In Oslo we settled at the YHA near the palace, and near the park in which I slept last time I was in town. I was much relieved to have a roof over my head this time. Plus walls, a shower, a door and all the other comforts that come with paid accommodation. Bronwyn and I met up with Kristin and Kristine, two of the Norwegian girls I met in La Rochelle. It seemed like ages since I met them on the beach, but it's only been 5 weeks, so much has happened since then. We wandered for a bit as we told our stories of travelling in Europe and retold what our plans are for next year. Martine was in town but working so the four of us dropped by her coffee shop to say Hi. The clouds were coming in but we headed for Akershus Festning anyway. When the rain started the girls decided that it was time to go pack for Kristin's move to Denmark that evening so Bron and I ventured on alone around the old fort. It cleared up as we returned to the hostel. That night we met Angelo, a guy touring Europe on his motorbike and detailing his trip online. I really like the idea of touring by bike, and hope to get to it some day, for now I'm happy with the trains.

   The next day was the ride to Bergen, and the sun was shining all the way. We whizzed past plenty of hard to pronounce places perched way up in the hills. The one that really caught our attention was called Dale, somehow we managed to see it every time we passed (four by the time we returned to Oslo) but missed most of the others. Bergen was smaller than we thought. I had only seen the inside of the station last time I was here. Everything was in easy walking distance so after dinner on the roof top terrace we set off to what looked liked the old wharf buildings. Bronwyn spotted and alleyway that brought us to Bryggen.

The view between Oslo and Bergen

Bryggen, the old wharf buildings in Bergen

   Neither of us got much sleep that night, thanks to the old American guy who comes in third on my list of all time snorers. I have plenty of angry things to say about him, but moving on I'll complain about the hostels lack of showers. For 4 dorms of 16 people each there were exactly 5 shower heads in the male washroom. They were communal. No thank you. I made sure I showered the night before rather than wait in the queue with the 31 other guys in the morning.

   In the morning (Monday August 18th) we boarded the train to Myrdal. We swapped to the Flam railway which slowly wound it's way down the hill side, past waterfalls, valleys and the occasional singing temptress (yes really, put on for the benefit of the tourists a siren like lady beckons travellers into the hills). At the bottom we enjoyed the little settlement of Flam and hopped onto the 1:25 boat to Gudvangen. Most of the passengers went to the highest deck, but their views would have been blocked by the bridge. We stayed down and at the front enjoying unspoiled views of the fjords. The journey took two hours and we spent all of that sitting on the edge, our legs hanging over the water and us looking out at the huge landscape all around us. Some parts reminded me of Yosemite Valley. The same granite colour with sparse vegetation and domed tops. Other parts reminded me of Milford Sound, and the rest was totally unique. The bus ride up to Voss was exciting, especially when the driver took the scenic route and met three busses coming down hill. He skilfully reversed around the corner coming incredibly close to the edge but never stressed out, I guess it was just routine. From Voss to Bergen we took the train and had a few hours to kill before the night train took us to Oslo.

   I've done that exact trip before, but this time I awoke to much darker skies. The sun wasn't coming up, and didn't look like it was going to. Outside was a dark grey mist hiding all the beautiful detail I saw a month earlier. On board we met Mark, a Canadian/American who we chatted to for an hour or so before the lights got dimmed. In the morning we talked more and be the time we split up in Goteborg (Sweden) we'd swapped email addresses and he'd offered me a place to crash if I go home via New York. Back packers are the greatest.

A video from Bronwyn

Naeroyfjorden