Few would have been driven to build giant mirrors above their town to fix it. Most people living at temperate latitudes will be familiar with Martin’s sense of dismay at autumn’s dwindling light. If only someone could find a way of reflecting some sunlight down into the town, he thought. “I felt it very physically I didn’t want to be in the shade,” says Martin, who runs a vintage shop in Rjukan town centre. It still rose and set each day, and provided some daylight – unlike in the far north of Norway, where it is dark for months at a time – but the Sun never climbed high enough for the people of Rjukan to actually see it or feel its warming rays directly on their skin.Īs summer turned to autumn, Martin found himself pushing his two-year-old daughter’s buggy further and further down the valley each day, chasing the vanishing sunlight. He was drawn to the three-dimensionality of the place: a town of 3,000, in the cleft between two towering mountains – the first seriously high ground you reach as you travel west of Oslo.īut the departing Sun left Martin feeling gloomy and lethargic. When Martin moved to Rjukan in August 2002, he was simply looking for a temporary place to settle with his young family that was close to his parents’ house and where he could earn some money. But the managers of these factories worried that their staff weren’t getting enough Sun – and eventually they constructed a cable car in order to give them access to it. Factories producing artificial fertiliser followed. Rjukan was built between 19, after an entrepreneur called Sam Eyde bought the local waterfall (known as the smoking waterfall) and constructed a hydroelectric power plant there. And then as January, February and March progress, the sunlight slowly starts to inch its way back down again. As autumn wears on, the light moves higher up the wall each day, like a calendar marking off the dates to the winter solstice. “They’re a little obsessed with it.” Possibly, he speculates, it’s because for approximately half the year, you can see the sunlight shining high up on the north wall of the valley: “It is very close, but you can’t touch it,” he says. “More than other places I’ve lived, they like to talk about the Sun: when it’s coming back, if it’s a long time since they’ve seen the Sun,” says artist Martin Andersen. Compare Standard and Premium Digital here.Īny changes made can be done at any time and will become effective at the end of the trial period, allowing you to retain full access for 4 weeks, even if you downgrade or cancel.The inhabitants of Rjukan in southern Norway have a complex relationship with the Sun. You may also opt to downgrade to Standard Digital, a robust journalistic offering that fulfils many user’s needs. If you’d like to retain your premium access and save 20%, you can opt to pay annually at the end of the trial. If you do nothing, you will be auto-enrolled in our premium digital monthly subscription plan and retain complete access for $69 per month.įor cost savings, you can change your plan at any time online in the “Settings & Account” section. For a full comparison of Standard and Premium Digital, click here.Ĭhange the plan you will roll onto at any time during your trial by visiting the “Settings & Account” section. Premium Digital includes access to our premier business column, Lex, as well as 15 curated newsletters covering key business themes with original, in-depth reporting. Standard Digital includes access to a wealth of global news, analysis and expert opinion. During your trial you will have complete digital access to FT.com with everything in both of our Standard Digital and Premium Digital packages.
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