Trip report : Norway in the truck camper
Well, we had done a lot of stuff in our own country in our truck camper the past couple of years, and a lot of foreign travel in rented campers, so time to get our little camper on a ferry and oversea...
Forum Discussion
Wednesday - Our last fjord
It started raining this morning, so we had a lie-in.
Sally had talked about renting a small boat from the marina, but the rain put a stop to that. So we just set off for our next location.
There is a campground at the far end of that fjord that we overlooked at Pulpit Rock, so we decided to go there.
It was a toll road, but hey, I'm not going to worry about that.
It was also still raining.
Part way down the toll road I realised that I only had a quarter tank of diesel. If I drove down to where that campground was I probably wound't have enough diesel to drive back up. In the middle of worrying we came to a road junction and discovered a fuel station - phew. Its shop containing a great array of hunting, shooting, fishing and other outdoor equipment, plus useful tools - all at horrific prices :E
So we invested in a couple of overpriced hotdogs they were selling at the food counter, and ate them in the truck cab parked on a patch of dirt opposite the filling station.
The road climbed and at the top was a pull in with an information board describing the local hydro power schemes. It wasn't a hugely interesting sign board, so instead people (and clearly there were a lot of them) had amused themselves by pointlessly stacking rocks. They were to be found for quite a distance around the pull-in. It was cold and windy so we quickly returned to the shelter of the truck.
From this point the road then descends down a set of steep switchbacks to the community at the end of the fjord. we stopped at one point and ended up letting a taker truck go buy - it was a rigid bodied tanker truck towing a separate tanker trailer. As we descended out of the snow behind the tanker he suddenly pulled to a halt ahead of us. We in turn stopped. To my surprise he then started reversing up the steep single-track road towards us. I engaged low ratio and backed up the road until I spotted a parking pull in at the side with a big snow bank. I backed past it and then drove into it and partly up the snow bank to give as much clearance as possible.
The tanker was reversing because it had come face to face with a crane that was winding its way up the switchbacks. The size of the vehicles meant that passing on the switchbacks was not an option. The tanker squeezed past the back of our camper with just enough room to spare.
Along the lines of Pulpit Rock, there is another viewing point you can hike to above this campground I mentioned above. There is a large boulder wedged between a couple of rocks, and people like to drop onto it and have their picture taken thousands of feet above the fjord. Had the weather been good we might have parked and walked to it (several kilometers away), but it seemed pointless in this weather.
We pulled into the car park for a quick look, because there is a restaurant overlooking the fjord.
The car park was marked as £15 for parking - I wasn't having any of that, so we quickly returned to the truck and drove out just as the parking attendant advanced towards us.
The descent was a just switchback after switchback, with one final section where the road dives into a steep tunnel for a quarter of a mile into the mountain, does a 180 degree sharp turn, then dives out again. Thankfully we didn't meet any opposing traffic in that narrow unlit tunnel.
We found the campground. It was more expensive than the other rural ones we had used. I saw a couple of caravans there and wondered how anyone got them in, then realised the community was serviced by a ferry - so you could avoid driving the road we had just used.
We paid the money and selected one of the few sites with electric hookup.
At this point I found I had left my European to RV adaptor behind at a previous campground, so I had to cobble something together. I hate losing stuff like that - you only notice when you next really need it.
The campground bar was decorated in paragliding memorabilia. I suspect many used to descend from the restaurant at the top and land near the campground. There was a caravan (touring trailer) parked next to us, that was probably permanent, and was occupied by a guy in his early 40s sporting the hairdo and clothing of a teenage adventure sport participant. I suspected he was a drop-out ex-paraglider whose friends had all moved on to start families, and who had remained behind trying to retain the glamour of the old life. He kept popping his head around the caravan and looking my way - I think he wanted to introduce himself, but instead Sally wanted us to go for a walk to see what was in town and explore the nearby waterfall.
On our return the neighbour was no longer interested - he had found a British guy who looked like an ageing roadie or some similar follower or rock bands in the past, and was chatting about rock gigs he had attended. They were both drinking bottled beer, which must have been expensive.
The ex-paraglider looked increasingly stoned during the evening - he clearly wasn't relying on beer, and I had a suspicion that his keenness to talk to new attendees at the site was motivated by the hope that they had fridges full of alcohol they would offer to share with him.
Sally and I went to the bar. I ordered a draught beer, Sally a Bacardi Breezer and we ordered a plate of french fries. The total came to £20 :E
The paraglider's slightly maniacal, but very load laugh continued until I fell asleep. I awoke at 5:30 AM and he was still laughing.
