Scandinavian Roadtrip - Norway

August 2006

It seemed to take an age to first reach the Norwegian border, and then onto Oslo itself. The Swedish/Norwegian scenery was a continuation of yesterday’s forests and green hills. It was raining again. At the border, we had to drive slowly through a large warehouse and get stared at by immigration officials who did not stop us. Just over the border we spotted a shopping mall and found an ATM to get Norwegian Kroner. By the time we reached Oslo mid afternoon, I had driven 1500 miles.

“In a tamed and heavily populated continent, Norway remains a wilderness outpost. Everything here is on a grand scale, with some of Europe’s finest and wildest land and seascapes. Norway stretches north in a long slender band along the Atlantic seaboard, up across the Arctic Circle to the Barents Sea and the Russian border. Behind this rough and rocky coast are great mountain ranges, harsh upland plateaux, plunging river valleys, rippling glaciers, deep forests and, most famously, the mighty fjords which gash deep inland”. (Rough Guide).

Background: 4.5 million population (500,000 in Oslo, 240,000 in Bergen). A Constitutional Monarchy . The Lutheran Church of Norway is the official state church. Historically, Norway burst onto the scene in the 9th Century with its Viking warriors who sailed west to Greenland and Newfoundland and as far south as Sicily to both trade and kick some ass. Then its period of greatness was suddenly ended in 1349 by the Black Death which wiped out between half and two thirds of the population. The Danes took control at the end of the 14th Century and remained in command until 1814. Then the Swedes took over and finally Norway regained its independence in 1905. The Germans invaded during World War Two.

Its economy is highly dependent on the oil industry, with crude oil accounting for 40% of the country’s total exports. Natural gas, metals and fish products account for about 8% each. Norway is not a member of the European Union yet, but has free trade deals. The Norwegians are “not given enough credit for construction one of the most civilised, educated and tolerant societies in the world” (Rough Guide).

Everyone seemed to speak fluent English in Norway but should you wish to use a few words try: Goddag (Hello), Morna (goodbye), Takk (Thank you) and my personal favourite Snakker du Engelsk? (Do you speak English?)

I had flown to Oslo for one night back in 1983 that didn’t really count so it was my first proper visit to the Norwegian capital. While the city centre is compact, the outer districts spread over a vast 450 square kilometres amongst the forests and water. Entering the suburbs, we discovered that all roads into the city had a 20 Kroner toll. If you got lost, you usually found your way back onto a main road only to have to pay another toll. Bugger.

We had come to see two major sights. Firstly, the Viking Ships Museum containing a trio of Viking longships. The Vikingskipshusett, along with an impressive collection of other museums, is located on the heavily wooded Bygdoy peninsula, south west of the city centre. The Museum offered an excellent family ticket for about£10. It was a large hall specially constructed to house three 9th Century Viking ships, with viewing platforms to enable you to see inside the hulls.

Made of oak, they were originally embalmed in clay at ritual burial grounds in the south of the country and rediscovered, remarkably preserved, in the early 1900’s. The size of the Viking burial mound denoted the dead person’s rank and wealth, while the possessions buried with the body were designed to make the afterlife as comfortable as possible. This included burying ships (and killing slaves).

The Oseburg Ship (discovered 1904) was 22m long and 5m wide. It had an ornately carved prow and stern which rose high above the hull, where thirty oar holes indicated the size of the crew. It was the burial ship of a Viking chieftain’s wife and the recovered treasure was also on display in the museum – these included fierce looking animal-head posts, carved ceremonial sleighs and household items for cooking etc. A horse and cart had also been buried in the boat. The Gokstad ship, discovered in 1880, was slightly longer and wider. There were only fragments of the third Tune ship discovered in 1867. It was funny to see the old photos of tourists dressed in Edwardian clothes looking at the excavations. Though it is a small museum, you can learn more about the Vikings here in an hour than anywhere else. Recommended.

