It was when I was spending a few days in the village of Askvoll this August that I made my trip to Bulandet. I wanted to see an interesting sounding local museum there, and there was a new fish factory too, I was told. I got to sit in the wheelhouse of the 40 foot ferry and had a fine sheeks with the skipper and his small, serious son. We should have left for Bulandet at 10am but waited 10 minutes for passengers from another boat. Already the temperature was in the upper 20°s centigrade and the breeze as we headed westwards at 20 knots was most welcome. At a couple of stops on the west side of Værlandet the scene was reminiscent of da Earl as passengers went ashore and cargo was passed by hand to waiting hands on the quayside. At 11.15am, ten minutes late, the ferry negotiated a narrow sound into the Sandøy pier in Bulandet.
A prior arrangement to be met by someone from the fish factory resulted in two young women insisting on driving me the hundred or so yards to the building, which was about the size of what I still cal the old hangar. The factory was in fact closed that day, and I never found out why. Bags of groceries the girls carried turned out to be the makings of a snack, eaten in a splendid canteen which had been used during the factory's recent official opening ceremony. The manager, a very young man I thought, joined us and they all had a Sandison's biscuit from my piece box. Seeing no one in nearby offices I asked if they were off work too? Amid some laughter they explained that the point of the factory was to process fish, and that one, or both of the girls, or the manager, did whatever office work came up.
"The factory stood just a little more than a fork lift's width from the edge of a big new quay..."
I can not remember the details of the factory's machinery, which, together with its function, purpose and cost, was explained to me by the three young people, who took it in relays to point out everything. The factory stood just a little more than a fork lift's width from the edge of a big new quay in a narrow sound. Moored alongside the quay was a keep net the size of a large salmon cage. The young people were very proud of their factory, which they told me belonged to them. It was when I visited the local museum, however, that I learned a lot more about an inspiring project.
It turned out that Jostein Sandøy, the museum guide, was one of the driving forces behind the factory. A former line fishing boat owner and skipper, Mr sandøy described how islanders realised that a factory on the island, owned by Nikøy and Larøy, would, sooner or later, have to close, owing to new and stronger EU hygiene demands. So, helped by Askvoll district's development officer, the people of Bulandet had set up a property company, Bulandet Eigendom A/S, "So if the factory goes bust we still have the building." Of 120 shareholders in the factory 100 live on Bulandet, and they put up two million kroner, or some £200,000. From the state district development came six million kroner, while the kommunale and labour department contributed a further three million kroner.
In March 1996 the factory's financing was finalised and building started in September of that year. Nine months later the factory was ready.
Saithe is what the Bulandet factory fillets and freezes and the challenge for the future is to get enough raw material. Fish are landed living, stored in the aforementioned keep net and pumped into the plant as required. Coastal ring net and line boats are the main vessels landing. Frozen fish can, however, be thawed and processed. The factory has an annual processing capacity of five thousand tonnes and employs 25 people - "If anyone in Shetland wants a job, send them here. We'll find them accommodation," I was told.
At the Bulandet factory's official opening ceremony some 400 folk made their way to this peerie isle, which is Norway's most westerly fishing community. Among the speakers was kommunale and labour minister, Kjell Opseth, who said that the isle was a great place to live in and an example of how it was still possible to create new jobs in the districts. To get things going one had to use non-traditional methods. So, there I was, sheeksing in the sun to those retired line fishermen. "You've been to our factory?" one asked. "I wouldn't have missed it," I told him.