***  NORWAY  2014   -  WEEKS 17~18  ***

CAMPING IN NORWAY 2014 - Sognefjellveg over Jotunheimen Mountains to Sognefjord, Jostedalsbreen Glacier, Fjærland Valley, the Stave Churches of fjord-land, Flåm Mountain Railway, Undredal, and Gudvangen:

Route 15 over and through Upper Strynefjell:  with the sky leaden grey and the weather looking threatening with misty rain cloud filling the upper valley, we left Grande Camping at the head of Strynevatn Lake eastwards on Route 15. The road soon steepened, gaining significant height in a series of dramatic hairpins. The upper Stryn River, fed with sediment from glaciers high on Strynefjell was bright cobalt-blue falling with force down deep gorges carved out over aeons by glacial melt-waters. In such miserable conditions with the wind driving soaking, misty drizzle from the lower valley, we continued up the final hair-pin to reach the succession of three 4km long tunnels which now take the modern Route 15 through the heart of Strynfjell (see left).

Click on 3 highlighted areas of map for details of Norway's fjord-land

At this point, the road's former route across the top of Strynefjell turned off, now designated Route 258 as National Tourist Road Gamle Strynefjellsvegen, its highest point being 1,139m. This remarkable piece of late 19th century civil engineering took 10 years of construction and opened in 1894, and for more than 90 years it formed part of the principal west~east cross-country route in this part of the country. Until well into the 1950s it took a team of 200 men armed with just shovels to keep the road open during winter, digging a way through several miles of metres high snow. This all came to an end with the opening of the new tunnels in the 1990s, and the Gamle Strynefjellsvegen is now open as a summer-only, partly unsurfaced road, the climb onto the plateau from the west involving severe hair-pins. In today's foul weather, there was no question of tackling this challenging route, and we proceeded ahead into the series of 3 tunnels which, despite being modern, were narrow and ill-lit; we were thankful not to meet any of Route 15's HGVs. We emerged from the first tunnel into brighter but still overcast weather on a high mountain plateau crossed by river torrent, to plunge almost immediately into the second 4km long tunnel, with just a brief interval before the third tunnel. From this we emerged into the high and aptly named Breiddalen (Broad Valley), enclosed between the mountain ridges of Breiddalseggje to the north and the shoulder of Strynefjell to the south. High above the tree-line now with the bare valley top almost tundra-like, we pressed on eastwards alongside Breiddalsvatnet which, fed with glacial sediment by so many streams draining down from the surrounding glaciers, glowed an amazing turquoise-blue colour even in the dull light. At the far end of the lake, the eastern end of Gamle Strynefjellsvegen, which had passed along the far side of Strynefjell's shoulder, re-joined Route 15. Here the emerging upper Otta River, still a vivid turquoise-blue colour but now a seething white-water torrent, dropped down a series of river gorges (see above left). The on-going road began to loose height, descending below the tree-line firstly with stunted birches then increasingly shapely, attractive pines, down into Billingsdalen. This was clearly tourist country with former mountain farmsteads (sæters) now converted to tourist lodges. For us however when we pulled in, the joy was in finding patches of ripening lingonberries growing under the pines, the first red lingonberries seen this year (Photo 1 - Ripe Lingonberries).

Lower Ottadalen, Lom and Gjeilo Camping:  losing height into the beautifully pine-clad lower valley of Ottadalen, the rapidly flowing Otta River still glowed cobalt-blue under the increasingly brighter sky. The flatter valley-bottom here was filled with dairy farms and hay-cutting taking place with silage bales being piled up ready for the coming winter. We continued into the small town of Lom which, long a farming and transport centre, nestles in the lower Otta valley, its cluster of dark wooden houses scattered along the valley floor and up the slopes of the hills that surround the town. Set at the junction of east~west and south~north trading routes, and with a population of just 2,000, Lom now has a thriving tourist industry. Just opposite the TIC and Norske Fjell-museum, the visitor centre for the Jotunheimen National Park, we pulled into a large car park by Lom's stave church which stands on a hillock overlooking the town and river valley (Photo 2 - Lom stave church) (see left). The original wooden church was built around 1170, but re-constructed and enlarged after the Reformation when it was given its present shape with shingled roof, spire and corner turrets with wooden dragons-head finials (see right). We examined the structure, taking our photos from under the birches in the graveyard, just as a passing shower cast a rainbow across the valley. Having re-stocked with provisions, we returned 7kms up Ottadalen to find tonight's campsite, Gjeilo Camping. Just down from the road beyond the family farm on whose land the campsite stands, the camping area was spread informally along the river bank, and we settled under the riverside pine and birch trees (Photo 3 - Gjeilo Camping). The late afternoon sun was now brighter but a cool breeze still blew along the valley; despite only being mid-August, autumn was clearly on its way.

Over the Sognfjellveg:  after a chill night we drove back down into Lom, and turned south onto Route 55, the Sognfjellveg which passes over the western fringe of the Jotunheimen Mountains. Billed as Northern Europe's highest mountain pass, the Sognfjellveg is an ancient trading route connecting Sogndal in the south over to Lom in the north. The modern road was completed in 1939 by gangs of unemployed youths on a work programme during the depression years. It was also the route used by Paul and his friend Andrew in 1968 as the means of access by bus from Sogndal on their expedition into the Jotunheimen Mountains; so today was for Paul a nostalgic trip. See Paul's 1968 photographic record: Jotunheimen Mountains 1968

The road initially was good, gaining height steadily up the dairy farming valley of Bøverdalen, with the glacier-fed turquoise-blue Bøvra River running its white-water course along the valley bottom. Even in today's gloomy weather, this was a truly beautiful valley. Partway along we passed the turning into Visdalen, the private toll-road which leads into the heart of the highest Jotunheimen peaks ending at the mountain hut of Spiterstulen which Paul and Andrew had used in 1968 between their climbs of Glittertind and Galdhøpiggen. A little higher we passed the old farmstead of Elvesæter, now a hotel-cum-skansen, which quite incongruously also houses a 33m high stone column topped with a statue of Harald Hardråde, its side panels lined with a pictorial history of Norway; dating from the 1930s, it was brought here simply because no one else wanted it - you could understand why! The road now began to gain serious height, passing into wilder, more desolate terrain above the tree-line, to reach the turning into the side toll-road leading along Leirdalen and ending at another of the mountain huts used by Paul and Andrew on their 1968 expedition, Leirvassbu (Photo 4 - Leirdalen). In the distance we could just see the distinctively pointed peak of Kyrkje (2,032m) which they had passed prior to their final climb of Fannaråki. The road now became almost single-track, gaining height steeply into the barren, narrow, mountain-lined valley of Breidsæterdalen (see left); here we paused in this magnificent mountain setting to photograph ripening lingonberries (see right), ripe-black Crowberries and lovely Harebells. A few kms more and we reached the head of this rocky defile at the mountain-lodge of Krossbu where Paul and Andrew had left the Sognfjellveg bus to begin their 2 week Jotunheimen Mountain circuit at the first hut of Skogadalsbøen. We pulled in to eat our sandwich-lunch and to photograph this very special place (Photo 5 - Krossbu hut).

The ongoing Sognfjellveg climbed steeply via 4 sharp hair-pins above Krossbu and onto the desolate fell-terrain of the pass' summit plateau. Pausing here at the Sognfjellveg's highest point of 1,434m (4,705 feet) by one of the DNT red-painted T way-marks, we had a clear view of the snow and glacier-covered north face of Fannaråki (see right); although cloud still hovered over the main peak, brighter sun lit the face of the Fannaråkbreen (Photo 6 - Sognefjellveg summit plateau). We continued across the summit plateau passing a series of large lakes on the wild fell-top wilderness, and began the long descent on the southern side. The road now had over 4,000 feet of height to lose in order to reach the Sogndal valley, beginning with a series of spectacular hair-pins. Here we paused at another view-point looking down into the gloomy depths of an enormous valley ahead which revealed the remarkable height the road still had to drop. Further hair-pins brought us down to the mountain-lodge of Turtagrø to which Paul and Andrew had returned after the descent from Fannaråki (Photo 7 - Turtagrø mountain lodge), to pick up the Sognfjellveg bus back to Sogndal at the conclusion of their 1968 expedition. The maroon-coloured, modernistic building fronted by its line of flags recalled from 1968 in fact burned down and was replaced in 2001 by a similar-looking structure. The path leading down from Fannaråki's summit could be seen opposite the lodge.

