Fjellheim

 

It’s true.  The rugged, majestic beauty of the mountains and fjords here adds a kind of reverent perspective to one’s life.  The vast parts of Norway are wild and untamed and have not changed much over the centuries.

We had a delightful evening last night with our hosts.  They were open and friendly, and our dinner  conversation touched on many subjects and was seasoned with genuine laughter and kinship.   Dave cooked Italian, and they were enthusiastic in their compliments and second helpings.  The evening ended with a small shot of Maria’s homemade mountain ash berry liquor, or as she explained, when she doesn’t have enough room to preserve so many berries, she just pours vodka on them and leaves them on the shelf for a few months.  It was delicious and just the right libation to cap off the night.  And then there were these:

Those who know me understand that I consider chocolate a complete food group.   These delectable creations are the finest I have ever sampled - made in Norway using only Norwegian ingredients.  They were as delicious as they were beautiful and it took all my willpower to prevent my hand from reaching for a third. Especially after the shot of berry vodka.

Rain continues, as one might expect from the rainiest area in all of Europe.  Today and tomorrow will likely be more sedate and afford us more planning time to flesh out the rest of the trip.   We have nearly hit the halfway mark and the time is slipping by too quickly.

Friday we will leave this beautiful fjord, return the car to the Bergen airport, and board our flight to… 

….. stay tuned!

Cruising Naeroyfjord

I was not awarded my Mensa membership today.   Thankfully, things worked out and it turned into a grand day, despite my pre-dawn mental hours spent rounding up the mental monkeys who were busy taunting me because Mastercard did not post a rather important purchase to WestJet 4 days ago.  Traveling is not for the cowardly.

Miscalculation #2 involved over-padding what should have been a 2 hour car trip, extending it to 4 hours.   I was intimidated by warnings of construction, duly warned by CHAT and Google.  Except, delay was about 3 minutes.   So we ran a healthy few hours ahead of schedule and that resulted in quite a pleasant stop for a latte back in Voss.  Even still, the driver was not thrilled to start his day a few hours early.  I even bought him a cookie.  Ahem.

We arrived in Flän with half an hour to spare.  This, despite the navigator’s error combined with Google maps not catching up after an 11 km tunnel, necessitating a few extra km and a creative U-turn.  (So, not my fault, really).

We boarded a handsome ship in the tiny harbour with about 375 other enthusiasts.   About 370 of them were Chinese tourists, and boy, were they ever excited.  Specifically, to have their pictures taken, one by one, by holding the flapping flag at the stern of the ship (where we were seated).  

We sailed through a part of this beautiful planet that was timeless and rugged.  There were too many waterfalls to count, and the intense green of the pastures where tiny villages and farms were located made a striking contrast to the stark peaks that soared over us.

Fläm in the rear view mirror

We did get a sprinkle of rain, but not much more than that.  Sadly, the light was kind of flat so the pictures do not do justice to the breathtaking landscape.  You can see how narrow the fjord is in the photo with the flag in it (in the nanosecond that it was not populated by the aforementioned group.)

I had booked us on a bus back to Fläm from Gudvangen after the cruise ended.   We found the proper bus stop quickly and stood in line with the throngs and eureka, 5 minutes later the bus appeared.   First in line, I proudly presented my E-ticket and that’s when he said…. Oh sorry, you bought a ticket FROM Flän to Gudvangen.  Not the other way around.

Huh.  Go figure.  My face fell into my boots.  Dave cleared his throat.  We were advised to step aside and let the others board.  So we did, looking like the two embarrassed Canadians that we were.  I fixed my eyes on my feet.  Held up the line and everything. For sure did not look at Dave.

After an endless, suspenseful wait, the bus driver consulted his iPhone and announced that he had four unbooked seats, and he would overlook my tactical error and let us on the bus.   I could have kissed him, or at least offer him a dozen of my prized peppermint lifesavers.    Instead, we boarded and grandly took the best seats up front and then enjoyed the 25 minute shuttle back to Flän.   Where our faithful car awaited us, and the perplexing problem of the paid parking instructions.  Since none of that was my fault (finally), I won’t go into details there.  Not interesting.

And, for those who haven’t nodded off during this diatribe, let it be known that I managed to get through to Mastercard and they confirmed that indeed, Paris will receive me with open arms on October 3.

Hopefully I’ll sleep tonight.

Exploring Voss & Seeking Hardanger Bridge

 After some stealthy planning involving the YES/NO coin, we planned out the next two legs of the trip this morning.  And still another few legs to plan, maybe as many legs as a spider, only the Shadow knows 😉.

We wanted to find the Hardanger Bridge today, about 120 km away.  It is a 4,528 ft suspension bridge with a good pedestrian lane, about a 3 km walk across.  That was the plan.  And lucky for us, we decided to stop in beautiful Voss first, because it looked so charming.   Plus.  It had a gondola! Found some free Sunday parking close by and within a few minutes we were airborne about 1200 m, arriving in a distinctly chillier, alpine land. Voss is a popular ski village and has the charm (but not the populace or insanity of Banff).  I loved it.

We even had the huge gondola to ourselves on the way down.  As with everywhere we have been in this country, it was completely uncrowded and calm.

                                                  Big bug impression on the way down!

The bridge, however, was a bust.   Despite the helpful instructions CHAT gave, finding the parking lot on either end was like finding your way out of a black room with a blindfold on.   The tunnels leading to/from the bridge are massive, so large that they actually have roundabouts in them.  Besides, when we drove across the bridge we sniffed it wasn’t all that awesome anyway.  So, meh, onward to find a picnic spot and a drive through of tiny town “Dale”, a factory town known for the quintessential Norwegian pure wool sweaters.   All was closed for the Sunday, and most likely that was a good thing on the pocketbook. 

In every way it was another lovely day in this gorgeous country.  We came home with a basket of sweet plums, sold at a roadside farmyard, delicious and dripping with juice.

Tomorrow we drive to Fläm to catch our Fjord tour to Neroyfjord.  Fingers crossed for sunshine or at least - no rain!