Etappe 7 - In the Mountains

A phone call with the previous owners of the Cinnamon Bun explains the problem and alleviates our worries - the beeping comes from an overly sensitive sensor next to the battery that doesn't like when pasta is being cooked. Chris loves noodles, but from now on, we'll open all the windows when spaghetti (or rice with corn) is on the menu. Fortunately, the beeping won't come back for the rest of the trip.

We drive along a beautiful mountain road, with a few unpopular tunnels but also cute little towns that we pass through. Eventually, we stop in one of them - the daily craving for coffee and cinnamon buns (the ones to eat) calls. We enter a beautiful little bakery where a mother offers fresh bread, amazing cakes, and coffee with her two daughters. We sit on the terrace in the sunshine and look at the fjord.

The most beautiful thing about this charming place, Aurland, is a small art store right below the café that lures us with beautiful jewelry in the shop window. Beautifully crafted jewelry made from small flowers and grasses growing here, enclosed in glass. These little works of art are made here by a young, very likeable woman. We start a conversation with her and besides the pretty necklace that Chris chooses and gives to me, we also find a few other trinkets. Denisa, that's the artist's name, tells us that it was thanks to Corona and a layoff that she had the impulse to start her own business with her hobby. She originally comes from Slovakia and now lives here with her boyfriend, who, like everyone else, tried to dissuade her from the idea of self-employment and the store. Only her mom believed in her and encouraged her. She then also sends her pretty self-sewn bags that Denisa sells in the store. She also sends one to me. Denisa says you have to follow your intuition and just do what feels right. Others on the outside sometimes can't judge that, and of course, she doesn't want to do this for the rest of her life either. But it fits right now for her and is a stepping stone on her way. She trusts in that and is very happy and at peace with herself. I am happy about our connection in spirit and finally I walk back after saying goodbye, buy something else, and take a photo of her. She plants a lot of joy and admiration in me and the necklace that Chris gives me will also remind me of her.

We continue driving, always with a beautiful landscape to our left. The water of the fjord shines turquoise and the sky is steel blue. In between are the tall gray rocks. We can't get enough of it. We stop at a special viewpoint for the hundredth photo - and see Stefan, the Belgian, and his companion. He sees us too and waves happily. The two of them are obviously on their way for a hike. Hiking... that's right, that's what we wanted to do too. Apart from Chris' tough swimming training in the fjord, we haven't moved much so far.

But our wheels are definitely moving. And not without consequences. After working our way up the sometimes very narrow mountain roads kilometer by kilometer (sometimes the road is so narrow that we have to roll back slowly if cars come towards us), we have to go down on the other side of the impressive high plateau. Our Cinnamon Bun is not slow, but rather heavy. And so, despite using the engine brake and driving in 2nd gear, our brakes start smoking and smelling. Chris stops every now and then, not only because of the sheep that lie contentedly and without a hurry in the way and are reluctant to move. That would be a shame if our brakes were to break here.

At just the right time, we come across a larger rushing watercourse in thickets, which the travel guide mentions as a waterfall. We park and hike there. Not without being annoyed by the two other travel groups who seem to have the same travel guide. Well, at least our brakes get a half-hour break.

On the continuation of our journey, the co-pilot makes a big mistake and we end up on the "wrong" route. Although it is shorter, it leads through very rugged and rather private-looking terrain. I believe all roads lead to Rome. However, since this route is even steeper than the normal road, this is not necessarily in the interest of the driver and the car. But our Cinnamon Bun doesn't let us down and impresses with its reliability. Shortly before sunset, we finally reach the Borgund Stave Church. Again - it is the oldest wooden building in Europe!

And it looks super creepy. Fortunately, we are too late and it is no longer open, just like the attached cemetery. Of course, we are impressed by the obvious durability of the construction and the related materials - wood...

When we finally arrive at the Bøflaten campsite in Vang, we are tired and hungry. The owner of the site is a true Norwegian Viking. After I called him three times on the way and asked him to reserve the best pitch for us (on the first call. On the second and third, I announced our delay), he welcomes us with a smile. The whole campsite is completely empty and we can choose the best spot. Of course, by the lake, next to a tree with two intertwined trunks, and as far away from people as possible.

We are happy and decide that we need a day of rest. "Not driving and having to move on, just being here." With this in mind, it is much more relaxed to cook dinner in the spacious and well-equipped kitchen on the site. I regret not making an effort to have a conversation with the friendly couple who are also cooking here when I see that they are drinking red wine. I also have such a craving for red wine, but there is nothing to buy in the supermarket except beer. We haven't made the effort to go to one of the state-owned liquor stores yet. Chris even goes to our Viking boss again and asks if he sells anything like that. But again, the information is - he is not allowed to, only the state can sell alcohol. That makes one realize how freely and uninhibitedly we handle the drug alcohol in Germany.

