Golden Olden

Our first view of Olden was damp – low mist clung to the tops of the mountains either side of the glass-green lake and slowly inched its way downwards to say hi to the water.

But even damp – let’s face it, chucking it down with rain – Olden is beautiful in a sodden, glum, majestic kind of way. A bit like Nelson’s column in a downpour.

The three and a half hour glacier trip promised a coach ride for forty minutes, a 45 minute hike to the glacier and then back and then another 40 minutes on the coach trying to warm up. We decided that we’d do the coach ride to the bottom of the glacier and then wander around the tiny town, whose population had tripled with the arrival of the boat.

We sat on an open-air bus with the top hastily pulled over it, behind two people from Altringham, who talked incessantly about pensions and how expensive the drinks were. We wondered why they’d bothered to take the front seats when they didn’t seem to care about the scenery, locked in conversation with two unwary latecomers from Glasgow. 

The bus ran beside the Floen river for most of the way, fed from the Briksdal glacier which was hidden in sheets of rain and cloud about fifteen miles ahead of us. But even with rain, cloud and poor visibility, this is a lovely place.

The wooden church in Olden (called Olden Old Church) is charming, but a mite chilly. It’s open but unused by worshippers, with a more modern church built up the road. This one was built in the 1750s on the site of a stave church built in the 1300s. The graves are immaculate, cheered by flowering shrubs.

We wanted to walk more – but were defeated by the weather. To rub it in further, tomorrow – after we’ve left – it will be sunny and 26 degrees.

We departed as we arrived, travelling along the Innvikfjorden, with grey skies and wet weather, but even then, the views were stunning. With the fjord like glass and the ship moving smoothly, we were able to take some stunning photos. One of them is below.