13 Oct - Butternut Squashless

Cooking is an enjoyable, relaxing pleasure of mine that is great fun when shared with friends. I’ve begun to miss it tremendously. Dining alone at restaurants for a month gets old. Autumn is my favorite time to cook. The abundance of vegetables, cooling temperatures, and bright colors are great inspirations to cozy up with hearty soups and meals. Last week I blatantly asked a friendly coworker (my age) if I could come over and cook for her and her boyfriend. I offered to bring all the ingredients and cook, if I could use her kitchen. She was awed at the request and was very happy to entertain the idea. The next day she returned with the night that would work best.

The menu of choice was one of my favorites… and something I knew how to make without a recipe. It would be a hummus dip with bread, goat cheese medallions encrusted with toasted walnuts over a pear & cranberry salad, and a roasted butternut squash soup. Monday after work I browsed the big grocery store in town for the ingredients. A single can of garbanzo beans (for hummus) was over $3! It normally costs $0.99 at home. To my dismay, there were no squashes, let alone a butternut squash. There wasn’t even a pumpkin. The soup plan was exchanged for a cauliflower cheddar soup.

It was great fun. My coworker invited over her girlfriend who loves food and wanted to meet the American. Her sister (whom lives 2 hours away) dropped by for the meal and they were laughing how she never has come to dinner before. The boyfriend took some pictures during preparations and left the house so it was just us girls. We had a fun time preparing the dishes with a glass of wine. The flavors and combinations were all very new to them. They did not know what hummus was, never had it crossed their mind to put a pear in a salad, nor to encrust nuts on goat cheese, let alone a soup of cauliflower (blahhh). They were politely skeptical when observing the preparation of the shallots, cauliflower, and cheeses for the soup. Once it was pureed, we huddled around the blender, spoons in hand, taste-testing the soup from the blender. It was determined a success. They were surprised how each flavor really came through in the result. The cheeses here are superb... most are better than the ones at home.

Dinner conversation was around traveling in the US (2 of the 3 girls had been to FL, one worked at Epcot Center and was amused by the same embarrassing polar bear questions as the ex-Epcot employee I met weeks ago). We also discussed traveling around Norway and the local Kongsberg community. One of the big town news stories of yesterday was a blazing fire that happened the prior night. Part of a building in the technology park burned from 7pm – midnight. The girls were explaining that when both of their boyfriends heard the sirens (a couple miles away), they jumped in their cars and followed the fire engines to the excitement. Apparently, this is routine for them. It was very funny to me, imagining a line of cars following the fire engines for no other purpose than to be an audience. That should be a line in those email chains… “You know you’re in a small town when… the men of the town set up lawn chairs to watch burning buildings”.

Dessert was an assortment of bakery goodies and some rum-marinated plums over ice cream. The host’s grandmother has a plum tree and has handed down the recipe. The basic procedure is to pack plum halves (no pits), lime slices, sugar, and vanilla sticks in a jar. Fill it to the brim with dark rum, and marinate for a month. The result is not only beautiful, but delectable too.

We were all excited that the evening turned out so well and vowed to do it again before my departure. That reminds me to inform you that my time has been extended here. I’ll be staying for an extra three weeks due to a necessary overlap/hand-off with a coworker. My new return will be before Thanksgiving. Thank goodness Jamie arrives soon and we get a week off together!

Next week, there are plans to make a pumpkin pie (from scratch) with a different coworker. Cooking or baking with pumpkins is unheard of by Norwegians so she is very curious about pumpkin pie. Norwegian florists only started selling pumpkins within the past couple years to start imitating the American Halloween. As I mentioned, there were no pumpkins at the grocery store. No pumpkins, no gords, and no candy corn has left me squashless… I mean speechless. Is it really Fall or did I skip it and go straight to winter?

11 Oct – Cultures of Sculptures

From Norway

Sunday morning tried to start way too early. I woke up at 4:30am due to a conversation by ladies in the hotel room next door. They were still going at it when I left the room at 8am for breakfast. It was a museum-weather day (dreary and wet), however the museums do not open on Sundays until 11am. The rain hasn’t melted me yet, so I set off for Vigeland/Frogner Parken.

