{"id":23661,"date":"2016-09-05T08:15:24","date_gmt":"2016-09-05T07:15:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ourtour.co.uk\/home\/?p=23661"},"modified":"2021-07-23T13:12:33","modified_gmt":"2021-07-23T12:12:33","slug":"a-grumpy-man-rides-to-the-edge-of-jostedalsbreen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ourtour.co.uk\/home\/a-grumpy-man-rides-to-the-edge-of-jostedalsbreen\/","title":{"rendered":"A Grumpy Man Rides To the Edge of Jostedalsbreen"},"content":{"rendered":"

Zagan the motorhome’s sat below\u00a0the edge of Europe’s largest glacial area, the Jostedalsbreen\u00a0in Norway, safely tucked in for a few days\u00a0at\u00a0Melkevoll Bretun Camping<\/a> in Oldedalen\u00a0(N61.66384, E6.81679<\/a>). It’s about \u00a320 a night, including electricity and sauna, but costs an extra \u00a31 a shower, so we’re using Zagan’s. Numerous folks have recommended this campsite to us, and we could see why before we even got here: the location is out of this world, as though a Norse deity\u00a0imagined a wonder of white and grey mountains, blue ice glaciers, thundering waterfalls, tumbling torrents and mossy rocks. It’s simply superb. I’m writing this on a Monday morning, and I **should** be on my bleary-eyed, slumped shoulders commute to work. But I’m not. I’m here instead. Oooooeeeee, life is good!<\/p>\n

\"Zagan

Zagan in Paradise. Melkevoll Bretun Camping in Oldedalen<\/p><\/div>\n

Norway is an ANIMAL! A giant of a thing, the scenery is all so BIG! We woke yesterday morning at the viewpoint almost a vertical mile above Geirangerfjord, having checked in the early hours whether we could see the Northern Lights: nope, full cloud cover and a valley awash with mist. Later on, with the sky slowly clearing but before the coaches started to arrive, I sat outside with a cuppa and listened to the steady crash of water falling from the precipitous cliffs around us. I doubt these parts of Norway have ever been silent: filled with either the groans and creaks of mountains of ice or the steady sea-like sound of white water hurling itself downwards. Later, as tourists started to pour in, some of them literally screeching with delight at the height and beauty of the place, we got in a bit of people watching. One Korean chap showed so much interest in Zagan I invited him in for a look round. He nodded as I showed him the various ‘rooms’ in here before asking how much the van cost: not shy these Koreans.<\/p>\n

\"The

The edge of Mount Dalsnibba. The motorhome towing a boat on the road gives and idea of scale<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Two

Two happy folks on Mount Dalsnibba, overlooking Geiranger<\/p><\/div>\n

\"Mount

Mount Dalsnibba as the mists clear<\/p><\/div>\n

We walked around the viewpoint area and off in the surrounding rocks, staring at everything, using the camera as a kind of shield against the utter impossibility of taking it all in. Norway’s landscapes have me thinking back to Italy’s architecture, where you could find yourself face-to-face with a wall of baroque carvings, each of which is a thing of beauty itself, but there were hundreds of them, all competing for your attention. Here giant waterfalls hurl themselves off cliff faces and rivers rush, white and frothing, between suddenly narrow, immovable walls of rock, as though eager to get a long-anticipated right of passage under their belts. Roads contort around the hills, twisted in agony and frustration at the difficultly of moving forwards. Still lakes and fjords double your money, reflecting the majesty above them. And we’re not exactly following a planned route here: this stuff is everywhere, a few images from today:<\/p>\n

\"IMG_20160904_102511483 \"DSC00058 \"DSC00052 \"DSC09993<\/p>\n

\"DSC00032 \"DSC00024 \"DSC00023<\/p>\n

\"Norway

Norway knows how to do picnic spots<\/p><\/div>\n

But not all was rosy yesterday in the Land of Zagan. Norway’s immense scenery has a side effect, which kicked in yesterday. With giant landscapes come giant driving days, not in terms of distance but in terms of stress. I’m finding driving a wide, heavy motorhome around these here parts to be, from time to time, nerve wracking. This in turn makes my back grip itself into one mass of knife-twisting knots. And this in turn makes me one grumpy b*****d.<\/p>\n