Fjords of Norway

The Fjords of Norway, Sunday, August 7, 2010

We awoke this morning to mile after mile of craggy Norwegian hills gliding silently past our balcony. I had no idea that fjords could be so majestic: so wide, so high and, we were told, correspondingly so deep. And Sognefjord is Europe’s longest and deepest fjord. The hillsides are dotted with green, green trees and tiny parcels of bright pasture, as well as grey and white cliffs and rocks with the odd sure-footed sheep bleating and grazing on their mountainside breakfast. Every now and then an isolated farm or tiny hamlet (think Newfoundland outport meets Swiss mountain village) with no evidence of roads or any other means of connecting with the rest of the country drifts by. The air is deliciously pure and the glacier green water sparkles and ripples passively to the passing shore.

Our destination is the world famous Flaam (population 400) where tourists from all over the world flock to ride the 13 mile mountain railway. This feisty little train climbs through a series of cleverly engineered tunnels and tight, twisting turns to the top of the 2800 foot mountain. The downward trip is so steep that the train is equipped with five separate sets of brakes - each one capable of stopping it – just in case …

Despite predictions of cool temperatures and rainy weather, we enjoyed glorious blue skies and warm, welcoming sunshine. In a tiny, outdoor museum where there were no attendants, entrance fees or even postcards, we roamed at our leisure through a collection of abandoned ‘houses.’ They had all been relocated there and shared one common feature: they all sported roofs of vegetation – wild flowers, grasses, raspberries, and mixtures of all of the above. This natural insulation provided heat during the chilly winters and coolness during the summer and the added bonus of dessert if you were the lucky inhabitant of the raspberry dwelling.

Western Norway is a popular summer and winter holiday destination for the out-doorsy types. The main tourist accommodation takes the form of tiny, treeless campgrounds with only the most basic of amenities. Ironically, Norway’s ratio of land to population ratio is inordinately high but you would never guess this looking at the miniscule individual plots with space for one car and a tiny tent. Getting to know one’s camping neighbours’ intimate habits would seem not only inevitable but de rigueur.

We spent most of the day cruising the fjords viewing the passing scenery and cascading waterfalls from our balcony, the walking track on the 10 level of the ship, our breakfast, lunch and dinner tables, and just about anywhere else on the ship. How sad we will be to leave this peaceful, unassuming country.