Stavanger — Cobbles, Cathedrals and a Grumpy Crow
Unexpected Freedom
Not every port day turns into a carefully planned expedition. Sometimes circumstances make the decision for you.
My wife had booked onto one of the rib boat trips, which looked considerably more adventurous than anything I had planned. Dressed in bright yellow survival suits and lifejackets, groups gathered around the harbour looking slightly like offshore rescue teams preparing for deployment. Before long I watched them disappear out into the bay at speed, while I suddenly found myself with a couple of unexpected hours and nowhere particular to be.
My wife disappeared off at speed. I headed off with a camera and no particular plan.
Which, as it turned out, suited me perfectly.
There is something oddly enjoyable about wandering somewhere with a camera and no real plan. No destination to reach. No schedule. No pressure to tick off attractions before returning to the ship. Just seeing where streets lead and noticing what catches your eye.
Stavanger felt ideal for that sort of wandering.
Old Stavanger: Looking Around
My afternoon walk started under grey skies with occasional drizzle drifting through. Not dramatic weather, just enough to dampen the cobbles and make everything reflective. Looking back across the harbour, Iona seemed enormous tied up alongside the town. Yet as I walked up into Old Stavanger she repeatedly disappeared and reappeared between buildings. Occasionally only the funnel showed above rooftops; elsewhere the whole ship suddenly filled a gap at the end of a street.
I found myself drawn to those glimpses more than the obvious harbour views.
Iona kept appearing unexpectedly between Stavanger's older streets.
Old Stavanger consists of rows of white wooden houses lining narrow cobbled streets, many dating back centuries and carefully preserved. In the damp early afternoon it felt wonderfully quiet. Not deserted, but unhurried.
Quiet streets, wet cobbles and no urgency to be anywhere.
This was less about grand sights and more about details.
Years ago someone gave me a piece of photography advice that has stayed with me ever since: always turn around.
So I did.
Steps leading up to painted doors. Window boxes full of flowers. Narrow alleys disappearing between houses. Small ornaments sitting quietly in windows. Occasional glimpses of Iona waiting down in the harbour. A crow sitting in a gutter looking entirely unimpressed by tourists and Norwegian weather.
Small things perhaps, but often they become the photographs I remember most.
Shelter from the Rain
Wandering further, and now in steadily pouring rain, brought me towards Stavanger Cathedral. Dating back to the 12th century, it is Norway’s oldest cathedral still in continuous use and feels wonderfully solid against the lighter wooden buildings around it. After a rain-soaked walk through the streets, the heavy stone building suddenly looked very inviting indeed.
After an increasingly wet afternoon, solid stone suddenly felt very welcoming.
Stepping inside felt like entering a different world.
The sound of the rain disappeared almost immediately. Stone walls and high arches seemed to absorb noise and the few visitors inside automatically lowered their voices. Light from stained glass drifted softly across the interior, adding colour to the otherwise muted stone. There was a calmness to the place that made it difficult to rush through.
I always find churches difficult places to photograph. You either capture the scale and lose the details, or focus on the details and somehow lose the feeling of the space itself. The carved stonework, arches and patterns drew the eye in every direction, while the long view down the nave gave a sense of just how much history the building had witnessed.
Still, I tried.
Colour After Grey
Leaving the church, and successfully ignoring the call of a McDonald's coffee, my route gradually brought me towards Fargegaten, Stavanger’s famous colour street. After the quieter streets and muted tones of Old Stavanger and the Cathedral, the contrast was striking.
After muted tones and rain, Stavanger suddenly changed colour.
Brightly painted buildings lined the street while cafés and independent shops sat beneath awnings. The damp weather had left the cobbles reflective, making the colours seem even stronger. It felt livelier here, but not crowded.
Again, I found myself slowing down and photographing the details rather than the whole scene.
Not grand views. Just little things that caught my attention.
And somehow, without really intending to, another half hour disappeared.
Back to the Harbour
Eventually I made my way back towards the waterfront and spotted the rib boats returning. Among the sea of matching survival suits was Linda, back from considerably more excitement than I had experienced.
The adventurers returned from the fjord.
Comparing notes afterwards, she had speed and adrenaline.
I had cobbles, cathedrals and a slightly grumpy crow.
I’m not entirely sure I got the worse deal
A quieter end to the day.