Into the fjord

Alexis
Sep 26, 2022
14 min read

Updated: Apr 14

Note : post published September 26th 2022

Sometimes it's said that a picture is worth a thousand words which is handy for an effective blog post. But this time let's take our time. Let me try to tell you a story with well over a thousand words and no pictures.

This story is about the discovery of the fjords with its anecdotes, its challenges and most importantly its encounters.

Chapter 1 - The Good Advice

A good story starts with a good beginning. This good beginning happened in Rosendal thanks to the wise advice of my buddy Étienne (whom I greet by the way, hey Étienne !).

As soon as I arrived the plan was clear, I am going to climb to the top of that imposing rock overlooking the town : the Malmangernuten. The only constraint was to make the round trip before the sun sets so I could set up my tent peacefully. But it was already 3:47 PM and according to what I've read the climb takes 3 hours and you can't really count on the sun past 8 PM. After some quick calculations (thanks engineering school) the conclusion was crystal clear : "No time to waste, let's go !"

The ascent was steep and I thought "Great, the steeper it is the faster I'll reach the top and the quicker I'll be back down beating the sun at its own game." After a few liters of sweat what a beautiful reward ! A clear view of the fjord with the reflection of clouds in its calm waters, small rocky islets and a radiant sun. To put it simply an amazing view ! But the race was going on and from my perch I tried to see potential spots to set up my camp. Not too close to the houses, somewhat flat terrain and preferably with a view. I had two options : one was safer and easily reachable within the time limit but a bit dull, the other more uncertain, further but with potential.

Obviously option 2 was chosen especially since Étienne recommended the trail that goes that way. Jackpot !

After descending the Malmangernuten I found myself going up the hill in front amidst cows. The higher I climbed the more cows there were. More cows meant more cow dung. And not much flat ground in sight... It's when things started to smell a bit fishy (it's an expression, nothing to do with cows) and the sun began to hide that I stumbled upon THE surprise : a kind of small stone and log cabin with a huge bay window overlooking the fjord, a fireplace, benches and tables, little candles, flower bouquets, and an eagle statue.

The best part was that it was open and no one was there. Did I have the right to sleep there ? Let's say I did. Then I noticed an intriguing sign in Norwegian and immediately pulled out Google Translate. I was reassured because this cabin was built by the owner of the land (and thus the cows) for hikers to rest before continuing so no need to set up the tent. Tonight I'll sleep warmly by the fireplace with a view of the fjord, pure luxury.

By the way I'm not sure I mastered the open fireplace well; after 15 minutes smoke filled the cabin and I started to be as smokey as a salmon. So end of the fire and opening the door. It would be silly to die from smoke inhalation after such a beautiful surprise. And sleeping on the wooden table to avoid mice seemed like a good idea at first but my back reminded me the next day that it would've been better with the inflatable mattress.

There I was, fully embarked on the discovery of the Norwegian fjords.

Chapter 2 - The Hamster and the Prayer

After Rosendal and a short stay in Bergen it's time to hit the road again to explore more fjords and meet the locals.

And so, with a sharp thumb, a well-groomed mustache, a slightly forced smile and my cardboard sign, the hitchhiking adventure begins. After 15 minutes of waiting I'm fortunate to be picked up by Gård (names are unchanged but probably misspelled) who's dropping off his kids at school and promises me a fantastic spot to hitchhike. He looks like an adventurer, ready for a hike but in reality he's just going to chop some wood for the winter.

We exchange banalities to establish that famous hitchhiker/hitchhikee trust and quickly move onto a more personal subject, the pursuit of happiness. He's a doctor and a young father and we share the same fear of being stuck in our comfort zone like a hamster in its wheel. The fear of not taking risks and missing out on our dreams. And I ask you, what risk do we take by not taking any risks ? It's only 10 AM and I haven't had my coffee yet here we are, getting all Socrates and Plato. The day is off to a good start.

When we part ways my head is filled with ideas and questions and seeing how Gård talks about his dreams I have no doubt he'll pursue them sooner than I think. So, good luck Gård !

