Everyone has read of the midnight sun and of the sunless winter of the North. They are features of all tales of Arctic exploration. Yet, in order to see the sun shining at midnight or to experience pitch-dark days, it is not necessary to be actually a seeker after the North Pole. Sunny nights and black winter days may be enjoyed, or otherwise, even in Norway, but only in the Far North—within the Arctic Circle.

It is not quite easy to realize what things are like right away up in the North, as it were, on the top of the world, and why things are as they are is difficult to explain without entering into a host of scientific details. We will, therefore, avoid a long discussion about the movements of the earth and suchlike matters, and merely mention certain facts. At the North Pole itself there is continuous day for six months of the year, and continuous night for the other six months, while on the line known as the Arctic Circle the sun shines at midnight once, and once only, in the year, and during one entire day of twenty-four hours in the winter it does not rise above the horizon at all. South of the Arctic Circle there is no such thing as midnight sun or as a day without sunrise.

As far as Norway is concerned, a considerable tract of country lies within the Arctic Circle—in fact, an area rather larger than that of Ireland—so it is not very difficult to find a place where the midnight sun can be seen for a period in the summer-time, and where in the winter some of the days are really dark. Of course, to see the midnight sun it is necessary to be at the place selected at the right time, and even then there is always the chance of the sky being clouded over, and no sun visible. For the latter reason travellers with plenty of leisure endeavour to go as far North as possible, so as to be almost certain of seeing the great sight.

Nowadays everything is made easy for everybody, and steamers take passengers to the North Cape throughout the summer for the sole purpose of enabling them to see the midnight sun from the very best point of view. Here, provided that the sky is clear, the midnight sun can be seen from May 13 to July 31. Between those dates it does not set, and it would be a bad summer indeed if the clouds hid the sun for so long a time.

To reach the North Cape takes a good deal of time, and many people dislike a lengthy sea voyage; but even if one starts from Bergen and goes all the way by sea, there is something of interest to be seen every day, as the steamer keeps close to the coast, threads its way among the innumerable small islands, and calls at many places with beautiful scenery in the background, more especially Molde and Christiansund.

A little farther on you come to Trondhjem; but if you would curtail the sea voyage it is not necessary to take the steamer from Bergen, since Trondhjem can be reached by rail from Christiania or by a driving tour right through the country from various places. Onwards from Trondhjem, however, you must go by sea, unless you are prepared for a long and rough overland journey.

Trondhjem, the ancient capital of Norway, is a place of historic interest, and contains the finest cathedral in Scandinavia. Its name means “throne home,” as the old Kings of Norway used to reside there, and it was the place where the coronation ceremony was always performed. Though no longer the capital of the country, it is still a flourishing town, and the present King (Haakon VII.) was crowned there a few years ago.

Now the real sea voyage to the North Cape commences, and with luck you may reach your destination in five days, but on every one of the five you will stop somewhere or see something which will be worth seeing. The town of Namsos is of no great interest, but the coast and island scenery now becomes stupendous and grand, with great giant rocks rising up out of the sea. The most remarkable of these are Torghatten and Hestmanden.

The peculiarity of Torghatten lies in the fact that there is a hole or tunnel straight through the massive rock, which itself is some 800 feet in height. As you sail past it you see daylight through the hole, and if you land to examine it you will find that it is nearly 200 yards from end to end, and that its almost perpendicular sides vary in height from 60 feet at one end to four times that height at the other end. No man can account for this remarkable tunnel except by quoting the local legend, and in this the Hestmand (the other extraordinary rocky island) is mixed up.

Hestmanden, the “man on horseback,” is a wonderful mass of rock, the outline of which, allowing for a little imagination, resembles a man on a horse. And this is the legend:

Not far from Torghatten is an island called LekÖ, on which, in the age of the giants, there lived a beautiful maiden. In those days the Hestmand was a real live giant, and he fell desperately in love with the LekÖ maiden. But the latter, who was only half a giantess, was afraid of the great monster, and would have nothing to do with him. So the Hestmand flew into a rage, and one day chased the object of his affections, who fled for her life. The giants did not do things by halves, and the Hestmand was so angry that he meant to kill the maiden, and he shot at her with a giant arrow, which was a fairly large fir-tree. Now, just at the moment that he shot his arrow, the maiden’s brother, who was another giant, realized what was going on, and flung his hat between his sister and the arrow. The maiden was saved, but the arrow pierced the hat. Then the sun suddenly appeared above the horizon, and the actors in the tragedy were instantly turned into stone. Hestmanden is the wicked giant on his horse; Torghatten is the hat which was pierced by the arrow; the arrow itself may be seen, as a great stone pinnacle, on a neighbouring island; while LekÖmoen, the mountain on LekÖ, is the beautiful maiden who caused all the trouble.