This park is known for its sculptures of life or should I say life-sized sculptures. Both apply here. Frogner was a man whom dedicated much of his life to making these stone carvings resemble the many experiences an individual experiences throughout a lifetime. The statues are life-size of mothers, fathers, babies, toddlers, adolences, young adults, and up to grandparents. The sculptures show emotions… a toddler throwing a fit, a yound maiden frolicking, a mother doing the daughters hair for an event, etc. At the park peak there is a stone monolith with 100s of bodies carved out in different postures. It’s so life-like you expect one of bodies to start writhing. Fortunately, it does not. Anyways, well done Mr. Frogner.

The return walk involved a stop at the National Museum of Art (it was now 11) and I was able to browse the Edward Munch room (including the famous painting “The Scream”). He is the most famous artist from Norway. His paintings are quite creepy as he seemed to be a dark fellow despite being recognized at the young age of 22. In East Oslo there is a Munch museum that is home to 100s of his paintings. He dedicated all of them to the museum upon his death in the 1950s. There are so many paintings that they rotate them every couple months. My 24 hours were drawing to a close and grabbed the uneventful noon-time train to Kongsberg.

The next visit was to sculptures that took 1000s of artists and 100s of years to create… the Kongsberg Silver Mines. The tour was eye-opening… not only because it was so dark in there you had to open them wide, but the facts surrounding the silver excavation. The silver was discovered by a couple farmers on their land in 1623. They melted it to shape and tried selling it in the nearby towns. They were not very successful, however the word traveled. Soon the FBI equivalent demanded that these farmers release the silver’s source. At the time, Norway was ruled by the King of Denmark (Christian IV) so he dropped by the little silver hill with his entourage. The King put is marking on a rock, determined the silver is to be mined, and pointed out (from the hill) of where the town should be located. He was after as much money as possible to fund the 30yr or 100yr war, and silver was the currency of the day. Money grew in rock.

The King hired Germans miners and engineers to mine the silver as they had experience and Norwegians did not. Kongsberg town was not only almost all Germans, it was also the largest city in Norway at the time. The capital was Bergen (on the west coast). Here’s some other facts great facts:

- Kongsberg mining peaked in the 1770s
- 2.2 lbs of silver was worth 1 man’s salary at that time (today the same amount is $625)
- Per 1 day of mining, the tunnel was 0.5 – 1.2” deeper
- The total mining tunnels are 420 – 600 miles long
- 3,300,000 lbs of silver was mined from Kongsberg
- 16,500,000,000 lbs of rock was mined
- The mines were operational through 1958 (334 yrs!)
- The mint in town is still printing and coining the money for the country

Yes, there are still silver in the mountains. They closed the mines because the silver price dropped so much that it wasn’t worth it. Now our money is based on oil, so what was happening in Kongsberg in 1770 is more or less the equivalent to what we’re doing on the oil dredging platforms today.

As a tour participant, I boarded the train’s mini-containers and shut the caged metal door. The train took us almost a mile down the track in the mountain. When we exited the train, there was 1,000 ft of rock & earth above our yellow hard hats. Yes, it was somewhat unnerving to digest. The deepest shaft is 3,000 ft deep (length of three Eiffel towers), though some of it is now water logged because it’s below the water table. The English guide took us around to various shafts for an hour before we returned to the trains. It was great learning of the engineering feats, how to know where to chip away, and the work life from such an unusual job. It is quite a big history for such a little town.

Back at the hotel after a quick unpacking session, all the flea market purchases got scrubbed clean. Ready for use or ready for packing. A Norwegian sculpture… I mean culture weekend… check!

10 Oct - 24 Hours in Oslo

From Norway

Saturday morning was a sleep-in morning as the first activity did not start until 10am. It was the Kongsberg Farmer’s Market, which may have been the first one ever according to my coworker. It was so important to me that I was giving up Oslo time to do it. The size was as anticipated, about a dozen tables. There was the cured meat, a few vegetables (cabbage, leeks, carrots, potatos), jams, honey, pastries, apples, juices and cheese. I supported the event with a wedge of super dry, flavorful cheese (think parmesan), a white chocolate raspberry muffin, and a 3 liter fresh apple juice box (It was the only size). I’m tired of the wine and water beverages, so fresh apple juice when I return to the hotel room will be a real treat.

