Late one night (during our week down the western coast) my brother in law takes us out to catch crabs. We drive the 40 minutes down to the sea, near Andabeløy. It is still light when we get there, and while waiting for darkness, we try some fishing. But this night is not for fishing, and no fish bites.
The sun is going down, and the pink clouds are colouring the sea with their reflections. If I was a painter, these colours would be in my palette. I caught this light, these colours, with my camera last summer when we were out midnight fishing near our cabin. This time I have left the camera at home, the memories from this night will be printed in my heart instead.
Darkness comes slowly. The first star can be seen, then another one, and soon the sky is sparkling. A strong light from Lista Lighhouse can be seen far ahead. At first there seems to be no crabs. Terje navigates the small boat along the island while my brother in law lies in the front looking down in the water with a head light. I sit with buckets ready to catch the crabs when he throws them into the boat after catching them with his fingers. We are all excited and waiting impatiently. Then all of a sudden we are in the middle of crab land. For me it looks like crabs fly through the air. Some hit the buckets, but just as many hit my lap or the bottom of the small boat. The girls and I are busy collection them. We are soon soaked in salt water, but the night is mild and we don’t care. We are having fun. Marta’s friend asks if she can try catching. Marta is more hesitant and gets bit the first time she tries. But it does not take the girls long to manage the crabs, throwing them back to me as experienced crab catchers.
When we drive home long after midnight, the girls fall asleep in the car. Suddenly Marta’s friend cries out. She is dreaming that one of the crabs has found its way out of the bucket and is crawling up her feet. The next night the dining room table is filled with cooked crabs, friends and laughter.
