The first time we docked in Olden, Norway, was on the 1st of May. The expanse of water in the fjord was perfectly still, and far wider than the other fjords we’d sailed through. There was snow not just on the tops of the mountainous backdrop, but also creeping down the slopes into the fields. The sun was dazzling and the sky was completely blue, but in the shade the air was icy fresh. If you’re going to be spending a summer in Norway, you have to be prepared for some decidedly chillier weather than the rest of Europe, so taking the bull by the horns, we put on our jackets and headed out to find the snow.
Because when life gives you snow, you make snowmen. Even if the snow comes in May.
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We took our first footsteps onto the snowy slopes, and realised very quickly that this slope was in fact, almost glacier-like. Frozen solid. It was really just a massive chunk of ice, disguised as snow. It made sense- it had probably landed months ago and been packed in underneath, well, a load more snow.
Having not thought to bring a selection of ice carving tools with us, we made do with a tentative creep across the nobbly-bobbly frozen hill, and returned to non-icy land on the double.
Olden, Norway. If you’ve never been there, you probably won’t have heard of it
Olden is a tiny village in the west of Norway; in fact, it’s so tiny that there are fewer than five hundred people living there. And although the port welcomes cruise ships from time to time, there are far busier and more popular ports on most fjord cruise itineraries. Geiranger, Bergen and Stavanger are ports of call on almost every Norwegian route I’ve worked on- and I’ve worked on a few.
I was glad to be visiting somewhere different.
Another obscure Norwegian port- Magical Vik, in photos.
One road follows the edge of the fjord, and one road runs away from it, towards a big lake that is just a little too far away for me to have ever made it there. Around the fjord, mountains rise upwards towards the sky, sometimes with their edges blurred by clouds. With each of our return trips to Olden, new tiny wildflowers grew in the fields, to be replaced within weeks by a different set of sugar-sprinkle flowers.
Most of the buildings in Olden are houses. Big wooden houses with either tiled or turfed roofs, and ladders leading up to the chimneys. Pretty flowers planted around the doors, on front porches and balconies. And a few more modern creations, with a hint of the 1980s about them, with manicured lawns and family vehicles on the driveways.
Considering the number of houses, I don’t remember ever seeing a local, either in their gardens or walking around the village. Norwegians keep themselves to themselves, it seems. The whole vibe of Olden, Norway, is somewhow majestic, cozy and lonely all at once.
In the centre of the village is a pretty wooden church built in 1759, which sits in a weathered little churchyard dappled with ferns. Back in the 1930s they decided the old church was a bit on the small side- in fact too small to fit the actual congregation- so a new church was built a bit further up the road. It’s bigger and darker but still a classic wooden Scandinavian style, basic from a distance but with tiny details revealed close-up, like the door handles moulded into angel’s wings.
And as for shops, there’s not a lot in Olden. A petrol station sells fast food and a selection of Asian snacks, and there was always a few Asian crew members sat outside using the wifi and tucking in to their freshly-bought treats. There’s a cluster of souvenir and clothes shops selling fleeces, puffa jackets and troll figurines, and near a little bridge is a gift shop-cum-coffee-shop where we once sat outside in the freezing rain, drinking coffee and praying our next contracts wouldn’t be back in Norway.
(It can be a bit grey and nippy for 5 months at a time, you know? I’m a summer gal.)
On my last day in Olden, I wandered back from my hike along the valley and met some friends were sitting on the terrace outside Molla Gjestehus, a stone building with a wooden terrace overlooking the entrance to the ship. I went inside to order a coffee and grab a menu for the others at the same time. The little room was like an old Norwegian dining room, wooden floor and beams, decorated with paintings on the walls. A large group were sitting around one of the tables. A girl behind the wood-panelled bar in the corner asked what I’d like.
“Could I have a coffee, and a menu please.”
“We don’t have a menu.”
I looked, confused, at the group tucking into their plates of food.
She saw my confused look. “Well. What do you want to eat?”
“It’s for my friends, not me. So I’m not really sure. What kind of things do you have?”
“Well. Find out what they’d like, and maybe we can make it.”
There was a very strange stand-off going on between us, which went on for slightly too long. I felt like Alice talking to the caterpillar, and I broke first, alas.
“Ok, I’ll tell them. Thank you.” Off I went clutching my coffee cup to relay the information, baffled.
I wondered if they’d really be capable of making anything that my friends wanted. If they ordered a lamb bhuna and Marmite on toast, would that have been possible? Potentially.
As it happens, they went for a bowl of chips between them. It was the safest bet.
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