Trains, Planes, Bergen, Buses, Flåm, Cars, Boats, Legs, Trains, Buses, Steps, Trolltunga, Legs, Buses, Oslo, Trains, Freiburg

On Friday, June 14th I departed Freiburg at 12:30PM with one backpack full of: tent, air-mattress, sleeping bag, tarp, a change of clothes, rain gear, three books (1.4 of which were read on the following trip), a spoon, and certainly some other things as well, and one tote bag full of: nut bars, chocolate bars. After an almost poetic choreography of cancelled, delayed and changed trains and planes, I arrived in Bergen, Norway at roughly 2AM on Saturday, July 15. Anja and Marina met me at the tram stop and led me under guiding 2AM-Sunlight, to the tiny economy flat of an Italian living in Bergen, met just days before, who offered us his kitchen floor for sleeping.

On Saturday morning we bode farewell to our first host. We settled into a nice little park and enjoyed a marvelous breakfast; the trip is off to a good start.

In the afternoon we made our when into the heart of Bergen and met Thor, a friend of a cousin of Anjuli's who was happy to show us his home and give us a place to stay for the night.

Bergen.
Late that afternoon we scouted out some stairs on the water front and ate our humble lunch.

 At the time of this photo, Anja was unaware of the banana peel on her head.

At the time of this photo, she was. Words likely uttered in this moment: "eh das ist eklig".

The day remained delightful. We took a late night stroll, in sunlight, and slept in noble accommodations.

On Sunday we enjoyed one of Bergen's rarer pleasures, a day without rain or cloud. Our hike up to the top of Fløyen, one of Bergen's seven surrounding mountains, rewards us with bright ocean-city views.

That evening we took a bus to Flåm, where Anjuli and Ike are living and working for the summer. Anjuli squeezed in a work break so as to meet us at the bus station and show us our campground for the night. 

Dinner spot, Flåm, night one. Picture taken at 11:36PM.

 Hello! Second day, second tent spot, just hidden beneath a rock looking over the town.
The town: A collection of 200 inhabitants. Very small, very pretty. Full of waterfalls.
The industry: Tourists coming in on cruise ships to see the fjord, the waterfalls, perhaps to take the scenic train ride. Almost half a million people visit Flåm every year. That's 2,500 times the towns population.

Two mini cities coming to town for the day. How many aboard? Depending on size, between two and six thousand.

 The days continued to shine on us. breakfasts grew in grandiosity.

We got a boat! And that we can not seem to control it is only an appearance.

Approximately forty gruelingly peaceful minutes after departing the shore of familiarity and comfort, we reached a perilous, rocky shore and searched frantically for an opportunity to dock. Our first attempt failed and cost us a beer bottle and the dryness of two shoes. Our spirits untouched (just wet), we rowed elsewhere to less slippery rocks, threw all our belongings as far as we could onto shore, and carried the boat in.
We had arrived at Jurassic Park. Bones (from sheep-dinosaurs) bestrewn the land, rocks and cliffs rendered settlement near impossible.

We split. We scout. Ike leads the discovery of clear water waterfall pools,

and the discovery of what would become our campground for the night. 

After a successful not-very-concerning-but-a-little search for scout Anjuli M.I.A., we gathered our belongings and journeyed through the knolls to our newly found home. Shelter and dinner preparations commence:

The Knife Master.

 The Fire Master.

 Teltlandsby: Population: five. Agriculture: sheep, water, possibility of fish. Disposition: heroic. Time of photo: 2:27AM

After a relaxing morning bath in water and in sun, we packed up and took a final exploratory hike.

Then we hiked back to our boat, which to our relief remained undamaged despite the masses of bovidae.

We arrived back on home's shore at roughly 4PM. Within two hours we had welcomingly crashed a troop of hikers lead by Anjuli's friendly and energetic aunt. Their row boat was actually a motorboat.

This boat took us over to the hike's rocky start. The goal was an abandon, lonesome farm 570 meters (1,870 feet) above sea level. The way, was up. Always with care, sometimes with rope.

We made it!

 Fjord.

 The rain steadies, cooling us and slowing us down on our descent.

We returned at 10PM to ever increasing rains. Anjuli's aunt kindly opened up her home to us for the night. We indulged in showers, stove-tops, fresh sheets and warm bedrooms.

The next day, our last in Flåm, was spent primarily in search of energy and a tent spot. Our spot from two nights ago had been ruined by newly installed benches. 

We eventually find this spot, with our own river! I'm not sure we ever found our energy, but that wasn't a problem, we picked her up again the next day.

Flåm was extraordinary. We received home-cooked meals from Ike, Anjuli, and Anjuli's family (one night revolved around crepes and cards), we explored, we breathed fresh air and drank clean water. It was a peaceful and joyful week for me, being reunited with Ike and Anjuli. The five of us fit like peas in a pod.

A last look at Flåm.

The next morning we ate a final breakfast with Ike at the train station, ran to Anjuli's work to hug her goodbye and hopped on a train towards Myrdal. 

On the way we stopped at a waterfall and saw a legendary huldra, a seductive woman-creature of the north who lures men into her lair and kills them if they do not satisfy her. Not sure your significant female other is human or huldra? The tell is the tail. If she has a cow tail, she is probably a huldra! Be careful.

