Geirangerfjord World Heritage Site

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

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At around 16:00 we roll into the small town of Geiranger. “Should we stay here overnight?” Tanja ponders. “I don’t know. If the weather forecast is right, the Trollstigen will be covered in fog tomorrow,” I reply. “There’s no point in going there just to see clouds and fog,” Tanja confirms. At this moment, a couple of motorcyclists thunder into the rest area where we are standing. “Are you from the Trollstigen?” I ask one of them. “Yes, it’s a fantastic route,” replies the young Norwegian in a friendly manner. “Is the weather supposed to be bad tomorrow?” I ask. “Yes, it’s going to rain. If you want to enjoy the breathtakingly beautiful section of the Golden Route, you’d better ride today,” he confirms the upcoming bad weather front. “How long did it take you to get here from the Trollstigen?” I ask. “See that pass road there? You have to go up there. On the other side, it goes down again to a ferry. It will take you across a fjord. If you’re lucky, it’ll be docking just as you arrive. Otherwise, you’ll have to allow at least an extra hour. From there it’s another hour or so. If you want to drive the Trollstigen before sunset, you should hurry. But it looks more like you won’t make it today,” he explains in detail. “Have a safe journey home. And thank you for the information,” I say goodbye, get into the Terra, start the engine and let our 6.2-ton truck roll out of the rest area.

A few kilometers after the village of Geiranger, the road zigzags upwards again. Despite today’s tight schedule, we stop at another viewing platform to admire one of the most beautiful fjords in the world from up close. Geiranger is Norway’s most visited tourist attraction. “UNESCO has declared the fjord a World Heritage Site,” I recall from my short-term memory. “When was that?” asks Tanja with a grin. “Are you testing me?” I ask, amused. “It would never occur to me,” she laughs. “In 2005,” I counter proudly. “Too bad we don’t have time to visit the seven sisters,” I say, watching a small cruise ship enter the fjord in the evening light, with trees growing on the steep mountain slopes that seem to compete with each other in their autumnal blaze of color. “The seven sisters? You mean the seven waterfalls?” “Yes. It’s certainly impressive how they plunge down from a height of 300 meters.” “We decided to drive the Trollstigen before the coming rain,” Tanja replies. “That’s right, sometimes you have to make a decision or something forces you to.” “Then let’s get going,” Tanja urges us to hurry.

When we arrive in the village of Eidsdal, the ferry is just about to leave. The signpost waves frantically at us. As soon as we have rolled over the ramp, it closes behind us and the ferry sets off. “Phew, lucky me,” I gasp with relief as I pull out the ignition key. To make the most of our mini-cruise across the Norddalsfjord, we leave the Terra and climb the stairs to the top. Although it is only mid-September and the sky is still blue, a cool evening wind is blowing towards us. On the other side, at the village of Linge, the cars roar off the ferry with their engines roaring. “It’s kind of strange. The drivers can hardly wait to get on the ferry and as soon as the loading hatch is lowered, they’re in a huge hurry to get back down,” Tanja notes. “I’ve noticed that too. Up, over, down, onwards. People always seem to be driven by something. That runs through human life, no matter where in the world, and is reflected here on the ferry,” I reply with a laugh…