Oslo to Bergen -- The Fjords Will Set You Free

As they journeyed deeper into Norway, Tom and Jim revisited the words of a more experienced—if decidedly haughty—backpacker they’d met in Stockholm.  

“Typical American tourists,” he had scoffed. His accent was hard to place, but his disdain was crystal when they’d told him that they were going directly from Stockholm to  Amsterdam. 

“Skipping Norway? You two are mad. The fjords would change your life.” He insisted they were crazy to skip Norway and its fjords. He then launched into tales of his overland journey to India.

Now, as their train left Oslo’s city and suburban limits and began its ascent, Tom asked, “How long do you think it would take to go Overland all the way to India?”

No immediate response from Jim. He was focusing on the dizzying climb into the mountains, with seemingly very little ground between the track and the abyss. Sometimes, especially when the train emerged from tunnels built to protect the rails from the hard winter snows, it seemed there was no ground at all.

“I hope the engineer isn’t drinking,” he said, finally. “Or depressed.”

Though at times nerve-wracking to take in, the scenery was truly spectacular. Quaint red houses and barns grew smaller as the mountains loomed larger. Forests stretched out endlessly, lakes sparkled like mirrors in the sunlight while deep ravines and valleys showcased distant houses and immaculately manicured farms.  

Jim noticed that Tom, uncharacteristically, didn’t have his nose buried in one of his travel guides but was instead spellbound by the passing scenery. Later, in his journal, Tom would write that the trip from Oslo to Flåm was “humbling.”

“No matter what happens in our lives, the mountains, the waterfalls, the fjords, all this will still be here,” he wrote. “The goals of life that we are conditioned to possess and drive for do not seem worth it if the pursuit kills oneself in the process. And here… in the grip of all this natural majesty, you realize just how insignificant those efforts are. Can’t wait for Flam and the fjords.”

To reach Flåm, the “typical American tourists”—not-yet Overlanders—transferred onto a local train at Myrdal. After a descent on some of the steepest train tracks in all of Europe, with fantastic views of cascading waterfalls, they reached the tiny village, located at the end of the famed Aurland/Songefjord. When they got off the train, they saw a single pier—presumably where they’d catch the ferry through the fjord to Gundhaven. From there, they would catch a train to Voss, the birthplace of Notre Dame’s famed coach, Knute Rockne. Tom was eager to explore Rockne’s roots. Jim, known among his fellow alums for his scandalous indifference to ND football, agreed to the slight detour away from their final Norwegian destination, Bergen.

Several other backpackers disembarked: Lori and Brenda from Minnesota, and Peter from Toronto. They walked together to Flåm’s Visitor Center to rent rooms for the night. It turned out that lodgings were mainly cabins—expensive cabins. Tom and Jim wondered if they had made a budget-busting mistake, after all, by following the Overlander’s advice. But when Lori and Brenda suggested that they save some money by all sharing a single cabin, Tom and Jim’s financial fears instantly dissolved.

Jim (left) and Tom on a cold, misty ride through Songefjord.

After dropping their backpacks in the cabin, the five of them went outside. Night had fallen, and it was getting colder as they sat on the pier and talked. Everyone seemed happy to be meeting fellow travelers, especially travelers of the opposite sex. The stars were out in force, and Jim was awed by the magnitude and clarity of a night sky undiminished by city lights Later, he would experience the same sense of awe brought on by horizon to horizon of stars; once while sleeping under the stars in the Negev desert, the other will atop a bus in the Baluchistan desert. Talk about Moments of Nirvana.

The next morning, the girls invited them to join them on the train trip to Bergen. Tom and Jim declined, countering by inviting them to join them on the ferry ride through the fjords. It was now Lori and Brenda’s turn to decline, as Lori was to meet some family in Bergen. Then Brenda said, “I’ll be on my own while Lori is with her family, so if you change your mind, I’ll be there at [some place and time neither Tom nor Jim’s journal recorded.]”

With that, the girls set out for the train, and the boys the boat. Once aboard and underway, they headed to the top deck, as always. But they saw that someone had beaten them to the prow. A youngish man dressed entirely in black, including a secret-agent type of raincoat, reminded Jim of a character in a noirish film, thinking deep thoughts as the mist rose up around him. They struck up a conversation; his name was Devron Smith, from Florida.  He spoke with a slight accent, although he assured them that he’d been born and raised in Florida. He told them he was in the family business of framing art and was touring the art museums of Europe. His manner was a bit stiff for someone in his early twenties, and his conversational style seemed formal for an American. Tom and Jim weren’t quite sure what to make of him, but they continued talking and even managed to get a laugh out of Devron, whom Jim dubbed the Mystery Man In Black.

Conversation slowed and then stopped entirely as the three of them took in the breathtaking scenery. Waterfalls cascaded down steep, rocky cliffs. The water was glass, and the only sound was the low hum of the ferry’s engine and the distant, muffled sound of waterfalls.

Arriving in Gudvagen to catch the train to Voss, Jim dropped a bombshell: He was going to Bergen and would meet Binks there the next day.

“Really?” Binks asked. “You sure?”

“You’re asking if I would rather spend time with a nice-looking woman than search for a statue of Knute Rockne?”

Tom laughed. They made plans to meet the next day at noon at Bergen’s train station. Tom went off in search of Rockne; Jim in search of Brenda.

When Tom arrived in Bergen as planned. Jim was there to meet him.

“Did you meet the Ghost of Knute?” Jim asked.

“No,” Tom said. “But Voss is beautiful. What about you? Did you find Brenda?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “I don’t think she thought I’d actually show. She was… surprised.”

Despite Tom’s prodding, Jim volunteered no additional details.

“Well, then,” Tom said, grinning, “looks like we both struck out.”

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That was Then. Now the NOW: Reflections on "The Fjords Will Set You Free"

 

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