The interval between blog posts seems to be lengthening –
this has as much to do with the activities we’re involved in as the
availability of internet access. Since our last posts from Flam in Norway we’ve
kayaked on the fjord, walked a 14km round tip to an historic hill-side farm
overlooking the fjord, driven to the dizzying heights of the mountain look-out,
packed up and left Flam at 8.00am and drove the 550km through Oslo to Karlstad
in Sweden, watched the athletic hordes of Karlstad compete in a gruelling
cross-country-obstacle course on a beautiful sunny, family Swedish Saturday,
accompanied by the somewhat incongruous sounds of a couple of death metal bands
playing from outdoor stages, scootered until our knees bled around the campsite
(if we were under 12) with other blond scootering kids, barbecued our supper
dodging the Stuka aircraft-sized mosquitos as they dived bombed us with their
terrifying wail, visited the very interesting and brilliantly curated Karlstad
Varmland museum, traipsed around the inevitably vast Ikea, and stuffed
ourselves with their delicious meatballs for Sunday lunch. Phew. And as with
Flam, we have no real internet access here, so this post will have to wait
until we get to Stockholm tomorrow.
That’s the abbreviated version – for those who’d like more
detail, here goes:
Thursday morning greeted us with the first glimpse of blue
sky breaking through the thick blanket of cloud that had been with us since our
arrival in Flam. We were ready early for our kayaking adventure on the
Aurlandsfjorden which leads into the Sognefjorden. We walked the short walk to
the small beach opposite the village and cruise-liner berths, and met our guide
and his assistant Asbjorn and Johnny.
Asbjorn gave us a thorough briefing in his warm, soft but very clear and
firm English before we set off, Charlie and Geoff in one kayak, George and
Frances in the other. The fjord was absolutely still and crystal clear, and as
we paddled alongside the vast cliffs soaring up from the water’s edge with
waterfalls cascading down their flanks, one couldn’t help but marvel at their
majesty and one’s own insignificance! Asbjorn gave us a quick lesson in
geology, explaining how the cliffs and fjords were the result of the up-thrust
of the sedimentary rocks with resultant shearing to create the escarpments,
followed by successive periods of extreme cold causing the glacial erosion of
vast u-shaped valleys followed by warmer temperate periods in which rivers cut
deeper into the valley floor. Interestingly, this lead to incredibly deep
fjords, over 1,000m in places – in marked contrast to the shallow depths of the
North Sea we’d witnessed on the crossing to Esberg. We paddled on, and beached
at the foot of the Kings Path, named after the route was discovered by King
Sverre and his men as they retreated over the mountains from King Magnus (I
think!) before his subsequent victory to briefly unite Norway for the first
time under one King.
We climbed the slippery path with mud squelching through our
toes in our trusty multi-coloured crocs (Charlie electric blue, George green,
Frances light blue, Geoff red) through the trees and crossing the river on rope
bridges stopping for Asbjorn to introduce us to edible leaves, wild raspberries,
and the story of the Kings until we reached the object of our hike, the
impressive waterfall dropping from the cliffs above. With so much rain earlier
in the week the waterfall was absolutely crashing down, throwing off a curtain
of spray which created a beautiful rainbow effect on the rock face opposite.
As we paddled back, we skirted the rocky foreshore, putting
our team-work, paddling and rudder skills to the test. We spotted a seal
sunning itself on the rocks, cormorants diving for fish, and learned of the
other wildlife to be seen including a Golden Eagle spotted by Asbjorn recently
before we made it back to the shore, tired but very fulfilled – and before we
landed, Asbjorn and Johnny demonstrated their Eskimo-roll skills in the cold
waters of the fjord – thankfully not requiring us to copy!
Asbjorn and Johnny were terrific guides – we were very
lucky, as we’d caught them on their last day of the season. As we discovered
later that evening when Frances and I joined the guys in the local brewery-pub
for a beer, Asbjorn was about to head off to the lake district and the
University of Cumbria to continue his Masters in outdoor activity leading,
studying the British, German and Norwegian approaches to personal development
though outdoor pursuits.
His breadth of
knowledge and engaging approach particularly with George and Charlie who he
encouraged to lead the group on the hike made the day very rewarding. Johnny, a
South African married to a Norwegian was in training for a planned solo paddle
the length of the fjord to Bergen, some six or so days away. We had a very enjoyable if eye-wateringly
expensive couple of beers in the pub, exchanging travel and adventure stories
and photos, email and blog addresses.
On Thursday we set off to walk to Otterness, the historic
hillside farm which we’d seen from the kayaks. The farm and several of its
collection of cottages and farm buildings date back to 1700, with other more
recent buildings marking the progress of Norwegian farm-life over the
intervening centuries. Having spent the afternoon at the Volks Museum in Oslo
with its collection of historic farm buildings it was fascinating to see these
in a real working farm context. After walking around and picking apples from
the trees and broccoli from the vegetable garden, we were invited into the farm
kitchen of the most recent house for tea and pancakes. The woman who looked
after us had grown up on the farm and lived there with her family and
subsequently her children until the 1990s. Her characteristic Norwegian warmth
and softness were reflected in the cosiness and simple comfort of her family
home – and in contrast to the rugged landscape and presumably harshness of life
in the winter months. As we left, she hugged the children and shook our hands
as though we were family leaving after a Christmas gathering.
As Frances and I walked home, George and Charlie scootered
ahead of us. The scooters have been fantastic – small and reasonably light,
they give great mobility and independence to the kids. The rattle along making
a terrible din, really in need of a better service than I with my sparse
toolkit can afford. They made it back to the village some time ahead of us,
calling to us across the bay with our family ‘coo-ee’ learnt from Australia.