But to continue the voyage. Immediately after passing Hestmanden the Arctic Circle is crossed, and a few hours later a call is made at the little town of BodÖ. Thence to the LofÖdden Islands is no great distance, and after they have been visited and the wonderful cod drying-grounds inspected, the steamer wends its way to TromsÖ, and then to Hammerfest, which we have already referred to as a great place for the manufacture of cod-liver oil. Beyond this the rocky coast presents a succession of rugged and wild capes and promontories until the object of the voyage at length comes in sight.

The North Cape, the northernmost point of Norway, is a rocky headland on MagerÖ Island—the end of all things, rising a thousand feet above the deep blue Arctic sea. The climb up the steep, zigzag pathway from the spot where the steamer lands you is arduous, and you will be glad of the rest by King Oscar’s column. You would have been glad if a score of other passengers had not been with you, and still more glad if you had come here half a century earlier, before the hand of man had marked the spot, and before all your distant friends expected you to post them a postcard from the North Cape.

Still, something of romance remains as, gazing northwards, you remember that, except, perhaps, for a corner of Spitzbergen, nothing intervenes between you and the North Pole—only that barrier of ice which, so far, has defied all penetration. But this is mere sentiment, and you have come to see something else—the merging of sunset with sunrise. Du Chaillu well describes the scene: “The brilliancy of the splendid orb varies in intensity, like that of sunset and sunrise, according to the state of moisture of the atmosphere. One day it will be of a deep red colour, tingeing everything with a roseate hue, and producing a drowsy effect. There are times when the changes in the colour between the sunset and sunrise might be compared to the variations of a charcoal fire, now burning with a fierce red glow, then fading away, and rekindling with greater brightness.

“There are days when the sun has a pale, whitish appearance, and when even it can be looked at for six or seven hours before midnight. As this hour approaches the sun becomes less glaring, gradually changing into more brilliant shades as it dips towards the lowest point of its course. Its motion is very slow, and for quite a while it apparently follows the line of the horizon, during which there seems to be a pause, as when the sun reaches noon. This is midnight. For a few minutes the glow of sunset mingles with that of sunrise, and one cannot tell which prevails; but soon the light becomes slowly and gradually more brilliant, announcing the birth of another day, and often before an hour has elapsed the sun becomes so dazzling that one cannot look at it with the natural eye.”

Such is the wondrous sight, and all through the summer, even before and after the period of the non-setting of the sun, the nights are almost as light as day. Indeed, all over Norway, far to the south of the Arctic Circle, the summer nights are remarkably short—not altogether an unmixed blessing to those who find it difficult to sleep in daylight.

But what a change comes over these northern lands in winter! At the North Cape the sun sets on November 18, not to rise again until January 24, and everywhere within the Arctic Circle there is a time of continuous night. To us, who have no experience of such a state of affairs, it seems as if life must be bereft of all its pleasures. Yet the dwellers in the Arctic regions think nothing of it. To them even the dark winter has its charms, for, as has been said of a certain gentleman, it is not really as black as it has been painted.

In the first place, there is the snow, covering everything, and even at the darkest time of year there is sufficient light, if the sky be clear, to see to read for an hour before and an hour after midday. Then there is the light given by the moon and stars, and lastly the cheering glow of the aurora borealis,or northern lights. It is not, therefore, always dark, though when snow falls or the clouds block out the sky the darkness becomes intense. At such times the picture is truly a melancholy one.

To say that the light given by the aurora borealis does duty for sunlight is not true. Magnificent spectacle as it presents, this marvellous phenomenon produces no light of any real value, and only occasionally for a few minutes does it illumine the landscape. Tales of sleighing over the wastes of snow by the light of the aurora borealis have no foundation in fact, for seldom, if ever, has it sufficient power to obliterate the stars, and never does the moon pale before it. On the other hand, it is certain that these northern lights, streaming up into the heavens on every clear night of the long winter, must bring feelings of pleasure to the inhabitants of the Polar regions. The form, the intensity, and the colour of the light is ever varying, and thus, in watching it, there is always expectancy. We in England are accustomed to see these lights on autumn nights, but the display is feeble in comparison with that of the Arctic winter.

No one knows for certain what the aurora borealis really is, and even the most scientific people can tell you no more than that they suppose it to be “a phenomenon of electrical origin”!