Stay tuned for our return to Telemark...
It started raining this morning, so we had a lie-in.
Sally had talked about renting a small boat from the marina, but the rain put a stop to that. So we just set off for our next location.
There is a campground at the far end of that fjord that we overlooked at Pulpit Rock, so we decided to go there.
It was a toll road, but hey, I'm not going to worry about that.
It was also still raining.
Part way down the toll road I realised that I only had a quarter tank of diesel. If I drove down to where that campground was I probably wound't have enough diesel to drive back up. In the middle of worrying we came to a road junction and discovered a fuel station - phew. Its shop containing a great array of hunting, shooting, fishing and other outdoor equipment, plus useful tools - all at horrific prices :E
So we invested in a couple of overpriced hotdogs they were selling at the food counter, and ate them in the truck cab parked on a patch of dirt opposite the filling station.
The road climbed and at the top was a pull in with an information board describing the local hydro power schemes. It wasn't a hugely interesting sign board, so instead people (and clearly there were a lot of them) had amused themselves by pointlessly stacking rocks. They were to be found for quite a distance around the pull-in. It was cold and windy so we quickly returned to the shelter of the truck.
From this point the road then descends down a set of steep switchbacks to the community at the end of the fjord. we stopped at one point and ended up letting a taker truck go buy - it was a rigid bodied tanker truck towing a separate tanker trailer. As we descended out of the snow behind the tanker he suddenly pulled to a halt ahead of us. We in turn stopped. To my surprise he then started reversing up the steep single-track road towards us. I engaged low ratio and backed up the road until I spotted a parking pull in at the side with a big snow bank. I backed past it and then drove into it and partly up the snow bank to give as much clearance as possible.
The tanker was reversing because it had come face to face with a crane that was winding its way up the switchbacks. The size of the vehicles meant that passing on the switchbacks was not an option. The tanker squeezed past the back of our camper with just enough room to spare.
Along the lines of Pulpit Rock, there is another viewing point you can hike to above this campground I mentioned above. There is a large boulder wedged between a couple of rocks, and people like to drop onto it and have their picture taken thousands of feet above the fjord. Had the weather been good we might have parked and walked to it (several kilometers away), but it seemed pointless in this weather.
We pulled into the car park for a quick look, because there is a restaurant overlooking the fjord.
The car park was marked as £15 for parking - I wasn't having any of that, so we quickly returned to the truck and drove out just as the parking attendant advanced towards us.
The descent was a just switchback after switchback, with one final section where the road dives into a steep tunnel for a quarter of a mile into the mountain, does a 180 degree sharp turn, then dives out again. Thankfully we didn't meet any opposing traffic in that narrow unlit tunnel.
We found the campground. It was more expensive than the other rural ones we had used. I saw a couple of caravans there and wondered how anyone got them in, then realised the community was serviced by a ferry - so you could avoid driving the road we had just used.
We paid the money and selected one of the few sites with electric hookup.
At this point I found I had left my European to RV adaptor behind at a previous campground, so I had to cobble something together. I hate losing stuff like that - you only notice when you next really need it.
The campground bar was decorated in paragliding memorabilia. I suspect many used to descend from the restaurant at the top and land near the campground. There was a caravan (touring trailer) parked next to us, that was probably permanent, and was occupied by a guy in his early 40s sporting the hairdo and clothing of a teenage adventure sport participant. I suspected he was a drop-out ex-paraglider whose friends had all moved on to start families, and who had remained behind trying to retain the glamour of the old life. He kept popping his head around the caravan and looking my way - I think he wanted to introduce himself, but instead Sally wanted us to go for a walk to see what was in town and explore the nearby waterfall.
On our return the neighbour was no longer interested - he had found a British guy who looked like an ageing roadie or some similar follower or rock bands in the past, and was chatting about rock gigs he had attended. They were both drinking bottled beer, which must have been expensive.
The ex-paraglider looked increasingly stoned during the evening - he clearly wasn't relying on beer, and I had a suspicion that his keenness to talk to new attendees at the site was motivated by the hope that they had fridges full of alcohol they would offer to share with him.
Sally and I went to the bar. I ordered a draught beer, Sally a Bacardi Breezer and we ordered a plate of french fries. The total came to £20 :E
The paraglider's slightly maniacal, but very load laugh continued until I fell asleep. I awoke at 5:30 AM and he was still laughing.
Stay tuned for our return to Telemark...
