“The country’s longest-serving prime minister”. This is how Erna Solberg is introduced before she is to speak to hundreds of civil engineers who have gathered for a seminar at the Hotel Alexandra in Loen. Erna smiles a little carelessly at her advisers, but makes no attempt to correct the presenter, and, besides, who knows? It can be a troll in words. It is certain that she still has the brilliance of a prime minister, if not the job. “Look! The Prime Minister!”, shout the 12-year-olds when they see her. As many Norwegians associate “telephone” with something that has a lead, they think of Erna when they hear the word prime minister. This is the power of hundreds of press conferences during a pandemic. They create an image that lasts a lifetime. But the ticket needs nourishment and replenishment. And therefore the Høgre leader glides from rock to rock, and from wave to wave. To remind those around you of what was, and of what can again be. This is the spirit and tone of Erna tour 2022: Not so much a signing tour, as practical maintenance work. Following the principle of saving the best for last, the bus has come to what was formerly called Nordre Bergenhus county, the penultimate county on the tour. – Election district, corrects Jenny Clemet von Tetzschner. She is Erna’s advisor and sits in the front seat of the minibus, while Sogn og Fjordane glides by: Library, ferry ticket offices, Joker shops, gravel roofs, cages, prayer houses, wind turbines, overgrown seat roads and data centers in disused mine shafts. The county ceased to exist two years ago, but otherwise everything is the same: Sogn og Fjordane is still at the top of statistics that it is best to be at the top of; and still at the bottom of statistics it is best to be at the bottom of. And everywhere the water is flowing, clear and gurgling. In waterfalls, streams, fish farms and turbines. The dream is to slip into a wave. If not a new and unknown venture, then one she misses just as much: the prime minister’s job. “The country’s longest-serving prime minister”. Not entirely correct, but this is how Erna Solberg is introduced before she goes on stage in Loen. As many Norwegians associate “TV programme” with something that has “broadcast time”, many children will think of Erna when they hear the word prime minister. – Very good machinery, says Erna. – Not that I’m very good at it. The first stop is Fugleskjærskaia in Florø, where a new glass building has gone up. A small truck is parked outside, with the inscription “Jern Erna”. Erna has an ambivalent relationship with the nickname she received as local government minister at the beginning of the 2000s, but willingly stands up for the donation. – Very pleasant. Very nice, she says. How many selfies can you take before you go crazy? The answer to that is certainly unlimited. Only twice in her career has Erna refused to take part in a selfie. The one time was in the middle of an interval workout when she “didn’t quite feel like it”. The second time was a bachelor party that “got a bit too much”. – We have made a poster for you: “Make cod great again!”, says Beate Grønnevik, who works in farming and is passionate about cod. – Maybe that could be the slogan for the next election campaign? he asks. – Heh heh, laughs Erna, with her slightly cheeky Bergen laugh. Equally characteristic is her sense of detail, and in the next blink of an eye she is working on an explanation about contracts for difference and the sexual maturation of cod smolt. – It’s really exciting with cod, she says. – The maritime industry is the backbone along the coast, she says. – Prime Minister, she says (she swallows the t). Five presentations later, system man will say a little about the difference between basic quotas and structural quotas. – I know the difference between basic quotas and structural quotas, says Erna, and suggests that she also take the floor. The Erna tour started at Liertoppen outside Oslo. 80 nights later, 40 have spent the night in their own beds. In total, the taxi meter shows 118 stops spread across 67 municipalities. Next stop: Steinvik Fish Farm in Svelgen, an hour’s drive away. – Why is there a point in assigning puberty to the cod smolt, asks this reporter. – Have you had teenagers in the house? asks Erna. – No. – Then you would know that puberty causes them to waste energy on things other than growing. Then she tells a story. About when Hødd played in the cup final in 2012. At the same time, a new and heavy fishing boat was to be docked in Ulsteinvik, but since all the Ulsteinings were on a football trip in the capital, it was just as well to tow the trawler there. Once there, people crowded together. Not only the Ulsteinings, but also the foreigners. They had never seen anything like this before. – There were long queues, says Erna. – Very long. It was she who christened the ship, and that day she learned an important lesson: how foreign the Norwegian coastal and fishing culture can appear to the foreigner before he literally stands on their doorstep. Up in the mountainside, among wet leaves and slippery rocks, some obscene sheep have run away. Shouldn’t they have sunk in long ago? The story about Erna is that she is emotionally flat and never let herself be swayed, either by political opponents or by life in all its glory. But for short moments, existential questions can intrude on someone. – There is something special about autumn, she says suddenly, mostly to herself. Before she just as quickly slipped out of it. – Is it your favorite season, autumn? – No. Erna Solberg has recently visited 80 places, in as many days. Not so much to run an election campaign, as to run maintenance work. – It’s hugely exciting with cod, says Erna, and tell about the sexual maturation of the cod smolt. “Look! The Prime Minister!”, shout the 12-year-olds when they see Erna at the shopping center in Førde. Erna has an ambivalent relationship with the nickname she received as municipal minister at the beginning of the 2000s. On the mobile, the first messages from the book to her husband, “Ved Erna’s side”, start to come in. They are jammed pretty bad. – That report in VG is quite prejudiced, says Høgre’s press manager, Cato Husabø Fossen, who is also on the trip. – Yes, says Erna. In the next blink of an eye there will be a push notification to follow Liz Truss’ press conference. In the barn outside, it’s dull, but inside the car, time seems to go a little faster than