No bad weather
I wake up. It’s still dark outside even though the clock reads 8am. I let the sound of the rain hitting my window gently soothe me back to sleep until day breaks. Things feel slower on this Monday in November, and I’ll gladly indulge if it means staying in my warm bed for a few more minutes. I’m in Alesund, the quaint Art Nouveau getaway to the Sunmore Alps, in the middle of the breathtakingly beautiful Norwegian fjords. Expectedly, the weather is positively miserable, neither Fall nor Winter, an in-between season mix of damp and cold that seeps into your bones. I am pleased to find that today’s schedule entails a visit to a glassblowing studio, where furnaces heated to around 500 – 1000 degrees Celsius give off a great amount of heat to dry out and warm up before continuing to my next destination (but not before making my own Christmas ornament to take home!).
I keep thinking to myself: Rain in the valley means snow in the mountains. Would I possibly catch the first flakes of the season? In the pouring rain, surrounded by mystical mountains shrouded in thick clouds, I walk through Oye which is inhabited by only 38 souls yet home to one of the countries finest hotels; Union Oye. I am getting more ready for a turn in the fjord sauna with every step. And what a heavenly experience. This sauna is truly special. Connected to land by its own pier and otherwise floating freely in the waters of the dramatic Horundfjord, I can feel every wave that passes beneath while a nasty storm rages outside. Salty sea spray pounds the windows sideways, and all of a sudden falling temperatures and the promise of winter fill the air. I feel most alive in these harsh elements: embraced by the sauna’s warm hug and the tingling sensation left behind on my skin after a cooling dip in the fjord.
The next day the thundering waterfall coming off the mountain across from my window is the only sound I can discern. Otherwise it’s quiet. I open my curtains and a break in the relentless cloud cover reveals crisp blue skies and a dusting of snow at higher elevation. Hello sun! I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s nice to feel you on my face again. A sense of peacefulness and excitement washes over me: Winter has arrived and I’m here to witness this glorious change of the seasons. How lucky am I. I immediately venture outside to soak it all up, fresh cold air fills my lungs, it’s invigorating. Time outdoors and keeping active is important despite and because of the increasing lack of daylight and the ever changing weather.
I travel to the next destination by boat, taking in the serenity of the newly snow-covered mountains towering me now. I glide past past farms that exist in impossible places high up from the fjord’s banks. Not surprisingly many of these are now abandoned and only a few continue to be inhabited during the Summer months. While the environment looks inhospitable to me now, these farms and small fjord villages are a reminder of a simpler yet more taxing life. A time when rowboats were the only means of transportation in any wind and weather rather than today’s comfortable motorized vessels with heated cabins. The fjord is often regarded as an obstacle getting from A to B, however throughout history it has also been the main thoroughfare, the artery of life.
A distinctive landscape formed by glaciers and rivers, in a process that is forever ongoing. Interestingly, unique and rare species thrive where there is a threat of rockslides and avalanches whose resulting scree (an accumulation of small loose stones that’s left behind after such an event) creates ideal conditions (for example for the endangered Clouded Apollo butterfly). Ribbons of waterfalls cascade down the sheer rock walls rising from the sea, microclimates and the Gulf Stream even allow for something as exotic as apricot trees to grow and bear fruit right in the middle of the fjords. Can you imagine that? Legends and dramatic love stories live on too – though some were possibly made up to entertain tourists, who can say for sure. Like that of the seven unmarried sisters and their suitor who, refused by all of them, was driven to drink and forever live on the opposite side of the Geirangerfjord.
I disembark at Storfjord’s boathouse just as Chef Florian lovingly puts the final touches on his lunch creation of the day served right here on the water’s edge. A warming bowl of seafood chowder to start, followed by thinly sliced reindeer filet with seasonal vegetables. He tells me he’s dreaming of a star. If he keeps up his excellent work, I am confident the Michelin man will come knocking on his door before long. Storfjord is the perfect place to finish my journey, to venture out and hide from the world at the same time, the epitome of Norwegian hygge. Maybe I could stay here until the next change of seasons?