Then after exactly 9 minutes of waiting at my new spot, Lars arrives. I'm a bit surprised to hop into an SUV from a famous German brand because I rarely count on fancy cars when hitchhiking but I won't complain. Before I can even introduce myself he starts telling me about a small island we're crossing, his childhood home. He points out the house where he grew up and tells me what life was like on that island before the bridge was built in the 1990s. The little school with only about fifteen kids, the village vibe where everyone knew each other, boat trips to discover what they then called "the mainland". I want to learn more to try to picture what life was like before the bridge but without transition he asks me "Do you believe in God ?".

We didn't even get the chance to introduce ourselves but I understand that Lars is a pastor. I imagine it's a sort of professional habit to ask such a question. And so we embark on a spiritual discussion during which he tells me how he became a pastor, a touching story that I didn't expect after only 30 minutes in the car.

But it's already time for us to part ways, he's going left and I'm going straight ahead. He offers to pray for me and wishes me all the best in the world. He covers everything : weather, encounters, work, hitchhiking... Honestly it's nice although I didn't ask for it ! And once again I leave my ephemeral friend with a bunch of more spiritual questions. One thing's for sure, I won't get bored while waiting for the next car.

In addition to thought-provoking discussions, I can say my spirit is lifted. Hitchhiking in Norway is almost too easy.

Chapter 3 - Optimism

All that is nice, but it's not by talking that we move forward, well geographically speaking at least. It's almost midday and I still have over 200 kilometers to reach the end of the fjord. It's time to roll up my sleeves, put on my best smile to go with my cardboard sign and hope that the next good Samaritan who stops can help me cover a bit more distance.

Ask and you shall receive. The good Samaritan this time is Øystein with his old Ford truck, cigarette hanging from his lips, sunglasses perched on his nose, the gravelly voice of a seasoned smoker but most importantly a smile from ear to ear. I hop in and we exchange banalities as usual. By now my speech is well-rehearsed, maybe a bit too rehearsed; I feel like I'm reciting a script from memory : name, origin, a brief explanation about my gap year, past and future destinations, why I hitchhike. I think next time I'll start by sharing something else, maybe my favorite ice cream flavor just to test the vibe.

But enough of the mundane. We quickly move on to our shared desire to make the most of life and the time we have. He already envisions himself wandering from fjord to fjord when he works less, the motorcycle strapped to the back of the truck to enjoy the twists and turns when the weather allows, a small barbecue to accompany the sunset and nights in the van amidst nature. Not bad right ? He even says it himself, he doesn't need much to be happy.

As we cover more kilometers we delve into Norwegian politics. He has this knack for discussing serious or even grave matters while punctuating his sentences with a laugh, as if to soften the blow and substituting conjunctions with a little joke. Yet he concludes by saying that despite all he criticizes people here are rather happy, himself included.

We actually drove together for about two hours so after discussing Norwegian politics, we talked about ecology and the future, the war in Ukraine, advancements in medicine, poverty around the world. Every time the same observation prevailed : his unwavering optimism, his trust in human nature and his need to maintain hope.

As I shut the door behind me, as if I was sealing our goodbyes, it remains in my hands. Awkwardly I've just broken his truck as a thank-you gesture. I ask if it's normal, he laughs telling me it's not really normal and that for an engineer I ask stupid questions : Øystein 1 - Alexis 0.

Anyway thanks Øystein for your optimism, it's boosting me for what lies ahead !

I will need some courage because the rain is coming and now I'm veering off the main road into the fjord.

Advantage: only one road so people are definitely heading in the right direction.
Disadvantage: where are all the people ?

I put my patience to the test.

Over an hour passes before I decide to walk a bit, just to stretch my legs because I'm convinced I'm not in the right place. Mistake because after a short hour of walking I end up on a road where cars are moving way too fast and can't really stop. Too bad. So I decide to redo my cardboard sign indicating a nearby town. At least people won't think they'll be stuck with a soaking wet mustached french man for too long. Believe it or not, it worked ! I hopped on three different rides, small hops, but progress nonetheless. First, with the editor of the local newspaper who is a metal music composer in his spare time; then an Italian bus driver stressed about the apparent coldness of Norwegians; finally, a hunter with an accent worse than mine when speaking English, ready to "relax" after a hard day's work (sorry animal-loving friends).

