Twenty-six years later, our oldest son made his own visit to Norway. Because Mikael was born in London two weeks before I was discharged from the Air Force, he could travel on either American or British passports.

While attending the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Mikael had the opportunity to tour Austria with an American orchestra sponsored by the Institute of Musical Studies. Before rehearsals began, he dropped his double bass off in Graz and rode on a Eurail train pass to Bergen, Norway. From there he sailed on the Hurtigruten north to Nesna.

The boat arrived at 5:30 in the morning. While waiting for the youth hostel to open, Mikael took the opportunity to call us at home in Palm Desert, California. We had not been on the phone long when we heard someone with a Norwegian accent shouting at him in English. “Get a haircut, nd a ‘yob.’” At the time, Mikael was a long-haired, bearded musician.

“It’s okay,” he assured us. “The guy has long hair, too.” It was Mikael’s first exposure to dry, Norwegian humor.  The meeting was serendipitous. Mikael carried the last letter Kåre had sent to my father in America. Because it was written in Norwegian, help was needed with the translation. Mikael showed the letter to his new friend, who, fortunately, knew our relatives. He volunteered that after Kåre passed away, the home sat empty except during the summer months when family members vacationed there.

A call was placed to the island, and Mikael was in luck. Kåre’s son, Jan Sylvesterson, was there with his wife, Odelin, together with their sons, Roi and Stig. The boys’ cousin, Skjalg, had been invited to join them.

With contact established, Mikael took a commuter boat across to Hugla, where he received a warm Norwegian welcome. The visit was timely because Stig was being inducted into the military, and the family had to leave the following day. With so much to do and so little time, the family hurried to show Mikael as much of the island life as possible.

Their day started with a tour of my grandfather’s childhood home followed by an ascent of Mount Huggeltind. It ended with a twilight shing excursion in the shadows of the midnight sun. Mikael said his fondest memories were the huge meals that Odelin served after each outing.

When our son returned to Nesna the following afternoon, he re-established contact with the Norwegian he had met at the phone booth. Knowing that Mikael played the bass, the bearded fellow arranged for a jam session with local musicians and students from the college. They played until three in the morning.

“On that night, Nesna rocked like it never had rocked before,” Mikael later told us.

From Nesna, Mikael sailed on the Hurtigruten for a fteen-hour ride north to the Lofoten Islands to visit more relatives. Kåre’s daughters, Agate and Malfrid, had married brothers, Liev and Leidulv Nogva. Together the families owned Nogva Motorfabrikk, which was Norway’s leading supplier of marine engines and propulsion equipment. Their southern headquarters was located in Sovik near Alesund. They also had a northern presence in the Lofoten town of Svolvaer, which was the center of a massive shing industry.

At a family dinner Mikael was asked whether he resembled his mother or his father. He responded that most people thought he looked more like his mother. There was a comment in Norwegian followed by laughter. Mikael asked what had prompted the levity.

“Especially the beard,” someone had said.

The family generously let Mikael borrow their car for a drive north to the Vesteralen Islands, well known for their spectacular view of the midnight sun. He had not traveled far when a police officer stopped him for exceeding the speed limit. Mikael was shaken because he had left his wallet and passport in Svolvaer. As result, he had no source of identification. When he mentioned the Nogva name, he was sent on his way without a citation.

Our youngest son, Joshua, was the benefactor of the same Norwegian hospitality when he followed Mikael to Norway several years later. Agate’s son, Lars Åga Nogva, drove eight hours from Svolvaer to give him a personal tour of Hugla. Joshua returned to California with a photo of my grandfather’s birch tree standing beside the family homestead.

By chance, Josh passed through Oslo on the Seventeenth of May, a day that marked the signing of Norway’s Constitution in 1814, declaring the country’s independence. Our son stood in the crowd as Norwegians, wearing traditional costumes and waving their national flags, followed marching bands through the streets. Their enthusiasm matched that of Americans on the Fourth of July. Is there any wonder why my grandfather planted the Norwegian flag in front of his house in Lakewood every year on Syttende Mai?

Mikael returned to Norway in 2001 at the invitation of Magnus Beite, a fellow film-scoring classmate at the University of Southern California. Magnus has since written a number of hits, including the song “Closer” that reached the top of the charts in both the UK and USA. While there, Mikael again connected with relatives in southern Norway, but he did not find his way back to Nesna.

Thirteen-year-old John Nickoli watched as Fridtjof Nansen sailed his ship, Fram, past Hugla to the East Arctic Sea on his expedition to the North Pole in 1893. The ship didn’t reach the pole, but Nansen and his dog-sled team gained a record Farthest North at 86o13.6’N. Fram is said to have sailed farther north (85°57’N) and farther south (78°41’S) than any other wooden ship. It is preserved at the Fram Museum in Oslo, Norway. (Photograph by Steve Nicklas, NOS, circa 1910-1912)