An hour and half later, after passing colorful landscapes of rolling hills and water side towns, the train arrived at Oslo’s central station. Norway has been my “home away from home + husband” for a whole month now, and this [Oslo] is the first culture/city experience of my stay. After a week’s worth of research, some of the appealing activities included visiting the Saturday flea markets. I’m not convinced this would’ve been my interest 5 years ago. Here’s why:
Every year in May, Manhattan Beach’s private school organizes a “Sophisticated Snoop” fundraiser. For $25 six wealthy beach “shacks” open their doors for guided tours. One of my hobbies is interior decorating… I may not be very good, but that’s all relative and I can copycat well. Anyways, one of the houses this year really inspired me to use items from other countries (beyond vases, dishes, etc.). My favorite snoop dwelling was decorated using items that fit the house theme and were from the family’s trips around the world. The hanging lights over the kitchen’s island were from a market in Italy. What a great idea… not only is it unique and fit the house, but it is a memory of that trip, foreign village, or maybe the seller’s story whom was involved in the haggling. The only problem with this new realization is that it eats up luggage space quickly. A bud vase is much smaller than a chandelier.

Out to get flea-marked, I stepped North from central station. The flea world I walked into was intense. This first one was under an elevated road and was extremely crowded. The stuff that wasn’t on a table, was just in boxes to be rummaged through. The first box I pawed was of scarves and the first one scarf/hanky unfolded read “….. Harley Davidson, Marina Del Rey”. Oh man, there’s no escaping LA. Not even under a random bridge in Oslo.

There were quite a few goodies I found at this market. The most worthy of mention is a wrought Iron candle holder. It is very similar to a handmade Swedish one that I loved in a store last week. The price tag of $180 kept me from jumping for it. Yikes! The one at the market was sold for $8. Excellent. The second flea market visited that day was on the complete other side of the city. I dropped my bags off at the hotel on the way. This flea market was not crowded and had nicer junk, all to make it a pleasant experience. The main purchase here was a chandelier. Yep. It is a miniature version of some black wrought iron chandeliers I’ve seen on my weekend trips in restaurants and huts. When I saw this one my shoulder dropped from the burden of finally seeing exactly what I have been looking for, and not wanting to hear a high price and the thought of lugging it home. The seller lady saw me touch it and exclaimed, “do I dare tell you the price of THAT” (first in Norwegian, then in English). She continued, “I’ll give it to you at a special deal ‘cause I just want to get rid of it. It hung in our house for many years and my son kept banging his head on it.” Still wary at this point, she announced the price at the equivalent of $9 and all skepticism liquidated. Wow. Apparently it was actually from France originally (even has French bulbs). So, this chandelier will get some travel miles. It will be perfect for over our dining room table. Done deal.

The time was getting on late afternoon and I had big evening plans that needed a clothes change. I charged back to the hotel, armed with two large shopping bags of goodies. There is a note-worthy detour on the return walk. As you are probably aware, just the day before Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. I was most curious to see how the Nobel Peace Prize Center was exhibiting the news. They building décor most certainly was Obama-ed. A vertical banner the height of the building read “From the KING to OBAMA”. Another banner on the left side of the door was a black and white photo of Martin Luther King Jr with “I have a dream…” and opposing it on the right side was Obama with a similar phrase. The handrails had Obama record discs hanging from it. The entrance fee was waived that day (typical for the day after such news is announced) and there was an English tour starting then. I was out of time, but did peek in the main exhibition hall which was all about Obama. The reaction here has been mixed. Of the 4 Norwegians who have chatted about it, three of them have either laugh at what he has achieved to deserve the Prize or s/he was not happy how the Prize’s committee is using the Prize for political charades. The remaining person vocalized that it will serve as a good motivator for Obama to continue to work for peace. Regardless, it’s interesting to discuss it with the locals and since they are a blunt culture, it’s great fun to be a listener.

At the hotel, after a quick change and glance at the dining section of the travel book, the restaurant de jour was Grand Café. Upon request of a window seat, they seated me at the best table in the house, with a front row seat of the corner pedestrian traffic, with a douse of ocean water in a distance. The meal was in the top 3 of the meals I’ve had since in Norway. The starter was Norwegian smoked trout and marinated mushrooms over mixed lettuce with a splash of pesto and seaweed. The entrée was creamed spinach piled on a large cut of Norwegian cod snuggled in lightly creamed scampi pasta. The meal was completely fitting for my fancy night out.

