|
|
Diving Norway's Fjords
Appeared in DIVER - April 2000.
|
 |
Pictures and text by Rudolf Svensen Coral eggs in the cold waters of Norway's biggest fjord provide an unforgettable
experience for Rudolf Svensen, but what would he and his companions find in the
smaller but more spectacular fjords of the south-west?
It was August 1999, the day before full moon, and, so far as I am aware, the
incredible sight I had just witnessed had never been photographed in cold waters
before - Pennatula phosphorea and Funiculina quadrangularis corals, complete
with "gameter" - tiny balls that include both eggs and sperm - nestling at the
tops of their arms.
The gameter were clearly ready for release, because when we returned two days
later they were gone - they had been dropped as the moon waxed and waned.
Mission accomplished.
That was about 25m down a clay slope in Norway's Sognefjord which, at 140 miles
long, is the longest fjord in the world and at 1350m the deepest. The statistics
speak for themselves, but on a human scale there are more magnificent fjords to
explore, offering both stunning vistas and exceptional diving. The Sognefjord
experience only whetted our appetites to explore Norway's fjords further.
|
Moth of Sea Anemone |
Wall diving |
Ryfylke, in the south-west of the country, is an area consisting of thousands of
islands and fjords, and the mild climate allows a splendid variety of plant and
animal species to thrive there. Excavated by glaciers between 2 and 3 million
years ago, these fjords might be smaller than Sognefjord but are among the most
impressive in Europe.
After a good hour spent bumping about in our little inflatable, my muscles are
stiff and aching. I have trouble jumping ashore as we berth on the Sinai Skerry
in the Sandsfjord. We have chosen our spot carefully, at the narrowest part of
the fjord. The chart indicates a depth of 240m, straight off the land - this
place is ideal for wall-diving.
The weather is lovely, and for once we have plenty of time. As in most narrow
stretches of water there is a strong current, but we have studied our tables; in
an hour it will be ebb tide and calm water.
Once again, we are looking for deepwater corals. Under certain conditions, where
cold water from the depths is forced towards the surface, it is possible to find
species which do not normally thrive at diveable depths.
Time passes, but the current persists. On the other side of the fjord some
locals are gathered on a quay. When we ask them when the tide turns, their
answer leaves us open-mouthed. The direction of the current is constant here,
they say - it flows outwards!
The explanation is simple. A number of rivers drain into the Saudafjord and the
Hylsfjord further inland, and the fresh water must be carried off. It runs
towards the sea on top of the heavier salt water.
After talking it over, we conclude that the current is not likely to go very
deep, and I decide to check out conditions further down. I put on my gear and
crawl down like a crab, holding on to the sea tangle. Eight metres down, I
notice a sharp delineation in the water. There is no more current below it, and
the visibility is almost the best I have ever seen.
Four metres further down and the gentle slope gives way to a vertical drop. For
a short minute I float, feeling the suction from what seems to be a bottomless
abyss. Then I head back up to report to the others.
|
Diver and Sea Anemone |
Sponge |
Wall diving is most enjoyable when the visibility is good, and, where large
amounts of fresh water combine with often-strong currents, there is likely to be
luxuriant life on the walls. It is not unusual to come across species from
greater depths, and the diversity is generally richer than on a flat bottom.
Like mountaineers, divers can always find a wall to match their level of
proficiency in the fjords, though good buoyancy control is necessary even where
you can follow it down to the bottom. When diving on the deep ones, experience
is required.
Before undertaking such dives, for instance, you should have considered and
trained in what to do if your BC punctures, or your drysuit zipper bursts.
I need to be in complete balance, both mentally and with respect to my equipment,
to enjoy such a dive. If it becomes a struggle against negative buoyancy or
other elements, the time might as well have been spent above the surface.
My two companions are anxious to get into the water, and soon we're all crawling
down the gently sloping rock face. As I let myself float out from the rock 12m
down, I get a feeling rarely experienced by divers - I feel dizzy! I can see the
rock reaching 30 to 40m below me, as I dump air and drop slowly into the unknown.
I can see the others grinning into their DVs - this is really something!
Terje chooses to stop at 35m, while Erling and I continue to 40m. The good
visibility makes it easy to stay in contact, and, as I roll over to signal OK to
Terje, I catch sight of the surface and get a momentary "sinking" sensation as I
realise that I am hovering in open water, 200m above the bottom.
We slide along the wall. Big sponge fans, sea cucumbers and numerous other
species cling to the rocks, but no corals. Below us are clusters of sponges,
looking like people sticking their heads out from behind rocks to check what's
going on.
Read part
two
|
|
