Squalls of gusty wind made for a turbulent landing in Bardufoss. Apart from a group of small Norwegian air force jets nestling on the apron, our 737 had the freedom of the tarmac and, despite our 11-strong party's luggage of torpedo rod-tubes and fishing boxes, we sailed through customs.
Our kit revealed our purpose just as our green jumpers, brogues and the odd rounded belly revealed our nationality. There was great disappointment, though, when we discovered Martin Foreman's "tackle box", containing 10 bottles of wine, had failed to show up.
Terry Carolan was waiting at arrivals with a small convoy - an eight-seater minibus, a jeep with trailer and an estate car. Nominations for drivers proved difficult as it was a case of operating left-hand-drive controls and driving on the right. Loading was exhausting as fatigue had set in following our 12-hour journey from Dublin to Copenhagen, to Olso and on to Bardufoss. Now we had a 50-kilometre drive north to Kastnes, the destination of our eight-day fishing trip.
But the Laukhaugen Farm on Onion Hill proved ideal for our purpose. Standing on the crest of Animal Island and sheltered in the heart of the old Viking kingdom, Laukhaugen is a magnificent 250-year-old homestead built entirely of the famous Norwegian wood. From here, you can look out over several fjords. A far mountain glistened with the glint of glaziers and cascading waterfalls, and despite the fabulous view, I thanked God it was midsummer.
In Paula and Eric Krogstad, we had excellent hosts. Dublin-born Paula, sister of Terry Carolan, married Eric 26 years ago and moved to Norway. They have one son, Marcus, aged 19. Paula runs her own embroidery business and is busily involved in community activities such as gourmet cooking classes and wine-tasting evenings.
Eric is flight surgeon with the Norwegian air force and part-time general practitioner in Bardufoss town. He served in Agfhanistan and Iraq (with George Bush Snr), and recently carried out relief work after the Asian tsunami disaster. He proved himself a true Viking when on the day we went to collect mussels for dinner. We had misjudged the tide but, rather than conceding defeat, Eric dived, fully clothed, into five feet of freezing water and surfaced with a smile and about 50 large mussels from the rock-face of the fjord..
He was also something of a storyteller. "In 1962," he told us, "a Higg [ cherry] tree was cut down at the farm. Then, nearly four decades later, in June 1999 two Irish missionaries held Mass at the five Viking graves on the land, the first Catholic Mass to be held there since 1540. And in September that year a shoot from the Higg tree was found next to the old stem. Later, two atheists told the story but said it was nature's own miracle - a symbol of the natural mysteries of life." Either way, a protective casing now encompasses the tree.
Adrenalin was running high as we set off to the nearby harbour at Kastnes Hamn for the main purpose of our trip, fishing. Partly hidden behind a rock face within the fjord, the sleepy harbour was home to a handful of half-deckers and an old disused fish-processing plant. The newly built pontoon allowed easy access to our boats.
We were ready for the big ones, with perks, red-tailed haweyes, 30lb class rods, 4/0 Penn reels and braided line. No bait required. Lifejackets were compulsory. "Everyone back in harbour in time for dinner at six," roared Terry as we ventured out into the seemingly bottomless fjord.
Crew member Robert Troy and I relied heavily on Michael Elliott's knowledge of the fishing ground, as it was his fifth successive year at Kastnes. "We'll try a drift for coalfish from outside the harbour to within sight of the salmon cages," Michael said. Fast and furious they came. Scores of hard-fighting, fat-bellied coalies, some as big 5kg. Fantastic sport. All, of course, were released.
At the point, known fondly by anglers as Elliott's Peak, it was business as usual. Pollock, redfish, ling, coalfish, wolf-fish, torsk and the ever-reliable cod made for a memorable day. One unfortunate torsk failed to survive because a golden eagle swooped from high on the cliff face and scooped the fish from the water in its mighty talons.
Tired and hungry, we headed sluggishly back for dinner at Laukhaugen. A typical menu consisted of cod fillet rolled in bacon with cultured cream; grilled whale steak, jacket potatoes and local vegetables; then fruit of the forest in red wine sauce, topped off with Irish coffee. Paula's every dinner was given the five stars.
Taking advantage of constant daylight, the brave-hearted ventured out fishing most evenings after dinner. Spinning light perks from vantage points on the fjord cliff face for cod and coalfish, some to 6kg, provided tremendous sport It was strange to fish through the sunlit night and watch dawn break at 2am.
One day Paula told me to get my things together; that she was taking me to meet Torgeir Hagensen, an old family friend and owner of a salmon fishery at Brandskognes, on the outskirts of Bardufoss. Hagensen's house stood gracefully at the end of a long boreen overlooking the Malselv, a broad river 140 km long. A kayak-type boat took us upriver to a campsite in the forest that was just metres from the river. Though our time was short, it was enough to marvel at the abundance of rising fish on his three-kilometre stretch of the river.
"We cater for six persons and although the season is short, from June to August, this ensures the fishing is always excellent" Hagensen said. "Our salmon range from 2kg to 40kg and we get an excellent run of sea trout. The river is also teeming with 'harr', or grayling."
When Paula announced one evening that the next day was departure time, she took us by surprise. And to put a seal of satisfaction on our Nordic adventure, Martin's "tackle box" then turned up - courtesy of a special delivery by staff at Bardufoss airport - with all 10 bottles of wine intact. Just the job for our farewell gathering.