Down into the Sogndal valley:  the onward Sognfjellveg lost further height steeply down into Bergsdalen, concluding with another series of hair-pins where we paused to photograph the spectacular view looking down into the lushly green upper Sogndal valley (Photo 8 - Upper Sogndal valley) (see left). Down the final hair-pins we had just reached the valley floor when we passed the modern Sogndal service-bus over to Lom, the modern equivalent of the bumpy old bus used by Paul and Andrew up and down this route in 1968; drivers on this route certainly earn their pay! From the foot of the hair-pins, we drove into the village of Fortun, the fertile valley here lit by bright sunshine and enclosed by contrasting darkly wooded mountain sides. At Skjolden we reached the head of Lustrafjord which glowed turquoise-blue from the sediment of the many glaciers whose melt-waters drain into the fjord (see right). Here we began the long, and wearyingly winding drive along the narrow fjord-side lane, continuing through Luster with its little stone stave-church, and eventually reaching the larger village of Gaupne. Here thankfully we turned off from the busy main valley road onto the minor Route 604 along the side valley of Jostedalen.

Jostedal Camping at Gjerde village:  the narrow lane ran up the darkly enclosed, high-sided valley alongside the even more turquoise-blue glacial torrent of Josterdøla. After today's long and challenging drive over Sognfjellveg, this 34km lane along Jostedalen was a wearying drive. We finally reached Gjerde village in the upper part of the valley, and behind the well-stocked mini-market tonight's campsite Jostedal Camping stood in the valley-bottom. The elderly lady at reception spoke little English but gave us a charming welcome as we booked-in; we later learned that she and her husband had founded the campsite in 1974. The campsite is now kept by her daughter Astrid, who also gave us wonderfully hospitable welcome; a charmingly gentile lady with ready smile and warm personality, Astrid is also a widely travelled and experienced mountaineer with clear appreciation of campers' needs which she has put to good use in designing the newly enlarged facilities building at the campsite. The broad camping area, with separate space for tents among the birches and powered pitches for campers, was in a wonderful location, enclosed within a loop of Josterdøla glacial torrent which flows lustily down from Nigardsbreen Glacier, and surrounded by high mountains at the head of Jostedalen (see left) (Photo 9 - Jostedal Camping). With the early evening air becoming chill, we settled in behind the high levée which protects the campsite from spring-time melt-water surges from the glacier. The forecast for the next few days looked depressingly gloomy, but we had at least enjoyed clear weather today for our thrilling drive over the western shoulder of the Jotunheimen.

Guided climb on the Nigardsbreen Glacier:  our reason for coming up into the Jostedalen valley was to visit Nigardsbreen, one of the many arms of the mighty Jostedalsbreen Glacier, mainland Europe's largest ice-cap and the remnant of the ice-sheet that covered the whole of Scandinavia during the last Ice Age between 18,000 and 10,000 years ago. The Jostedalsbreen Glacier's massive ice plateau covers an area of 487 square kms across the mountainous highlands of Sogn og Fjordane, and in places is still 600m thick. 22 named side tongues creep and flow into side valleys and hanging valleys around the edges of the main glacial plateau; one of these is the Nigardsbreen which spreads down into upper Jostedalen just 5kms from where we were camped. We drove up the valley from Gjerde village to the Breheimsenteret Jostedals National Park Centre for information about the varying standards of guided climbs on the glacier. The forecast was far from ideal, but if we were to visit the glacier we had to take the chance. Even the hour-long walk, suitable for children, was expensive and would give no real experience of the ice. We opted for the 2 hour guided climb which was even more expensive at 460 NOK, almost £100 for the 2 of us; but it was a once-in-a-life-time experience, and in spite of the poor weather prospect, we paid up hoping we should still be fit enough to tackle the climb. Photo 10 indicates the route of the guided climb; red shows the ascent route, green, the descent; notice also the tiny figures at the foot of the glacier which give an impression of the scale of the climb with 400m of ascent (Photo 10 - Route of  glacier climb).

The view up the higher side valley towards Nigardsbreen was unbelievable with the descending glacial tongue snaking down from the mighty Jostedalsbreen main glacier covering the high tops  (Photo 11 - Jostedalsbreen glacier) (see above right). But the approach to the foot of the glacial tongue was itself challenging: 3kms of lane through moraine debris leads to a parking area beside the glacial lake into which Nigardsbreen's melt-waters drain (see above left); a small boat then crosses the lake, followed by a stiff half-hour walk across moraine debris and ice-smoothed rocks finally to reach the leading edge of the ice. The approach lane passed through scrub-covered moraine field composed of debris and material from sub-glacial erosion transported by glacial rivers draining from the glacier's leading edge to spread out like a wide, sandy fan-shaped delta with the river alternating between several channels. Such a sandy delta composed of glacial outwash debris is known by the Icelandic term sandur. At Nigardsbreen, a barrier of moraine material has accumulated to form a natural dam creating a lake rich in suspended fine glacially eroded particles which give it the characteristic turquoise blue colour. We parked by the lake and eat our lunch sandwiches while awaiting the guides, looking across to the glacier as a drenching 10 minute downpour lashed over the lake. We kitted up with full waterproofs, boots and gaiters, and joined the other 10 of the group to be issued with crampons and ice-axe by the guides.

The little boat ferried us across the cobalt-blue melt-water lake, and on the far side the guides urged care as we crossed the ice-smoothed rocks now wet from the downpour. This was an unexpectedly long trudge over the terminal rocks and moraine debris, involving a swaying rope and wooden-slat suspension bridge over the main melt-water torrent surging down from the end of the ice-snout (Photo 12 - Nigardsbreen glacial torrent) (see left). After a gruelling half-hour walk, we finally reached the ice at the side of the glacier arm, where we were issued with harness and carabiner for roping up, and given final guidance on fitting crampons and using ice-axe. Finally roped into 2 groups of 5 behind each of the guides, we set off onto the ice which at this lower edge was filthy black with sediment (see above right). It was truly unnerving stepping onto the ice's hard, knobbly surface for the first time, mistrustful initially as to whether the crampons would bite into the ice surface sufficiently to give a firm footing. There was much to be aware of, trying to maintain due distance between the group to keep the rope taut, avoiding stepping on the rope when we paused, and getting used to lifting feet and stamping crampons into the ice (Photo 13 - Nigardsbreen climb).

We advanced onto steeper ice even more uncertainly, stamping crampons into cut ice-steps, and peering down into ice-blue crevasses. The gradient became even steeper as we wove a way upwards, around among the high walls of crevasses. In retrospect, we were almost too engrossed with keeping pace, nervously keeping secure grip into the ice with crampons, and keeping the rope taut, to be fully aware of these unbelievable surroundings. Progressing higher, the guides paused for us one by one to advance a rope's length to peer down into an ice-hole. By now the ice was clean of the filthy sediment which stained the leading edge of the tongue, its crystal clear surface reflecting turquoise-blue light from within. We rounded a severely crevassed section, for the guide to lead us down into a narrow, cavernous ice-hole where melting water drained down into gullies beneath the ice (Photo 14 - Entering the ice-cave). The crystal-clear glacé ice surface down inside the steep hole seemed even harder, giving little bite for crampons or ice-pick. It was a thrilling but terrifying experience; the guide made getting a secure footing seem so easy but for us it was nerve-wracking, fearing what would happen if we slipped on the polished, rock-hard surface of the steep ice (Photo 15 - Inside the ice-cave). Inside the semi-darkness of the ice-cave, the light had a strange blue luminescence (see right), which the guide explained as caused by red and green light being absorbed and only blue light wave-length reflected by the ice. Nervously we each turned and reversed the roped-line out of the ice-hole back up onto the glacier's crevassed surface to continue upwards (see left) (Photo 16 - Climbing out of ice-cave).

We continued our upward advance, weaving a way steeply up among ice towers and crevasses for over an hour (see below right); it was for us, by far the eldest of the group, a real challenge maintaining the upward pace on the steep ice, and we were almost relieved when the guide brought us to a halt at the high-point. Here we could take a breather and sat on our day-sacs for a snack, while the guide gave more details of glacier formation by constant year-on-year accumulation of snow, compacting into ice to build up over aeons. The under-levels of ice moulded and 'flowed' over the bed-rock as the glacier advanced into tongues down into valleys, scouring the bed-rock surface like sand-paper; the resulting scoured fine rock sediment, washed down in melt-water and suspended in rivers and fjords, gave the characteristic milky turquoise colour we had seen so often during the last week.

