The Norwegian ferry approaches, an Arctic wind loaded with the smell of salt and wooden racks of sun-dried cod. I dally by the terminal, peering through jetty cracks to the heaving black below, then gazing out to a wine-dark sea.
Three silent cormorants sit on a nearby skerry, wet wings extended out to dry, long snakelike necks and hooked beaks held high. These must surely be THE three cormorants of Røst, an ancient tale of bird brothers in a magical land south of Skomvær; a land where drowned sailors live forever, visiting grieving families in the form of cormorants.
Photo: Cold Winds and Cormorants - Rost, Lofoten Islands, Norway _ Ian Cochrane