I'm Off My Beaten Track in Eidfjord...

 ... where the trees wear jumpers!!!  Read on ...

NORWAY NOTES

It’s May, but this is Norway. Yesterday, the temperature barely reached 9˚ centigrade all day, and overnight, it was even colder.  Today, we have bright blue skies and sunshine, but a breeze carries the sting of winter in its tail.  As I venture onto the tender to take us to shore, I have my cagoule all zipped up and fastened.

On shore, I want to take photos of the vastness of the fjord, the steep escarpments on each side, and the crystal-clear water beneath.  But our driver has parked the boat in the centre of the sound!!!  I’m not impressed.  His inconsideration means he’s ruined every single shot.

I head off in the opposite direction from everyone else.  My route takes me along the river that skirts the town.  The quiet is deafening.  Eidfjord is one of the principal towns in this county.  With its population of 962, that makes it a place to be reckoned with.  As I meander, accompanied by the sound of fast rippling water, I think about how this tiny place – a village by English standards – can match up to Leeds, a major British city with equivalent civic importance but a population of more than 500,000.

This fjord is an inner branch of the much larger Hardangerfjorden.  As evidenced by the old church, habitation here has existed since at least the fourteenth century. However, burial grounds further up the valley date from much earlier periods.

My wanderings eventually bring me to a large lake with a wide shore in the sunshine.  I take the opportunity to sit and watch the water, listen to the goat and cow bells on the other side of the valley and enjoy the sun.  My coat remains firmly closed, though.

When it’s time to make my way back to the ship, I partially retrace my steps and take a right through the village.  The houses are all different – no blocks of urban terraces here.  The postboxes are all brightly painted, as are the houses.  But it’s the trees that capture my attention as I get into the heart of the village.  The trunks of all the trees are covered in knitwear.  Each has its own pattern and colour scheme, and I stand there wondering why.  After all, it can’t be that the trees are cold, can it?  This is Norway, these are native species, and the cold is guaranteed!  I take a few shots as I know no-one back home will believe me when I tell them about trees wearing jumpers.

My route back to the boat also takes me to a major intersection – and if you’re thinking spaghetti junction, then you need to rein in your imagination.  This is a junction between the road out of town – a car and a half wide – and the road leading through the landscape to other towns and villages – something we at home would call a lane.  It’s clearly a major junction because there is a vast plot of municipal planting.  The flowers are in full bloom, presenting a rainbow of colour.  I’m surprised to see that they are all tulips.  It’s May, and by now, at home, the tulips have been replaced by trees and hedgerows with pink and white flowers, peonies and many other early flowering plants.  At home, May means rapeseed pollen and hay fever.  For a moment, I’m glad I’m here and not there…

Back on the boat, I find that conversation is dominated by the jumper-wearing trees. Apparently, it’s all down to Dr Zeuss and a character called Lorax…