds its way through all the keyholes and cracks around the doors.

Excerpt from: Helge A. Wold: Utvær. (J.W. Cappelens forlag 1985).