Kattegat

Fair, calm weather it has been this long while, as you well know, who have been out in it every day.

And they say the sea is frozen fast not only in the creeks and sounds, but far out over the Kattegat.

There is no fairway now for ship or boat among the islands.

Nothing but firm, hard ice, so that a man may drive with horse and sledge as far as Marstrand and Paternoster skerries." To all this the dog listened, and it seemed not to displease him.

The weather had unfortunately changed for the worse.

The rising sea compelled me to alter my original plan of going through the Sound as a Swede and only becoming a Norwegian in the Kattegat.

Owing to the difficulties of altering the paintwork, that was only possible in good weather.

I was obliged, therefore, to assume the Norwegian mask at once.

However, we should need luck to get through in any case, and a risk less or more was nothing to be downhearted about.

Copenhagen and Malmo, with their great pools of light, are now far behind us.

As we meet the fresh breeze at the entrance to the Kattegat, a barkentine under full sail glides past us without a sound.

She carries no lights, and the ghostly outline of her bellying canvas is dimly silhouetted against the moonless sky.

So that's what they wanted to do, but they didn't see all the damage it would make to the sea and to the environment because the way they could increase it would be out in the sea.

So they would take land and, yeah, they would grab resources from further out in Kattegat and that will damage also places where all the fish actually lives today and where they have... a place to actually be their self.

So that was the big issue with that.

And what we could see is that we could talk as much as we wanted about environmental damage, about the crisis that it makes to our biodiversity, but it didn't help anything because the only thing they counted was the money.

The weather had unfortunately changed for the worse.

The rising sea compelled me to alter my original plan of going through the sound as a Swede, and only becoming a Norwegian in the Kattegat.

Owing to the difficulties of altering the paintwork that was only possible in good weather.

I was obliged, therefore, to assume the Norwegian mask at once.

However, we should need luck to get through in any case, and a risk less or more was nothing to be downhearted about.

Copenhagen and Malmo, with their great pools of light, are now far behind us.

As we meet the fresh breeze at the entrance to the Kattegat, a barkentine under full sail glides past us without a sound.

She carries no lights, and the ghostly outline of her bellying canvas is dimly silhouetted against the moonless sky.

His brilliant prophetic wife, Lagertha, begged him not to go.

She wept on the shores of Kattegat, warning him that the expedition was reckless, suicidal madness.

But Ragnar brushed her tears aside.

He had a massive ego to feed, after all, and wanted to prove to the world that he could conquer the brutal kingdom of Northumbria with a tiny fraction of the men his famous sons used.

The weather had unfortunately changed for the worse.

The rising sea compelled me to alter my original plan of going through the sound as a Swede and only becoming a Norwegian in the Kattegat.

Owing to the difficulties of altering the paintwork that was only possible in good weather.

I was obliged, therefore, to assume the Norwegian mask at once.

However, we should need luck to get through in any case, and a risk less or more was nothing to be downhearted about.

Copenhagen and Malmo, with their great pools of light, are now far behind us.

As we meet the fresh breeze at the entrance to the Kattegat, a barkentine under full sail glides past us without a sound.

She carries no lights, and the ghostly outline of her bellying canvas is dimly silhouetted against the moonless sky.

We left Copenhagen

one evening around nine o'clock, and we flew due north, along the arms of the North Sea, known by the wonderful names of Kattegat and Skagerrak.

The northern sun blazed red in the sky, and our Danish DC-3 pointed its nose straight toward it.

At 10.15 p.m. Norwegian time, the sun was still bright, and although it sank below the horizon a half hour later, we could easily make out in the lingering twilight.