Up High Over Åndalsnes: The Rampestreken Viewpoint

Zagan the motorhome’s sat in the visitor’s centre car park, among his fellow big white wandering boxes, at the top of the Trollstigen road in Norway (N62.45295, E7.66371). We’re planning on staying the night, as it feels fantastic to be up here, but we’ll write about the road itself in the next post. This one’s looking back down the valley to Åndalsnes, where we spent the last few days.

Åndalsnes from above!

In the end we spent three days in the free motorhome parking beside the train station and fjord at Åndalsnes, sharing two of the evenings with fellow Hymer dwellers. Much shooting of the breeze was done in the evenings, sharing stories of things done and things hoped for the future. Our wine stash is more of a wine dribble now, just the dregs of one box (never fear, it will be squeezed dry) and another as-yet-untouched 3 litre box. Given we’ve maybe 4 weeks left in Norway, my liver’s going to be doing yoga by the time we leave, it’ll be that chilled out and underworked.

Guffawed at in Åndalsnes

Why so long in Åndalsnes? Good question. The town itself was bombed flat 80 years or so back, and has been rebuilt in, ah, flat-pack fashion. Apart from Trondheim, a few nice areas of fishing villages (in particular in the Lofotens), and the odd exceptionally-designed toilet block, the architecture in Northern Norway’s been uninspiring. Many of the villages and towns felt like they hadn’t yet decided they were going to stay, and weren’t going to put too much stone-and-brick effort into building stuff in case the southern Norwegians decided to join the EU, suddenly rendering their miniature farms or fishing huts massively noncompetitive. So no, the buildings didn’t hold much interest.

Mountains above Åndalsnes

Quick aside: Talking of EU membership, the latest Brexit news appears to be that there’s no government agreement on what Brexit means. The big elephant in the room is immigration. No-one knows the reasons the British voted for Brexit, but it seems fairly certain that the free movement of folks from poorer EU countries into the UK was a big player in people’s minds. The problem with this is: the EU is dead set on maintaining this founding principle, so won’t let the UK have full control of its borders while at the same time granting open access to the free market in terms of trade. Something has to give. What it will be, no-one knows. Interesting times…

Anyway, we enjoyed the English-speaking company from our fellow wanderers, spending time with Paul and Sue from Devon, and Holly and Peter, a Canadian-Scottish couple with a local family link (Peter’s father is Norwegian). Everyone’s got different styles of travel, and wants to see and experience things in their own way, which often inspires us in one way or another. Holly’s enthusiasm for Norway’s many museums was infectious; before we’d met her we’d no idea we’d want to visit the Norwegian Road Museum, but now we do!

Left to right: Sue, Jay, Peter, Holly, Paul and Ju. Thanks to Sue for the photo!

The fact the place was free to stay, and the weather was frankly pants, also helped keep us in place, only shifting once to nip to the local Esso to top up on diesel, and use their motorhome service point. Imagine this folks: just imagine driving into a UK garage (or any garage across Europe to be fair) to find a free service point for your motorhome. Unimaginable, and yet there are a fair few of ’em here in Norway, and they’re helping keep our costs down in what **should** be in incredibly expensive country.

There are also several hikes from the town, including a ‘short’ one to a viewpoint above it, which we had no intention of doing. Classified as a ‘medium’ difficulty hike, it takes roughly 2.5 hours for your average (super-fit) Norwegian local to dance up and back down. We wandered over to see the lowest part of it, a very easy section made up of a wide metal walkway, before getting tempted higher up to a second viewing spot by an open-sided wooden cabin. Charlie came with us that high up, but it quickly became clear all three of us wouldn’t get to the top. Underfoot our boots slithered about on wet tree roots and rocks, while steep sections required us non-hikers to cling to chains hammered into rock walls with one hand, while the other held a whimpering animal, wide-eyed with fear. Ju took one for Team Zagan, struggling back down with the arthritic one, while I huffed and puffed my way up.

On the way up to the Rampestreken viewpoint, 580 metres

Almost at the top, a man in his 60’s floated past me in lycra, with two carbon fibre sticks and sporting a waist belt with a couple of water bottles attached, one empty. Red faced and jelly-legged, I looked down at myself. With the exception of walking boots, I looked for all the world a tourist who’d come off a cruise ship sniffing about for a G&T and had become hopelessly, tragically lost. I even had a golf umbrella to complete the look. As I gasped my way to the viewing platform, the whole thing became worth it, as the views took the rest of my breath away.

Things got a wee bit steep and open towards the top of the path

I like the Norwegian approach to health and safety: there’s a chain: you have the option to hold onto it!

Åndalsnes: The Rampestreken Viewpoint

Åndalsnes: The Rampestreken Viewpoint

Back in Zagan, Ju had slip-slid her way back home, sustaining a minor back strain in the process, but was in one piece and relieved that the remainder of the climb had, indeed, been the mini-monster of a thing it had looked from her turnaround point. The following day, having also re-commenced training for the Marrakech half marathon, my legs are rock-solid and aching. Fortunately for us we could drive up here, thanks to someone building one simply incredible road!

Cheers, Jay

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