Scandinavia 2008 - Day 17
Up well before the café downstairs opened, I walked with my gear to the train station where I managed a sandwich and coke before getting on my train to lead me across the lush countryside deep into the fjords. On the train I found myself sitting next to a wonderful Irish girl who was accompanied by two friends. The three girls all worked for the European union and had the next four days off, and like myself they were taking a trip up to see the fjords. While the train ride from Oslo to Myrdal were as beautiful as advertised, it was nothing compared in terms of majesty, as the Flåmsbana Railway train from Myrdal down to the seaside down of Flåm. The Flåmsbana railway drops nearly 4000 meters in height in just 45 minutes. Going slowly, the train hugged the sides of mountains, occasionally venturing off on high narrow bridges high over the valley floor. All around me, on both sides of the train, waterfalls poured out from every crack in the mountains ridges. Some fell straight down, smashing on the rocks below, and some washed from vein to vein, careening its way down the mountainside like a mogul skier. Halfway down to Flåm, the train came to a stop just inside a tunnel where we all got out and walked back to the tunnel mouth where a large deck had been built overlooking the largest most voluminous waterfall I'd seen yet. The water roared and the spray washed up 50 feet into the air cooling those of us at the decks edge.
Hearing a noise I saw people pointing up into the waterfall near where a small stone cottage, wet and decayed, half-stood. On a point of rocks a blond girl in a traditional blue dress twirled about and pretended to sing. I quickly realized that there were loudspeakers playing music and this girl was pretending to yodel. The tourists ate it up, and I have to admit, I thought it quite amusing. After about five minutes we were all back on the train and it lurched and began to slowly roll forward; reaching Flåm we all got out and rushed into the most well placed souvenir shop I'd ever seen. Inside I bought a ferry ticket to Leikanger and then went into the tourist shop to buy myself that much coveted Norwegian Wool Sweater.
About an hour after arriving by train, the ferry boat pulled into port and we all filed aboard. Within minutes we were cruising out of the harbor in into the Sognefjord that I had dreaming about for months! I was incredibly excited, and was lucky enough to find myself a nice spot on the top deck where I could watch the scenic landscape pass by. About 6 months before taking my trip I had found a photo where the Sognefjord at Flåm met the Nærøyfjord (narrow fjord) at the town Gudvangen and in between the two stands a mighty and powerful mountain. Within minutes of leaving Flåm I found myself looking at that very scene that I had been dreaming about for months. The wind on the water was strong and cold, and I was able to comfortably withstand it inside my lovely new sweater. The ferry made brief stops at several towns as well as pulling up alongside a waterfall that fell directly into the fjord. Within about 2 hours I was at my destination, where I was to catch a bus immediately that would take me the few miles on into the lovely fjord town of Sogndal (known as Sogndal but the towns actual name is Sogndalsfjøra. It is located where the Sogndalselvi river runs into the fjord. Sogndalselvi translates as: “the river that finds its way”).
The bus driver dropped me off along the highway just below Stedje camping where I was to stay the next two nights while exploring the Sogn og Fjordane area. I checked in at the small office that was currently being manned by a short and busty blue-eyed blond-haired cutie who made my happy day just that much better. She gave me my key and pointed me towards my cabin, which was the last one in a single row of 5 cabins that looked out over the fjord from the gentle green mountainside.
I unpacked my gear in the cabin, and then walked a short distance into town to find some food. Being a Sunday evening most everything was closed and I saw no one out and about on the city streets. But then again Sogndal is all of 3 thousand people, so there were not many people to begin with. I eventually found that the hotel in town had a bar with about 30 young adults sitting around quietly watching a soccer match of some importance. I was surprised how quite it was, the occasional person yelled, but very little cheering or excitement. I felt quite a bit out of place. Absolutely starving, I took one look at the menu and decided I wasn't hungry enough to spend $35 on what I knew wouldn't be a big or even good pizza. So for $36 I got two beers and the worst nachos ever (the beers being $12 ea and the nachos $10). The nachos consisted of a small amount of stale corn chips, a cup of bland salsa, and a cup of sour cream. Luckily for me my stomach was so empty that the two pints of beer absolutely knocked me on my ass. I was very drunk, I got all warm and fuzzy, my face and hair went numb and I even fell asleep a few times, snoring upright in my plush red leather chair while trying to watch the match. (I later realized why that was the most quite and boring bar I had ever been to, of the 20 odd people there, only myself and 3 or 4 others even had a beer, everyone else was drinking water or soda. Now I know the future of expensive beer, and I fear it greatly.)