However to catch the ferry that will take me to the other side of the fjord I decide to cover the last 20 kilometers by bus.

Problem : no bus stop where there should be one.
Solution : ask the guy at the fry/kebab/burger joint where the bus is supposed to stop. And with my accent it goes something like : "Sciouze mi, dou iou no ouèr daze ze bus for Sogndalfjora stop ?".

After his answer I sit in front of his fry joint as instructed, finishing my half-eaten bag of chips. But here he comes with a big plate of fries and a big smile : "You're from France, right ?"

I am strangely happy to eat warm fries while waiting for the bus, it connects me back to my roots. Thanks Friteman for the assist ! And thanks to my French accent, I owe you a plate of fries.

Chapter 4 - El Filósofo

I've reached the end of the fjord, the rain persists but tonight I'll sleep in warmth. My host's name is Wagner, he's from Brazil, lived in Madrid for over 20 years and has only been living in Norway for 3 months.

First difficulty : he doesn't speak English, only Spanish or Portuguese. It's a shame I didn't persist in learning Spanish it could have been useful. But if there's no solution, there's no problem ! We both pull out our phones and rely on Google Translate to the fullest. That's how I understand he's offering me his room and he'll sleep on a mattress in the living room. Embarrassed I first refuse, I didn't expect this much generosity ! But he insists explaining that for him "Es normal". I learn to say yes. The rest of the evening mirrors my arrival; he starts cooking and stubbornly refuses any help from me ! He explains that I'm his guest and once again "Es normal". Wagner would give his shirt to happy wealthy people.

Once past those two moments of embarrassment (for me, he's really happy to host me) we delve into discussing philosophy. Because yes, I forgot to mention that Wagner is a philosophy professor. He recommends two books that I keep the references for safekeeping in my upcoming weeks in the far north : "Douleurs du monde" by Schopenhauer and "The Art of Loving" by Erich Fromm. The next day I don't take the time to visit the 12th-century wooden church, the village's main attraction; instead I prefer to stay and chat with Wagner while drinking coffee. What strikes me is his humanism, the hope he maintains despite the troubled times he has been through and especially his courage in the face of life's trials. He speaks of poverty in his home country, the violence it generates and we conclude sadly that, to survive, people make mistakes. We could have continued for hours because this man is so inspiring when he talks. I would have loved to have him as a philosophy teacher.

However it's time for me to hit the road again and thank him for this beautiful lesson of humanism. Until next time Wagner!

Chapter 5 - Luck and Misfortune

After soaking in positivity at Wagner's, I meet Nicolaï who happened to be heading straight to Sandane (my goal for the day). No short hops today which is great because it starts raining again.

We cross the mountains amidst landscapes worthy of "The Lord of the Rings" with valleys surrounded by steep cliffs and clouds crowning the mountaintops. We share our admiration for the scenery as it is his first time taking this route as well. He's a student and his part-time job involves checking alcohol vendors across the region so he's happy to have someone to talk to for a change. The story doesn't say if he gets any samples during his checks but I suspect he's clever enough to manage that.

After I arrive and after a quick tour of the city I decide to climb the closest hill despite the rain, hoping to admire the "absence of a view" (you know, clouds, fog, the usual suspects) and scout for a place to sleep for the night. Indeed there is no view to be seen. But in my stroke of bad luck I stumble upon a small camp made of logs with shelters, wooden benches, spots to make fires and even an amphitheater. All of this comes with a beautiful terrace overlooking the city and a facility with dry toilets, pure bliss. I feel as though my lucky star had built this camp just for me so I decide to give it a try : tonight no tent, I will sleep in one of the small wooden shelters just like a true Norwegian would.

That was a mistake because with the humidity, the wind in my ears (yes the shelter has no walls, just poles supporting a roof) and the 5°C outside, I just caught a nasty cold.

The conclusion is that not everyone can be Norwegian but at least I learned something.

Chapter 6 - The Spanish Hostel

Even though I'm feeling sick I know that I'm expected in the next town with the delightful promise of sleeping in warmth.

