Flåm - riding the scenic railway

Flåm is a village in Flåmsdalen, at the inner end of the Aurlandsfjorden—a branch of Sognefjorden. It's one of the prettiest places I've ever seen, with green everywhere.  It's in the leaves of the trees, the glacier water that fills the lakes, the grass, the fir trees, the moss covering grey boulders. 

We're not fans of organised trips (people turn into sheep in large groups, I think) but we decided to brave this trip because we thought the benefits would outweigh the shuffling in and out of buses and the obligatory photo stops. We were right. 

Flåm Railway

The Flåm Railway is described in rather breathless terms as 'a masterpiece of modern engineering'. Although only 12 miles in length, it trundles through some breathtaking scenery, running from sea level up to Myrdal on the Bergen/Oslo line, at 2,845 feet. To reassure us, the bumpf told us the train was equipped with no less that five different sets of brakes - which somehow wasn't as reassuring as I'm sure they intended. 

We stopped briefly at the thunderous Kjosfossen waterfall. This which was made a bit prosaic by a 'maiden in red' dancing to a song which told of the Huldra (a seductive forest creature in Scandinavian folklore) tempting away the men to certain doom. A forest-bound version of the Sirens, obviously.

The train journey was interesting for other reasons than the scenery. Two people sat next to us and listened to the announcements and particularly to the part about reading the safety information, posted by the doors. 

The man - who wasn't walking well - looked over his shoulder.

Man - Well, let's hope we don't need the safety drill, I don't know if I can read it from here...

Lady - It probably wouldn't help.  When it's your time, it's your time. That's what I say.

View from the carriage. Obviously a good one if it's your last.

  Also, overheard on the journey between two ladies and a gentleman.

Lady 1 - Here, have some of these (rummages in huge handbag and pulls out several packets)

Lady 2 - Oooh, Cheddar Bunnies!

Lady 1 - Yeah, but they're organic....

Man  - Thank you - would you like one? (holds out packet)

Lady 1 - No thanks, I got chocolate.

Lady 2 - I thought you had diabetes?

Lady 1 - Yeah, but I decided to ignore it for this holiday. I've eaten all the sugar I can get my hands on (laughs). And guess what? I feel great!

We left the train and piled onto coaches for lunch in Voss, at one of only two buildings that weren't bombed by the Germans in WW2, Fleischer's Hotel ('You haven't experienced Voss until you've stayed at Fleischer's').  The lunch, although chaotic, was much better than expected with some fabulous salmon - although if it's not good in Norway, something has gone seriously wrong.

 

Fleischer's is something out of Hotel du Lac or The End of August, all wood and log fires, and the views are stunning.                                                                                 

So after a shamefully short scoot along the lake, we returned to the group to be loaded once more onto coaches - this time to go to the Tvindefossen waterfall. The properties of this glorious waterfall include greater sexual potency for the man and rejuvenation for the ladies. According to Wikipedia, 200,000 people a year from the U.S., Japan and Russia visit and fill containers with the water.   We didn't - either the damage is already done, we don't need Viagra or we're fabulous enough. But we did take some photos.

 

The transfer to the coaches was for a particular reason - to scare the bejesus out of some of the more nervous travellers. Where the way up on the railway on a 1/18 gradient seemed somehow manageable, on the single track Stalheimskleivane, the steepest road in Norway. (thankfully now only one way) with sheer drops on one side, it seems rather less so.  But once again, the scenery made the white knuckles worthwhile.

We can only be glad this wasn't Italy - we're sure that some boy racers would have been driving this at the official speed limit - 70kph

At the base of this hair raising ride was Gudvangen, on the Nærøyfjord in Sogn, a World Heritage site. The name Nærøyfjord originated from the norse god ‘Njord’, the God of the Seafarer and the sea (apparently). Although the village was a bone fide Viking settlement, Disney appears to be making inroads, with Vikings in costume (carrying miniature pinschers, strangely) and row boats.   

Aha! Vikings ahoy!

Green roofs were a thing.

 

 

The cleanest water, the loveliest place.

Sadly, because we were on a schedule and this schedule concluded that tourists have the attention span of a gnat, we had all of 20 minutes in this heavenly place, and then we were speeding back to the boat on roads only slightly wider than the ones we had arrived on.

By this time, the weather had decided it was a cheery day and the arrival at the QM2 was bathed in sunshine. Next, the city with one of the rainiest climates on the planet - Bergen.

Norwegian Would

From Southampton on the Queen Mary 2 again, this time sailing north to Norway to sample the delights of the fjords. 

There was some angst about what to pack – from 26 degrees to 8 degrees is sartorially worlds away, and naturally we turned to layers. Walking boots as well as strappy evening sandals, padded gilets alongside sequinned black gowns. Once aboard, however, it was reassuringly familiar with formal (even if dress was informal) dinner, eating enough for two people and overpriced wine. 

Stavanger was delightful; a mix of old town and new, harbour-side eateries charging extortionate prices for coffee and beer, although we found out that the prices were extortionate regardless of the view. 

Fiona, about to keel over from the prices

Stavanger Harbour

Stavanger Domkirche

The people seemed a bit wary. While perfectly polite, the friendliness was edged with reserve, I thought. But the sun shone on the dark jade water and we relaxed, enjoying the clean air.

The cathedral seemed modest for a cathedral, although with DH Lawrence’s “perfect arches”. The country is Protestant (if the people are anything) and their churches have a spare, toned-down look about them, a welcome change from the gilt rococo madness of Naples and Italy earlier this year. 

The Old Town is lovely. Cobbled streets wind upwards, framed by perfect white clapboard houses with well-kept gardens full of flowers we recognise from England – lobelia, roses, daisies, foxgloves all inside white picket fences. The houses have slanting red tiled roofs and tiny windows are square, round, diamond, triangular.

We visited the Canning Museum, watched a 1904 film about the industry and marvelled that sardines were packed into tins by hand – although of course they would have been. Grainy black and white faces stare out of the past, heaving nets of silver, jumping fish. The labels of the cans tell their own story – some even part of the Nazi propaganda machine. Lovely ladies wearing wisps of gauze tempt you to sardines for tea while hale and hearty sailors draw attention to the freshness of the product.

Fiona by Breiavatnet

Stavanger has a lake, Breiavatnet, in the centre of town, surrounded by green spaces and other white clapboard houses. The whole area has a family-friendly feel, calm, happy until we are dive-bombed by a flock of seagulls being thrown bread by an unwary and seemingly fearless family of immigrants. 

Street art - one example of many

More modern bits of town are adorned with street art, and even the meanest of roads is scrupulously clean, litter noticeable by its absence.

The docks behind the main inlet are modest, and boats have to pay to ‘park’. We see couples sitting on the boats, reading, drinking coffee or just staring out to sea. The nautical equivalent of having a picnic by the M40, possibly.

 

 Norway is beautiful in a way which seems very different from other places we’ve been. The people seem to be few. Stavanger used to be the capital of Norway and is the third largest city in the country with a population of just 210,000 in 71 square kilometres. 

When we arrive (on a Saturday at the height of the tourist season), the shops appear to close for the afternoon and although there was supposed to be a street food fair on during our visit, only the tents appeared. 

We left Stavanger at quarter past eleven in the evening – it was still light, and remained so for as long as we looked. Although we’re not quite in the land of the midnight sun – we’re very close.