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Published: September 13th 2016
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In hot pursuit along a fjord During our high speed police/Interpol chase through the forests of Sweden to Norway, I found myself thinking “what would Jude the Obscure do in moments like these?” Anyway, we shook them off and arrived in a town called Moss.
In the curse of this blog, your correspondent will probably use every superlative in the dictionary and many that he just makes up, because that is what Norway does to you. Sadly, no superlatives need be applied to Moss, so let us proceed.
Our plan was to aim north – quite easy as we were in the south – to the Lofoten Islands with many stops in between, so with that in mind we headed off and within minutes we were experiencing one of Norway’s treats to drivers. Tunnels!!! Yes dear reader, I think there is a law in Norway that states that every road should have a few tunnels ranging from 3 to 24 km. Some of them are rather plush and modern. They have lighting, smooth roads and wide lanes, others seem to be the tracks of a large troll and are pitch black, the only light being when a bus comes charging towards you with no intent
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beginning to use superlatives of slowing down. We all had to breathe in and did not even attempt to swing Misty the gerbil to see how much space was between Claude, the bus, the troll and the wall!!!
We encountered such a passage on our way to Flam. After driving through amazing scenery and along huge fjords and driving up a huge mountain, we then had to drive down the other side. The tunnel was not just as described above, it was also a one in seven (felt like worse) descent with countless hairpin turns and not one bar to stop for a nerve soothing beer!!! The satnav went into meltdown, Wendy closed her eyes and wished it all away and Cusco calmly slept all the way through it all and awoke to wonder what the hell was that burning smell?!! Being a master technician, I quickly worked out – by looking at the smoke billowing out from the wheel arches – that I may have overdone it on the brakes while coming down the mountain and overtaking some crazed woman in pink pyjamas. The problem was solved by putting on our yellow safety bibs, standing by the side of the road and
letting everything cool down. We then limped slowly into Flam.
Flam is at the end of a majestic fjord and is stunningly beautiful. Mountains, waterfalls, streams and about seven million (okay about a few thousand) tourists turning up on countless (okay , three actually ) cruise ships !!! This meant a delay of about 5 minutes while Wendy queued to buy tickets for fjord cruise and a train journey up the side of the mountain. On both trips the views were …….. (Insert your own superlatives) the highlight being a lady in red dancing and swaying beside a waterfall. Everybody got off the train and watched her. Apparently, she was a Norwegian Siren who was trying to lead men off to their grisly ends by tempting them with her singing. Did it work – did it buggery, every man got back on the train.
Once Claude was fully rested and cooled down, we continued our adventure. Our next destination was the city Of Bergen. On the way we stopped at a town called Voss, which is of course Wendy’s maiden name. As most of you know, Wendy’s dad (the wonderful David) passed away in June and Wendy had
some of his ashes to leave at special places. Down by the side of the lake in Voss and underneath a beautiful tree, she left some there. It was the perfect place.
By the time we got to Bergen, the weather had turned rather Norwegian. This meant rain and lots and lots of it. We managed to tour the city during breaks in the weather and on the 6
th August came across a Christmas shop. Wendy was straight in, while Cusco and I walked away in disgust and continued our search for elk. In the busy streets of Bergen we found not one.
To Claude’s distress we aimed for Geiranger which was arrived at via a few ferries, many tunnels, countless hairpin bends and an even steeper descent!!! This time there was no threat to Claude’s brakes as I dropped down to second gear and stayed in it all the way down. A fine plan I felt, but that view was not shared by the multitude of drivers in a tailback stretching to Panahor which is a small town in Albania. The rain was becoming heavier and heavier and at the campsite there was a river and as
Wendy noticed it was rising reasonably quickly. I pointed out that the campsite would be used to such weather and would alert us if there was a danger. That night she slept not a jot. Her worry was that the staff would have gone home and would not be there to warn the campers and we would all be swept into the fjord!!!! Many times that night, she wrapped herself in a shawl and stood watching the water rise in the dark. I explained to the police that she was only carrying out a public duty and in the morning her endeavours had paid off – nobody had got swept away!!!
Still we ventured north. Norway is a very big country and the journeys were long, but dear readers, the scenery makes it all worthwhile. Every corner turned produces a view more majestic than the last majestic one. No-one could fail to be stunned by the raw beauty – except Cusco who slept all the way.
The Atlantic road was something we had planned to do when we first thought of Norway. A stretch of road between several small islands linked by bridges with the wild Atlantic crashing
over the roads. Getting closer the excitement was building and building and soon we were at the start of it and we squealed and whooped and barked in excitement as we went over the first bridge and then ten minutes later we were at the end feeling rather flat, just like the Atlantic that day. No waves crashing over, no gusts of wind pushing us to edge of the bridge, no excitement, just a day with a calm sea which takes away the element of wonder. Oh well.
After unspeakable adventures in Trondheim and having our wing mirror smashed by someone on the wrong side of the roads – not me – we approached the Arctic Circle and soon we were only 2km away. And two hours later we were still 2km away. We had chosen the very day of the Arctic Circle bike race and the visitor centre was where it started from. The roads were closed until the cyclists left and the only thing to do was spend money at the shop, which Wendy did to the best of her ability with a rather snazzy hat. Strangely, after passing the Arctic Circle the weather improved. The rain
stopped and the sun came out. Would this bode well for the Lofoten Islands ???
Find out soon….
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Taffy
non-member comment
North by north west
As usual brilliant reading.