Day 3 - Rallarwegen & Fjords
I really can't imagine a more perfect day. The only problem is that this is my first real day out and it has to be all downhill from here.
Wake up, eat a hearty DNT breakfast, and go go go. The Rallarwegen is a small path originally constructed to supply workers building the cross-country railroad. Now, it's a 70km gravel bike path connecting the highest altitude train stations with the end of the prettiest fjord in the country. Perfect!
The path starts at a glacier and meanders past snow-covered peaks, alpine lakes, lichen-covered rocks, waterfalls, and high tension electrical lines. (I shall have to import my Rural Irish De-Electrification Plan to Norway. For the good of all.)
Despite the rocky path and occasional knee-deep snowfield, I made pretty good time. The biggest danger to forward progress was really the scenery. Everything was so beautiful that I had to fight not to stop every 500m and take another series of photos. Surrounded by so much overwhelming natural wonder, I spent all day smiling and even frequently laughing when smiling didn't seem like enough. Somehow, I felt at home on the roof of the world, like I belonged up there and nowhere else.
I was mostly alone on the upper section of the rallarwegen, leapfrogging a German woman and a Sweedish man. After some serious descent into the popular stop of Myrdall, the tourists came out and I was definitely one of the Horde again. The final 20km down to Flam were lush,sunny, and gloriously paved.
Halfway down I met the Smartest Girl in Norway, who had set up a little stand selling warm Wiffeln with jam, attracting every biker for miles.
Though I came to Norway for the Fjords, I was almost disappointed when I reached Flam. The exciting coast-down was over and I was once again amongst the poorly dressed package tourists. Undaunted, I hopped the first ferry to Gundeswagen, a little town on the other arm of the Sogjefjord. (Almost missing it, I might add. The ferry guys were really nice, actually bringing the boat back into port for me.) After changing into more comfortable shoes, I planted myself on the port bow and didn't close my eyes or gaping mouth for two hours.
Here's what I figured out: the flam valley is really just a dry fjord. A fjord is just a valley with a lot of water in it. My fjord experience started in Myrdall - I just didn't know it. The fjords were everything I had hoped they would be. I can go home now.
Highlight of the ferry trip: the pilot steered the bow practically undernearth a 1300m high waterfall, then the deckhands collected and served ice-cold glacial meltwater to everyone on the boat.
Gundwagen isn't much of a town. It's more a ferry port and parking place for tourist busses. There is an expensive hotel with a heatlamp buffet staffed by english college students pretending to be vikings and that's about it. I biked out of town and shelled out nkr300/USD50 (my cheapest room yet!) for a miniscule cabin with a great view and enough room inside for my bike.
Not excited by the "viking" fare of roast spareribs at the hotel in town, I'm self-catering tonight's dinner in the form of rye crisps, mild cheese, and moose sausage. Yes, moose. It's about what you'd expect: powerful and gamey. After toady's work, it's the best thing I could imagine having. (For half the stick, anyway, then I couldn't take anymore. At least that leaves me half a stick of Bullwinkle for lunch tomorrow.)
To top it all off, I have temporarily solved my electrical problem by going all McGuyver on the power supply of the cabin's cooking plate. It's working well, though I'd like an opinion from a real electrical engineer about whether what I did was just dumb, downright suicidal, or merely inconsiderate.
The journal wants to be re-charged now. Time to wrap up.
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