Saltstraumen. And sleep.

The keen eye will notice a subtle difference in vegetation when you come down from Saltfjellet heading north: Norway spruce never made it past this barrier, and from here on up it's pine and birch forests.

Could be that subliminal change in your surroundings, or could be a product of the mind, but to me at least the landscape seems more wild, tougher now. The dense and soft spruce forests that cover so much of the lower parts of the country are gone, replaced now by forests a bit thinner, a bit more leggy and weathered.

We book it to Saltstraumen, just outside Bodø, where our accommodations for the night await. That turns out to be a camper — the campground owner's personal camper, in fact, which he's decided to rent out when he's not using it. Demand is high. Saltstraumen is an in-demand destination: One, because it's an impressive sight — a massive current produced by the tides squeezing most the water in Skjerstad Fjord in and out through the gap between Straumøya and Knaplundsøya, and, two, because the fishing is legendary — cod, schools of large coalfish, halibut, and pollock congregate in the currents to catch the smaller prey flushed in and out every day.

The family, unfortunately, is too tired to be impressed by anything at this point and just want to vegetate. They've had much hustling, unpacking, repacking, and driving in the last few days, and the frigid, sleepless night at the foot of Torghatten didn't help any. It's overcast, drizzly, and cold here, too, and so it is that I couldn't muster any enthusiasm to even go look at the damn thing.

This was our welcome to Straumøya. Nobody except me was inspired to get rain-geared up again and step outside.

Inside the camper, on the other hand, it's warm. Accommodations are tight, as you'd expect in a camper, but cozy. It sure as hell beats a tent, and we have leftovers from Trixie to heat up and enjoy a warm meal.

The campground's owner, an affable bear with a thick Trønder dialect, assures me there's halibut down there in the current, however, and I can't miss the opportunity to fish Saltstraumen at least once. I grab the pole and some heavy lures; the current is strong enough that it's like fishing in a river, and you need weight to get your lure past the upper layers where mostly the ubiquitous schools of småsei, juvenile coalfish, hang out. The spastic little ankle biters will snap at anything that moves but are bony and mostly useless as food, so you want to get your bait or lure further down the water column.

A couple of hours later, everyone is asleep. I've finally admitted defeat, having hauled in nothing but a couple of small coalfish, which I suppose makes me the only person ever to cast in Saltstraumen and fail to catch anything worth keeping. I'm wet, cold, and tired, but at last I've done that, finally.

And I'm giddy: Tomorrow we finally get to Lofoten. I hang my sodden clothes and shoes in the tiny shower enclosure to dry, and go to sleep.