As soon as we arrived back at the campsite, we jumped in the
car and headed off to drive to the lookout recommended to us by the campsite
owner. We followed the winding mountain road is it followed a switch-back route
up the mountain side. We stopped at the first look out, at which Frances
declared that enough-was enough and sat down by the road-side. George, Charlie
and I headed on, reaching the second look out with its cantilevered glass-ended
wooden observation platform jutting out over the precipitous valley. Even
though it was solidly built I felt pretty uncomfortable! I understand there’s a
similar platform over the Grand Canyon –except that it has a glass bottom! The
views were breathtaking – glaciers a little above us on the other side of the
fjord which stretched away to the west in the afternoon sunshine. By the time we’d arrived home we had worked
up a real appetite and wolfed down the delicious fish pie which Frances had
made – amazing how well we’re able to eat thanks to her cooking in the caravan.
We were up early on Friday to make a good start for the long
drive to Karlstad. We managed to get away shortly after 8.00am, heading back
the way we had come through the Laerdals tunnel and up into the cold clear air
of the mountains. It was a stunning day – blazing sun, clear blue sky, not a
breath of wind. Our ascent back to the ski-resort and over the mountain pass
was smooth and easy, the car pulling the load without much fuss. We hit the
roadworks and saw they’d made good progress, and in the dry conditions were
able to navigate through it with reasonable ease – much better and less
surprising than in the other direction. And then we were heading down the
mountain, stopping for fuel after some 310 miles including crossing the
mountain in both directions – the economy is really not too bad. The journey
back towards Oslo was fabulous – the roads improved as we descended, the views
across the many rivers and lakes glittering in the brilliant sunshine were
spectacular, and the traffic was very light until we hit Oslo. We chugged
through the inevitably clogged urban routes, emerging on the E18 East to
Stockholm in the afternoon sunshine and drove on towards the Swedish border.
Other than the cunningly disguised speed-hump which caught me by surprise as we
approached the border crossing, testing my reactions, the brakes and the car
and caravan’s suspension to the max, the roads continued to improve as we drove
on through the flatter lower lying lands of central Sweden. We finally arrived
in Karlstad at about 6pm after a 10-hour drive (very tiring due to the intense
concentration required all of the time), and made camp in the very big but
largely empty campsite on the shores of lake Vanern. Despite the beautiful
weather and lush grass, conditions were too wet underfoot to put up the awning,
so we set ourselves up without, had an early dinner and went to bed.
Saturday dawned clear, bright and pretty cold, even in the
caravan (thanks largely due to the roof hatches being wide open all
night!). The heater and bedding are
actually very effective and thus far the cold hasn’t worried us at all – I
think it won’t even as we head towards November. The campsite borders a large
forest and the vast lake (inland sea?) Varnen which stretches away to the
south. It’s a huge site, obviously a major resort in the summer. Adjacent to
the site a big fun-run was set up, skirting the site and running about 10kms
through the forest and along the lake, with major obstacles en-route such as
hurdles, slippery mats, scramble nets, muddy ponds and even a gauntlet of
summo-suited teenagers to run through. Very fortunately I discovered this as I
went for a morning run, equipping me with a cast-iron excuse not to enter
myself! We watched the runners around the course accompanied, as mentioned
above, by two death-metal bands grinding out their thunderous rock music. It’s
hard to imagine a less suitable entertainment – the musicians were typically
un-athletic and their music totally anti-social and anti-establishment, in
absolute contrast to the community and family atmosphere of the event!
As this all took place right by the campsite, Frances and
Charlie took advantage and did a huge load of washing. And George and Charlie
teamed up with other kids of the campsite and spent much of the day careering
around the site’s roads, leaping off kerbs and over obstacles on their scooters
until they both returned to the caravan in search of first said for their
inevitably grazed knees. Although there was little verbal communication
possible, they enjoyed the company of other kids, particularly their generosity
in buying them drinks! We had a barbecue in the evening. Despite the cold
evening temperatures the mossies are still out in force and are huge, flying
around in menacing squadrons looking down for easy prey before dive-bombing any
uncovered flesh they spot below.
Sunday permitted us a bit of a lazy start before heading in
to discover the delights of Karlstad. We drove into the town centre and made
our way to the Varmland museum. This proved a gem, beautifully laid out and curated,
painting a clear picture of the inventiveness and industry of the area.
Varmland (the county) is rich in resources (timber, water for hydro power, iron
ore). Karlstad is built on a series of islands in the delta to Lake
Vanern. It’s a big, orderly, smart but
at least at first glance unremarkable town but clearly plays an important role
in Sweden’s economy. After the museum we headed for the massive out-of-town
Ikea on the way back to the campsite. George loves Ikea (I’m not really certain
why!), and despite myself (I loathe big shops like this) I have to admit that I
enjoyed our guided wander. It’s exactly like any other Ikea, with a marked path
taking punters through every tempting department and depositing them all in the
canteen-like cafeteria. We queued up for our meatballs like locals, and had a
hearty and tasty lunch, before escaping the clutches of the bargains at the
exit.
We’ve now returned to the campsite for a rainy afternoon
‘in’ – a good opportunity to type this entry even though I won’t be able to
post it until we get to a site with decent internet access; and for the kids to
unwind with their own books and activities. We’ll head to Stockholm tomorrow –
we haven’t confirmed which site yet, but will do so later today
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