Back at the cabin I changed into some dirty undies and shorts, and walked down to the fjord for a swim from a small sand beach. I started out trying to slowly “toe” my way into the fridged near arctic waters, but it was so searingly cold that I knew I would never make it unless I just rushed in. So I did, at least until the water met my boys, wherein they shrank up so hard and fast it was like the sledge hammer ring-the-bell game at the state fair. I felt little to nothing from the knees down, but thankfully I was so fully insulated I was mostly able to stand it. I would have stopped there with the water just nipping at my balls, but it occurred to me that I was standing there shirtless and short-less, wearing nothing but those tight spandex undershorts, just 20 feet off the main highway into and out-of town. So for the sake of decency (I have little) I manned up and went the rest of the way in, managing to not only dunk my head under once, but to even swim out to where I couldn't even feel the sandy bottom with the toes I had ceased to feel minutes before.
The cold water so affected me that I didn't move an inch to cover myself when just another average Norwegian cutie in a black spandex riding suit set her bike by the curb and walked down to the small beach to cool her feet in the water. I could tell she found me very amusing, just standing there not moving, damn near naked, in water so cold my pale white skin was turning blue. In fact my nipples were so pointy and hard they hurt intensely, even more so when small unseen sea minnows begin to nip at them.
I struck up a conversation with the girl, Carolina, and learned about her and the area. She was from a small town, where she had just graduated high school and was wanting to study to be a park ranger of sorts. Sogndal, as small as it was, has a university that from what I could tell offered two degrees, the first education, and the second in outdoors sports. Carolina informed me that she was studying to get a degree in outdoor survival and living. Her classes included skiing, kayaking, biking, hiking, and trail running.
We had talked long enough, and I was sure that my body couldn't lose anymore heat before hypothermia set in, besides it was now nearly the golden hour and the sun was down behind the high mountain to the back of my cabin. I said goodnight to Carolina and invited her to stop by my cabin any evening for a drink. I walked back to my cabin barefoot in the grass, feeling little from the neck down, wrapped in a scruffy towel that I couldn't feel against my skin. I changed quickly, grabbing my camera gear I proceeded back to the small roadside beach to set up my equipment. There were many small puffed clouds dispersed about the sky that evening, and as the sunset, there was a seven or eight minute window where-in the clouds were highlighted sapphire red on the sun ward side, and were steel gray in the shadows. The sky itself was clear and deep blue, only turning pink on the far horizon where two mountains receded before meeting.
The sheer vertical rock formation of the fjords are such that through the centuries human kind has built its farms, pastures, and communities on every bit of land that is possible to walk on. The area where Sogndal was settled is remarkable because several large bits of rock meet and they leave narrow spaces in between that are as close to flat as can be found in these parts. The small gentle meadow that comes up the mountainside turns to a gentle incline well before it makes its vertical leap for the heavens. There is another great advantage in the area; the sea narrows enough that a bridge has been built to connect the two adjoining lands. This is significant because if one were traveling up the coast, the would have to travel about 50 miles inland in order to find a convenient place to cross the sea in order to continue their journey.
It was the gentle grassy valley of Sogndal with its colorful and simple cottages that hugged the mountain tenderly that I was now photographing. With my lens and my eyes open I marveled at the deep red sunset I was witnessing. My skin still burned from the cold swim I had taken, and would for several hours more. After the sun set fully and the clouds went all gray again, I turned my camera back towards the cottages of town, the bridge, and the water, and began taking long exposure pictures in the dark navy night.
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