Voss to Steinsdalsfossen, Hardangerfjord

Zagan the motorhome’s in the car park of the Steinsdalsfossen, a waterfall which you stand behind without getting (too) wet, a kilometre or so from Hardangerfjord on the Rv7 (N60.37039, E6.44307). There’s a small tourist office on-site, and the chap halted eating his lunch to tell Ju “sure you can stay here, it’s quiet at the moment, and it’s free”, so we have yet another freebie night lined up.

Free end-of-season motorhome parking in the car park at Steinsdalsfossen

Last night we had an amble around Voss. The wooden town was bombed flat (except the church, which was built from stone) over 2 days in April 1940, so has a decidedly modern feel to it, much like many German cities which received the same treatment in turn later on that decade. Norway had earlier declared neutrality, but its strategic position with sea ports facing out to the north sea led the Germans to invade. 12 people were killed in the bombings.

Paraphrased: You gave your lives so Norway could be free.

Door of the Day: Voss Church. The stone and stained glass reminded me of home

Opposite where we’d parked, a group of people were practising Tai Chi on the grassed banks of Lake Vangsvatnet. Their slow, deliberate and fluid movements had us captivated, as the sun glared its last through broken cloud, before dipping behind a mountain.

Tai chi by Lake Vangsvatnet

Fessing up: our walk’s mission was less about learning about Voss or Norwegian culture, and more about finding chips. Our aim was 100% achieved, with Ju bagging a box of ‘pomme frites’ (yep, presumably Norway nicked the name from the French), for a mere £5.50 a portion, but not before a good wander around the graveyard. I know, I know, not everyone’s cup of tea this, and Ju tends to avoid the dead, but I find the places appealing. Why? To remind me to get the hell on with whatever I want to do. Once I’ve been boxed up and buried (or preferentially burned to a crisp and thrown off the top of Everest), whatever fears held me back in life will be looking a wee bit stupid. I walk the graves, look at the names and the dates, and consider myself lucky to (a) be alive, (b) to have such a wonderful wife and (c) to have so much opportunity in life.

A Norwegian’s grave in Voss. The simplicity of the statement: Takk for Alt, Thanks for All, touches me deeply

Around the corner from the graveyard, just a few minutes from the Turkish fast food takeaway where the Mission for Chips would come to fruition, we passed an ancient cross. The word is King Olav popped it up after somehow forcing the locals to believe in Christ (before that it was all about the Norse gods – Odin, Frigg, Thor and the like). Nowadays it’s surrounded by office buildings, which detracts from the significance of the old, misshapen stone.

King Olav’s Cross in Voss

And one final hurdle before deep-fried spuds were made our own: this statue of a lady in the market holds significance since she was the first to challenge the men’s trading dominance. Respect. We also liked the graffiti in the background of a cot with skis sticking out, and various snow-sports figures dangling from a mobile above. Apart from the Indoor Skydiving centre which we passed on the way out of town this morning, that was the only suggestion we saw in town to support its adventure reputation. Perhaps, like Chamonix, the adrenaline really kicks in in winter.

Takeaway prices are still outrageous here, but a bit less outrageous than in the north. A small kebab can be had for £4 here, while up north it was at least a tenner

On the subject of expense: I looked up why stuff costs so much here in Norway. The quick answer was: prices rise with people’s ability to pay. Incomes are relatively high in Norway, and as a result, everything costs a bomb. I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but that’s enough for me, since I’ve no intention of moving here to live (check out mylittlenorway.com if you want the perspective of an ex-pat who moved here from Australia).

Today we cruised alongside the Hardangerfjord, west towards Bergen. Only a bit of it mind, it’s 179 kilometres long, and the Rv7 tourist route alongside it is a bit hard going in places where the cliffs meet the ocean.

Just how big are there fjords? Hardangerfjord would cut the UK in two

The Rv7 Hardanger tourist route, elbows in folks

Best option: get thee behind a big lorry

Pretty stunning Rv7 scenery mind you

These roads haven’t been around for all that long: the sea was a handy transit route for much of Norway’s history, and now many of the tighter sections are being upgraded. We had breakfast watching a JCB perched on a ship offload tons upon tons of stone onto a fleet of lorries which piled off up the road to a building site, where a tunnel was being blasted and the road widened (the engineering challenges here are almost as immense as the fast food prices). Later on, at another picnic spot, I stood failing to catch fish, gazing up as three helicopters ferried goods from sea level to the top of a mountain beside the fjord, reminding me of a similar sight in Switzerland.

Finally we ended up here, mucking about behind the waterfall for a few minutes before retreating to Zagan. Ju managed another 5km run this morning, but my body’s most unhappy about the 10km I did the other day. We’re both feeling a tad worn down. Bergen calls, a ‘big city’, which we’d thought about visiting by cruise ship one day, but since we’re so close we decided to head there by land. Ju’s sussed a couple of sleeping options, and we’re thinking of spending a couple of days there to find our feet again.

Steinsdalsfossen

Steinsdalsfossen

Cheers, Jay

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