Don Pasquale was the reason behind my “big night out”. He is the main character in the Don Pasquale Opera that is playing at the new Oslo Opera House. This week I found a single opera ticket for $18 and couldn’t pass it up. I’ve never seen an opera and figured a cheap ticket would be reasonable if my tastes were disappointed. Well, disappointing it was NOT. The opera was lively, colorful, creative, fun, and more like a musical. They were singing in Italian, so I didn’t understand it verbally, however each seat back translates the song into simple English or Norwegian phrases. It enables the audience to laugh, relax, or be filled with dread at all the right parts in the story. The pit band was truly talented and the venue acoustics was most impressive.

The opera house is right on the water of the Oslofjorden. It’s new within the past couple years and the structure allows you to walk on the angled roof up to the flat/top roof. It’s a decent night city view from up there. Afterwards, I strolled back to the hotel … which is right on the main square, in the middle of the city action and a couple blocks from the palace. There was a major football (soccer) game happening live, so the bars were inundated with roaring fans.

The impressions of Oslo find similarities with some other cities… parks (including a palace) comparable to London, colorful apartments/buildings a faded shade from San Francisco, street lay-out structured to Copenhagen or Hamburg, water strolling quay resembling Sydney, and the walk-ability of Manhattan. I imagine the weather is closest to Montreal and the prices of New York. This is based on the first 10 hours in the city, and has confirmed that 24 hours will not be enough time in Oslo. Time to optimize for Sunday's urban exploring.

09 Oct – Three times a year

Earlier this week, the plan for tonight was to post the food blog that I’ve been saving for some “down” time. Now that tonight is here, there are other events I’d prefer to share that will be equally entertaining. Part of it is also that my belly if full. The evening ended with a slice of delicious cake… devoured at church.

Every afternoon at work there is an energetic bird that is dressed for a tuxedo affair. It’s white and gray, with a black collar and a splash of yellow on its head. The bird hops around the building entrance just outside my window. As it hops the tail counter balances, creating quite a little dance performance. Many times it is more entertaining than my computer screen. Using the word “tragedy” to describe yesterday’s events would be overkill, however from the bird’s point of view it might be fitting.

Yesterday after lunch I exited the cafeteria and stepped into a process of the receptionist and a cafeteria worker observing some disturbance. Apparently there was a bird… woosh-flap-flap… yep there it is... flying up and down the hallway between the glass doors at both ends. We tried three different times to frighten the bird out the door. One time it was so close, the bird was latched onto the lit exit sign right above the door. It could feel the breeze, but it wouldn’t fly out. It took a wrong turn and flew down another hallway and into the factory (more like a warehouse size) building. We were disappointed. The receptionist was bummed that the bird wouldn’t survive in the factory. It’s actually quite common for birds to live in the rafters, so it was just a matter of time before it happened here. I’d guess it occurs about three times a year, so this one will have to wait a couple months before it will have some company. My selfish bummer was that I have no daily afternoon performances any longer. I’ve since looked up the bird, and suspect it’s a White Wagtail (appropriately named).

To keep my girlish figure while eating out 7 days/week I go running at least every other day. It’s worked so far and the concerns will start when the snow starts sticking and the daylight has retreated by 5pm. Today was the 5.5 mile loop up the local steep hill, pass a pond, through the woods, and down another steep hill. I’m always on the look-out for moose, as they frequent the very same woods. The running gear is currently capris, long sleeve t-shirt and a fleece/knit hat. I’m sure in another 2-3 weeks I’ll need a vest too.

A coworker recommended a historical concert for tonight. It is only for Christmas, Easter and this occasion that the 70+ candles in the church are lit. The candles flicker from the three large baroque/ornate chandeliers that hang perpendicular to the “stage”. Being that this is one of the three times that the candles are lit, it seemed to me the best way to experience the church. The church is a few hundred years old and the organ was inaugurated in 1765. It was shut down in 1889. After a bunch of fundraising and restoration sweat, the pipes blew again in 2001. This evening the organ keys were tickled by a performer from England (David Sanger). He played eight songs from the 1500s – 1700s. The first 5-10 minutes I was skeptical of sitting through an hour of it, however the music/organ sounds slowly grew on me. By the time Bach and the last two songs played I had come to appreciate the sound and his skills. The baker’s skills were also a masterpiece. The concert wrapped up with a slice of white cake, chocolate almond sliver mousse filling, with an almond marzipan icing that was draped over the cake similar to fondant. Pure goodness for the taste buds after getting an organ earful.