The next day, after Chris brings me coffee and rolls in bed and we have a leisurely breakfast with a view of the lake, I do laundry, play table tennis (2:1 for Steffi, then 2:1 for Chris and then again from the beginning), go shopping, cycle, swim, take photos, and read a lot of newspapers. For weeks, I have been collecting all the articles from our weekly newspaper that I would like to read. What a nice feeling to finally be able to take them in and reflect on them. Chris and I talk a lot about politics and society. We have very similar values, but we can discuss some views and variances within that framework. It is very enriching and at the same time reassuring and satisfying. Sharing, expanding, and consolidating one's own worldview is one of the most beautiful experiences in our relationship. Doing this not only through experiences and encounters, but also through conversation brings us closer to each other on different levels.

After another cozy self-cooked dinner in the communal kitchen, this time without wine, we discover a faint green light in the evening sky on our way back to the camper. Could it be the Northern Lights? Even though it doesn't flicker and is barely visible with a lot of squinting, we want to believe it. But of course, we are only at the beginning and we still have many opportunities to explore Nordic starry skies.

When we leave Bøflaten the next morning to drive into the mountains, we feel much more refreshed, we are tanned (2 hours of table tennis in the midday sun can also cause a sunburn in Norway), and we are looking forward to new adventures.

It's probably the first time on vacation that our alarm clock rings. Almost forgot what that sounds like... Just 5 more minutes... another 5 minutes... Okay, let's go! The mountain is calling!

It's already about 2 p.m. when we head towards Besseggen. Yes, that's how it is on vacation. And we have plenty of time, which should also be wasted now and then!

Kilometer after kilometer we wind our way along the road, always with Besseggen in sight. The ridge is known for its impressive view, which is created by the glacier lakes on its left and right. In general, it seems we have now arrived in the land of glaciers. Left, right, in front of us, and soon also much behind us, countless glaciers appear. My hiking heart beats faster and... oh... there's something I forgot! I don't have a hiking backpack with me. And even though Chris carries all the sweaters, pants, hats, gloves, water, binoculars, apples, and rain jackets for both of us together, it's still not feasible for his broad back. So, let's see how we solve this problem. Usually, I trust fate - it will somehow work out. And yes - we already come across a sports shop. Hooray! Oh no, sorry. Unfortunately, it's closed right now. As often in Norway (here the stores reliably close at 4-5 p.m.), we are too late. Late birds, no worms.

We continue driving and forget about all the backpacks in the world in view of the breathtaking scenery that unfolds before us. Mountains, glaciers, steppes, vastness. The clouds drift above them and no photo can capture what we see. It's too vast, too extensive, and touches us deep inside. We stop and take photos again and at the same time think about where we can stop and enjoy the view the best. The originally planned campsite no longer seems desirable to us. Why not stay here, high up at the feet of the Norwegian mountain range Jotunheimen?

As deserted as the country seems and as few tourists as we encounter on the way, it seems that quite a few migratory birds are drawn here. Some of the beautiful spots on the edge, just off the road, are already occupied. But there is still plenty of space. While we stop over and over to take photos, we also keep an eye on the location. Is it flat? Is it quiet? Is there enough space? How do we feel?

What we increasingly feel is the wind. Well, wind no longer seems to be the right word. In the last hour that we drive up here through the mountains, a real storm has come up. Every time we open the door, it blows everything inside and as soon as we venture outside for a successful shot, it messes up our long hair. The wind tugs at our clothes and drives us back inside the safe Cinnamon Bun every time. We keep driving. We start parking at a spot, only to realize after a short time that the spot is not ideal after all. Somehow we feel uncomfortable there. Also, time is advancing, it's getting later.

Then, there it is, a larger spot appears on the right side of the road. And indeed, there is already an amazing truck parked there. Yellow and with big tires. A bit like a tank. Expedition vehicle and cult-mobile all in one. Not only the view of the mountains, but also the proximity to this interesting vehicle tempts us and we stop. Could we spend the night here? Wild outdoor romance with a fantastic view. A door opens. It cracks and crashes. The door is wide open. It can't be closed anymore. Shit! The wind is so incredibly strong that it has torn open the door and Chris can barely close it again. Although the hinges are still holding, the door stopper in the middle has broken off. Shit! We are both shocked and silent. What a mess!

