The alarm rang at 6 am and like wind-up toys, we sprung into action! Suitcases closed, elevator ridden, breakfast purchased (and anyone who knows me knows that I will not travel without good food) and we ensconced ourselves comfortably in car #1, seats 43 and 44, on the milk-run to Myrdal. I requested (and purchased) “comfort seats”, so we get free coffee and tea as well as plug outlets to keep our devices all powered up so I can work on the blog, and Lance and research our next step. I try to nap, to catch up from our middle-of-the-night disco adventures, but doesn’t really work out. The scenery becomes wetter (is that possible? but here it’s in context of rivers, ponds, lakes and copious waterfalls) and the landscape more (obviously) glacially sculpted. And gawk as we zip by, amongst the hillsides carpeted with pine and deciduous trees, farmhouses and lakeside cottages, and see a Prius aflame! You just never know.
After we pull into the station at Myrdal – and stations in this part of the world are mostly just a bench and little ticket house – we grab out bags and walk across the platform to the antique-looking green train that takes us 12-miles down (from 2,800 feet right down to sea level) into Flam. The train is rather well-known as an impressive feat of engineering because it’s not a cogwheel train (and who knows what that is?), but held to the tracks only by steel wheels, and controlled through five separate braking systems. The journey winds down through 20 tunnels (more than 3 miles worth) in 55 thrilling minutes. They are kind enough to stop at a spectacular set of falls, where at one point, a wood spirit comes out to sing and dance and try to cast a spell on us to join her in the mountains.
The train continues its twists and turns as the photographers lean out of windows precariously to get “the” shot. My attempts:
Flam turns out to be a tiny little village at the mouth of the Aurlandsfjord. Unfortunately, there is a large (by perspective, not actual real-world comparison) cruise ship docked, as well as several ferries whose function is to take people such as me on rides to gape and snap photos of the surrounding natural beauty. But we’ll get to that tomorrow!
Down from the train, next step is walking bags around the waterfront:
until we are (yay!) away from the area with shops and hotels, we come upon our little apartment at the Flam Marina. So lovely to walk onto the balcony and look out into the fjord, marked on all sides with steep walls of tree-carpeted granite.
Naptime! Two hours later, time to hit the grocery store for a quiet evening in. On the way, a beautiful sight created by the sun peeking out after a serious drizzle:
After much laughter in the aisles, checking out the information on tour boats and hiking opportunities, we are tucked in with salad and local goat cheese. And lest any of you goat cheese-o-philes (yes, I just made that word up) get envious, it is a cafe-au-lait colored brick of local cheese made by boiling the whey or some nonsense like that. Thought I would sample some “when-in-Rome” style action, but my oh my, it’s truly weird shit and will not make it into the pantheon of incredible foreign land cheese experiences, let me tell you!
More work on blog and low-key chores, and finally catching up on MUCH needed sleep.