06 Oct - Tunneling to Date Night in Oslo

One of the first entries hypothesized that there are many tunnels in this country. Well, I finally have metrics to prove this hypothesis. I counted 25 tunnels on my return trip this past weekend. You may think, “that’s not crazy,” especially for a 5 hour drive. The kicker is the first 20 tunnels were burrowed in 45 minutes. Yes, that’s a tunnel every 2:15 minutes. Some of the tunnels are 100 feet, some are a mile long. Some have lights and some have reflective arms that reach out from the rock, as if they will push you back on the road if you veer to the side. In reality I think they just spring back, allowing you to demolish your vehicle into the wall.

My car’s “Service Engine” light had started blinking a couple weeks ago. Coincidentally, it started about the day the rental agency expected the car to be returned (my travel arrangements were faulty). Long story short, after work on Tuesday I made the trip to Oslo airport to exchange the vehicle. While at it, I would get a smaller car… both to save money and have a convenient road-sized vehicle. Oh, was it pouring. I can’t remember the last time I’ve driven in rain like that… I know I know, easy to admit coming from a SoCal resident. It’s probably been since my teenage years in NY. I was just hoping that the 2+ deg Celcius would remain steady that night so the rain didn’t turn to ice and snow for an even more eventful drive.

Oslo is the capital of Norway; however it’s not that big and well-known to Americans… let alone visited by them. This particular night it was enjoyed by two Americans, heck … New Yorkers, and to be even more specific Hampton-ers. Yes, it’s a small world. Last week at a customer’s house, the customer and my Dad were in a conversation. She was just starting a new job (based in London) and was visiting Oslo the next several weeks for training. Oslo! My Dad informed her of my situation, and you can figure out the rest. It was date night with Dad’s customer. We have more in common than knowing my Dad and the Hamptons. She graduated with a Mechanical Engineering degree and is very active in the outdoors. Despite being late (Oslo traffic and slow drivers in the weather), being lost (the nearest Parking Hus driving distance from the freeway is not the nearest bird’s eye distance), and being a soggy sheep (it was raining cats & dogs), it was a very pleasant dinner.

Since I was running late, at the car I changed out of my heels and into my brown hiking boots. I figured they would be better footwear to navigate the streets quickly without worrying about puddles nor breaking an ankle on the cobblestones. We met up at Union Station and walked to a restaurant she was familiar with, called the Theater Cafeen . When we checked our coats to the valet coat hanger (person), I was disheartened by my faux pas. An optimist would claim my clothes were business casual (these plans were not on the schedule after my shower that morning). However, with brown boots peeking out of the black slacks, even the optimist would say I was under-dressed. The restaurant was quite beautiful and the live pianist on the balcony gave the antique décor a classy 1920s or 30s feel to it. I discovered later from my Norwegian coworkers that the country’s celebrities go there to be seen wining & dining. The wining and dining dishes of choice that evening were the classics… fish soup and a poached cod plate. They were done wonderfully, especially the fish soup. Nearby to the table was a large picturesque window. It overlooked a dark park square that was only lit from the street and business lights reflecting in the puddles and wet cobblestones. Folks with umbrellas strolled down the sidewalks and leapt across the drenched streets. One could almost imagine Dick Tracey or Sherlock Holmes turning the corner.

The return drive (11pm-12am) was surprisingly crowded for a Tuesday at midnight. There were men and machines working on entire road sections, constricting the useable lanes to a single lane on the opposite road. It was all worth it and I plan to return to Oslo this weekend. Thus far my weekend time has been consumed with adventure. With the Celsius going negative, it’s time for some culture.

03 Oct - Soggy Sheep

From Norway

The cabin was warm, and the morning was gloomy. The wind was blowing (borderline howling) and the rain was intermittent. It was not a day for the Priekenstolen hike… or so I thought.

