To mark the end of my birthday week, and Will’s Europe stint, we had a long weekend in Norway. The vision was rural cottage, hikes above the fjords, and cool swims within them.
Friday
I flew from Gatwick to Stavanger (£60 return flight!) and took an overpriced airport bus into the city. I felt the rush of being in a new place; the unfamiliar language and sights, the sun on my face, and the anticipation of the days ahead. Will was flying in from Krakow, and I met him off of the same, overpriced, airport bus. Together we explored the city, catching up on each other’s past month - Will having visited Belfast, Edinburgh, Albania, Macedonia, Kosovo and Poland. Me with the end of my time in the derivatives department at work, my birthday, and the passing of my Grandma. The city was small and cute, we loved the colourful Fargegaten street and the white panelled buildings of the old town. We ate sandwiches down at the dock. The whole city took maybe 1.5 hours to explore, so not somewhere you need long for! We went to a supermarket and gathered supplies for the weekend, then hopped on two buses (with a change at the most beautifully located bus station I have ever seen (and I’ve seen a LOT of bus stations), isolated at a crossroads on the edge of a fjord). The sun set as we raced along the edge of the water. A slight miscalculation from me meant that the bus did not drop us right outside our airbnb as hoped, but a 50 minute walk away. Suitably convinced there were no bears around, we set off along rural roads in the dark, carrying not only our luggage (both with small rucksacks, no issues there) but also all of the supermarket supplies (more of a struggle for me). We could just about make out the buildings along the road, and the fact there was a body of water right next to us. Eventually, we came to our airbnb and let ourselves in. The most perfect little cottage, sat on a plot along with a few other houses, nestled up against a fjord. I peered out of the window, excited for the view that would appear with the morning light. We unpacked the groceries, cooked up a pasta feast and collapsed into bed.
Saturday
I tiptoed downstairs with sleep still in my eyes, desperate to see the view. It was of an orchard (this region had recently started growing apples and they were everywhere now) rolling down the hill into the trees that bordered the fjord. And then fjord as far as you could see, with an island out in front, land narrowing in on either side. There were big hills and a greenhouse. I sat peering out, drinking a tea with my legs nestled up under me. Rural cottage item of the vision was confidently ticked off.
Over breakfast we finalised our hiking plan, acrobatting around the bus timetables. We caught the bus down the road to Hjelmeland and walked 1.5 hours along a road zigzagging up through forest, to get to the start of the hike (a warm up, if you will). The hike was truly beautiful. We walked along small lakes, through sparse woodland, through bogs and along boardwalks. I convinced Will to go barefoot through the bog with me, giggling at the silky mud moving through my toes and laughing as Will ended up calve deep in one patch. The final climb was up a slightly treacherous rocky section, but we emerged in one piece with a stunning view over the fjords in the direction of our little cabin. We continued along the top of this ridge, dancing between pools of water, boggy patches and impressive, canyon-like drops. We saw several sets of hikers, all women interestingly, and eventually reached the highest point marked by a cairn. We found a spot on some rocks which jutted out to have lunch (the leftover pasta in a sandwich bag and some salami sandwiches). A boat moved with such clarity through the fjord below, leaving an undisturbed rippling that spread across the width of the water. That’s the hikes above the fjords element of my vision checked off. Bellies filled with pasta and phones with pictures, we sped back down the mountain, stopping at the lake separated from the path by overgrowth, an ideal swimming spot we’d eyed up earlier. The sun peaked through the clouds and fell on the island in the centre of the water. We stripped naked and ran in, the cold a welcomed feeling to our bodies hot from the hike. The chill lit up every part of me, as a cold swim always does, and we swam over to the island, heaving ourselves up to feel the warmth of the sun on our skin. Like true nordic nymphs we stood naked on that island. Nervous about getting too cold, I lowered myself back into the lake and confirmed the water was sufficiently deep for Will to then dive in after me. Swimming back to where our clothes sat in a pile, we soaked in the sun and the cold all over again. A brief air dry and then clothes back on, we walked quickly back to the start of the hike to warm up. Beginning the cool down section (back along the road into the town) we were able to hitch a lift with some ladies who were driving that way. This meant we had time before the bus to explore Hjelmeland, climbing onto the “world’s largest Jærstol” (a chair which I then got stuck at the top of), and admiring the sauna. Back at the cabin we cooked fajitas and watched a film, exhausted from the fresh air and the insane sights of the hike.
