Jotunheim

Day 5: a slight detour

I hadn't planned to go up to Geiranger before my trip; it is a bit out of the way. Still, I had seen quite a nice picture from the Ørnesvingen (Eagle's Turn), where you apparently have quite a nice view of the fjord leading to Geiranger itself. Also, After re-counting, I realized I had an extra night to spend and still make it easily to all other planned destinations.

I had one shot in mind, and really no idea what I'd find along the way. Also, I would have to drive back the same way to Lom (Fossbergom on the map, don't ask me why) to continue my roundtrip of Jotunheimen. Still, the drive was only three hours, so I went for it.

The road leaves Turtagrø and climbs a few hundred meter up to a plateau. This was the mythical Tourist Road 55 I had read so much about, so I was quite excited. Very typically though, the weather had turned worse again; it wasn't raining, but the clouds were low-hanging and ominous.

The Norwegians sure like their stone piles.

I'd love to come back with clear skies and no wind...

Glacier off Fantesteinsvatnet.

The road winds through the various hills, high above the treeline. The views were very nice, even though I couldn't see much of the highest peaks. The road soon starts making its way down to Lom; the valley itself is quite narrow at first, widening quickly. The Bøvra river follows the road the whole way, stopping at a few lakes. The river is entirely turquoise in color, which looks really weird in places.

The valley and river start small.

The color is crazy, especially with the varying depth of the river.

A look backward from Jotunheimen Fjellstue, along Road 55.

The valley widens considerably before Lom. Can you tell it's raining again?

Halfway to Lom, the first rain shower hit. This was no light drizzle either, it was proper, soaking rain. Still, I had a plan, and I'd be damned to let rain stop me. Or gates in the road. I'm talking about Galdhøpiggen, the highest peak in Norway. I was driving right beside it, and I noticed that there is a road that takes you quite the way there. What the map didn't say was that the road had gates. With a toll booth. Well, since I'm here...

After paying the toll and reading the warning signs (basically 'IF YOU DIE ON THIS ROAD, TOUGH LUCK. DON'T BE STUPID.'), I started the drive into the clouds. The rain soon turned to really wet snow; I slowed down but kept climbing. Once at the end of the road, the view was both astonishing and disappointing. Astonishing, because people were skiing on the permasnow; disappointing, because you couldn't see anything of the mountain itself. Best laid plans, and all that..

Skiing on Galdhøpiggen, in early September. Wat.

Awww, there goes that plan.

I drove down the mountain in sporadic rain showers and stopped in Lom for some lunch. I still had some way to drive, and it was afternoon already; I had to get going. That went well, for about 20 minutes.

Damn it Norway, I'm trying to get to places!

Same place, different angle.

The river Otta runs from the plains close to Geiranger all the way down to Lom, and is spectacular the whole way. These pictures were taken at Dønfoss, where there is a big camping site just next to the river. The noise is deafening, I can't imagine what it's like to sleep next to the water.

After Dønfoss, the road slowly travels through the valley, climbing slightly on the way to the coast. Yes, it goes higher, not lower. The cost is full of mountains and fjords, while I was still in the midland plains.

When reviewing my pictures from the day, I was disappointed that I didn't have more of them. I wonder why; I can't remember any pressing reason why I wouldn't have taken photos. Regardless, I'd drive down the same way the next day, and the weather was better then anyway. I'm just wondering what happened :)

Breiddalsvatnet, on the road towards Geiranger. You can see the Geiranger mountains in the distance.

Although Road 55 stops in Lom, the road to Geiranger is also a tourist-designated road. This one is numbered 63, but known colloquially as Trollstigen, the troll road. I didn't see any trolls, but if there is a place where they'd live, this is it. Again, I don't have many pictures from this particular part. The reason is that in many places it is forbidden to stop beside the road because of land slides. So, I just drove through down to Geiranger. The next day I ignored the signs ;)

The first part of Trollstigen, where the road plunges down towards Geiranger.

Not planning to drive here in the first place, I didn't have any idea of what sights there are along the way. For instance, I didn't know what Dalsnibba was, missing it entirely on the first day. Luckily I got wiser during the evening, when I had internet connectivity at the hotel. I only knew that there was a view platform before Geiranger, and then another after the town. I was hoping to get a photo with a cruise ship leaving, but I had no idea about the cruise timetables; for all I knew, there might not be a ship for a week.