We set off again downwards, and initially this was an even more nerve-wracking feeling having to face an increasingly steep downward gradient on the polished ice surface; would our crampons give a secure grip to prevent catastrophic slipping or sliding (Photo 17 - Nigardsbreen descent). It soon became evident however that stamping the spikes firmly into the ice gave more secure footing than boots on steep rock. We must have gained around 400m of height on the upward climb, since we could now look down to the foot of the glacier's tongue and lake way down below; now we had all that height to lose, working a way steadily downwards, sometimes on open areas of ice, other times steeply down among crevasses with blue ice towering overhead (Photo 18 - Nigardsbreen crevasses). The weather improved remarkably on our descent with the sun now sparkling on the ice-surface. It took almost an hour's steady descent before again reaching the dirty sediment-covered ice towards the sides of the tongue (Photo 19 - Sediment-stained glacier foot), and we finally stepped off the ice to remove crampons and be unclipped from the rope. We had made it. But the guide alerted us now to the hazards of re-crossing the smoothed rocks down to the lake; accidents happen here when weary legs leaving the ice induce carelessness. It was certainly true that once free from the rigid crampons, our boots felt like carpet-slippers!

It seemed an even longer return walk over the rocks, across the rickety bridge and back through the scrub-covered moraine debris to the boat. Although Nigardsbreen has expanded and retreated over recent centuries, advancing down into the upper valley and even destroying farms in the 18th century, it is now retreating due to global warming; the guide said that each year now, this approach walk becomes longer with the glacier's shrinkage. He was in fact Swedish from Stockholm, now in his 4th season of Nigardsbreen guiding, and at summer's end, he was off trekking in Nepal. Back across the lake, we returned along the approach lane past the milky-turquoise surging river of glacial melt-water (see right) (Photo 20 - Melt-water torrent), and back to Jostedal Camping to relax with a beer in the late afternoon sunshine, utterly exhausted and bruised from today's challenging glacier climb. Given the forecast, we had been remarkably lucky with weather: not only had it remained fine, but we had even been blessed with sunshine which sparkled on the ice. Who knows how we should have coped if, in addition to the stresses of the ice-climb, we had also had to face driving rain. We looked forward to tomorrow's day in camp in this wonderfully located and hospitable campsite.

A much-needed day in camp at Jostedal Camping:  the following day the weather was again grim and miserably cold, with leaden-grey rain clouds low on the surrounding mountains pouring their contents on the valley (see left); snugly from inside the camper, we looked out onto a rain-sodden valley. We cooked our lunch in the campsite's well-equipped kitchen and eat in the homely common room, talking more with the owner, Astrid, and complementing her on such a hospitable campsite which will long be remembered along with Bjorkøl as without doubt the trip's finest campsites. Her departing greeting the following morning was to wish us that lovely Nordic courtesy Welcome back. This had been a thoroughly good stay. Not even the rain could detract from its happy memories, and in fact the grim weather made our appreciation of Jostedal Camping's excellence and the welcoming charm of Astrid and her mother even greater; it's simply too easy to rose-tint about a campsite in gloriously sunny weather.

Urnes stave-church:  back down the valley to re-join Route 55 at Gaupne, we turned SW along the fjord before taking the narrow single-track lane steeply down to fjord-level at Solvorn; pretty white-painted cottages with fretted woodwork lined the narrow streets of the attractive hamlet which clustered around its inlet of Lustrafjord with high pine-covered mountains towering overhead. By now the sun was shining pleasantly for the crossing by ferry to Urnes on the far shore of Lustrafjord (see right). Our plan was to leave George here in the car park by the Solvorn ferry dock, and for us to cross to Urnes and walk up to Urnes stave-church. The little ferry chugs back and forth across the turquoise waters of Lustrafjord, and from its higher deck we could just about make out Urnes stave-church high on the hillside opposite above Urnes' scattered houses, farms and orchards. The ferry docked and we now faced a 20 minute steep uphill walk through apple orchards to reach the wooden church (Photo 21 - View from Urnes across Lustrafjord).

Set on the green hillside looking out over Lustrafjord, Urnes stave-church is the oldest of Norway's 28 surviving wooden stave-churches. It is the fourth church to be built on this site; the earliest from the late 10th century and the second and third churches of around 1030 and 1070 were built directly into the ground causing the timbers to rot. Decorative features and some timber components from the 1070 church were re-used in the construction of the 1130 church whose timber stave framework was set on stone foundations which accounts for its long survival (Photo 22 - Urnes stave church). The church's most remarkable features are its medieval wood-carvings: on the north-facing exterior wall, elaborately carved wooden door panels from the 1070 church were incorporated into the planking, with a swirling filigree of entwined leaves and battling lions and snakes (see left). This sophisticated style of wood-carving, inherited from Viking ship-building craftsmanship, has given its name to this distinctly Nordic art-form, the Urnes style, seen around Europe wherever Viking influence was found. At Urnes church, much of the interior decoration is 17th century Baroque, but Viking medieval wood-carving is also seen in the strange-looking designs of figures and animals engraved onto the capitals of the staves.

We reached the church and found admission prices to match the site's UNESCO World Heritage status - 70 NOK each even for senior/honnør tickets for the guided tour. The young guide talked us through the history, structure and artwork of the church: it was clear that the structural design was far more complex than the other stave-churches we had seen at Kvernes and Rødven, where the 8 load-bearing staves formed a simple framework to which the wall-planking was attached to form the nave. Here at Urnes, there were 4 principal corner staves with ground-level sills and upper wall-plates and attached planking to form the exterior face of the nave. Within the nave however, 12 load-bearing staves supporting the main roof structure were visible as interior columns, their capitals carved with medieval designs similar to those seen in the 8th century Book of Kells, an illuminated gospel written by Irish monks. Western Norway had been Christianised by missionary monks from the Viking colonies in Ireland in the late 11th century, and their influence is clearly seen in the Urnes wood-carving designs. This framework of staves within staves was later reinforced with cross-bracings high in the nave, and much modified by later 17th century additions to the church's features and artwork.

We walked around the churchyard within its sturdy dry-stone walls to photograph the church's exterior and wood-carving in the now soft afternoon sunshine. From a vantage point up on the hillside, there was a splendid view of the dark-stained wooden church in its glorious hillside setting against the equally magnificent natural backdrop of forested mountains and turquoise fjord (Photo 23 - Urnes stavechurch overlooking Lustrafjord) (see left). Over at the ticket office, we studied the displays on the church's structure and history of its artwork; our conversation with one of the young guides turned to the differences between the 2 contemporary dialects of the Norwegian language: Bokmål (literally 'book tongue'), the inheritance of Dano-Norwegian, and Nynorsk (literally 'new Norwegian'), an artificial codification based on Old Norse rural dialects dating from the 19th century upsurge in Norwegian nationalism. Today 80% of Norwegians particularly in the cities speak Bokmål, while the minority Nynorsk speakers are concentrated in Western Norway fjord-country and the central mountain areas; despite government efforts, Nynorsk is in decline. In the afternoon sunshine, it was a lovely stroll back down the hill through the apple orchards to the ferry-dock, where we bought a bag of local apples from a kiosk while waiting for the ferry back across Lustrafjord to Solvorn.

A mediocre campsite in Sogndal:  back uphill from Solvorn, we turned SW along Route 55 to the far outskirts of Sogndal to find tonight's campsite, Stedje Camping. It was set in former orchard overlooking Sogndalsfjord, but there the good news ended! In a semi-urban environment next to the main road, it was overwhelmed by traffic noise; after the peace of the last few campsites this was an unwelcome intrusion. But there was worse to come. At reception, we were greeted with a frosty non-welcome from the unsmiling, uncaring madame. But more ... the price increased with all the cumulative extras including an additional 20 NOK for wi-fi. And more ... the facilities were second rate. When the shortcomings and high prices were pointed out, she simply shrugged with indifference: the campsite was up for sale. The only thing in the place's favour was the Co-op Extra hypermarket across the road for our provisions stock-up in the morning. It was late and we were tired, and reluctantly settled in looking forward to getting back into more peaceful rural, mountainous surroundings tomorrow; we have since learned that quite deservedly, this mediocre campsite is now closed.

