NORWEGIANS WILL TELL you that whaling is a deep-rooted folk tradition for them, but they don't always mention the industrial brutalities of the past. In the early days of whaling, strong-armed men threw harpoons at whales from small boats, a hunting style that gave whales a fighting chance. But around 1865, Norwegian whaler Svend Foyn changed everything by inventing the cannon-fired grenade harpoon, which allowed whalers to fire from ships, removing most of the risk and dramatically increasing kills.

Foyn's cannon ushered in whaling's bloodiest period, from the 1880s to the 1960s. According to official records from Norway, in 1930 and '31 alone, Norwegian whalers accounted for 60 percent of all whales killed—25,952 marine mammals, including blues, fins, sperm whales, and humpbacks. Whaling remained a pillar of the Norwegian economy into the fifties, but after whalers decimated the largest species, the industry retooled.

Over the next 20 years, Norway docked its fleet of factory ships but continued hunting for meat in coastal waters. Today, Norway has 12,677 fishermen on 8,000 boats, but only about 30 to 35 of these craft pursue minkes. The numbers vary over time, but in 2005 the largest boats were allowed to take 26 whales each per season. The smallest, like Sofie, got 15. Sofie's crew met its 2005 quota in seven weeks, piling up 46,226 pounds of meat, worth nearly $100,000 on the wholesale market. The crewmen divide the net profits equally—about $9,000 per man.

These numbers aren't large, and whaling is only a small part of Norway's commerce. Halvard P. Johansen, an Oslo-based official with Norway's Ministry of Fisheries and Coastal Affairs, says oil and natural gas are the strongest sectors of the economy, providing 19.6 percent of the GNP. Fishing makes up 0.37 percent, and whaling just 0.002 percent.

Even so, whaling is a big part of Norwegian fishing, it has universal backing in the national government, and it is overwhelmingly supported by citizens.

After my two weeks aboard Sofie, I would speak with Jann Engstad, a 50-year-old sea-kayaking guide from the Lofoten Islands hamlet of Kabelvåg. Engstad is an ardent environmentalist, but he's in favor of the minke hunt. He points out that, in Norway's far north, you've got to eat what's available.

"Since I'm not a millionaire, I can't afford being a vegetarian during our winter and spring," he says. "I have 33 pounds of top-quality whale meat in my freezer—along with 66 pounds of local carrots—stored for the coming winter." Engstad says his relatives in Oslo have just one complaint about whaling: There isn't enough meat in stores, and it's too expensive.