I turned a corner and looked down into the Geiranger valley, and couldn't believe it; just what I had ordered. A cruise ship was in the fjord, ready to leave. I stopped at the first viewing platform, grabbed my camera, and ran to the cliffside.

The Geiranger fjord. The other view platform is to the right; you can see the road leading up the cliff. Speaking of cliffs, the one to the left was over a hundred meters down to the bottom.

The ship is huge, yet in pales in comparison to the fjord.

I grabbed a few shots, and then ran back to my car. I didn't know how fast the ship would leave the fjord, or how long it would take to drive to the other end of the fjord. What I did know was that I wanted a shot of the ship leaving, and here was a ship. I might not get another chance.

Trying to keep inside the speed limits, I drove down the first serpentine road an into the small town of Geiranger. Ignoring all of it, I quickly found the way out to the other side, and raced up the second cliff toward Ørnesvingen, the second platform. I parked my car, grabbed my gear, and ran to the edge yet again; I had made it, the ship hadn't left yet.

View from Ørnesvingen. The fjord is so wide and huge that it's difficult to get a picture that conveys it. Geiranger is on the far left edge.

I set up my tripod, and took a panorama image. The issue was that the fjord is really wide (more than 120 degrees) from left to right, and very narrow to the opposite side. I found out that getting a shot that represents it is quite difficult. Still, the ship was there, so I started snapping pics, and kept going until I couldn't see it anymore.

Preparing for the turn out from Geiranger.

Drifting a hundred thousand tons through the narrows.

I regret not taking more tight shots of the ship; that would have shown the scale better. Nevertheless, I got a few that I liked, so I was happy. I drove down to Geiranger and found my hotel. Geiranger itself is really small, and almost fully catered for tourists. the dock areas are basically a giant tourism shop, and there are a quite a few attractions, such as the 'Norwegian Fjord Centre'. Didn't bother with those though; I was famished.

After a (very nice) dinner I looked at what I could find along the road the next day, and where to sleep since I hadn't decided that yet. I found a hytte that was in a good location along the route and booked it. I also found out about Dalsnibba, and some other places along the road I had driven along. Tomorrow, I would stop and get all the pics I missed today. But more on that in the next post.

Day 4: sunrise and a familiar-ish view.

When going to bed the previous day, I almost set the alarm to wake in the middle of the night to get some star shots. After a few seconds I made up my mind not to; I was simply too tired. I did set it to 6 o'clock though, half an hour before sunrise. The awesome sunset had wet my appetite, so I thought 'since I'm here...'

When I woke up it was still mostly dark. Everything was still in the cabin, only a faint crackle coming from the heating system. Outside, I could hear a breeze. The sky to the east was cloudy, just as it had been the night before. No coloured sunrise, then. Except maybe there was, but I'd have to get out of bed since the window was pointed the wrong way. I sighed, pulled myself out of the warm bed, and gathered my stuff.

The moon was kind enough to be in the exactly right place.

A hint of color, but not the fireworks of the earlier sunset.

A nice effect of the rising sun. The clouds covered the east all the way from Fannaråken to the horizon.

I went back to bed, setting my alarm so that I wouldn't miss breakfast. I dozed off immediately, which wasn't that surprising. I'm not really a morning person, which is unfortunate for my photography aspirations. After waking up again, the sun was already high up. I put on my clothes and walked to the main cabin for some breakfast. I took my camera along this time, to capture the inside of the main cabin. It is utilitarian, but cozy. The best thing at that particular moment was the food, though.

I even got a lit candle at my table! :)

Namnam, indeed. I don't always eat porridge, but when I do,  it's accompanied by a hand-drawn teletubbie.

An assortment of entertainment and breakfast cheeses. If you ever get to try Norwegian brown cheese, go for it. It's weird.

The last angle. And yes, I'm tall, and couldn't be bothered to get the perspective right :)

After the breakfast, it was time to start heading down. The clouds had moved closer to Fannaråken, covering the east and north views completely, sometimes rolling over Fannaråken itself. I tried to get some photos, but the sun was high, the clouds were in the way, and I couldn't find anything I hadn't shot the day before. I still have a lot to learn when it comes to thinking through the picture before taking it. Next time, I'll be more thorough, taking pictures of every nook and cranny. 

