In the land of trolls and mythical creatures
N 62°31'59.0'' E 006°57'02.3''
Day: 10
Country:
Norway
Country:
Norway
Location:
Camper parking lot
Daily kilometers:
414 km
Total kilometers:
2138 km
As the crow flies:
253
Soil condition:
Asphalt
Maximum height:
250 m
Sunrise:
04:05
Sunset:
11:10 pm
Temperature day max:
20°
Temperature day min:
14°
Night temperature:
12°
We leave the town behind us and follow a stony path that leads steeply upwards. Heavy tree trunks lie across the path and are no doubt intended to slow down the falling water when it rains. According to weather records, it rains here around 248 days a year, making Bergen one of the rainiest cities in Europe. So we’re lucky today, because with around 20 degrees in the shade and a blue sky, we really start to sweat. After a few hundred meters, the rocky path becomes narrower and increasingly overgrown with dense forest. There is no doubt that we are now in the realm of the trolls, who are hiding from us behind tree trunks and roots. According to Norse mythology, trolls are very shy mythical creatures in human form that have lived here since ancient times. Some of them live to be several thousand years old. They can be coarse, hulking creatures with long or bulbous noses and elongated pointed ears. Some of them are said to have grown three heads and nine tails. The umbrella term trolls also includes dwarves, mountain spirits, fairies and elves. Most of these creatures are well-disposed towards humans, but there are also said to be some that seek our lives. Trolls have a different anatomy to humans. Their body is covered with brown, sometimes gray fur. They only have three fingers and a thumb and four toes on their feet. Their hearing is comparable to that of a dog and they have eyes like an eagle. In addition to creatures just a few centimeters in size, half-giants also live in the mountains and forests. Because they usually move at night, and extremely quietly and quickly at that, we humans can hardly notice them. Like humans, they fed on plants and native animals before the advent of supermarkets. In summer they collect mushrooms, bears and their favorite food is fruit.
In the past, probably every Scandinavian believed in trolls, even today there are tourists from all over the world who are firmly convinced that these spiritual beings exist. The Norwegians have even named Trollheimen, a mountain landscape in central Norway, or the Trollstigen, one of the most famous tourist pass roads, after them. With its deserted landscape, eternal forests, billowing walls of mist, ghostly cloud formations, rugged cliffs, 188 mountains and mountain ranges, 300 rivers and mountain streams, some of which are raging, impressive waterfalls, 50 fjords, 150,000 islands and extreme winters, it’s no wonder. Trolls are a part of nature and as old as early life on our mother earth. Much later, humans mingled with them and since then grandparents have been telling their grandchildren about them, recounting the stories and myths of a parallel world that has become an integral part of Norway.
A slight gust of wind makes the needles and leaves of the trees around us tremble. I look carefully to the left and right. Was there something? Has there been any movement behind the rock? I could clearly perceive a movement. Or was I wrong? Was that just my imagination? The cool water in the stream next to us rushes down into the valley. It ripples over the rough, angular, moss-covered rocks and generously wets the lush ferns on its banks. A few birds chirp excitedly, flutter up into the air and settle on another tree deeper in the forest. Who scared them off there? As the forest clears for a few moments, we see the city of Bergen below us with its harbor, one of the busiest seaports in Europe, from which the Hurtigruten ships depart. We are amazed at how quickly we gain altitude. Suddenly a real troll appears in front of us. “So that’s what they look like,” says Tanja and stops in front of the wooden figure to take a closer look. “Look, there’s a sign on the tree,” I say, pointing to a witch flying west on her broom. We reach a lake whose shores border on forests. Low mountains overgrown with bushes and grass frame the water. Again we take a look at the city, which has become smaller. “If we want to continue today, we should turn back,” I say. “Too bad, it’s really beautiful here. But you’re right, we still have a few kilometers to go towards the North Cape.”
(Click into the picture for a larger view and for the caption)
In the afternoon, the Terra’s tires are still rolling over the cobblestones of the port city. The slanting sun shows us the way to the north. Once again, we have to use three ferries to cross the fjords and straits. Although the journey along the west coast of the country takes longer and is much more expensive due to the many ferry connections, we want to follow it. The coastal landscape is breathtakingly beautiful and worth every kilometer of detour. “Watch out!” I exclaim, startled, as a truck comes towards us on a narrow mountain road. Tanja reacts quickly and pulls over. She puts the Terra into reverse and lets it roll back slowly. “There’s the alternative niche,” I say, whereupon Tanja maneuvers our mobile into it. Tuuhhht! The truck driver thanks us and sneaks past us with a few centimeters of distance. After a six-hour drive, we arrive at a beautifully situated public parking lot. It’s 11 p.m. and as the sun doesn’t set until 11.10 p.m. on this day, it’s still light. We sit in our cozy Terra until midnight, drink a few beers and reflect on the fantastic day. “I’m already looking forward to tomorrow,” says Tanja, yawning softly. “Me too,” I reply and look out of the windows until my eyes fall shut too…