Just northwest of the city centre and another toll road lay Vigelandsparken. This was full of marble and bronze statues made by Gustav Viegland (1869-1943). He was originally a woodcarver, who studied in Paris and was influenced by Rodin. Then in 1924 he was commissioned to decorate a park and was still at it twenty years later when he died. “It’s a literally fantastic concoction….he had the chance to let his imagination run riot” (Rough Guide). Consequently, it is one of the strangest sights you will see in a city park anywhere in the world.

The central fountain is an enormous bowl representing the burden of life, supported by straining bronze goliaths, while underneath, water tumbles out around figures in bushes. The bronze has turned a strange dark green colour with illuminated parts and the bushes now look like giant broccoli.

Climbing up to a stepped embankment, you see a 20m high obelisk and granite sculptures grouped around it which really stand out. “It’s a humanistic work, a writhing mass of sculpture which depicts the cycle of life as Vigeland saw it; a vision of humanity playing, fighting, teaching, loving, eating and sleeping and clambering on and over each other to reach the top” (Rough Guide). The surrounding tiers of huge sculptures are equally impressive mostly because everyone is naked and leaves little to the imagination. The stone sculptures are detailed enough to show veins on arms and muscles on backs. Wrought iron gates surrounded the terrace with strange themes.

Back down the hill and past the fountain was a bridge leading to the official park entrance. The bridge over wide river was lined either side by frowning, fighting and posturing bronze figures. Tourists would ape the characteristics for photo opportunities. It is difficult to describe this place. It is unique, free and always open. Check out my photos. Recommended.

It was early evening by the time we took a quick drive around central Oslo to see the Stortinget (Parliament), an imposing chunk of neo-Romanesque architecture completed in 1866. In front of it was a narrow park full of locals taking in the summer evening. Nearby was the controversially modernist 1950 Rathus (City Hall) which rears high above the waterfront as a twin towered building of dark brown brick.

Finally we parked up outside the Akershus complex (Oslo’s castle). The original fortification was built on a rocky knoll overlooking the harbour around 1300. When Oslo was badly damaged by a fire in 1624, the city was relocated and the medieval castle was transformed into a Renaissance residence. A new fortress of thick earth and stone walls, the Akershus Festning, was also constructed around the castle. We entered the (free) complex via a bridge into the cobbled lanes, past a royal guard and took a stroll around the historic complex, popping into a small museum about the history of Oslo. There were other small museums (closed by now) such as one on the Norwegian Resistance movement to the Nazis during World War Two. There were fine views of the harbour from the steeply walled embankments. It was a nice way to end our brief visit to Oslo.

As with Gottburg, we did not Oslo justice. There are many museums here, but I feel that we saw some special things. It would be worth flying here for a weekend too. Preoccupied with the distances that we would have to cover, the fact that we could not camp near the centre, and it was raining again, we decided to push on, utilising the many road tunnels under the city to make a quick escape.

We found the E16 road to Bergen (500+ km north west) and followed some forested river valleys until we found a camp site. This turned out to be south of Honefloss on the banks of Tyrifjorden less than 50km from Oslo. By now, we had the camping routine down to a fine art. As with the last campsite, I was forced to cook on our portable gas stove. Norwegian camp sites also had the habit of charging extra for showers either with tokens or Kroner coins.

On Thursday 10th August, we awoke to have a fine view of the Tyrifjorden with dark blue water stretching in all directions. We were keen to make tracks and at Honefloss, we left the E16 and followed Highway 7 through the Hallingdal valley which had few settlements, and mostly just a few congregations of wooden houses at various points. The Oslo-Bergen railway followed the valley next to the road. The wooden houses had grass growing on their roofs (insulation in the winter?). One even had sprinkler on to water the grass! The Rough Guide called this valley ‘unexciting’, but I thought the scenery was lovely with lakes appearing out of nowhere.

We passed through Geilo which, surrounded by hills, is a popular winter skiing town, but today it was deserted and the ski slopes were now grass slopes. There was a huge carved wooden troll outside one of the larger hotels.