Sunday
After a leisurely morning we strolled down to the little harbour and picked up the keys of our airbnb host’s little boat which we’d hired for the day. Yesterday’s weather was bright and crisp, in contrast, today’s was grey and moody. After an incredibly brief set of instructions, we were left to our own devices and Will expertly negotiated the boat out its parking spot and out onto open water. We zoomed down the fjord, aiming for a small channel between an island and the right perimeter. We took turns driving, the other person sat at the bow, wind in their hair, pointing out directions. We sped past gorgeous houses perched in isolation on the fjord edge. The wind blew but the clouds held the rain fast (for now). It was all going so well! Until it wasn’t… In the middle of the fjord the engine cut out. After multiple, failed attempts to restart it, including some googling to try and work out potential causes, we gave in and got out the oars. I was secretly quite happy with this turn of events. I was picturing a little rowing boat with us romantically rowing across the fjord, like in Bridget Jones. We took turns rowing, with our sights set on the opposite bank, where the small town of Fister sat. We made progress, albeit very slowly, munching on some cinnamon biscuits and laughing at the turn of events. Eventually, we got hold of the airbnb hosts who said to check there was definitely nothing stuck in the propellor. Will had already confirmed this, but I went to take a second look. On closer inspection, I thought I could in fact see something tangled up. We’d already checked that all the ropes on the back of the boat were accounted for, but I suddenly remembered there was also a rope at the front of the boat - whipping my head round to check, it had disappeared from the spot in the hull that I’d carefully placed it. Ah. A few minutes later, with Will managing to reach into the water to untangle it, we were back zooming along! The next emergency then struck, I was bursting for a wee. Will had managed to relieve himself off the side of the boat (classy) but I was less sure about the logistics of that for me. A pontoon floating in a quiet patch of the fjord seemed like the best option, so we pulled alongside this, I hopped off and just sort of crouched in the middle of it (even more classy…). In the chaos, we got another rope tangled up in the propellor and almost beached ourselves on the shore. Safely away, we spotted a little island with space to dock up. It was clearly an idyllic spot for picnicing in the summer, evident by the permanent BBQs and firepits dotted around. Oh, and of course there was a proper toilet in a tiny hut. We explored the island, stumbling across some sheep and a rope swing. We ate our lunch (more salami sandwiches) on a picnic bench, watching proudly over our boat. I said I felt like I was in Swallows and Amazons, Will said he hadn’t read that (guess it didn’t make it to Australia, shame). It started to rain, prompting us to pack up. I gave Will an apologetic look and asked if he’d mind waiting just a bit longer in the rain, so I could swim in the fjord. He agreed and I happily ran down to the little beach, stripped naked again and ran into the water. Softly salty, cold and completely incredible. I floated in the light rain, looking out through the descending mist. The final element of my vision, cold fjord swims, was fulfilled. The tiny stones were smooth under my feet as I ran back out, getting dressed and pulling my balaclava on as we rushed back to the boat. Through the rain and mist we sped back along the fjord, past the spot where the engine had cut out and the channel we’d initially aimed for. I crashed into the petrol station (turns out my panic response to close my eyes and accelerate applies to boats as well as cars) and we managed to work out how to fill up the petrol container. The mist made the fjord feel infinitely atmospheric and brooding. Unlike me, Will expertly parked the boat back into its spot in the little harbour.
We warmed up and dried off in the cabin over coffee and chocolate. The weather got even greyer and wetter as we holed ourselves up playing lots of rounds of couples (to Will’s disgust) and monopoly deal (more palatable to Will). As cosy as we were, we managed to convince one another that before it got dark we really should go for a swim in the lake with the platform we had seen from the bus the previous day. So we kitted back up and walked down the road in search of the little platform. Turns out it was in someone’s back garden, but as no one was around (a general theme of the trip, turns out shoulder season is deserted season here) we snuck round. For a final time of the trip, we stripped naked and tried not to slip over on the wet platform. Will dived in twice, then did a back flip and a bomb (all quite brave considering the lack of trunks…). I jumped in once which was quite enough for me. The water was dark, the sky was grey, and the lack of sun made the trees lining the lake appear black. It was incredibly cinematic. It got even more so when we stood on the platform, looking out over the lake, bodies pressed together for warmth, cool rain falling onto our skin. We ran back to the cabin to generate some heat and jumped straight into the shower, temperature turned right up. Blushed from the swim and the hot shower, we lit the fire and cuddled up for dinner and a film.
Monday
Still tied to the bus timetable, we had to leave relatively early. But only after we’d had a final breakfast sat out on the little deck in the crisp morning air. Committing the view to memory. We caught two buses to Jørpeland. After grabbing a coffee in a little shop/cafe, and being allowed to leave our bags there for a few hours, we had a nosy around two impressive boats in the harbour. One was an old fishing boat with two guys on it who happily gave us a full tour. One was a viking boat replica which had sailed to New York a few years previously! We wandered across a metal bridge to an island and discovered a 12-hole frisbee golf course which was free. Deciding it was the perfect way to spend the next hour or two, we picked up two frisbees and set off. It was very cool, the “holes” were spread out across the island, hidden in the trees or the marshes. The weather was back to being clear, the sun out in full force. It quickly became apparent that a straight forward competition would be no fun for either of us (Will was considerably better than me) so we settled on a 20 throw handy cap for me (if I lost by less than 20 throws I’d win). After a heated battle over the last few holes, I emerged victorious having lost by only 19 throws!
We celebrated the end of our trip with a bowl of fish stew at a very lovely restaurant looking over the water then caught the bus back to Stavanger and then onwards to the airport.
Live your life
This was the most incredible weekend getaway and it reminded me that you should really just live your life. Go on the trips that you’ve been softly thinking about, do it with little planning and a lot of faith that it’ll work out (it always does). Fall in love with people that you know are leaving the country/continent/hemisphere with a total disregard of how sad it will make you feel afterwards. Make the memories, tell the stories, overflow with life.
Thank you to Will for reminding me of this. And for everything else. Have an amazing rest of your trip, and continue to overflow with loveliness into everyone’s lives. You are a truly beautiful person.