Now you don't have to go long before you come, Aksel, it was nice you came. This was the usual welcome Aksel Larsen brought with him every time he said goodbye to farm and farmer people, fishermen and merchants, and traveled on in his journey with ink and tools, food scraps and tickles.
Most importantly, he was there for them. He knew that he had his own bay, quarters and a quarter of nautical air, his own pants pocket, and he had the whole market of Sogn and Fjordane. Maybe he could lose a stormy day on the Stavfjord, maybe he could have fallen asleep by the years during a quiet night. But no, Aksel Larsen was after a life time of a good seaman, and on hard bark.
Rowing fjords, sea and islands all around. Today he is 89 years old and has put the years into the rowdy roommate who throughout his life worn the seat in the rowing boat to feed him and his close family. It wasn't long ago that the rowing metal worker said goodbye to his boat, and maybe he was the last one to go around with hugs and metal, seldom, bowed and bought, slept and eat when it suited, and broke off a conversation with known and unknown. He lived his adventurous life in fresh memory when he now relaxes at Askvoll retiredhome.
PEOPLE LOVE THE CRAFTSMAN
People almost bummed when it came to finding a yard, it was pure big day for both children and adults. The hamlet of the estate was about the new one, and suddenly people were busy fixing door locks and hooks, bald doors for food arches and chicken houses. Only the barn and the boathouse were open, so that they would have their bodies. People looked to the ordinary and in many courts rightly for a fancier, something outside, they were different. Don't touch Aksel Larsen. He was no striker of that kind, but a good-natured and loving craftsman. Shared his example of a long life in the pipeline. The marked, furry drag, the warm but sharp eye, testifies to sea spray, toil and adventure.
How was the trade?
- Usually good. I was well known in all cities, and otherwise had a good reputation. In the early days, I took 1 krone for an 8-liter bucket, now the price is 13 kroner. I came across old tin barrels and copper boilers around the gardens, I bought them for a few few treats and sold them to the priests and made good money. One time, I bought flawed goods at the knife factory in Holmedal, rowed in Sula and turned it into a profit of several hundred percent.
GOOD SAILOR
It was not a dangerous profession?:
-It was probably it. In the northwest storm on the Stavfjord I was bad at one time. The ferry was loaded with ink and I was on my way to the Florø country. Then I thought I was on my last voyage, but I knew I was a good sailor, tired of it, and I was doing well.
Another time I lay by the quay in Bergen. I had loaded the ferry with ink, and let me sleep under the seal, because I had not planned to take it out until the morning. Suddenly, I heard a roar through the hover. I grabbed the Moro knife, which I had by the side, and popped up the seal. There were two lasaronas at the oars, and they were flat when they saw me and the knife. We had come out on the Byfjord, and I gave strict orders for a return trip. There was no catch at the town bats that time.
A NICER KIND OF TRAVELER
Aksel Larsen, rowdy roaming of a finer kind, noticed along the coast from Måløy to Bergen, from Solumd fil Lærdal. For 62 years, he towed tow and was a skipper on his own ship. Free man in every way, never got a claim for social security contributions and taxes, and he never paid taxes. I have lived a healthy life, says Aksel Larsen. I am naked with everything, have never had any enemies, and many are missing me and the boat. It was also fun with one turn that with gutters to Sogn, maybe, Aksel Larsen smiles warmly under the wide hat brim.