Trolls: Spirits of the underworld, trolls were ambivalent figures, able both to hinder and help humans. The first trolls were depicted as giants, but later versions were small, strong, misshapen and pale from living in darkness, because sunlight would turn then to stone. Legend has it that they were skilled craftsmen in metal and wood and made tools for the gods (Odin’s spear and Thor’s hammer). They often put curses on humans and were said to steal children and carry off women to be their wives. Up to two hundred years ago, locals were still ringing village church bells to drive them away. Nowadays, you see trolls everywhere in Norway. They are the staple item at every souvenir shop and from key-ring size to large wooden carvings like the troll at Geilo.

Highway 7 continued west for another 100 km, a lonely handsome road slicing across the Hardangervidda mountain plateau. The Hardangervidda National Park looks after a third of it. This is Europe’s largest mountain plateau, occupying 100 square km. It is characterized by rolling fells, wide stretches of level ground, and rocky surfaces strewn with ponds and rivers. The whole plateau is above the tree line so it appears rather barren especially when the wind blows in your face. From the plateau we caught our first view of a glacier in the distance, the Hardangerjokulen, to the north. It was enormous, spectacular and dominated the horizon.

The lichen which covers the rocks on the plateau, attracts herds of reindeer in the summer. We stopped at a grubby tourist area to see why a tour bus had stopped – which was to allow its passengers take a stroll across the plateau and buy souvenirs in tiny stone huts, looked after by weather beaten, harsh faced women who looked like they killed and skinned reindeer for a living. Reindeer skins hung from wooden frames outside and there was a table of reindeer antlers for sale. We had a ramble ourselves across the plateau in the sunshine to take in the scenery and let the wind blow the travel cobwebs away.

Further on, we stopped at a car park near the largest (I think) dam in Norway, which held back water from the glacier to produce a large lake called Eidfjordvatnet. After a picnic lunch, we climbed the nearest hill for a lovely view over the dam and the surrounding plateau. It is amazing what the kids would do for the bribe of a bar of chocolate!

At the edge of the plateau, the highway rushed down a steep valley. We came across a number of tour buses but didn’t know what was here. Surprisingly, it turned out to be the spectacular and mighty 145m high Voringsfossen Waterfalls. We first climbed a rocky path to the edge of a sheer cliff to look down on the main waterfall and across to a long and narrow forked waterfall. Then we walked down a tourist promenade to have a view of the waterfalls face on with a rainbow glimmering in the spray. We noticed that at the top of the valley, above the main waterfall, a large old wooden hotel was literally perched on the edge of the rocks. I wouldn’t want to stay there if I was a sleepwalker!

Continuing the descent we passed though Eidfjord to reach the fjord at the bottom of the valley and then drove along the waters edge to reach Brimnes. To continue on to Bergen we had to catch a short fifteen minute ferry ride across the fjord. It cost £10. It was the first time I have ever driven along a road that terminates and you need a ferry to rejoin it. But a ferry ride, however long, is always enjoyable, especially with the beautiful mountainous scenery around you.

Once off the ferry we were forced to join a long line of cars stuck behind a slow moving tour bus along the narrow and twisty highway 7 until we reached another inlet of the fjord when we were able to overtake and enjoy a lovely scenic drive along the edge of the fjord in the late afternoon sun.

Before leaving the UK I had come across a campsite near Bergen, on the internet which looked very inviting. It lay in valley on the outskirts of Bergen but when we arrived there was a line of caravans waiting to register. We drove on to a nearby campsite at Bratsland, that was also very full but had space for our tent under a tree. It seemed to be a magnet for motorbike groups. Once we had everything organised we were able to cook a decent meal in the kitchen area which also had a lounge and a TV.

I was feeling very weary after the long days drive along twisty roads and retired early for the evening, whilst our biker neighbours played AC/DC very loudly on their portable CD. Meanwhile Lori and the kids had met a group of Swiss party-goers who were drinking an alcoholic punch from a plastic petrol can before venturing out to a midnight party. They invited Lori and the kids to join them in a drink. One of them had lived in Norway and so was able to give Lori some tips on places to visit. It turned out that some them were in a Goth metal band and they ended up giving Colin their CD which they signed for him. He snuck it in the car CD to make sure I was fully awake the next morning!