Okay, the main thing is that the door is still attached. Neither of us expected something like this to happen. What else do we have to think about, be careful about? And next: Get out of here! We can't stay here. If the wind is already tearing the door apart, we certainly won't park here for the whole night. It's only two meters further down on the slope into the wide valley. Nice view or not. But this is probably a bit too extreme and a Cinnamon Bun is not an expedition vehicle.

We drive off, a bit disappointed. It's getting dark again. And then we see them. Just like that, very unspectacularly, they are grazing in a meadow near Loms. A moose cow and two of her little ones. We park conveniently in an adjacent parking bay and take out our original Steiner binoculars - How well equipped we are. But with all the equipment, you also need some luck. And we have it now. We observe and take photos of the animals in their habitat, which obviously adjoins the human habitat very closely. Moose! We have seen moose! Unbelievable!

Finally, we find a place, bookable via the campsite reception robot, and park the Cinnamon Bun near the river. We sleep deeply and dream of moose. And glacier lakes.

Glaciers? We wake up unexpectedly. It is very early and once again we set out for the next adventure. This time guided and quite deliberately with a few other people. Otherwise, we won't make it to the top. I am happy to put on my hiking gear again, and my new backpack has already proven to be an excellent companion. The feet no longer hurt so much. Tired and expectant, we drive along the winding road. In a small room at the roadside with packed sandwiches and filter coffee, I equip myself and then we are already at the foot of the mountain. The view here is already amazing, the tires have already gotten hot. And now we are supposed to go way up there, well over 1700 m with our Cinnamon Bun. The hike starts at Juvashyttan, including crampons. Are we capable of that? Chris hesitates. I refer to the huge mobile home that we just saw turning the corner far above. If they can do it..!?!!!

So let's go, time is pressing. As always. Well, in general, we are never late, we just have a somewhat idiosyncratic way of measuring time, which is supposed to hold more than with other people.

Whether it reassures Chris that I am walking behind him?

It works great with just one crampon, and the breathtaking landscape completely captivates us. We are in a completely different world here, and even though we are not alone, but surrounded by people again, the effect of the magic of nature does not stop. The sun sparkles on the snow and the steel blue sky simply puts you in a good mood. To the left and right and now also below us: glaciers. How long will they still exist? Stupidly, I now realize for the first time that we are really harming the glacier here. And that we are experiencing something that is certainly unique, but somehow doesn't quite match our desire to live in harmony with nature and our earth. It's bad enough that we race through the world with a diesel engine. Now we're trampling on nature on a large scale on top of that...

The third stage consists of similar climbing as on Besseggen the day before. Rock after rock, a kind of wide ridge up to the summit. We take our time and don't linger too long at the top. However, the view is truly spectacular. Snow-capped peaks and glaciers as far as the eye can see. Everyone is sitting in their T-shirts (for some it's still not enough) and chat loudly with each other. Just right for us. Not. We each eat an apple and fortifyingly typical Norwegian Lembas bread and then head back down early. We enjoy the head start, and in any case, the trade-off of 'solitude' against 'experience something new' was worth it.

As often, the way back is not as exciting. But we enjoy the two pretty agile dogs that two of the other hikers actually have with them and that don't seem to mind the climbing or the many people.

What does bother us a bit is the fact that on the descent over the glacier, with only one crampon on our feet, we notice the melting ice under the beautiful sun. More and more small cracks or furrows appear under the melting lake's surface. And the disturbingly loud sounds of the glacier ice movement in not too far a distance don't make it any better either. Oh man, even I don't feel comfortable anymore. The fact that I'm walking behind Chris doesn't make me feel any safer either.

Two hours later, we are back in the sun - this time honestly tired and exhausted from two days of mountain adventure. We drink a nice beer while the sheep - by the way, they still have real tails and not only small stubs - graze next to us.

I am very grateful to Chris for doing this tour for me. Another check off my bucket list and a few more anchors of happiness in the map of my heart.

On the way back, we are almost driven crazy once again. The incredibly beautiful scenery we drive through is again completely different from anything we have seen so far, and Chris constantly jumps happily out of the car to take photos. His heart beats faster then, and I am genuinely happy for him and would love to capture these moments for him. We see a landscape of many lakes lined up, in whose surface the enormous mountain ranges with their snow-covered peaks are reflected. The atmosphere is crowned by a warm, velvety golden light and clear, not too cold air.

After some back and forth, we finally decide not to return to "our" beautiful Bøflaten campsite as originally planned but to stay here. We set up our bed on the Norwegian high plateau in the sunset, admire the clear, radiant starry sky, and then quickly fall into a deep dreamless sleep.