Tag Archives: Hardanger

Norway Journal, Day 12

June 22: A day of disaster that ended better than I feared. “The thing that I have greatly feared has come upon me,” as it says in Job. I’d worried that this trip was going too well, and today I discovered a serious problem – all of my own making.

Yesterday I told Trygve that I needed to take time to fill out some US Customs re-entry forms (turned out they didn’t apply to me after all) and book my tickets for my bus trip to Oslo Friday. I chose a bus to ride, started the checkout, and came up against a problem I’ve encountered before and should have remembered. I can’t buy anything online with a credit card in this country. They want to text me a security number, but the cell phone tied to the card is my American one, which doesn’t work in Europe.

Then I realized that I’d made the same calendar mistake I made before with Trygve. First I told him I was coming Tuesday, and then (for some unknown reason) I bought a ticket for Monday. Now, I realized (to my horror) that my plane leaves Friday, not Saturday. So Thursday needs to be my travel day. That’s tomorrow.

I apologized profusely to Trygve, who seemed fairly sanguine, however. After trying a couple things, including a call to my credit card company, he said the best thing was to drive to Voss and buy a train ticket to Oslo there. This is the Bergensbanen, a famous rail line I’ve ridden before. We weren’t sure my card would work there either, but what choice did we have?

Statue of Knut Rockne in Voss. You can tell from the look on his face he thinks I’m a moron.

We drove to Voss (famous as the birthplace of Knut Rockne, and a beautiful place in its own right), and found a ticket machine in the entry hall – out of order. You can’t buy a ticket from an agent anymore. It’s all automated. Trygve led me up to the platform, and we found a machine there that did sell me a ticket. And my card worked.

Sigh.

Relieved, we did some driving around, doing some of the sightseeing Trygve had been planning but now will be prevented from doing. Three waterfalls, plus the Norwegian Nature Center in Eidfjord.

I forget what these falls are called. Voringfoss, maybe.
This one is called the Skjervsfossen. I could have gotten a better picture if I’d stepped closer to the edge of the observation platform, but I didn’t want to show off.

Up to the Hardangervidda plateau itself (at least the edge of it), where we looked at Sysenvatn, an artificial lake built for hydroelectricity and some other sights on the plateau.

Just a random, picturesque spot.

Then we drove back (it took a while). I was feeling better by now, though I still feel dumb. I think I ought to have my mental acuity checked by a doctor when I get home.

We went out again about an hour later to pick Trygve’s son Kjell up from dayschool. We then went to a few picturesque spots above the town to take pictures. It really is quite dramatic. I think I’m going into Sublimity Shock. I need the Midwest to get my blood sugar level back down.

Tomorrow we may do some more sightseeing before my train leaves, but we need to give ourselves time to get to the station, because those narrow mountain roads are prone to long traffic delays.

Norway Journal, Day 10

June 20: Up, fed, and generally on time for my trip to Ullandsvang via Hardanger. Caught the Kystbussen (Coastal Bus) at 7:45 or so, and it took me by way of several tunnels and a ferry ride. Tore was waiting for me at Haugesund, and we set out north in his car.

Change in plan, not for today, but for my ride home. Tore said the strike was spreading at the Oslo airport, and he believed the best thing for me to do, to avoid missing my plane, was to take the Haukeli Express bus on Friday. Easy to get a bus from the bus station to the airport, he says. I’ll go with his advice. I rely on the kindness of new acquaintances. Also, I’ve ridden the Haukeli Express before, and liked it very much.

We were met at the town of Etne by Trygve’s uncle, Knut. Knut knows a lot about local history, and filled the time before Trygve got off work by showing me several local sites.

One was Stødle Church, on the site of the farm of Erling Skakke.

I’ve written about Erling Skakke (1115-1179) before in this journal. This was not my Erling (Skjalgsson), but another nobleman, even more powerful in his prime. He participated in a Crusade along with Ragnvald Kali Kolsson, Earl of Orkney (whose poems I reviewed on this blog once upon a time). During a sea battle in the Mediterranean, he took a wound in the neck. It healed up, but the muscles tightened on that side, so that he always held his head crooked thereafter (“skakke” means tilted). He married Kristin Sigurdsdatter, daughter of King Sigurd the Crusader.

When there was a temporary dearth of viable candidates to inherit the throne of Norway, Erling worked a deal with the church to get his son Magnus crowned, on the strength of his being a king’s grandson. This violated the law, which said that inheritance went through the male line. So there was resistance to the innovation, and new claimants appeared, and this launched Norway’s Age of Civil War, a long and bloody time. Erling was regent during Magnus’ minority, and remained powerful up until the time when both of them died in battle against the Birkebeiners (Birchlegs).

Erling Skakke’s view, from Stodle farm.

Uncle Knut obtained a key at the hotel to get inside the church. The interior is what I believe to be simple Romanesque, with a small chancel, and a tiny chapel at the very end. This small chapel, I am told, was probably built by Erling himself in the 12th Century.

Interior of Stodle Church. Note the naive paintings on the left-hand wall, the chancel, and the small inner chancel at the end.
Chancel.
Erling Skakke’s inner chancel.