The next morning we drove into Bergen and somehow managed to avoid paying the road toll. Bergen is a scenic harbour town protected by hills and islands. It is the second largest city in Norway and renowned for its heavy rainfall (average 260 days a year). Fortunately, it was sunny this morning so we were able to see the fine old historical area in all its glory. Parking in the centre, we first took in the Torget open-air fish market which nowadays caters mainly for the tourists with stalls displaying mounds of prawns, crab claws, dried cod and buckets of herring. There was so much fish around that the market seemed to be illuminated with a red glow.

Alongside the fish market, lay the original settlement at Bergen called Bryggen this is now a UNESCO World Heritage protected and preserved quarter with a string of wooden warehouses and distinctive gables fronting the wharf. Bergen was the largest and most important town in medieval Norway and a thriving trading town taking advantage of the its membership to the Hanseatic League which linked two hundred European cities. The Bryggen was destroyed by a fire in 1702, and today’s buildings date from that time or are reconstructions. Some of them lean into each other as a result of a Dutch munitions ship exploding in 1944 during World War Two. They are now pretty much souvenir shops full of trolls, but it is a very picturesque area and you can explore the narrow wooden back alleyways.

At the end of Bryggen lay the Rosenkrantzarnet Tower built in the 1560s, and Hakonshalle, a large ceremonial hall, dating from the 13th Century but reconstructed after the 1944 explosion. Bergen was packed with tourists today and an hour was more than enough time to stroll around the old centre. I’m sure there is a lot more to see in Bergen but I think we saw the best part.

To leave Bergen is a lot harder than entering it. The dual carriageway is forced through a series of tunnels with few slip roads. We needed to restock on food and had not seen a supermarket in town so when we spotted a Lidls by the other side of the road we decided to try and get to it. Lori made a lucky guess and we found it. We didn’t realise it then, but it turned out to have the cheapest foodstuffs in Norway. However it didn’t take our credit cards only cash. Getting back to the main road was another matter. We ended up driving around in circles before realising that we had to head into Bergen to get back out.

“Sognefjorden, Norway’s longest (204km) and deepest (1308m) fjord cuts a deep slash across the map of western Norway. Sheer lofty walls rise more than 1000m above the water in some places” (Lonely Planet). To head north, we would have to cross it somehow.

We followed the E16 100kms to Voss with the road weaving past mountains and fjords and an endless series of tunnels of various lengths. After Voss, we drove north and passed an attractive waterfall by the ‘Tuinde’ campsite, not marked on any map or any tour guide and stopped for lunch. It was at this point, that I discovered that I had left my petrol cap at the last garage!

The cheapest Norwegian (and Swedish) garages are the unmanned self- service ones. You stick your credit card in and punch in your key code and the pump computer makes a copy of your details and returns the card. You then fill up. Then you stick your card back in and it issues a receipt and returns the card. It is a simple process once you are used to it, but not the first time you try, when the instructions are in Norwegian and you are not sure if the machine has swallowed your card and you don’t realise that the card will be returned to you before you fill up etc. Consequently, my attention was rather distracted away from the petrol cap. A rag was stuffed in the fuel tank for the rest of the trip. Doh!

The road then turned north-east to Gudvangen which lies at the southern tip of the Naeroyfjord, (an offshoot of Sognefjorden), one of the most spectacular fjords in Norway and on the popular ‘Norway in a Nutshell’ coach tours. It is a deep blue fjord, as narrow as 500m in some places with towering 1200m cliffs, isolated farms and plummeting waterfalls including Kjelsfossen one of the highest in the world. This was visible from Gudvangen.

From here, you could either catch a long ferry ride across the fjord to Kaupanger, or alternatively take in more tunnels including the longest road tunnel in the world (Laerdalstunnelen), followed by a short ferry ride. Based on the price of the earlier ferry, we decided it would be a lot cheaper and probably quicker to drive it.