The way down was, not surprisingly, much easier than walking up. The weather was better, and the view was clear. I decided to take it easy, and stop for photos every now and then. This resulted in hundreds of almost identical images of the valley below, since there isn't really anything interesting along the path itself.

You can see where the path winds down the mountainside. The hotel is at the end of the valley, just over the hill with the road, 1150 meters further down and 8 kilometers away.

I just happened to notice this little fellow not far from the top; it blended in really well with the rocks. After two seconds of staring at me it took off, along with ten others I hadn't seen.

The color difference of the lakes was really clear in this light.

'Follow the path! Undergrowth is vulnerable'. This is a National Park, after all. Also, the path isn't slippery and dangerous, like the moss is.

I made slow progress down the mountain, stopping and appreciating the view from time to time. Although the website for Fannaråken says the way down takes a bit over three hours, I spent almost five; more than on the way up. The progress was much faster, but the photo nerd in me took over several times, prompting me to stop and play with my camera.

Halfway down now. You can see the change in the path and the terrain.

Also, flowers!

Remember those cars from the previous day? I had been wondering where they went. I finally found out. That, right there, is a nice camping spot.

A better view of the glacier stream at the end of the valley. You could clearly hear the constant noise of rushing water.

Me in my super-sexy climbing clothes. At least I'll be easily spotted if I get lost in the wilderness.

The smaller stream, coming down from Fannaråken. It is bigger than it looks on the photo, unfortunately there wasn't really anything available to show the scale.

The path took me right across this small waterfall. You had to be careful where to step; the water is so clear that 10cm of water looks the same as 30cm.

I came here to photograph streams, so that's what I'll do, damnit!

I finally made it down to the valley floor, where I was greeted by a welcoming party. Just after I passed the sheep, I caught something in the corner of my eye. It was an eagle, flying on the top of the valley wall. This was the only time during the trip I wished I had my 300mm; I still got a few decent shots of the slow, majestic bird, but they were a lot fuzzier and further away than I'd like. And of course, all my settings were completely wrong. Spending a couple of days here with proper birding gear would be awesome :)

Norwegian sheep apparently know traffic rules, the filed neatly to the right side so that I could pass.

Yup, that's a big bird.

One of the stream coming down the valley sides. This one was a over a hundred meters high.

There is a strange effect when hiking alongside tall mountains; I found that my brain had difficulties processing the distances correctly. I kept missing focus when looking at the valley walls and Fannaråken itself. My brain simply thought that the mountains were much smaller and closer than they actually were, giving me a bad headache. The second last day of the trip the exact same thing happened in Utladalen. I guess you will get used to it after a while.

The main stream in the valley that I couldn't be bothered to get to on the day before, with Fannaråken to the left. You can see the mountaintop!

This pic is taken a few kilometers further from the last one, just outside the valley. The mountain is still the same size, which messes with your brain when you aren't used to these sorts of landscapes. The houses in the bottom left give some scale, but trust me, it isn't accurate. The houses look tiny in comparison in real life.

Getting close to the hotel now. The valley stream starts rushing down toward the Sogne fjord.

One down, four to go. Maybe next time.

Did I mention that the sheep are everywhere?

My gear; the camera strap was really handy, allowing me to rest the camera from my shoulder but still being able to access it immediately. The whole set weighed about 13 kilos.

My gear; the camera strap was really handy, allowing me to rest the camera from my shoulder but still being able to access it immediately. The whole set weighed about 13 kilos.

So, not a lot to talk about in this one; I hope you don't mind. I arrived at the hotel without any incidents, and without being too tired. My shoulders were killing me, though, and I clearly felt the accrued filth I had gathered during the trip. After a really long shower, I backed up all my photos to my laptop, and started planning the coming days. But more on that in the next installment, where I drive up to Geiranger for a single photo, but find a lot of distractions the way :)

Day 3.5: why I do what I do

Fannaråken has the highest hostel in Europe. At 2068 meters over sea level, you can get a warm bed, a hot meal, and shelter from the elements. You can also enjoy the views, or even partake in the yearly 'run up Fannaråken'-challenge. I did none of that. Having spent the most exhausting 4.5 hours of my life getting to the very top, I could barely get to the cabin. After climbing in the door, I collapsed on a sofa and didn't move for a good while. The two guys taking care of the place just smiled at me; 'we heard there was someone on their way'. Other than that, they let me catch my breath in peace.

