But his description of one of the Lofoten Islands—of the 'sheer, unobstructed precipices of black, shining rock,' against which the ocean surf howled and shrieked, and of the endless array of gloomy mountains, 'outstretched like ramparts of the world, hideously craggy and barren'—is far nearer the truth; for in it is much that is characteristic of the outer islands. But after all he has only portrayed the Lofoten Islands when enveloped in storm. Of course, when the south-west gales sweep on to the rock-bound coast of Röst and Moskenesö, even Poe himself could hardly do justice to the scene, for the battle between the great waves coming in from the open ocean and the tremendous tides that surge past the outer islands must be magnificent. Truly the picture would have to be of
'An iron coast and angry waves, You seemed to hear them rise and fall And roar rock-thwarted under bellowing caves, Beneath the windy wall.'
Lofoten.
But these mere rude phases of Nature's moods do not for ever encircle Lofoten in flying surf and with winds that shriek and howl. In the summer months, at least, the sun shines, and often one may look in vain over the untroubled water, rippled by the warm west wind, for the dreaded Maelström, whose thunderous voice and angry whirlpool for the moment is stilled; whilst in its stead a gentle murmur rises from the clear water which possesses just sufficient motion for the waves to lazily rise and fall against the bare rocky shore, and yet is calm enough for the reflection of the white clouds and craggy hill-sides to repose sleepily on its surface. From their geographical position these islands should have a very different climate from that which they possess; and perhaps it may be due partly to this cause that the mountains are so craggy and barren. For the rainfall during several months is excessive, and is quite capable of washing away any superincumbent earth from the sides of the numerous needle-shaped peaks that are to be found on most of the Lofoten Islands; moreover, in the valleys the whole country has been worn down to the bone in prehistoric times by enormous glaciers, and to-day the abnormal summer rainfall and the frosts of the long Arctic nights are continuing the work of denudation.
Although the Lofoten Islands are south of the North Cape, yet one does not at once appreciate how far north they lie. From London they are more than twelve hundred miles; and they are one hundred miles nearer the North Pole than the northernmost part of Iceland. Moreover, most of Siberia, Bering Straits, and Klondike are all further south than the Lofoten Islands.
If it were not for that warm current which, starting from the Gulf of Mexico, after thousands of miles sweeps past this northern coast of Norway, these islands would during the whole year be covered with ice and snow, and be surrounded by a frozen ocean.