Just beyond Gudvangen, the E16 disppeared into an 11km long tunnel and then an 8km tunnel to emerge a few kilometres from Flam. At Aurland, we entered the new, free 24.5 kilometre Laerdalstunnelen to Tonjum. The tunnel’s black interior was intermittently broken up on three occasions by luminous blue lights. These were supposedly designed to get your attention and stop you from being hypnotised by the darkness. It was strange to come back into sunlight, but a few kilometres on, we plunged into another12 km tunnel. I think we drove through at least 100 tunnels during our stay in Norway, all mostly in Fjordland.

We had left the E16 at Tonjum and joined highway 5 which was split by the Sognefjorden, so we caught a twenty minute ferry ride across it. While the others were off buying ice cream, I noticed a couple of dolphins frolicking in the water. They had disappeared by the time a disappointed Lori returned, but she spotted them when they reappeared just before we docked.

It was straight into another lengthy tunnel and onto Sogndal, continuing on Highway 5 through another series of tunnels (by now I felt like a mole) towards Stolaholmen. It was a beautiful drive through a valley with isolated farms perched on forested cliffs above us and small wooden villages next to motionless lakes that reflected the buildings and trees. Sheep lay by the side of the road in the shade and a herd of cows were being forced along the road to get milked.

Our destination was the Jostedalbreen National Park, which started just north of Mundal that lay at the head of scenic Fjaelandsfjorden. It was a bit of a shock to exit the final tunnel and then face a tollbooth – not to pay for the tunnels, but because the road in the National Park was privately owned. The toll was £14! What were we going to do? Turnaround? We found the small, quiet Boyum campsite with a beautiful view of the nearby glacier.

With a total area of nearly 500sq km, the many tongued, Jostedalsbreen dominates this area and is mainland Norway’s largest icecap, 400m thick in places and reaching 1950m above sea level. Lori had never seen a glacier until Norway and I wondered if it would be possible to climb one of the tongues, so we left the kids playing in the campsite and did a recce trip to the nearby Supphellebreen glacier only 10km away.

Parked up, we followed a rushing river exiting from the bottom of the ice and walked up a track to the large hole within the ice. Then we started to climb a gentle slope of hard ice – the ice was made up of different compositions, some was really tough crystal clear ice, some was crunchy ice. We kept climbing a couple of hundred feet until we reached the black ice packed with glacial moraine. We were conscious of the fact that the sun was setting and rather than try and come down the ice, which would be slippery, we cut across the glacier to the rocky sides and came down that way. It seemed to take an age, but we got down and back to campsite before dark. There was a fabulous purple/pink/orange sunset over the glacier. Lori was totally enthralled by the experience, especially as we had had the place to ourselves.

As soon as it was light the next morning, we had the kids in the car, left the tent and drove up to the other glacial tongue called Boyabreen. It was a longer walk through marshy land to an aquamarine glacial lake. There was a rope to supposedly warn people not to go any nearer, but with noone else around, we snuck over and walked up to the ice hole at the bottom of this glacier. It would be impossible to climb it and it was also full of dirt, so we decided to head back to the Supphellebreen for a different climb but this time, returned down on the ice itself. It was much more difficult than it looked because it was more slippery than last night.

Back at the campsite, the sun was rising and I cooked a decent fry up while we congratulated ourselves on having seen two glaciers with noone around and the experience of climbing one. It had been a memorable start to the day.

After packing up, we drove through the spectacular national park, heading along the western edge onto an isolated road to another glacial tongue at Briksdalbreen. The location was more spectacular in that the glacier started much higher up and seemed to hang off the cliff, but there were a few distractions. Firstly, since it was a Saturday, it appeared that every tourist in Norway had decided to either come by tour bus or drive up here so the forty five minute track to the glacier was packed with people. Secondly, with that many people around, it was obvious that it would be difficult to climb up the ice (especially with professionals acting as guides). Finally, the car park fee was over £5. We decided, having already climbed our own personal glacier that a few photos of Briksdalbreen from a distance would be good enough and we left the packs of tourists behind.

Norway seemed like a really popular destination this year and if car stickers were an indication, we saw most European countries represented. Italian campervans were touring in posses. Back on the Highway 60, we passed through more tunnels and lunched by the water’s edge of a fjord just outside Stryn. Many local families walked down to sunbathe, picnic and swim nearby, though the water was still cold.