The portions built later are decorated with naïve images of the gospel writers (as I recall), and also of the five foolish virgins. These paintings were apparently uncovered during the last restoration of the church. There is also a hogback gravestone outside the church wall, which reminded me of English ones. A Viking Age style.

Hogback gravestone.

There was also Grindheim church, which features a genuine rune stone set up against one wall (its inscription pretty much unreadable today, alas), and a fascinating stone cross. This one has had its capital knocked off, but has a notable feature – there’s a hole through the junction of the arms. This is reminiscent of Irish crosses, and suggests an Irish influence

Irish-influenced stone cross at Grindheim Church.

He took me to his home, where his wife Valborg made a delicious lunch. Then they both took me out to a nearby nature area for a walk through the woods. As we were about to leave we met a couple they knew coming in. They told us someone else from America had recently been through, asking about Vika farm (one of my ancestral places).

Then back to the house for dessert. By now we were all great friends. Trygve showed up, had some dessert himself, and then we took pictures all around and headed further into the Etne region, and on to Hardanger.

I’m already forgetting all the places we saw. As I mentioned before, Etne is a remarkably beautiful place, and Hardanger is the same but more dramatic. Trygve showed me the places where his family had lived in the past. He showed me the farm where my brother’s wife’s family came from.

Across the water, Frette farm, where my sister-in-law’s family came from.

He showed me a place to get a better picture of the Langfoss waterfall, which is indeed quite long.

Langfossen.

Also the Låtefossen, a magnificent double falls.

Laatefossen.

Kyrping, a picturesque cove at the edge of the Åkrafjord, home of Kyrping-Orm, father of Erling Skakke.

Kyrping.

Nearby was the bronze plate in the mountainside dedicated to honor the journalist Eric Severeid, whose family came from Severeid farm. We stopped for ice cream at a place where Trygve likes to shop. We drove over to Hardanger (avoiding a tunnel at one point for a more dramatic ride), which I still consider insanely beautiful.

Just a random picture taken while waiting for the light to change on a one-lane, mountainside road.

Kind of like a real-world rollercoaster, where falling off the world is a serious possibility. I was amazed at farms and homes where the driveways run upward at more than a 45⁰ angle. And in the end we drove up a similar driveway ourselves, to reach Trygve’s home.

Trygve and his personal view.

Norway Journal, Day 5

June 14: I got up in good time to leave at 9:00 a.m., in spite of getting very little sleep. Our goal: Etne and Hardanger, two of the most picturesque areas of Norway.

Einar and Tore Ravn with King Magnus Erlingsson. Note the “Tinghus” in the background. I’ve told you about “Tings,” right?

At Etne we stopped at the statue of King Magnus Erlingsson, who was not the son of Erling Skjalgsson but of a later magnate, Erling Skakke (“Erling Wry-neck,” due to an old injury incurred during a Crusade-adjacent raid in the Mediterranean). Norwegian law said that only a king’s son could inherit the throne. The problem was, there were no acceptable kings’ sons available at the time. So Erling Skakke, who was married to a daughter of King Sigurd the Crusader, managed to get his son Magnus crowned. In order to wangle this, he agreed to have his son crowned by the archbishop in Nidaros Cathedral (Norwegian kings had always been elected by the Things up to that point). This was the first time a Norwegian king was crowned and anointed in a religious ceremony, and it won him support from the Church. Resistance to this innovation led to generations of bloody civil war in the country.

We also stopped at the ancient church on Erling Skakke’s one-time estate.

As we drove through the Etne area, I realized I had to tell my sister-in-law, whose maiden name was Frette, that she absolutely must visit the land of her ancestors. The Etne area features stunning mountain and valley landscapes, made doubly dramatic by the misty weather today. I thought it was some of the most glorious scenery I’d ever seen.

Langfoss

We stopped to photograph the Langfoss, one of Norway’s largest waterfalls. I don’t have words for it. Dramatic and powerful.

After passing through a long tunnel we reached the area of the Hardangerfjord, even more dramatic than Etne, though I might not have believed it. The drama was increased by the ridiculous precariousness of the road we took. It clung to the shoulders of the mountains, often only one lane wide. In some places, if you encounter a driver coming the other way, one of you has to back up into one of the periodic pull-over spots. Farms and even small communities teeter on mountain ledges high above you, and sometimes when the rock ledge falls away on your right, you catch a glimpse of an isolated clearing where someone has built a smallholding, in a valley or a fjord cove. It all took my breath away. I came home drunk with beauty.

The ferry to Skaanevik

We were delayed returning by a one hour wait for the ferry going to Skånevik, which used to be the address of the farms across the fjord where my Swelland ancestors came from (because before cars and road-building, the water united rather than divided). But that governmental arrangement has been changed now.

Viking ships docked at Kopervik.

After we returned, I was taken to visit Gerd, who I think is the oldest of my relatives on Karmøy, by Cousin Tor Bjørn. He also took me to the docks at Kopervik, where most of the Viking fleet was docked. Tomorrow they’ll head for Stavanger.

And so will I.