usual. A quick session later, it is clear that Truss is retiring, and that she will forever have to find herself being the difficult quiz answer to who was British Prime Minister when Queen Elizabeth died. – Yes, says Erna. – Have you met her? – Only a couple of times. It wasn’t … yes. It was a shame Theresa May didn’t get better time. Then a new push notification on the mobile: The Attorney General believes Viggo Kristiansen must be acquitted. “A great tragedy”, says the secretary general of the Bar Association. – That’s it, says lawyer and parliamentary representative for Høgre, Olve Grotle, who is also on the bus. The last time Erna was in Nordfjord, a balloon burst so high that the security guards ran over and drew their guns. – Do you think about the last time you were here and that balloon burst, asks Ove Bjørlo, who wants to show off “Norway’s greenest smart house”, which is, for the time being, just a foundation wall. – Yes, I remember that, says Erna, and seems a little tired of the whole balloon story. Then she promises Ove to return when the smart house is finished. “Ove got a dream answer from Erna”, it says in the local newspaper the next day. Then the trip goes to a workshop with what Erna refers to as “a very good machine park”, before she adds: – Not that I’m very good at it. The last stop in Nordfjordeid is the stage in the Opera House, where Trygve Skaug and Henning Kvitnes will perform on the same evening. – Do you remember the balloon that burst, asks one of the stage workers. – Yes, I remember that, says Erna. – We are starting to have a bit of a bad time, says adviser Jenny. – Very pleasant. Very nice, says Erna. The next stop is Stryn and a meeting with the tourism industry, transport workers, local Høgre people and the dementia department at the care centre. “People, not billions” is the title of a book Erna Solberg has written, and she takes the time to greet all residents. Probably thirty pieces in all. – Is this closer to the core of your commitment than the tax and framework conditions in the aquaculture industry? asks this reporter. – Both parts are about people, Erna replies. Then the dementia ward breaks out into a joint song, and the center manager says that nothing can compare to the old songbook when it comes to activating the elderly. The song is the gneist and the last thing to die. A couple of the added samples discreetly snapped a picture of Erna without disturbing too much. – Maybe they want to take a selfie with Erna, Grotle asks. – Many are too shy to ask, so I like to help out a bit, he says afterwards. In Loen, where there are sometimes more visitors than the village and the trolleybuses manage to “absorb”, tourist tax is on the poster. – One thing that has annoyed me is that there is no more cooperation between the tourism industry and cultural life, says Erna. Richard Grov is the fifth generation in the Grov family to have run the Alexandra hotel since 1884. – It is not the cruise industry that should tell you and me how much they want to pay. We are the ones who will tell them what it costs, he says. – But not everyone has the balls to say that. Because he has the balls to do it, he was among the initiators of the Loen Skylift gondola, which goes right up to the top of the mountain Hoven, 1,011 meters above the fjord. – There is something special about autumn, says Erna. – Is it your favorite season, autumn? – No. In the sports world, it is said that it is more difficult to win gold number two than gold number one. But it’s a bad analogy, Erna thinks. Erna watches as Liz Truss retires. – Have you met her? – Only a couple of times. It wasn’t … yes. It was a shame Theresa May didn’t get better time. The leg position of Erna Solberg can remind a little of the position of Cristiano Ronaldo when he is about to take a free kick. – My father said in 1964 that if we are going to measure the cars, it must be with the color of Høgre, says Rolf Olav Tenden. Today, he is the manager of Tenden transport, and that is how it happened that all the trucks in the company are distinctively blue. But vegans and the tunnels are not as nice, he says. – I try to be a bit sober when I’m out and about. I don’t get space for all the projects either, says Erna. The bus must continue. Half an hour later we pass Innvik Fjordhotell, which a couple of years ago named itself after the writer Torgrim Eggen. “The seventies call and ask if they can get their food”, he wrote in an account of “hospital breakfasts” and the food offer more generally along Norwegian roads. The car rounds Utvikfjellet, and south in the direction of Våtedalen the first sprinkle of snow has settled on the pyramid-shaped Eggenipa. In front, a soft and bowl-shaped valley opens up. – Here I helped a farmer look for cooking pits, says Erna. – Over here. No, down there, she says, and points. A cooking pit is an ancient method of preparing meat, but there is some disagreement about how worthy of preservation they should actually be. Where some see cultural history and hints of earlier civilization, others see small holes in the ground that sabotage all development. – How many cooking pits are we actually meant to protect? asked a frustrated Gloppen mayor Leidulf Gloppestad (Sp) last year. The last stop is Førde and a meeting with a company that deals with rebar. Afterwards, Erna will meet the foundation Norsk Luftambulanse, which is worried about the signal in the Hurdal platform that the government will “prevent a government takeover of the air ambulance”. – Then there will be a lady who will tell an experience-based story about being disabled, advises Jenny in the front seat. The road winds along the north side of Jølstravatnet, and just before Vassenden the Erna disappears. After two days of ground rent tax, balloon stories and “make cod great again”, Erna takes her first time out. Three minutes later, the power nap is over. He who slept does not sin. But she won’t get the prime minister’s job either. – Where should we eat, asks Erna. – We have been invited to a Syrian restaurant, says the adviser. – Good, I’m not too fond of rasp balls. The dream is to slip into a wave. If not a new and unknown venture, then one she misses just as much: the prime minister’s job. For some, the election campaign is a state of emergency. For others it is a way of life. Erna still has the aura of a prime minister. But that’s the job she wants.
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