The fjordland scenery continued to be spectacular as we joined Highway 15 and after the next series of tunnels, we then made a detour north to see the Geirangerfjord. As one of the regions smallest fjords, it is also one of the most breathtaking. To reach it from this side, involved a long twisty climb up through dozens of hairpin turns – probably the most spectacular road we used in Norway. You eventually climb up through a mountain pass and then start to descend. The Geirangerfjord comes into view and your mouth drops. There was a viewpoint to pull up and take in the mesmerising scenery. On this sunny day, I think this was the finest view I saw in Norway. We could have continued to descend to the water’s edge far below, but having reached it, we would just have turned around and retraced the narrow road, so we enjoyed the view and saved time by turning around further up. It would also be nice to do some hiking which I had no time to do on this trip.

At this point we left Norway’s Fjordland. Without doubt, it is one of the most spectacular regions in Europe if not the world. It was a mixture between the Canadian Rockies, New Zealand and Scotland. I never got bored with the scenery and every fjord was different from the next one. It was nice to see glaciers again. The roads are superb, the traffic light, and the ferries run like clockwork. We had chosen a route through the centre that took in some of the most famous fjords. I’d love to return one day and do the coastal route southeast from Oslo, round to Stavanger and up the western coast via Alesund.

The fun thing about road trips is that you never know where you will end up every night. As we headed north, the evenings were getting longer with darkness falling around 10.30pm, so we did not worry if we didn’t stop until 8pm on some evenings. It usually depended on how tired I was from driving.

After returning back along the twisty road from hell to Highway 15, a nice easy route took us eastwards. At Vagamo, we spotted a splendid small wooden church and stopped to take a look. Norway has this habit of charging admission to historical churches. When we entered there was a 20kr charge. CCTV had been set up in the lobby. We were able to see the whole church from the lobby and discretely left without paying. I wonder if they have issued ‘Wanted’ posters with our faces on and distributed them in the area? £2.50 is a lot for a five minute look, even if it was the nicest church we saw in Norway.

With the early start this morning, we were ready to stop by 7pm and pulled into the unassuming town of Otta that lay at the confluence of two rivers. The campsite was just outside the centre, alongside a river. After dinner, the sound of rushing water (or was it the gin?) soon put me to sleep.

Setting off early on Sunday morning, I found the road virtually deserted. I counted a car every fifteen minutes or so. Our destination was Roros near the Swedish border in the east. It was a long convoluted drive there via Dombas (‘Dumbass’), Alvdal and Tolga and seemed to take an age.

Roros was another UNESCO World Heritage Site. Located on a treeless mountain plateau, it hasn’t changed much since its days as a copper mining centre, which started in the 17th Century until 1977. Unusually, Roros’ wooden buildings, some of them 300 years old, have escaped fires and are now protected. It was a quiet place, dominated by the huge impressive church which was built in 1784 and reflected the wealth of early mine owners. It can apparently hold 1600 people, though I don’t know how because it was closed this morning. The oldest part of town lay nearby with a huddle of sturdy cross-timbered smelters’ cottages, storehouses and warehouses. Many had grass roofs. The old smelter had been converted into a museum with old slag heaps around it.

Lonely Planet calls it a “gem”. While I thought it was a lovely old town, which looked like a lived in reconstruction, it had been a long detour for what amounted to probably an hour’s comprehensive wandering. Personally, I wouldn’t go out of my way again to see it, but if you are passing nearby, it is definitely worth a look. Maybe it has more appeal when something is actually open unlike on this Sunday morning. I can however recommend the toilets in the Tourist Office. What a relief!

After another picnic lunch by a river somewhere on Highway 30, we rejoined the E06 and motored into Trondheim for the afternoon. Rough Guide says of Norway’s third largest city “atmospheric with much of its antique centre still intact”. Trondheim’s centre is surrounded by a loop in the River Nid. It was completely destroyed by a fire in 1681 and then rebuilt on a gridiron plan with broad avenues radiating from the centre. This new layout has survived intact. Old, brightly painted timber warehouses line the river.

