White Death

"Is that the professor's cottage down the hill?"
"Yes," Jepsen said, removing a key ring from a nail in the wall. "Come, I'll show you." Austin got his duffel from the car. As they walked down the hard-packed path, Jepsen said, "You're a good friend of Dr. Jorgensen?"
"I met him a few years ago. His reputation as a fish scientist is world-known."
"Yes, I know. I was very honored to have him here. Now you."
They stopped in front of the cottage, whose porch offered a view of the harbor, where a picturesque fleet of fishing boats was anchored.
"Are you a fisherman, Mr. Jepsen?"
"In a little place like this, you survive by doing many things. I rent out my cottage. My expenses aren't great."
They climbed onto the cottage porch and went inside. The inte- rior was basically one room with a single bed, bathroom, kitchen area, a small table and a couple of chairs, but it looked comfortable.
Jepsen said, "There's fishing gear in the closet. Let me know if you need a guide for fishing or hiking. My roots go back to the Vikings, and no one knows this place better."
"Thanks for your offer, but I've been around a lot of people lately. I'd like to spend some time on my own. I understand that a boat goes with the cottage."
"Third one from the end of the pier," Jepsen said. "A double- ender. The keys are in it."
"Thank you for your help. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to unpack, then I'll go into the village and stretch my legs," Austin said.
Jepsen told Austin to let him know if he needed anything. "Dress warm," he said as he went out the door. "The weather changes quickly around here."
Heeding Jepsen's advice, Austin pulled a windbreaker over his sweater. He went outside and stood on the cottage porch, sucking in the cool air. The land sloped gradually down to the sea. From his van- tage, he had a clear view of the harbor, the fish pier and the boats. He walked back up the path to the Volvo and drove into the village.
Austin's first stop was the bustling fish pier, where a procession of trawlers unloaded their catches under an umbrella of squalling seabirds. He found the boat tied up as Jepsen had described. It was a well-built wooden inboard about twenty feet long, turned up dory- fashion at both ends. He checked the motor and found it relatively clean and new. The key was in the ignition, as Jepsen had said. Austin started the engine and listened to it for a few minutes. Satisfied that it was running smoothly, he switched it off and headed back to his car. On the way, he encountered the minister's widow coming out of a loading bay.
"Hallo, American," she said with a friendly grin. "Did you find Gunnar?"
"Yes, thank you."
She was holding a fish wrapped in newspaper. "I came down here to get some supper. My name is Pia Knutsen."
They shook hands. Pia's grip was warm and firm. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kurt Austin. I've been enjoying the sights.
Skaalshavn is a beautiful village. I've been wondering what the name means in English."
"You are talking to the unofficial village historian. Skaalshavn means 'Skull Harbor.' "
Austin glanced out at the water. "Is the bay shaped like a skull?" "Oh no. It goes way back. The Vikings discovered skulls in some caves when they founded the settlement." "People were here before the Vikings?"
"Irish monks, perhaps, or maybe even earlier. The caves were on the other side of the headland at what was the original harbor for the old whaling station. It became too small as fishing grew, so the fish- ermen moved their boats and settled here."
"I'd like to do some hiking. Would you recommend any routes where I can get a good view of the town and its surroundings?" "From the bird cliffs, you can see for miles. Take that path behind the village," she said, pointing. "You will go through the moors by some beautiful waterfalls and streams, past a big lake. The trail climbs sharply after you pass the old farm ruins, and you will be at the cliffs. Don't go too close to the edge, especially if it's foggy, un- less you have wings. The ledges are nearly five hundred meters tall. Follow the cairns back and keep them on your left. The trail is steep and goes down fast. Don't walk too close to the edge along the sea, because sometimes the waves crash over the rocks and can catch you.
"I'll be careful." "One more thing. Dress warm. The weather changes quickly sometimes."
"Gunnar gave me the same advice. He seems quite knowledge- able. Is he a native?"
"Gunnar would like people to think he goes back to Erik the Red," she sniffed. "He's from Copenhagen. Moved into the village a year or two ago."
"Do you know him well?"
"Oh, yes," she said, with a roll of her lovely eyes. "Gunnar tried to get me into his bed, but I'm not that hard up."
Pia was a good-looking woman, and Austin wasn't surprised at Jepsen's attempt; but he hadn't driven all this way to tune in on the local romances. "I heard there was a fish operation of some sort up the coast."
"Yes, you'll see it from the cliffs. Ugly concrete and metal build- ings. The harbor is full of their fish cages. They raise fish there and ship it out. The local fishermen don't like it. The fishing around the old harbor has gone bad. No one from town works there. Not even
Gunnar anymore."
"He worked at the fish farm?"
"In the beginning. Something to do with construction. He used his money to buy his houses and lives off the rentals."
"Do you get many visitors here?" Austin was watching a sleek blue yacht coming into the harbor.
"Bird-watchers and fishermen." She followed Austin's eyes. "Like those men in that pretty boat. It's owned by a rich Spaniard, I hear. They say he came all the way from Spain for the fishing." Austin turned back to Pia. "You speak English very well." "We learn it in the schools along with Danish. And my husband and I spent some time in England when we were first married. I don't get much chance to speak it." She lifted the fish under Austin's nose and said, "Would you like to come to my house for dinner? I could practice my English."
"It wouldn't be too much trouble?"
"No, no. Come by after your walk. My house is behind the church."
They agreed to meet in a few hours, and Austin drove to the trail- head. The gravel path climbed gradually through rolling moors splashed with wildflowers, and passed near a small lake, almost per- fectly round, that looked as if it were made of cold crystal. About a mile from the lake, he came upon the ruins of an old farm and an an- cient graveyard.
The path grew steeper and less visible. As Pia advised, he followed the carefully piled heaps of rock that marked the way. He could see flocks of sheep so far away that they looked like bits of lint. Tower- ing in the distance were layered mountains with cascading wedding- veil waterfalls.
The trail led to the cliffs, where hundreds ofseabirds filled the air, balancing delicately on updrafts of air. Tall sea stacks soared from the bay, their flat summits wreathed in fog. Austin chewed on a Power- Bar and thought that the Faroes must be the most otherworldly place on the planet.
He kept on going until he stood atop a ridge that gave him a panoramic view of the serrated coast. A rounded headland separated Skaalshavn from a smaller inlet. Clustered along the shore of the old harbor were dozens of neatly arranged buildings. As he surveyed the scene below, he felt a drop of rain on his cheek. Dark billowing clouds were rolling in from the layered mountains to obliterate the sun. He started down from the exposed ridge. Even with switch- backs easing the vertical drop, the going was hard on the steep trail, and he had to move slowly until the ground leveled out again. As he approached sea level, the heavens opened up. He kept heading to- ward the lights of the town, and before long he was at his car.