Up Sogndalsdalen to the isolated alpine valley of Fjærland:  having got George's headlight bulb replaced at the Sogndal VW garage, essential with passing through so many tunnels, we headed north on Route 5 and immediately began to gain height steadily up Sogndalsdalen. This glorious glacial valley enclosed between high mountain sides was dotted with dairy and sheep farms. Route 5 was only completed in 1986, connecting into the previously isolated Fjærland valley from Stryn in the north via the 12km long series of tunnels under the Jostedalsbreen mountains. From Sogndal in the south, Route 5 only reached Fjærland when the 6.7km Frudal and 4km Berge Tunnels through the mountains under the Frudalsbreen Glacier were completed in 1995. Before that the only route to Mundal in the isolated Fjærland valley was by ferry along Fjærlandsfjord from Balestrand. Once the tunnel link south to Sogndal was completed, the people of Fjærland voted to change from Balestrand to Sogndal Municipality.

By the Frudal farm, a lone cyclist waited for the service bus to take him and his bike through the 2 tunnels ahead which are both barred to cyclists; we paused to offer help, but the bus regularly transports cyclists through to Fjærland. As we advanced through upper Sogndalsdalen, fearful, glacier-clad mountains closed in around the road ahead which appeared to be heading into a confined, closed valley. At the last minute, the south portal tiny opening into the 6.7km long Frudal Tunnel appeared ahead. Inside the tunnel, the road was wide and well-lined and lit, descending in the semi-darkness to lose the height gained in the climb up Sogndalsdalen. Route 5 emerged from the north portal at a magnificent view-point set on a shelf overlooking the length of the wild Fjærlandsfjord (see above left), with the scattered settlement and farms of Mundal clustered on the far side of the deep valley (see above right). We paused at this wonderful setting to photograph the wooded valley, then walked along towards the entrance to Berge Tunnel (Photo 24 - Bergs Tunnel). The sound of vehicles approaching from within the depths of the tunnel before they emerged into the daylight roared like aircraft engines. We continued ahead, entering the 4km long tunnel and losing the final height to emerge at its northern end at fjord level in the broad, flat and lushly green fertile Fjærland valley. A short distance further, a turning led to the Norske Bremuseum (Glacier Museum). This modernistic building was a totally alien and incongruous intrusion into the valley's natural landscape, designed by a professor of architecture whose designs had been awarded international prizes. Which only goes to show they give them away like bus tickets: this philistine design showed an utter lack of empathy with the natural surroundings, a true blot on the landscape. The museum was one of 3 Jostedalsbreen National Park Centres; this and the others at Oppstryn and Jostedal were all equally out of tune with their wild natural surroundings and spoke volumes about the National Park Authority's lack of aesthetic sensitivity.

Bøyabreen Glacier, a side-arm of Jostedalsbren:  the museum has impressively sophisticated displays and films on glacier formation and impact, but we were simply not prepared to pay 120 NOK each for this; instead we sought information (for free) about access routes to the Bøyabreen and Supphellebreen Glaciers and a copy of the Escape the Asphalt leaflet on local mountain walks. By now the afternoon weather was beautifully sunny, and we drove on up-valley into the broad upper reaches of Bøyadalen (see above left). Ahead a magnificent panorama opened up with Bøyabreen and Vetlebreen, 2 of the side-arms of the mighty Jostedalsbreen Glacier, capping and overflowing the skyline of peaks (Photo 25- Panorama of Bøyadalen) (see above right). Just before the entrance into Fjærlands Tunnel, the valley's exit route northwards to Stryn through the intervening mountainous barrier, we turned off onto a side-lane leading to the parking area at Brævasshytte café. From here a 300m path led along to the banks of the turquoise-blue Brevatnet glacial lake which nestled in the confines of this monumental glacially-smoothed corrie. The corrie was enclosed by 1,500m high rock-walls with their cones of vegetation-covered scree and rock-debris at the foot of the cliffs. The side-arm glacier of Bøyabreen has shrunk markedly in recent years, with just a conical stub of filthy black sediment-stained residual ice at the foot of the glacial cliff at the far end of the lake. High above, the retreating tongue of Bøyabreen still lapped over the edge of the cliff-top, descending from the main body of Jostedalsbreen, with its crevasse-scarred blue ice-cliffs some 1,500m above us (Photo 26- Bøyabreen Glacier) (see left). Trickles of melt-water drained down from the glacier-tongue's leading edge, staining the ice-smoothed, sheer rock face with water-streaks. The most prominent of melt-water streaks tumbled down into the top of the ice stub, with the afternoon sunlight just catching the spray creating a rainbow effect (see right). High up on the rim of this magnificent corrie, the leading edge of Bøyabreen's main ice-fall lurked ominously like some fearsome ice-monster waiting to pounce.

The only problem with such direct, effortless access to the foot of the glacier was that this inevitably attracted tour-buses; thankfully tourists' span of attention is limited to a couple of moments before they are whisked off to the next 'attraction', leaving us in peace to give undisturbed attention to the glacier from our vantage point by the lake-shore. It truly was one of the most spectacular settings ever experienced. To the NW corner of the corrie, the leading edge of Vetlebreen was just visible, its ice-lip curling over the edge of the line of 1,500m high cliffs, with one principal melt-water torrent pouring down in crashing cascades into the lower valley. We edged a way by a muddy track alongside the glacial lake, crossing watercourses on make-shift birch branch bridges, which led to rocks at the head of the lake, right at the foot of the cliff with the sediment-stained residue of ice-stub, now isolated vertically from the main body of the retreating glacier high above (Photo 27- Bøyabreen Glacial corrie).

As we returned along Route 5, now the main road along Fjærland valley, we speculated on the topography before the tunnels opened up the valley from its former isolation. Pre-tunnels, the 8kms of road along the isolated valley floor would have run from the Mundal ferry dock, past the valley farms and into Supphelledalen. There would have been no point in the road continuing further into Bøyadalen beyond the farms, since what now seems the main line of the valley northwards towards Fjærlands Tunnel would then have ended in a mighty blank wall mountain wall. It was difficult to picture Fjærland valley in its fully isolated state pre-tunnels.

Bøyum Camping, Fjærland: we returned down the main valley with the lowering evening sun now casting the upper valley and its surrounding mountains into shade, and turned off towards Mundal to book in at Bøyum Camping for tonight. Set in the broad, green valley-bottom just behind the Glacier Museum, with the cottages and farms of the nearby alpine-farming hamlet of Bøyum rising up the hill-side beyond, and surrounded by the encircling glacier-capped mountain peaks, Bøyum Camping was an evident jewel of a campsite. The owners, who had founded the campsite in 1994, welcomed us with smiling helpfulness, and we selected a pitch with clear views of the distant glaciers to the north (see left) (Photo 28 - Bøyum Camping).

The idyllic village of Mundal at the head of Fjærlandfjord, Norway's Booktown:  the following morning we woke early just as the sun was clearing the rim of the surrounding mountains to light the valley floor where we were camped. Today we should visit the nearby village of Mundal which was scattered along the shore-line at the head of Fjærlandfjord. It was a truly beautiful setting, especially on a bright sunny morning, with the peaceful ribbon of old wooden houses strung out along the fjord-side and enclosed by dark, wooded mountain (Photo 29 - Mundal village) (see right). This picturesque setting reflected Mundal's former isolation with access only by means of the Fjærlandfjord ferry until completion of the Frudal and Berge Tunnels in 1995. Even then it was a costly route from Sogdal, the tunnels having Norway's most expensive road toll at 120 NOK each way until the debt was finally paid off and the tunnels became toll-free in 2010. Mundal's 350 residents used their isolation to good effect to resist the intrusion of tasteless commercialism. Encouraged by Richard Booth from Hay-on-Wye in the Welsh borders, founder of the International Organisation of Booktowns, Mundal developed its own distinctive form of sustainable tourism to become Den Norske Bokbyen (Norwegian Booktown): 10 old barns, stables and boat-houses were converted to second-hand and antiquarian bookshops with many of the books being donated or acquired from house clearances. The book-selling season lasts from May~September with the dozen or so bookshops open daily and said to house some 4kms of second-hand book racks.