After the first train and another train we took a bus and then a ferry and then another bus, and eventually we arrived in Odda, where we talked with a friendly tourist agent, bought three days worth of groceries, and got on another bus that took us to the highest point all buses go. Here we repacked, organized and began the 5km hike to the start of the real hike up to the Trolltunga, or the Troll's Tongue. 

This is Skjeggedal, the official starting point of the Trolltunga hike. The first km, also the steepest, can either be done on trail or on 2,551 steps of an abandoned cliff cable-railway. 

 We opted for the funicular.

Marina and Anja experienced joy and 'fun,' as they say. I experienced mainly just fear, but in the end was happy to have survived and walked through the clouds.
We got to the top of the tracks at around midnight and set up camp as quickly as possible in the rain.

The next morning we hung out our things so they could rejoice in fresh mist. We then began the 20km round-trip hike to the Trolltunga, which was strenuous. I believe it took us over twelve hours in total, though I could be wrong. We did allow ourselves plenty of rest at the top. But we're not there yet.

"Schön, dass du da bist!"

 Traverse through snow, over rocks, in clouds.

 Planes on which we are usually not.

 Nature is Big.

We made it. Bread, cheese and jam reward.

 This is the Troll's Tongue. Fortunately he was kind enough to let us run around on it for an afternoon.

 I can not recommend this kind of behavior, but I can't condemn it either. To each his own.

 To see the world upside down.

 This might be the Troll's Nose.

 Homewards.

Back before the final descent, we found the door to this ski-storage hut open and took advantage of a roof. This was the one night during the whole trip I had to use my headlamp, not because it was dark outside, but because there was no light inside whatsoever.

We took the trail down. descending on the rail stairs would have been absurd.

This photo is not about me and not about Anja, but about the man on the bicycle, who is cause for story. 

When we arrived in Skjeggedal two days prior, as we approached the stairs/trail start, he came walking towards us (from where exactly is not all too clear) and greeted us contently by saying "is there anyway I can help you before I leave". Having no context to his being, this 'before I leave' wasn't very understandable, but that didn't matter. We talked for a while. He was a very tame and slow speaker, expressing ultimate relaxation with every word he spoke. At the end of this conversation it was revealed that he was American. This was initially minimally surprising simply because of how slow his English was (although it was perfect and he did have a familiar accent). He was from Iowa. This was in no way surprising, due to every manner about him.

He moved to Norway forty years ago and has been living in Skjeggedal for 25 years (which probably means that at least 15% of the Skjeggedal population is American). He is responsible for the "tourist office", which is a table that he has set up in a garage, behind which he stands and answers questions like "how much snow up top?" and "is there a lot of snow at the top?" and "any reports of snow from the summit?". He also sells practical things like maps, food, and even more things like that. A very non-threatening, amiable, idiosyncratic man.

When we arrived back in Skjeggedal two days later, he was waiting to receive us. We sat on a picnic bench, he came over and chatted. There didn't seem to be much demand for him at the tourist office. As the conversation unfolded, we casually shared our plans for the next thirty minutes of going the lake, bathing, and trying to hitch a ride to Odda. We could have hiked, but doing so would have drastically upset our knees. Eventually, we finished our snack and a small line had formed at the garage. We went our ways. Marina, Anja and I found our way to the lake and sat undetermined at the water's edge, debating whether or not we actually wanted to freeze ourselves or not for the sake of being clean. Then. A rush, crunching gravel, a trail of dust. Our Iowanian pedaling speedily towards us. He comes to a screeching (figurative screeching) halt and tells us of the ride he arranged for us to Odda; a gym teacher currently on a week long fishing tour throughout Norway would be leaving for Odda in "about eight minutes." 

Just another story of the kindness of people in Norway.

 Dinner in a park in Odda before our midnight bus to Oslo.

Stories of kindness continued: two weeks earlier, Marina and Anja are travelling together in central Norway. There, they meet a girl who resides in Oslo. They tell her that they will be in Oslo for a day in a fortnight and ask if she will be there. She will not, but her roommate will. They are put in touch and volià, we have a place to stay in Oslo. Just like that.

Being grateful for a kitchen and for open-heartedness in the world.

At 6am the next morning our first homeward bound train left from Oslo headed to Gothenburg, Sweden.

 Catching up on sleep at a transfer station.

We had three hours to explore Copenhagen before our final, 17 hour night train to Freiburg. It was fun to walk around a bit in the city.

The night ride back was comfortable, quick and exciting. We arrived at 09:49, 26 minutes before my next lecture at the University.

Our time together in Norway was wonderful. The company was the best part of course. The generosity of the people, remarkable. The landscapes, foreign for me, were majestic. The conversations we had were open, energetic and considerate. And the sunlight was terrific :).

My next adventure is already nearing and I am excited. My father is coming this way for a hike in the Pyrenees with me, Marina and her parents. Chouette.

And I? I'll be home for Christmas this year! Dates aren't certain yet, three to four weeks in Dec/Jan. Marina will most likely be joining me too. My hope is to see as much family and friends as possible... I look forward to being back!

Warm thoughts from Freiburg,

Ben.