After 15 minutes, I stood up, got some coffee, and sat down again. I started looking around. Fannaråkhytte is divided into a few houses; the main house has a dining/rec area, kitchen and staff accommodations, while another cabin houses guest quarters. Bathrooms and tools sheds are separate as well. I read some info plaques about the place. The first building on Fannaråken was a year-round weather station (did I mention the Norwegians are crazy?) built in the 1930s. There was no road up the mountain, so they had to build it. Horses couldn't get up the steep hill, so they were left behind. Even the mules gave up 600 meters down from the top. What did the Norwegian Real Men do? They carried the building materials up. By hand. And built the damn cabin. 

I looked outside, thinking about the massive effort, but saw nothing but blinding fog. I left my camera in my bag and concentrated on the hot coffee. The combination of rest and caffeine was starting to have an effect, and soon enough I had enough strength to move myself to the guest house.

Fannaråkhytte, not in black and white.

Beware the snow. That is a 300 meter straight drop.

There is something down there.. One of the caretakers looking down from the highest point, just beside the guest cottage.

On the way I tried to look at the scenery, but the scenery wasn't playing along. The clouds still held their grip of the small mountaintop, and i could only get glimpses of other mountains or the valleys surrounding the peak. It was still early afternoon, so I knew I had plenty of time to look at the sights (or waiting for it to clear, at least). So I changed clothes and took a short nap in my bunk. 

#15, that's me!

I woke an hour later, looked outside, and my jaw just dropped. 

What a difference some clouds make.

The clouds hadn't cleared fully yet, and periodically they covered the mountain again. But gradually the clouds disappeared, leaving me to do my thing.

Down the valley. We're way above the glacier now.

Some ice desperately clinging to existence in the sun. The temperature was less than 5 degrees over zero.

View due East.

Best view from a toilet ever?

I spent the whole evening taking photos. I was so blown away, I didn't even really think of what I took images of; looking at them, I realize I missed some. There are a couple of vantage points I don't have any images from. Well, only gives me reason to go back :)

After taking photos for a couple of hours straight, I was invited for some dinner. It was almost all canned food, but I was starving, so it was predictably delicious. Hats off to the guys manning the hostel; not everyone likes being on a mountaintop for 5 weeks straight, making 3-course dinners and breakfast for tourists every day. After the dinner I talked briefly to one of the guys (I can't remember his name, I'm so sorry :( ). I mentioned that the biggest reason I came to Norway was to get a picture from the top of Fannaråken at either sunset or sunrise. Because of the weather, I was optimistic, but the guy said that he hadn't seen a sunset for 3 weeks. The weather had turned bad each evening. I got nervous; I already had great pics, but not THE pic. Would I get it?

After the talk I had about an hour before sunset was supposed to happen, so I had plenty of time to get a few golden hour shots out of the way:

It doesn't get any better than this. Or does it?

Same view, with 100% less fat Finnish man.

I waited 15 minutes for the sun to hit the glacier, but the hill in the middle covered it really effectively. Stupid mountains, getting in the way!

The sun was getting really low now, and the clouds in the horizon had basically disappeared. I wasn't going to get a shot in that direction. However, the most beautiful thing in a sunset isn't always the sun.. I did a quick re-plan, got my tripod out, ready to rock and roll. But first..

Can you really blame me?

The plan was simple; get a shot with golden light on the mountaintops and the buildings. Then wait for a few minutes until the sky gets some color, and take that shot. Using a tripod, both are perfectly aligned. With a sprinkle of Photoshop, you'd get a pretty nice shot. In theory.

I set up my tripod, realized it was wrong, moved it, moved it again, and then settled down to wait. The golden light was absolutely amazing. The caretakers got out their own cameras too, saying it was a very long time since it was this nice. The sun slowly went over the horizon, I kept shooting. Brackets of 5, full resolution RAW, mirror up, cable release. Checking each exposure. There was not a chance in hell I'd mess this up technically. 

Most of you know what I talk about when I say that the sunset can paint the sky red. The thing is, it doesn't happen during summer. In fact, I had been at my dads cottage a week earlier, and got almost no red at all. It has something do to with the quicker sunset in autumn along with colder air that creates the magic. I had hoped for a good image. Frankly, any color with some clouds would have made me happy. But this was something else. I still can't understand my luck; out of all of the days I could have chosen, I chose the only evening in weeks that had a proper sunset. And it was spectacular.

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