At the Tourist Information Centre in Mundal's main street, we learned more about the village's history and the development of the Booktown concept from 1995. Clearly a determinedly self-sufficient community, its residents had pressured the government to construct the tunnels despite the high tolls to finance the debt, and supported the continuation of the village's local shop and its regular local bus service connecting both to Sogndal and Stryn. The place certainly had a refined air with not a trace of the tacky materialistic commercialism that has infected much of rural Norway. After shopping at the village's mini-market, we walked along the main street passing several outdoor racks of second-hand books with one set up by the village bus stop (see above left). Along at the ferry dock's landing stage, another book-rack stood lit by full sunshine against the backdrop of village street, fjord and glacier-capped mountains (Photo 30 - Book-racks by Mundal ferry-quay). The ferry along Fjærlandfjord from Balestrand still runs during the summer months, and here at the ferry quay the tunnels' former toll-booth had been relocated as a reminder of the high toll cost of Mundal's new connection with the outside world. Two of Mundal's second-hand bookshops, Odin and Tusand og Ei Natt (1001 Nights), occupied wooden premises on the far side of the ferry dock, and here we spent a fulfilling couple of hours browsing among rank upon rank of 45m long book-shelves (Photo 31- Mundal Norske Bokbyen) (see right). Up in the attic, labelled 1 Trapp Opp (1 Staircase Up), more books were stored under the low ceiling. The owner of Tusand og Ei Natt said proudly that she had kept the bookshop from the time of Bokbyen's foundation in 1995 and next year would celebrate its 20th anniversary. We each bought books as souvenirs of our delightful visit to the mysterious world of Norwegian Booktown.

Fjærland's mountain walks:  aside from the village's book-selling distinctiveness, Fjærland valley's principle occupation is still its dairy farming. Nowadays the cattle graze freely along the lushly green, flat valley bottom, but until the 1950s transhumance farming was the regular practice with cattle in summer being herded up into alpine pastures in the high mountain side-valleys. The now disused tracks to these summer grazings (støl) are now way-marked as hiking rails of varying length and difficulty, and detailed on the local walking map Escape the Asphalt available from the Glacier Museum. By Mundal's 19th century church, we turned up the lane leading to the farms at the entrance to Mundalsdalen to follow one of the walks up onto the forested hills above the village, labelled on the map as Geiskjelflatane. From the farm, the path marked with red painted way-marks on trees led across pastures, immediately entering pine woods and rising at an increasingly steep gradient through the trees which blocked out any views into the valley below. The path up through the pine forest became unremittingly steep but eventually flattened onto a high-point looking down from a cliff-top clearing onto the fjord way below where the afternoon ferry was just departing from Mundal quay (Photo 32 - Mundal village and Fjærlandfjord).

Supphellebreen Glacier:  northwards along the main Route 5 valley road, we turned off onto a single-track lane along the side-valley of Supphelledalen which ended at the foot of the Supphellebreen Glacier. The lane soon became un-surfaced, passing one of the valley's dairy farms where vast stores of baled silage were stacked across the fields ready for the coming long winter's cattle feed. Several tractors and baling machines were busily at work on the higher pasture slopes baling up newly cut hay. After several kms, the lane ended by the milky turquoise torrent of melt-water flowing from the foot of Supphellebreen Glacier. Afternoon sun shining along the valley's length fully lit the corrie's rocky head which here was less enclosed than at Bøyabreen and rounded to a high conical peak dividing it from a side-valley running inland out of view. Flatbreen's glacial lip, overflowing from the higher major arm of Jostedalsbreen, lapped over the corrie's high brim with melt-water falling some 400m down the intervening bare, ice-smoothed rock-face gap now dividing the upper Flatbreen's glacial brim from Supphellebreen's residual conical, black sediment-stained stub of ice cliffs at the foot of the drop (Photo 33 - Supphellebreen glacier). The falling water fanned out into a fast-flowing, moraine debris littered delta river torrent across the valley floor before us. Flatbreen's ice-fall is moving at 2m per day (Photo 34 - Flatbreen's ice-fall), and every year some 2 million tons of ice drop down the cliff face 'feeding' the residual Supphellebreen, equivalent to a 230m thick layer of ice stacked on an area the size of a football pitch! The glacier reached its maximum extent in the 18th century 'Little Ice Age' when its leading edge reached some 800m down the valley, but even then was not connected vertically to the upper Flatbreen. By 1930 Supphellebreen had retreated to where the parking area is now, depositing a moraine ridge which is currently bisected by the glacial river. Bizarrely, ice-blocks were cut from here to form podiums at the 1994 Lillehammer Winter Olympics. Much reduced in scale, large sections of Supphellebreen are now crumbling down into the melt-water flowing from its foot (Photo 35 - Supphellebreen's ice-stub). The leading edge of Supphellebreen is only 60m above sea level, making it Europe's lowest glacier south of the Arctic Circle. At the current rate of shrinkage, both Supphellebreen and Bøyabreen ice-stubs will have melted away completely within 50 years. We stood by the fast-flowing glacial torrent, taking full advantage of the light for photographs of this remarkable spectacle.

A final night at Bøyum Camping:  returning along the valley and passing the local bus which even serves the farms along Supphelledalen, we returned to the main Fjærlands valley for a further night at Bøyum Camping. The sun dipped behind the valley's western mountain wall, casting the valley floor into shadow but still lighting the glaciers overlapping the northern mountain rim of high peaks. From our pitch, we could gaze up eastwards to where the afternoon sun picked out the red buildings of a farm perched high on the lip of the hanging valley of Horpedalsdalen, which was itself overshadowed by surrounding conical peaks. With the sun gone, the early evening soon became chill; darkness was now falling earlier and tonight, with no light pollution in this isolated valley, myriads of stars twinkled across the night sky.

Kaupanger stave church:  after a very chill night, the morning sun rising above the valley's eastern mountainous sky-line soon caused temperatures to rise. During our memorable 3 day stay in Fjærland, we had become so fond of this lovely valley, a place certainly to be added to our list of Very Special Places. Returning to the main Route 5 and with wistful glances back up-valley and across towards Mundal with its wooden houses reflected in the fjord, we turned south and headed for the tunnel mouth. It felt as if we were leaving this idyllic 'lost world' valley to return to the sordid real world. Through the 12 kms of Berge and Frudal Tunnels, we emerged into sunny daylight at the head of Sogndalsdalen to begin the long descent, surprised at how much height we had to lose dropping down towards Sogndal. As we approached the town, the autumnal coloured birch-covered slopes of the hillsides were reflected in the still waters of the valley lake. Reaching Sogndal, we crossed the bridge across Sogndalsfjord, and over a high shoulder of land dropped down to the tiny ferry port of Kaupanger set on an inlet off the main Sognfjord. Kaupanger's stave church, set amid hillside meadows sloping up from the village and ferry port, was originally built in 1184 (see right) (Photo 36 - Kaupanger stave church); most of what is seen today dates from major modifications in the 17th century. Quite plain from the outside, without decoration on its tall nave structure and spire, the church stands in this lovely setting against a backdrop of high, pine-forested hills. In bright sunshine, we photographed the church from across its large graveyard.

Mannheller~Fodnes ferry to Værdalsford and Lærdalen:  the onward Route 5 passed over magnificent pine-forested hills before entering a 4k long tunnel to emerge immediately at the Mannheller ferry dock (see left). We joined the queue of vehicles waiting to cross Sognfjord, and at Fodnes on the southern side we drove ashore facing immense, over-towering, dark-forested mountains. Here Route 5 hugged the fjord-shore for a couple of kms before swinging south to enter the 7km long Fodnes Tunnel through the mountainous barrier. The road emerged at the old port of Lærdalsøyi on the innermost reaches of Værdalsford. Once a busy port from where the fruit and agricultural produce of Lærdalen was exported and many 19th century emigrants began their long journey to a new life in USA, the little town now seemed something of a forgotten backwater, with busy traffic on Route 5 hurrying past. The road ahead into gorge-like Lærdalen was over-towered by fearsomely dark mountain walls, the sun just about managing to percolate down into the flat, lushly green valley bottom. Within the confines of the narrow valley, the road wound past apple and cherry orchards and farms advertising locally grown potatoes, to reach the junction into the 25 km long Lærdals Tunnel. Today however we turned eastwards on Route E16 heading eventually towards Oslo via Fagernes where we had begun our journey over the Eastern Jotunheimen Mountains almost 4 months ago. The road advanced into the attractive Lærdalen, still enclosed by high mountains, and hay-making in full swing on the valley-bottom farms. This was terrifyingly wild terrain but, with traffic intolerantly busy, there was little chance to enjoy the surroundings. After some 30kms, the modern E16 passed through 2 tunnels, with the old road still preserved and looping around the valley bottom. We continued ahead through the toll-free tunnels to emerge into the broader eastern end of Lærdalen and tonight's campsite Borgund Hyttesener-Camping. This was a straightforward site set amid the farmlands of Upper Lærdalen, strung out alongside E16 and surrounded by high mountains (see right). The reception also housed a traditional gatekjøkken (road-side café), and although facilities were limited, the price was good and the grassy camping area was lined with attractive huts painted in pastel colours. The downside was the overwhelming traffic noise of heavy trucks thundering along the immediately adjacent E16 highway. We should have to grin and bear it for tonight, and although only just after 5-00pm, the sun soon set behind the high mountains.

