Leaving the old houses be

It used to be a place for gunpowder, I was told. It is still there, even though the old guns are long gone. Now it serves more peaceful purposes, but build so well, and in a way that it can adapt to changing realities

Houses smoking fish

Walking out of the small town and heading on along the trail I looked back, smokeries reminded me how much a house can tell you about the life of people there

Refuel

Hot in the small fishing village, I put my backpack down, They were selling ice cream here

Places for watching birds

The first drops of rain hit as I approached a bird watching tower all made in wood. It looked empty and I could need a cup of coffee. I climbed the stairs and found a need sheltered little space, where I could put down the backpack and make myself a cup of coffee on my stove, watching the birds and waiting for the rain to pass.

Smokeries in a fishing village

The harbor is far out on the end of a long bridge. In the village, that is not much more than a line of houses, many of them formed mainly by their huge traditional fish smoking chimneys

The wide beach

The beach is empty and small riddles of sand forms around a few stones in the wind. The beach is famous. "The finest sand in the world" the locals claim.

Nobody is here

Walked between the small shacks build more or less together, my backpack telling I was not a local. Not one of the fishermen who owned these shacks, but there were nobody listening

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