Revisiting the Frommer’s book, there was a wool factory store not too far away. The factory started in 1937 and makes wool yarn from the local sheep. It then sends the yarn to Poland where they fabricate the hats, socks, and sweaters in Norwegian patterns. Seemed like a splendid way to spend the dreary morning. The factory outlet store was in the middle of nowhere… although there were plenty of grazing sheep. The factory was a large white cement building with old-school pane windows. The outlet store resembled a very long log cabin. In addition to knitted fashions and yarn, they had various trinkets, housewares, and a cafeteria. I spent a considerable amount of time and money in that store, starting and completing the Christmas gifts for the family. The sales person said the factory forever shut its doors the 1st of Oct (2 days ago!). She said they can’t compete with the wools of New Zealand (and one other place). It’s just too expensive. So, the goodies I bought are some of the last Norwegian wool products that there will be for a while (from this supplier). Norway is expensive (you’ll notice my weekend trips have not involved shopping). Being a factory outlet the products are cheaper, however still not reasonable by US standards. They had silly high prices instead of ridiculously high prices (found in any town for the same products). Some of the money will be returned as I requested a VAT form (tax refund at the airport for visitors). After a lunch at their cafeteria, it was back on the road.

The rain was letting up at this point and Priekenstolen was on the road signs. My energy level was in need of some activity so the trailhead was next on the list. Priekenstolen is a large granite face that drops veritically in Lysefjord. I had seen it from the ferry ride the day before and wasn’t very impressed. It has a country-wide reputation (equivalent of the Half-Dome hike for CA) and is most enjoyable on a clear day when you can see the fjord 1,920 ft below the cliff. Today the enjoyment factor was at stake.

The hiking involved birch forest, a rock trail, a wooden boardwalk over a marsh, and for much of it the stream was on the trail. There were a surprising number of hikers going in both directions. Those coming down resembled the soggy sheep I had been passing all morning. My feet felt for those hikers whom were doing it in sneakers. Boots were really needed to avoid getting the feet wet, not to mention spraining an ankle on the wet, slick rocks. The rain stopped completely for most of the hike up and the sun managed to battle its way out for 20 minutes to make for beautiful views. When the sun was being threatened by an approaching front, my pace quickened significantly. I really wanted the view and I knew the top was near. The view and granite was awesome. If you can imagine flooding the Yosemite valley, and being on top of El Captain, that’s the closest experience there would be. Upon summiting the granite platform, the clouds and fog were advancing, so I snapped the pictures quickly. Within 10 minutes there was no visibility beyond a couple hundred feet and shortly thereafter the rain celebrated. It celebrated even with some hail on the entire scramble down. My jacket and pants were thoroughly soaked and now I was that soggy sheep. Fortunately, my under-layers were only damp and reasonable for driving.

The drive North was fjord hopping-ly fabulous. The road meandered by Idsefjorden, Josenfjorden, Ardalsfjorden, Erfjorden and Lovrafjorden, where I spent the night in another lovely cabin. This one is just as good as the first one, if not better and a little warmer than the one last night! The cabins are so lovely and very affordable… it’s definitely the best way to see Norway. They are less than half of the cost of a hotel, have kitchettes, a compact living room and bunks. You do have to bring a sleeping bag and towel, so that’s where it saves the money. It rained all night, which added to the pine cabin ambiance. After a warm shower, cozy clothes and a warm cabin, I was no longer that soggy sheep.

02 Oct – C. N. M. R.

From Norway

It was a holiday week for Norges, so the kids were out of school. The parents seemed to split duty, one take 2-3 days off of work and the other parent takes the rest. It made for a fairly empty office. By the time Friday was here, there was only a handful. The holiday’s origin is from farming. This week was the potato harvesting week, so everyone (needed the kids grubby hands too) would go in the fields and dig potatoes. Although the society has other jobs now, the school holiday has remained the same.

So I’ve read and re-read many sections of Frommer’s Norway travel book. After the past few weekends in the mountains, I was itching to get another fjord into the schedule. If I am to go to a fjord, why not aim for the prettiest of them all? Lysefjord was given that title by many, so that’s the goal. When my local coworker “travel agents” heard of my plans, they had maps and a route all printed and ready to be explained. Per the discussion, the drive involved curvy, narrow mountain roads. Okay then! I swallowed hard knowing that I already thought I had been through curvy, narrow, mountain roads. My anxiety meter started brewing over what a Norge’s description of curvy, narrow, mountains roads really meant. It took me just over an hour to find out.