As I'm on my way to the hitchhiking spot I chose, I figure I might as well try to thumb a ride early. Who knows ? I hear a car, turn around, put on my best smile, stick out my thumb and surprise the first car immediately stops ! It's Øve, an old Norwegian in a brand-new Mercedes offering to take me all the way to Volda, the promised land of a warm night. He's struggling a bit with his new automatic car and stalls a few times on an incline. I hope that's not a bad omen for the rest of the journey. But no everything goes smoothly. That said, Øve is familiar with death all too well. He tells me about his battle with it and the multiple losses he's had to endure. But he's a fighter. He will set off to explore the world again as he did in Asia with his childhood friend; he'll definitely return to Vietnam when he's back on his feet. I'll be waiting for your postcard from Hanoi dear Mr. Øve.

He leaves me at the ferry dock and drives off in his gleaming Mercedes, not without making one last mistake by downshifting during full acceleration. Oh Øve ! And poor Mercedes...

Then I arrive at Maïlee's place. She agreed to host me in her shared apartment for two nights. It's hard to describe how instantly I feel at home just minutes after crossing the threshold. Maïlee embodies kindness. Her roommates are the same, an apartment shared among students filled with good vibes. We chat for a bit and then I get to know her friends. It's funny it almost feels like a family.

Even though we've only known each other for a few hours, I'm invited to join them at THE Volda event, the open mic night at the bar next door. Maïlee speaks highly of it mentioning some really talented musicians, the evening looks promising ! However the opening act is a slightly tipsy guy who takes the stage. Everyone joyfully sings him happy birthday but he seems a bit too comfortable and his buddies are a tad noisy for Norwegians who are usually quite respectful. They get kicked out a bit after breaking a glass and almost starting a fight and then the real night begins. The quality goes up with some amazing voices on hard rock, catchy songs everyone knows (except for the non-Norwegians) and this group of cheerful folks who come on stage, all four of them singing well-known tunes with more or less adherence to the melody.

To thank the "Spanish Hostel" for the great evening I decide the next day to bake them a cake. You might be aware of my culinary talents and well, I think I stayed true to myself because the result was an edible cake, albeit not quite cooked enough, a bit too sweet and honestly it looked rather odd. Nevertheless everyone thanks me out of politeness. They all are really nice in this shared house.

I could have stayed longer because I felt so good in that place but I can hear the call of the Far North. I need to hit the road again to finally cross the Arctic Circle before the snow arrives. Another big thank you to Maïlee, Janni, Gwen, Alex, Matteo, Andres (and the others I met briefly) for giving me a taste of the "Spanish Hostel" in Norway. Until next time !

Chapter 7 - The Unexpected

The adventure in the fjords comes to an end with a few surprises on my way to Trondheim.

First, there's this guy I didn't know whom I asked to crash on his couch for a night, but that was unfortunately unavailable. Instead he gave me a discount for the boat I intended to take, the Hurtigruten that sails northward. Just like that, for free. Sometimes you just have to let yourself be surprised.

Then there's this other guy who confirmed he could host me in Kristiansund but canceled at the last minute. Initially a bit disappointed to spend another night in the rain, I eventually found an amazing spot in a small cove with a view of the sea. I quickly set up my tent as I saw a curtain of rain approaching from the sea but surprise again, the rain curtain never arrived. I spent the night peacefully without worrying about the tent's waterproofing. Having a Plan B and a stroke of good luck sure can come in handy.

Then there's this journey I planned to take by bus to enjoy the view from the coast but ended up on a kind of high-speed ferry (the local equivalent of a high-speed train but on water), the best spot to admire the coastline on one side and the sea on the other. So with wind in my hair and a smile from ear to ear, I sail towards my last destination before the far north.

In just a few weeks, the adventure in the fjords has been so rich in memories that I quickly forget the moments of doubt, the rain disrupting plans and all that I didn't have time or the opportunity to see. The crucial aspect of traveling lies in the encounters and in that regard I can say I've been more than well served !

But one thing is certain : I'll be back, in winter or in summer, I will be back.

To infinity and beyond 🚀