#oscarstravels

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Steampunks

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Bryggens piney delights

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Mutiny and Technicolour tabernacles

After a night holed up in the sleepy cove of Tyssedal ,at Sir Wuffinting's suggestion our favourite trio were to set off on a gentle morning stroll . The Hog, as the crews chief navigator, had taken it upon herself to lead the merry band on their gay jaunt, letting The Hog take on this level of responsibility was to be the coveys undoing. Several kliks (and much more grumbling) later, The Captain once again took the helm following the path charted out by Sir Wuffinton ,however, after a handful of twists and turns up the Trollstunga path it had become clear that something more sinister was afoot......Mutiny!!!

Fed up with the cramped conditions under deck and appalled at his lowly position amongst the crew Sir Wuffington had decided to take charge and a power struggle was under way. He would force the panic stricken duo to walk the plank, snapping at their heels the whole way and thrusting them out onto the edge of the trolls tongue to stare a 700 meter drop in the face, the brace capitulated and Sir Wuffinton granted them a last minute reprieve on the promise of double helpings of nosh and a seat on the bridge. An uneasy silence followed on the return trip to the Beancan and The Captain slept with one eye open that night.

The fragile truce hung in the balance as the three loveable rogues unfurled the canvas once more and set sail for the bustling port of Bergen, as they free wheeled into port the Hog was aghast at the Captains choice of lodgings for the evening, for she was more used to the finer things in life such as doilies and cream tea and this place was little more than a seamans doss house. The trio awoke to what the Captain only knew as the pitter patter of seagull feet on the deck of the beancan but  soon all was forgiven once the Hog had set eyes on technicolour Bryggen and its piney delights.

With the crew turning there shoulders to the squall, typical of Bergen, it was time to head back to the Beancan and settle the canine shipmate for the evening before a few nightcaps from the most affable of Norsk hosts. They awoke to rain lashed portcullis' once more, the blue skies of Bergen had alluded them this time, and the band decided haul anchor for sunnier climes.

Until next time me ol' sea dogs

[captainbeancan-blog]

Walking the plank!!!!! Yarrr 

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In search of the Viking

Our trio had landed on the continent with their bellies warmed by rum to steel them against the journey that lay ahead and after a whistle stop tour taking in the shady pines of Bremen, the sleepy port of Flensburg and that most contemporary of metropolis' Aarhus the bastard trinity had arrived in the land of the Viking.

Under the cover of darkness, and the Captains instruction, they arrived in the smugglers cove of Kristiansand, at the Hogs suggestion they were to track the coast. This turned out to be the most turbulent of journeys leaving the beancan in a sorry smoking mess after she had been battered and bruised by the cruel Tarmac mistress, facing more hairpins than the forecast had shown, however, they had made it to the sleepy hollow of Egersund under the power of sail alone ready to lick their wounds and turn in for the night.

It wasn't long before the canvas was unfurled once more and the Captain and his crew were on their way again. Like a modern day Moses, the Captain had a calling, he was to reach the pulpit rock and tend to his flock, Mother Nature threw what she could at our beloved triad but this was his destiny, the gauntlet was lain down but the Captain was no amateur he had taken the Tarmac seas in his stride and this was mere child's play.

After spreading the good word from preikestol the Captain led his merry crew against the horde of oriental invaders back to the safety of the goodship Beancan to fight another day.

Ahoy mateys!!!