Hitra: A Destination of Unknowns

Last weekend we went to Hitra, an island in the Trondheimsfjord, about two and a half hours northwest of Trondheim. I had been planning this trip for two weeks and modeled it after Destination Unknown,[1] an annual social event at my Eating House at Davidson College.

[googlemaps https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m28!1m12!1m3!1d456632.23227507586!2d9.006613029392005!3d63.44428130641948!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!4m13!3e6!4m5!1s0x466d319747037e53%3A0xbf7c8288f3cf3d4!2sTrondheim!3m2!1d63.4305149!2d10.3950528!4m5!1s0x4612599a69134297%3A0x2b2b903137c774d5!2sHitra!3m2!1d63.526012599999994!2d8.757208799999999!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sno!4v1507050866815&w=600&h=450]

The Eating House served the role of a sorority at Davidson, and Destination Unknown was the flagship social event of the fall semester.[2] It involved a 12-hour trip to undisclosed locations around central North Carolina. The event would start at the House, where the 100 or so participants (house members and their dates) would be issued a gift bag (containing airplane bottles of Malibu rum or Southern Comfort) and board a bus provided by Ragin’ Uptown Party Charters.  A typical DU had two or three unannounced destinations, each involving some kind of activity, but it was all really just a ruse for copious alcohol consumption in inappropriate public places. The group started out raucous and only devolved as the day went on. In retrospect it’s incredible that so many destinations were willing to accept our group — but not surprising that no destination was ever repeated.

I always looked forward to DU, but this is because I developed a selective memory about past iterations. It wasn’t so much that I minded being part of a spectacle (it as always a spectacle), but that the spectacle would turn embarrassing and the very carefully planned logistics would fall apart. As in, someone would set a fire in the laser tag bathroom, or the bar we rented out would have hired caged dancing strippers.

So, in planning this weekend I assured Gavin that the only thing that made this a Destination Unknown was that I would not disclose the location of our trip ahead of time. We would have a reputable hotel and a menu of possible activities. Alcohol would be purchased rather than smuggled in an elaborate system involving a code.[3] We would not travel by party bus.

As it turns out, our weekend was nothing like a traditional Destination Unknown, but it had its own logistical failures, mostly because tourism options on Hitra are sparse (and not as advertised!).

Hitra (which is actually a collection of islands) is the 226th-largest municipal center in Norway, with a population of 4,256 people spread over 221 square miles. But its sheer breathtaking beauty more than made up for its lack of robust tourism infrastructure. The drive to Hitra is worth the price of admission itself. You can travel there from Trondheim by speedboat, but then you’d miss the mountain passes, deep fjord channels, and picturesque villages nestled into hillsides. If we were to buy a traditional Norwegian hytta, this might be the place.

We arrived at our guesthouse to discover that we were the only people staying there, which has occurred a number of times in Norway and always makes me nervous. As a shy person, I prefer the anonymity that accompanies being one of many patrons at a restaurant or hotel. The guesthouse had two employees — the manager (who was likely in her 80s), and the cook (the manager’s cousin by marriage). The manager had not remembered that we were arriving that night and spent several minutes trying to locate our “reservation,” which was this note at the bottom of her ledger.

The manager spent the next several minutes trying to transfer this reservation to her computer, a task that was made more difficult, she explained, because several years ago a priest had stayed at the guesthouse, and now for some reason his name and address pre-populated the reservation form whenever she typed Trondheim. Trondheim is the only city of any size within a seven-hour drive, so I would assume she has been dealing with this scenario with almost all her patrons for the past several years. Which explains why when she found out Gavin was a computer science professor she asked if he could fix her computer.

With the reservation accounted for, the manager showed us to our accommodations, which turned out just to be a room in her house. We were not issued a key. Before leaving she cleaned out the room’s closet, which was filled with old coats. She negotiated to leave two coats in the closet. We acquiesced.

The day before I had emailed the guesthouse to find out how late the restaurant was open, since I did not know what time we would arrive on Friday night. I did not get a reply, but upon arrival it became clear this didn’t matter since no one else would be eating there. So, after we settled in the room we set off to find the cook, to see if he could make us dinner.

I thoroughly enjoyed all our meals at the guesthouse, because it turns out the manager is also the president of the local historical society. She regaled us with stories of Norwegian history and gave her opinion on American politics. She also encouraged Gavin not only to eat a lot at breakfast but to take snacks with him.

After breakfast on Saturday we inquired about renting bikes, which was one of many activity options on the guesthouse’s website.[4] Unfortunately, none of the bikes were in working condition, but the manager did give us maps for a pretty awesome hike.

After the hike it was finally time to brave the shower at our guesthouse. We had been avoiding the bathroom because we were sharing it with the manager, and since she lost the reservation she had not cleaned it before our arrival. The shower was a bathtub with a handheld shower hose but no curtain, and it drained onto the floor. The toilet was missing its flusher handle. The manager’s hairbrush and loose hairs were on the counter by the sink. Gavin asked how much it would have cost to upgrade to cabin with a private bathroom, and I said $14, which in retrospect seemed worth it. Lesson learned.

Sunday morning we went on a second hike, with the goal of ending up at Hopsjø for lunch. Hopsjø claims to be Norway’s “oldest store,” and has a restaurant with open hours posted on its website. The hike again was beautiful and led us to a secret zipline!

Of course, Hopsjø was closed, so at this point we had exhausted our tourist options on Hitra and decided to return home. We kept our eyes out for someplace to eat lunch, but the best we could find were some hot dogs wrapped in a tortilla at a gas station. Thus ends our vacation.

But! Despite the quirky hotel, lack of bikes, and closed restaurants, we thoroughly enjoyed our time on this beautiful island. The fjord is awesome!

---

[1] No pictures of a Davidson College DU are included here because at some point I’ll need a job again.

[2] Through my research I became curious whether Rusk Eating House still did DU. The calendar on the Rusk website (Rusk now has a website), has only two social events this semester — a semi-formal party and something called SHOCK YOUR MOM — but maybe DU hasn’t been scheduled yet.

The announcements page also includes the following: “We’re not using the kitchen door anymore in an attempt to keep it cleaner! Please only use the front door and the porch door from now on. ” Why is the kitchen door unclean??!!

[3] Unmarked soda bottles contained soda. Bottles with the work “Rusk” written on them contained some sort of wretched mixed drink and were labeled this way to elude the manager of the laser tag place.

[4] The guesthouse’s website is very professional, advertising many activities and offering its services for courses and conferences. I won’t post the website here because I’m not trying to disparage the hotel, only tell you a funny story.