The last bottle of wine; Hardanger
Oslo was bypassed and happily we climbed up towards the mountains away from the heat and summer clad people to the higher places where people sat grilling outside their cabins dressed in full winter gear, as the low thick clouds sailed laboriously by, threatening sleet. It was rather dramatic and amazing seeing Hardangervidda again, chain after chain of blue mountains striding towards the horizon, with simple old fashioned huts bordered up for the winter, lupines still flowering and goats lying like cats around the abandoned cabins. The light was strange because the sun was above the thick clouds that made the afternoon dark as evening, and kept peeping at the edges as if to see what was happening below.
Bus loads of Japanese took pictures of Vøringsfossen waterfall, with only a trickle of water dripping down into the canyon, but it seemed to impress them.
We camped at Eidsfjord by Hardangerfjorden where the old geeser was now charging 50kr for wify and hot water to top that as well as the 200kr!
Some Dutch people were tenting beside us sitting outside late into the night, well wrapped, while a tall young man folded himself double to get into his tiny low tent, after hiking all day, that lay like a camouflaged green slug on the ground.
The campers chattered and chuckled, loudly in Dutch, until mercifully the weather kicked in and a proper downpour made them flee into their tents. It fell in such quantities that talking was useless. Morning dawned beautiful and warm, and from the tents people emerged with all their clothes on, fully equipped for the day, dragging out charts and tables and cups for coffee. Not my style at all any more, no I want to stretch and look at the sky in my nightie and leisurely put the tea kettle on inside “Gudridur”!
We drove across the new, loudly controversial bridge across Hardangerfjord. “…don’t spoil the countryside” ”No scars wanted to mar the fjord…” the opposition was fierce, but it does make the traffic flow smoother and lessens the hair rising drives along the roads to catch the last ferry. I loved the old ferry, but can see the bridge does make life easier for many. It was a sate of the arts construction that bridge, worthy of world wide applaud and I could have managed without it. But then, I am for slow travel.
"Welcome to Vestland" read a road sign. We move with the times, at least in places.
Oslo was bypassed and happily we climbed up towards the mountains away from the heat and summer clad people to the higher places where people sat grilling outside their cabins dressed in full winter gear, as the low thick clouds sailed laboriously by, threatening sleet. It was rather dramatic and amazing seeing Hardangervidda again, chain after chain of blue mountains striding towards the horizon, with simple old fashioned huts bordered up for the winter, lupines still flowering and goats lying like cats around the abandoned cabins. The light was strange because the sun was above the thick clouds that made the afternoon dark as evening, and kept peeping at the edges as if to see what was happening below.
Bus loads of Japanese took pictures of Vøringsfossen waterfall, with only a trickle of water dripping down into the canyon, but it seemed to impress them.
We camped at Eidsfjord by Hardangerfjorden where the old geeser was now charging 50kr for wify and hot water to top that as well as the 200kr!
Some Dutch people were tenting beside us sitting outside late into the night, well wrapped, while a tall young man folded himself double to get into his tiny low tent, after hiking all day, that lay like a camouflaged green slug on the ground.
The campers chattered and chuckled, loudly in Dutch, until mercifully the weather kicked in and a proper downpour made them flee into their tents. It fell in such quantities that talking was useless. Morning dawned beautiful and warm, and from the tents people emerged with all their clothes on, fully equipped for the day, dragging out charts and tables and cups for coffee. Not my style at all any more, no I want to stretch and look at the sky in my nightie and leisurely put the tea kettle on inside “Gudridur”!
We drove across the new, loudly controversial bridge across Hardangerfjord. “…don’t spoil the countryside” ”No scars wanted to mar the fjord…” the opposition was fierce, but it does make the traffic flow smoother and lessens the hair rising drives along the roads to catch the last ferry. I loved the old ferry, but can see the bridge does make life easier for many. It was a sate of the arts construction that bridge, worthy of world wide applaud and I could have managed without it. But then, I am for slow travel.
"Welcome to Vestland" read a road sign. We move with the times, at least in places.