Exit the familiar 134 hwy on 45 south towards Dalen. The roads did not wait long before defining the curvy, narrow, mountain roads (CNMR) description, so I’m not going to hold back either. Curvy = at least a dozen hairpin (of bobby-pin varietal) turns; Narrow = one car has to stop while the other goes 2 mph squeezing by; Mountain = I’m not kidding you… 12% grade (according to the road signs) and snow on the roadside if not on the road. On the first CNMR, I was halfway through the inside of a steep turn and had to just stop at an awkward angle, so an opposing car could squeak by. That’s right, not even the turns had room for two cars side-by-side. The reason the bobby-pins come into play is that the 180deg turns are wider than the roads they connect. When on the turns, you drive out on a cliff, then in towards the mountain again, just like the curve of a bobby-pin. Click here to see a video of the one of the sections of road I'm describing. The CNMRs are not on mountains, they are clasped to the fjord walls… which are nearly vertical!

Upon ascending the second CNMR, the road opened up for a bit and there were snowy peaks in a distance. It took maybe an hour to get to those snowy peaks. With reasonable caution and confidence, I’ve driven in New England black ice nights, Colorado blizzards, and Northern Cali snow storms. This day, a clear afternoon in Norway’s high-country, I was a spineless, wide-eyed, white-knuckled wimp. The road was just as narrow, however now there was snow on the roadside, if not the road to contend with. The driving strategy for the next hour turned into a max speed of 25 mph. When a car was in sight, I’d adjust my speed such that I’d be in a pull-out area when the car was passing. If there was no pull-out between us, I’d come to a complete stop. It was a relief to see that the other vehicles were doing the same. Click here to see the road. Please remember, what you see in the video is a 2-way road... there are no cars coming the opposite way.

The weekend storm clouds started to threaten the sunlight ahead. I had reached the turn to Lysefjord. It is a road that dead-ends at the ferry terminal for the Lysefjord mouth. I had not done any research for this ferry, so I knew driving down this 20 mile dead-end road that I’d be spending the night (possibly 2) or driving right back up in another hour. There was no way I’d re-drive this road with the nasty weekend weather. My coworker said the road is closed in the winter, so it’s just a matter of days before that happens. After a nutty CNMR down into the fjord valley, the road ended at a ferry port. The good news was there were 4 pick-up trucks and a wagon. I lined up and parked behind the wagon. Right next to me in line were furry white snouts peeking out of the trailer… sheep! I checked the ferry schedule on an empty building and the last ferry until Sunday was due in 5 minutes. What luck!

At the front of the parked vehicles, 5-6 men were standing around in outdoorsy gear. After asking if any of them spoke English, one came over and we started chatting. Upon recommending the town to depart the ferry for lodging and a Saturday hike, I inquired to what he was doing w/ the trucks, gear, and sheep… fearing that slaughter was in the near future. His response was nothing of the sort. Apparently, the people are not the only mammals in Norway that take summer holidays. The sheep do too! At the beginning of summer, the shepards drive their sheep to the high country and drop them off…. each outfitted with a bell around the neck and a tag on the ear. The lambs do not get a bell, because they naturally stay with the adults. The sheep travel around in groups of 3-6 in this predator-free environment for a few months. When the weather begins to get cold in Sept/Oct, the shepard and the sheep dog return to the high-country to round ‘em up and pack ‘em in for a return to the lower grounds. These guys had finished from a day (or a couple days) of hiking around with their dogs and finding their sheep. I don’t believe they find all their sheep each year, but that is part of the acceptable risk. They shepard was extremely proud of his sheep getting the high quality, nutritious food in the high country in the summers. He says it makes the meat world-class.

It was quite funny to pull onto this ferry (backwards) and park amongst the trucks & trailers of sheep & sheep dogs. The only other passenger was a lonely guy from England (I think) wearing shorts. I spent the hour ferry ride enjoying the view of the fjord from the car deck and once in a while going in the cabin to warm up. It was lovely to have the setting sun giving the last light of this almost un-inhabited, imposing fjord. Beautiful. The ferry let me off in Forsand, where it took 3 hotel/cabin signs before I found one that was open. It was a cabin similar to the other cabin experience… view of the fjord, kitchenette, and BYO sleeping bag. It made for a chilly Friday evening, but fantastic for sleeping.