Borgund stave church:  despite the traffic noise, Borgund Camping was in a lovely setting and well placed for today's visit to Borgund stave church just 2 kms off the main road nearby, our reason for making this eastward diversion into Upper Lærdalen. Just before the eastern tunnel mouth, we turned off E16 onto the old road to find Borgund stave church, built alongside one of the major trade routes between Eastern and Western Norway which passed along the Lærdals valley. The pine timber for the church was felled and seasoned during the winter of 1180, the building constructed during the following summer by itinerant craftsmen with skills and experience from building other such stave churches. Over the next 200 years, almost 1,000 stave churches were built across southern and central Norway, until the Black Death of 1349 brought church building to an end. Death of a major part of the population from bubonic plague, followed by famine and poverty, and the Reformation in 1537 meant that the wooden churches could not be maintained and many fell into ruins. The Lærdals valley's local population was wiped out by the 14th century Black Death, but fortunately Borgund was one of the stave churches that survived. Most of the church's original Medieval structure has been preserved, its tall, tiered exterior giving it a pagoda-like appearance (Photo 37 - Borgund stave curch). Its steeply sloping roofs and small apse are covered with wooden shingles, its high corners decorated with finials in the shape of dragon-heads, and it is topped by a slender bell-turret. An exterior gallery extends around the base of the church, and the timber ground frame rests on stone foundations protecting the wooden structure from rotting. Within the 4 major corner-staves, the nave is supported by 12 inner-staves each capped by carved capitals and braced with diagonal cross-beams (Photo 38 - Borgund church's roof supporting staves). The external wall planking is set vertically on a frame of sills and wall-plates.

From up on the hill-side by the free-standing Medieval belfry there was the perfect view of the church's southern side lit by the afternoon sunlight. We walked around the external gallery, examining the delicately ornate acanthus scroll wood carvings decorating the west portal, and spent time examining the church's interior structure. Uniquely, not only are all of Borgund stave church's original Medieval features preserved intact, but also largely uncontaminated by later Baroque ornamentation; around 80% of the structural timberwork is original 12th century (Photo 39 - Borgund stave church). The characteristic dragon's head corner finials on the tower are also features of the original ornamentation (see left): it is thought that, being an inheritance of Viking era ship's prow decoration, even after the conversion to Christianity they were still a part of 12th century popular culture. It was almost a double insurance for divine blessing on the church to include pagan symbolism, long familiar in local culture, along with Christian crosses which also figure at corners of the roof shingles. We enjoyed a good hour examining and photographing the interior and external detail of the church in the lovely sunlight. Across at the visitor centre, we learned more about stave church building techniques and traditions.

Lower Lærdalen and the old fjord-port of Lærdalsøyi:  leaving Borgund after such a treasured morning of learning, we drove back westward around the single-track pre-tunnel sections of the old road, following the gorge and course of the upper Lærdals river. This narrow but brave little road cut its way under rock overhangs on a winding shelf above the rushing river before finally rejoining the new E16 at the western exit of the second tunnel. On a bright morning, the road along lower Lærdalen seemed less fearful; even so the mountain side-walls enclosing the gorge-like valley rose 1,500m on both sides, giving a vivid impression of the depth of the glacial ice that had originally carved these valleys. Just before the roundabout where the E16 turned westwards into the 25km long Lærdals Tunnel, we passed through the farming hamlet of Tønjum; here the side-valley of Tønjadalen carved its way into the mountains. Much of the excavated rock from the tunnel's boring was dumped in this isolated valley to avoid major conflicts because of the cultural importance of the landscape and productive agricultural land in the main valley, as the tourist literature euphemistically put it; in other words, less hassle from environmentalists by dumping waste in an unseen side-valley! We drove back along to the old fjord-port of Lærdalsøyi, and spent time wandering among the preserved 18~19th century wooden buildings along Øyragata in the old town of Gamle Lærdalsøyi (Photo 40 - Lærdalsøyi old town). We learnt at the TIC that in early 2014 a serious fire had destroyed or damaged 40 wooden building in the newer part of Lærdal; the only casualties were 2 cats, but many people's life-long homes were destroyed.

The 24.5km long Lærdals Tunnel:  we drove back along the valley to experience the world's longest road tunnel, the 24.5km long Lærdals Tunnel. Turning into the approach road, the tunnel entrance looked no different from the many others we had experienced, except here at Lærdals Tunnel, the sign announced Length 24.5km! (Photo 41 - 24.5km long Lærdals Tunnel) (see below right). The Storting (Norwegian Parliament) took the decision to connect Lærdal and Aurland valleys by tunnel as the final link in the highway connecting Oslo with Bergen without ferry crossings or winter vulnerable mountain roads. Construction began in 1995 and the tunnel was officially opened by King Harald V in 2000. With a total cost of 1,000 million NOK, the cost per metre of tunnel was estimated at 38,000 NOK, and a total of 2.5 million cubic metres of rock excavated in boring the tunnel were dumped in the neighbouring and roadless Tønjadalen to avoid environmental controversy. Additional ventilation and filtration keeps the long tunnel free of fumes and sophisticated fire safety precautions were installed. But, I kid you not, industrial psychology consultants were retained to advise on precautions against drivers' mental fatigue during the 20 minutes drive through the tunnel; the result was that 3 large caverns were created at 6km intervals to break up the drive. Not only that, but the caverns have blue lighting, said to give an impression of daylight, and yellow lighting around the walls simulating sunrise. And consultants make a living with such arrantly farcical nonsense!

We began our drive through the Lærdals Tunnel, counting off the kilometre-markers to the first of the rest-caverns. In the distance of the tunnel's semi-darkness, we could see the blue glow getting bigger (see right), and pulled into the wide lay-by of the first blue lit, golden sunrise rest-caverns. Whether or not it was officially allowed to leave your vehicle, we got out to witness this bizarre phenomenon, with the thunderous roar of the passing traffic echoing around the chamber (Photo 42 - Blue-lit simulated day-light rest cavern) (see left). We repeated this novel experience at the other 2 rest-caverns before finally re-emerging into daylight in the Aurland valley. Pulling into the conventional daylight rest-area here, we walked back towards the tunnel mouth for photographs of the sign. Around the shore-line of the innermost part of Aurlandsfjord with high mountains towering overhead, the deep valley canyon narrowed down to end at Flåm.

The impact of mass tourism on the fjord-port of Flåm and Flåm Camping:  turning off E16 into the little fjord-port, we reached Flåm Camping, a long-standing, family-run hostel-campsite, very pleasantly laid out and skilfully terraced up the steep hill-side in a former orchard with some of the apple trees now full of fruit. But the cost! It was another of those sites which publish only the basic charge; when all the cumulative extras were added, the nightly charge amounted to an extortionate 300 NOK. We had planned to stay several days, but this was unacceptably expensive, greed-driven by endless tourist demand. We reluctantly booked in for just one night only; the owners' response was simply an indifferent shrug, implying that the tourists would simply keep coming to Flåm. Paul nostalgically recalled from 1968 the peaceful little fjord-port of Flåm, with the only connection to the outside world being the ferry across Aurlandsfjord or the Flåmsbana mountain railway up to Myrdal for the main Oslo~Bergen railway line. But 40 years later came the cruise ships with overwhelming daily invasion, and the opening of the Lærdals and Gudvanga Tunnels bringing road access for coach-loads of tourists. And the mass tourism industry rubbed its hands with glee at the daily prospect of 1000s of mindless souls just itching to spend money.

An entire new tourist complex now dominated the little ferry port and railway station down by the fjord; it was clear just how much of a gravy train for the mass tourism industry Flåm had become. We asked at the TIC if we could use their wi-fi internet, usually free of charge as a public service. Not in Flåm; 20 NOK was demanded; our refusal was less than courteous! On enquiring at the station ticket office about the Flåmsbana mountain railway, the cruise ships had booked virtually all seats, but we managed to get tickets for tomorrow - at a cost of 800 NOK (£80) with no honnør (seniors') reductions. Walking back up to the campsite through what was left of Flåm's port-village, we passed 2 jolly fat pigs grubbing around their small enclosure, reducing the field to a sordid mess; somehow this seemed symbolic of what the mass tourism industry with its filthy grubbing snout had done to Flåm. The pigs at least did show some belated awareness with a sign protesting 'No Navi Grandi' - 'Cruise ships go home'! (see right). Flåm has clearly become the world's greatest rip-off, even more so than Nordkapp! Although intrinsically attractive, in today's exploitational, tourist infested world Flåm is now regrettably a sordidly alien place, which should be left in peace by serious and conscientiously minded travellers.