Torvet was the main city square where young people hung out outside cafes on their incessant mobile phones and where Trondheim’s founder is perched on a tall stone pillar. A short walk took you directly to Nidaros Cathedral, one of Scandanavia’s finest medieval structures. It is the traditional burial ground for Norwegian royalty and the scene of every coronation since 1814. It was also a big draw on the pilgrimage trail.

This magnificent edifice (originally built 1070, fire damaged in 1719 and reconstructed as a late 19th Century replica) is carved from blue and green-grey soapstone with a copper-green spire and roof, and a fancy set of gargoyles. The ornately embellished exterior west wall was its best feature, lined with biblical characters and Norwegian bishops and kings. There was a hefty admission price of around £6 so we passed. I’ve seen the interiors of enough Cathedrals without paying for the privilege, especially reconstructed ones. It does look impressive from the outside. The admission did include the adjacent 12th Century Archbishop’s Palace (Erkebispegarden) but again it had been ravaged by fire and rebuilt many times and is now just a museum. It was a disappointment from the outside.

Other than these sights and a stroll downtown, a couple of hours in Trondheim was enough. Like Bergen, it seemed like a nice place to live. The main E06 highway on the eastern side of town has a £6 road toll, which can be avoided if you take the coastal road through a few small towns, one of which is called ‘Hell’ and has been making a fortune off its name on postcards ever since. There is nothing to do here except have your photo taken by the town sign. Paradoxically, the Norwegian word ‘Hell’ means ‘good fortune’. By the time we reached Hell, we had driven 2,500 miles. Rejoining the E06, we would stay on this road for the rest of our journey north. We eventually stopped at the Follingstua Campsite, by the Beitstadfjorden, just past Steinkjer (‘Stinker’). It was a lovely location and it was still light at 11pm!

A week into our trip, we were ready to cross the Arctic Circle but it would be a long haul and we wouldn’t reach it until 2.30pm, six hours later. Narvik was a mind-blowing 910km away. I don’t have much recollection of the journey apart from leaving wooded valleys for the wider, harsher landscapes of the Nordland province. “The road bobs across bleak plateaux and scuttles along rangy river valleys” (Rough Guide). Beyond Mo-i-Rana (Mo), the E06 cut inland to weave across the mountains of the interior.

“Considering the amount of effort it takes to actually get here, crossing the Arctic Circle, about 80km north of Mo, is a bit of a disappointment” (Rough Guide). I disagree. I had never driven across the Arctic Circle before and it felt great. The bleak landscape just added to the experience. I wasn’t even bothered by the gleaming Arctic Circle Centre (Polarsirkelsenteret) which “disfigures the scene like a giant lampshade plonked by the roadside and stuffed with every sort of tourist bauble imaginable” (Rough Guide). Whatever. It was distinct, different and the souvenir prices were no more expensive than anywhere else in Norway. I particularly like the ‘snoring moose’ toy. Incidentally, moose souvenirs were everywhere, especially moose traffic stickers. Not that we ever saw a moose, just endless ‘Warning: moose about” traffic signs. Note: if you decide to send a postcard from this centre, it may take a few weeks to arrive.

The nearby hills contained hundreds of small stone cairns. There were a couple of World War Two memorials to dead Yugoslav and Russian POWs who died building the road to Narvik in terrible conditions, and an official line to step over the Arctic Circle. While we were here, mist descended adding even more atmosphere. Bikers and campervans would roll in just as pleased as we were, to reach the Arctic Circle. Our driving mileage by now was 2,830 miles.

The louring mountains in the vicinity of the Arctic Circle Centre are part of the vast Saltfjettet National Park, a mountain plateau. The E6 cut through these rippling moors and a red squirrel ran out in front of the car. I hadn’t seen one in years.

We drove on to Rognan and Botn and turned into Krigskirkegarder. Buried here, in a wooded glade, high above a fjord, are the Yugoslav prisoners of war and their German captors who died in the district during World War Two. The men are interred in two separate graveyards. The Yugoslav one just contains mass graves, whereas the German one contains separate granite crosses for the deceased. There were several saying merely ‘a German soldier’. The youngest ones we found was soldiers aged just 19/20 years old. A German couple were there to pay their respects. Then we continued towards Narvik.