The Flåmsbana mountain railway:  unwilling to acquiesce further in Flåm Camping's exploitative prices, that evening we located a small café-campsite at Undredal, the next village along Aurlandsfjord; we could drive around to there after tomorrow's ride on the Flåmsbana mountain railway and get away from the mayhem to which Flåm had now degenerated. The following morning, leaving George at Flåm Camping (they did, we felt, owe us that!), we were down at the station early to secure our seats on the 11-05 train. At 8-00am the first of today's cruise ships had sailed into the little port. Doubtless the cynical promotional hype would speak of its cruise passengers enjoying the peacefulness and pure air of fjord-land, but here was this intrusive monster filling the air with the pollutant throbbing of engines and the pervasive stench of diesel fumes. The quay-side was of course swarming with cruise ship passengers, but by the time the down-train drew into the platform, only a small queue had formed. The reason soon became clear when we boarded: most of the train's length was reserved for cruise ship passengers, leaving just 4 coaches for fare-paying passengers. We secured our seats ready to begin yet another world's most beautiful train ride, as the tourist hype billed it.

The Oslo~Bergen railway was completed in 1909 and there was long talk of a spur from Myrdal down the 20kms of severe mountainous terrain into Flåmsdal to transport freight to the ferry-port on Sognefjord. Various means of negotiating the severe gradients were considered including a rack-and-cog railway, a narrow gauge adhesion railway, or a combination of the two. But finally a potential route was surveyed from Myrdal for a fully-fledged standard gauge adhesion line, negotiating the mountains down into Upper Flåmsdalan and along the valley to Flåm village and port on Aurlandsfjord, a fjord-arm of Sognefjord. The altitude difference on the line would be 863m with Flåm at fjord-level 2m and Myrdal up in the mountains at 865m; 80% of the 20km line rises on a gradient of 5.5%. The Storting gave approval in 1916 for detailed surveying of the route and work began in 1923. It would take 20 years to complete this challenging piece of railway engineering with its 20 tunnels cut manually by teams of navvies. The greatest challenge however was negotiating the severe mountains on the highest part of the route. The daringly brilliant solution, a railway engineering triumph, was to construct hairpin tunnels with the line spiralling upwards to gain height in a series of tiered 180° curves within the tunnels. Lower down, the danger of rock-falls and avalanches constituted a major hazard: to overcome these dangerously exposed sections, the line crosses the river and valley 3 times, but not on bridges. Instead the river itself was diverted through the mountain in specially bored culverts underneath the railway line. The line opened to regular traffic in 1941, linking with day time services on the Bergen line at Myrdal. Initially small steam locomotives were used, but in 1944 a hydro-electric generating plant was built at Kjosfossen and the Flåm line electrified. For the next 30 years, trains up and down the Flåmsbana were hauled by the sturdy little E19 electric locomotives specially built with 5 independent braking systems. The line was operated by NSB, the state railway company, but despite passenger numbers increasing during the summer months, money was lost during the poorly trafficked winter months. In 1998 the line was partly privatised, with Flåm Utvikling taking over responsibility for sales, promotion and 'product development' (sic!) of the Flåmsbana; the real work of operating the railway however continues safely in the competent hands of NSB. Nowadays the long trains' motive power is provided front and rear by modern electric locomotives.

Our journey on the Flåmsbana mountain railway:  leaving the ferry-port terminus station, the line initially travelled along the delightful lower Flåmsdalan, passing farms, orchards and the old village of Flåm with its 1667 wooden church (see above left). The route continued along the valley bottom, enclosed by steep-sided mountain walls with the Rjoandefossen waterfalls dropping a sheer 140m from the mountainside. Beyond Dalsbotn the climbing began with the terrain becoming wilder and the line running along a shelved route above the picturesque river (Photo 43 - Flåmsbana mountain railway). Passing through several tunnels and crossing to the valley's far side, the line reached its half-way point at Berekvan. Here the train waited in the passing loop for the down train which came in alongside (Photo 44 - Trains passing at Berekvan) (see above right). Beyond Blomheller the line left the valley and the gradient steepened, climbing through tunnels in the severest of mountain terrains . A further tunnel curved around bringing the train into a platform spanning the enormous gorge and watercourse of Kjosfossen; here the train paused for 5 minutes to allow passengers to photograph the waterfalls. As if however the falls and natural surroundings were somehow inadequate in their wild beauty, the PR outfit now promoting the Flåmsbana sullies this with the tackiest of side-show intrusions: suddenly the roar of the falls is blotted out by wailings booming from loudspeakers as a female figure prances around high alongside the upper falls. The 100s of tourists swarming from the train were duly enchanted by this trivialising clowning; we in nauseated disgust re-boarded the train to look out to the far side at the early HEP generating station perched on a shelf in the gorge. The peace of the wild natural surroundings was restored and the roar of the waterfalls re-asserted its rightful place, as the train moved on into the most impressive part of the climb up into the 880m long, 180° horseshoe-turn of Vatnahalsen Tunnel which gains some 300m of height via its tiered, spiralling loops within the mountain. Openings in the outer face of the Nåli and Vatnahalsen Tunnels wall gave glimpses of the tiered tunnel openings higher up and of Myrdal station at the highest part of the line. And looking down gave magnificent bird's-eye views straight down into the depths of Flåmsdalen way below (see right) with the line shelving along the mountainside to enter a lower tunnel (Photo 45 - View through tunnel-wall openings). These viewing 'windows' in the tunnel walls were unplanned, but construction had cut the mountain walls so thin that it was considered safest to create the openings along the shelves of the tunnel. After a pause at the Vatnahalsen mountain hotel for the cruise ship passengers to get off for their package tour lunch, the train chugged on through the final tunnel, rounding into the platform at Myrdal station. The main Oslo~Bergen train drew into the adjacent platform (see above left), and passengers transferred to the connecting Flåmsbana train for the downward journey back to Flåm (Photo 46 - Flåmsbana downward journey). As the train passed one of the farms in the lower valley, another expression of popular protest was displayed on hay bales - 'No Navi Grandi'. Here was further evidence of local feeling of antipathy against the commercial exploitation of their little settlement by the cruise ship operators; doubtless feelings are divided between the few who stand to gain financially and the majority whose lives are now blighted by the daily mass tourism invasions.

Back down at Flåm, we walked over to the Flåmsbana Museum - sorry Documentation Centre in Flåm Utvikling asinine PR-speak; remarkably it was free entry, about the only thing in Flåm that does not cost an arm and a leg. The little museum gave impressive documentary history of the line and its construction, and displayed one of preserved early electric locomotives. Leaving the cruise ship passengers milling aimlessly around the port, we walked back up to the campsite to collect George, and departed Flåm for ever.

The contrasting peace of Undredal:  turning westwards on E16, we entered the 5km long Flenja Tunnel, and immediately at the far end turned off onto the narrow, single-track lane which descends with perilous steepness for 6kms down into Undredalen, ending at the tiny fjord-port hamlet of Undredal. The access road was only constructed in the late 1980s with the opening of the Gudvanga 11 km long Tunnel linking to Gudvangen and Voss; until then Undredal's only connection with the outside world relied on the Aurlandsfjord ferry which still calls regularly at the hamlet's little quay. There has been a settlement here in the inner recesses of Aurlandsfjord since Viking times, and the people of Undredal traditionally have made their living by making and exporting goat's cheese. Two of the once dozen goat's milk dairies still produce cheese. We had originally planned to divert down to Undredal to visit the tiny stave church, but with Flåm Camping so offensively expensive, we had discovered the Undredal café-camping and moved on here after our train ride. We had not been conscious of gaining that much height through the Flenja Tunnel, but on starting down the lane into Undredalen, it soon became clear that down the valley's 6km length, we had to drop an unbelievable amount of height to reach the fjord-side hamlet. The narrow valley was enclosed by ridge upon ridge of side-walls of enormous height, giving the valley a fearful wild air. We passed some of the goat grazing pastures in the wild heights of the valley, but on such a winding, steep and narrow road, all attention had to be on the drive. Down and down it descended, until at last in the valley's hidden depths we reached the outskirts of Undredal village (see right). The final stretch of narrow lane brought us down to the fjord quay-side (see left) and the little campsite, and still shell-shocked by the drive down, we booked in at the café and settled in (Photo 47 - Undredal Camping). The sky was still heavily overcast and dusk seemed to fall earlier in the dark confines of the fjord bottom.

Undredal's distinctive brand of responsible tourism:  it was a wonderful location with the small camping area alongside the quay looking out across the fjord and the village's houses spread up the steep hill-side behind, surrounded by dark, over-towering mountains. Tiny mountain farms were dotted on shelves along the steep-sided mountains on the opposite sides of the fjord. Just like similarly isolated Mundal which until the late 1980s had no road access to the outside world and was also entirely reliant on its ferry, the fjord-port of Undredal is clearly an enterprising and self-sufficient community. Again like Mundal, it has developed its own distinctive brand of responsible tourism in the determination preserve its identity, traditional culture and way of life by taking steps to avoid the commercially exploitative, invasive mass tourism that now overwhelms Flåm. Facilities for both the campsite and available for visitors generally are provided in the neighbouring Undredal Gjestestova (Visitor Centre), built and maintained by the local community (see above right); during the summer months guided walks are led around the village and the church, and more strenuously by footpath up to the mountain farms.

Undredal stave church:  it rained overnight and the following morning was still heavily overcast. Passengers waited at the quay for the morning ferry, which now only makes request stops at Undredal; to summon the ferry, passengers must press a switch by the pier which flashes a light to attract the next passing ferry. When we arrived yesterday, the stave church was locked, but we arranged for the local cheese famer's wife to give us a personalised tour of the church. We met her by the quay where she pointed out an ancient wooden barn by the water's edge; this had been transported down from one of mountain farms up in the Aurlandsfjord mountains and re-assembled here, paid for by the descendents of the original farming family who had emigrated in the mid-19th century from Undredal quay to start a new life in USA. We walked up the winding lanes of the village to the tiny wooden church perched on a hill-side shelf overlooking the fjord (see left); with only 40 seats, Undredal is the smallest stave church still in use in the whole of Scandinavia. From the outside it appeared not to be a stave church, being clad with horizontally laid, white painted clap-boards. The lady opened up the church and led us inside, where the church's true stave structure became evident. The original 4-stave structure with vertical planked walls had been constructed around the mid-12th century, earlier than Borgund. A log-jointed chancel was added in the 17th century and a small bell-tower abutted to the nave's west end in the 19th century. The white-painted clap-boards had been added to the exterior in the mid-19th century when the interior was also painted white, covering up the 17th century crude rustic artwork which had decorated the church's interior walls and barrel-vaulted ceiling. Around 1960 the white internal over-painting had been skilfully removed revealing the original artwork which was restored: the nave walls are covered with entwined floral designs, the blue-painted barrel-vaulted ceiling dotted with rustic paintings of Biblical figures and 100s of stars, and the chancel ceiling decorated with a central figure of the crucified Christ and, most impressive of all, angel figures with outstretched wings blowing horns (Photo 48 - 17th century artwork at Undredal stave church).

As we walked back down to the quay, we discussed with our guide modern life in Undredal: despite the village still seeming to look to the ferry as contact with the outside world, she admitted that most residents now use their cars, tending to rely on the road and looking to Voss as their main town. Although Aurland is the municipality centre, children from Undredal go to school by bus in Voss, and teenagers to college in Sogndal across the fjord by ferry. Undredal's tiny church has no space for a graveyard, and deceased from the village are transported by boat across the fjord for burial at Aulands churchyard where Undredal has its own separate burial space. We also asked about local attitudes to the intrusion of cruise ships: again opinion is divided, but generally people resent the mass intrusion that now bedevils Flåm, causing a unanimity of determination to control the impact of tourism, to avoid any mal-transformation of Undredal's way of life, and preserve their distinctive identity; in other words everything that is now at risk in Flåm.

A happy stay at Undredal Camping:  Undredal's setting was so peaceful, it was an easy decision to remain here for a further night at Undredal Camping. We took a further photographic stroll around the village, enjoyed a picnic lunch down by the ferry pier (Photo 49 - Picnic lunch at Undredal ferry pier), tasted the different varieties of local goat's cheese in the café, and made our contribution to the local economy by stocking up our provisions in the village shop, another local facility that the residents of Undredal were determined to conserve. During the Sunday evening, villagers wheeled their dustbins down to the quayside; Monday was clearly dustbin day in Undredal, and in the morning we were woken early by the arrival of the bin-men's lorry. Our brief stay here in Undredal had thoroughly endeared this admirable little community; we felt entirely at home here and privileged to have shared a few days in this lovely fjord-side spot looking out along the line of high mountains (see above left). And sunset on our final evening at Undredal brightened the sky across the fjord with a ruddy glow (see right). Undredal ranked with Fjærland, Kjøllefjord and Berlevåg as being included in our list of Very Special Places.

Gudvangen ferry port and Nærøyfjord:  it was difficult to drag ourselves away, but the time had come to return up the steep, winding road to the valley-head, past the goat farms (see left) (Photo 50 - Undredal goat farm) and back to the junction with E16 in the midst of high looming mountains. Turning westwards, the road immediately entered the 11.5km long Gudvanga Tunnel. This is Norway's second longest tunnel, opened in 1991 to connect the Nærøydalen village of Gudvangen at the head of Nærøyfjord with the Undredalen valley. Remarkably the 51.5kms (32 miles) of road between Gudvangen and Lærdal through this wild mountainous region is made up of 43kms (27 miles) of tunnels! The Gudvanga Tunnel must lose height steadily along its 11km length, from the high mountains at the head of Undredalen down almost to fjord-level at Gudvangen: George coasted for most of the way through the tunnel, trying to keep speed below the 70 kph speed limit given the lurking presence of speed cameras within the tunnel. Paul's evocative image of Gudvangen from a 1968 colour slide recalled a peaceful little settlement of brightly painted wooden cottages clustered along the edge of the fjord-head and surrounded by towering mountains (see right). We emerged from Gudvanga Tunnel by an enormous lorry park, and turned into a side-lane to the ferry port. The mighty mountain walls of Nærøydalen were still there towering 1,500m high above the narrow valley and magnificently shadowy length of Nærøyfjord (Photo 51 - Inner Nærøyfjord) (see below left), and the fan of Kjelfossen waterfalls cascaded vertically down the face of the southern cliff-wall above Gudvangen village. But all else was gone. Paul's nostalgic image was shattered: the fretted decorative woodwork fronting the hotels was rotting and the paintwork pealing, and gone were the peaceful little boats bobbing in the ford by the colourful wooden cottages. The modern ferry-port is a miserably sordid place; it would be even worse at the height of summer with hoards of tourists swarming around the tacky souvenir emporia, ferries and cruise ships filling the air of this beautiful, narrow fjord with diesel fumes, and tour-buses lined by scores in the enormous parking area which now filled the head of the fjord. We turned back to the main E16 to find tonight's campsite.

Vang Camping at Gudvangen in Nærøydalen:  through the main village and farms of Gudvangen strung out along the busy E16 highway, we reached Vang Camping. Despite the gloomy overcast conditions, this looked an attractive place, well cared for with traditional style turf-roofed log cabins and a flat, grassy camping area looking along the magnificent line of 1,500m high towering mountain-walls enclosing Nærøydalen. Leaving aside the noise of heavy trucks thundering along the main road, Vang Camping was a welcoming, trim and straightforward little campsite with bright, spotlessly clean facilities and a very reasonable price including site-wide wi-fi, and best of all set in the stunning surroundings of Nærøydalen (Photo 52 - Vang Caping in Nærøydalen). We happily settled in, little knowing that in our remaining 2 weeks in Norway we should struggle to find another such acceptable campsite. In the heavily overcast conditions and gloomy confines of Nærøydalen's enclosing mountain walls, darkness fell even earlier that night.

Tomorrow we should surmount the mountainous head of Nærøydalen, up to the vantage-point at Stalheim for its spectacular view looking down the length of this magnificent mountain-enclosed valley. On then to visit the port-city of Bergen where in the heady days of 1968, Paul and Andrew arrived by the long-gone ferry from Newcastle. During our final days in Norway we shall travel down the south-western coast-line to the now oil-rich port of Stavanger, before visiting Norway's southernmost point at Lindesnes lighthouse; we shall then call in at Kristiansand on the way along the southern coast back to our starting point in Norway almost 5 months ago at Langesund, for the ferry back to Hirtshals in North Jutland, Denmark. But that's all for the next episode, coming shortly.

Next edition to be published quite soon

Sheila and Paul

Published:  6 March 2015

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