The 240km journey from Fauske to Narvik is “spectacular, with the E6 rounding the fjords, twisting and tunnelling through the mountains and rushing over high, pine-dusted plateaux” (Rough Guide). The sun shone late in the day and even at 7.30pm, it seemed more like 4pm. We reached Bognes at 7.15pm and had to wait forty five minutes for the ferry to Skarberget. It was the last Norwegian ferry we would catch and the mountainous fjord scenery was beautiful. We were forced to keep going until we reached Ballagen (‘Bollicking’) around 9pm where we found a campsite with a beautiful location by Ofotfjorden. Lori told me that when she awoke at 2am, it was already daylight. Thank god for rum.

It was a short drive the next morning to Narvik. I don’t think we stopped apart to fill up with petrol. I had no interest in the port which handles iron ore exports though I knew the name as a place which had seen fierce fighting between the British / Norwegians and Germans. After Narvik, we had to make a decision. How much further could we head north? It was tempting to go as far as Hammerfest, the most northerly place in the world, but it was a major detour just to say we had been there.

I compromised by choosing Tromso, which was closer and called the “Capital of the North” because it is the most northerly town in the world. After Narvik, the scenery continued to impress with snow-capped mountains and more fjords. It never got boring. To reach Tromso, we had to detour up the E08. I hadn’t seen speed cameras for hundreds of kilometres and there were a stack of them in the middle of nowhere for no particular reason.

360km north of the Arctic Circle, Tromso was a surprisingly pleasant town of 60,000 people. On a hot summer’s day, everyone was out on the streets, or sunbathing in paths. I thought that the female population was the best looking in Norway in a Nordic/Viking way, but don’t tell Lori I was looking. We first checked out the Arctic Cathedral (Ishavskatedralen) which has a strikingly white, glacier appearance achieved by means of eleven immense triangular concrete sections, representing the eleven Apostles left after the betrayal. A huge stained-glass window, one of the largest in Europe made up the entire east wall.

We crossed the bridge over a fjord into central Tromso. Downtown, we found that to park in the streets, you needed a residential permit, but we parked anyway. The 1861 Cathedral (Domkirke) was a wooden affair complete with spire, surrounded by sunbathing people on the grass outside. Nearby, walking past the shops of Storgata, including the most northerly Burger King in the world, we reached the main square Stortorget which had market stalls selling jewellery/necklaces/usual tat etc.

Other than walking around in the sunshine and window shopping at the very expensive souvenir shops, I didn’t feel much compulsion to do anything else – not even visit the most northerly University in the world. I wondered what it would be like to live here with the Northern lights, and either twenty four hour sunshine or twenty four hour darkness during different parts of the year. I was tempted to pop into the Polar Museum to see the section on Roald Amundsen, who led the first expedition to the South Pole in 1911, beating Captain Scott’s British team who died in the attempt. Amundsen was last seen flying from Tromso in 1928, crashing somewhere in the Arctic.

We left Tromso, the furthest north we would reach on our journey and stared to head south towards Finland. Retracing the E08, I was stuck behind a slow driver. He was only slow in that he obeyed the absurdly low speed limit. I should point out here, that the Norwegian drivers are the most courteous, law abiding and patient drivers in the world. No one ever seemed in a hurry. If they saw us roar up behind them with our mandatory headlights blazing, cars would slow and pull over to the side to let us past as if they had all the time in the world.

So today, just for a change, I was following a slow driver while an impatient Norwegian driver hung onto my arse. In these situations, I like to get past the snail and leave the hare. I pulled out into the other lane on a straight road in the middle of nowhere, overtook the snail at a not unreasonably fast speed and as I pulled back into our lane…flash… a speed camera caught me. Bugger me. I’d been done by the most northerly speed camera in the world. Nearly a month later, I have yet to receive a ticket but having written this, I probably will now.