Getting to grips with Norway’s ice kingdom

By Val Sweeney

Published: 10 October, 2008

HAVE confidence in your crampons, instructed the guide as he brought our group to an abrupt halt. Roped together with a dozen others and armed with ice axes, we had climbed the lower section of the Nigardsbreen Glacier in Jostedal at the heart of Fjord Norway.

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Our experienced guide Frank Smedegard led us up this mobile frozen wasteland, breaking up the ice as we shuffled along narrow ledges, taking us through hideaway alleyways and gulleys to glimpse at the iridescent blue ice formations and overhangs, and hacking steps into vertical ice walls.

“Look, a Highland mountain goat — look at how she springs up there!” marvelled the friendly Norwegian woman immediately behind me as I scrambled up one of Frank’s deftly-fashioned staircases. In truth, it was not so much agility which propelled me upwards, dragging the Norwegian woman along with me — but rather the stirrings of terror.

Having just completed his 15th season on the glacier, this was the proverbial Sunday afternoon stroll for Frank. But as we crunched our way ever upwards beneath clear skies, I repeatedly suppressed a recurring niggling concern. The descent.

That inevitable moment had now arrived — a somewhat daunting prospect for this nervous first-time visitor to the glacier.

Looking down at a vista of the perpetually-moving black-dusted ice dunes, I remained unconvinced that crampons would prevent me from sliding helter-skelter style to the very bottom in a matter of seconds, or disappearing never-to-be-seen-again into a crevasse.

To be honest, the whole crampon experience had not augured well even before we ventured onto the the glacier. Despite a clear demonstration of how to to strap on the spiked contraptions over our boots, I ended up like the hapless schoolchild at the front of the class with the teacher tying up her shoelaces.

As we began our downward journey, it was Frank to the rescue again. He explained it was merely a case of walking normally and letting the crampons do their job.

Heeding his advice and with his encouragement, I gradually relaxed to make the step-by-step descent while his earlier reassurances that the worst accident he has dealt with is a twisted ankle became a silently-repeated mantra.

Anyway, when you are harnessed together, there really is no option but to keep going in follow-the-leader fashion, crunching into the thousands-of-years-old ice. Certainly, the sheer sense of exhilaration and achievement at the end of the three-hour expedition far outweighed any apprehension.

Nigardsbreen is one of the arms of Jostedalsbreen — the largest glacier in Norway — and one of the most accessible. A short boat ride takes visitors across the lake from where it is a 15-minute walk to get to the glacier itself.

At peak season — between May and September — there are as many as 30 qualified guides from countries such as Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Switzerland, Argentina and the USA, while this year’s complement has also included two from Nepal who, at other times of the year, are expedition leaders on Mount Everest.

The place to book glacier walks, kayaking trips, horseback riding and learn more about glaciers in a fascinating exhibition is at the Breheimsenteret — the privately-owned Jostedel Glacier Visitor Centre.

General manager Peder Kjaervik explained that the complex ebb and flow movements are dictated by the snowfall and the rate of melt at the top of the glacier. Just 10 years ago, for example, the glacier extended much further.

The movements are also seen as an indicator of global warming and Mr Kjaervik acknowledged many are concerned about the future. In the meantime, the area, which includes Jostedalsbreen National Park, carefully balances the impact of tourism.

“We try to keep everything so the impact is as low as possible — we try not to spoil what it is all about,” he said. “We like to think that what we have been doing for several years is what now, in popular terms, is sustainable tourism.”

The glacier walk was undoubtedly one of the highlights of a weekend visit to the Sogndal and Luster region but, for the less energetic, there is also much to do.

Visitors to the Nigardsbreen glacier in Jostedalen can view the blue ice formations with the help of an experienced guide. Finn Loftesnes

We had caught the Friday teatime half-hour flight from Bergen to Sogndal whose tiny airport is spectacularly located near the top of a mountain and about a half-hour bus ride to the village itself whose streets seemed strangely deserted that evening.

Seemingly many residents were at the Quality Hotel — where we were stopping — to enjoy a local boy band in the grounds. Lingering on the fringes, we enjoyed the exhuberant performances featuring an eclectic mix of Euro-pop, rock and singalong Norwegian ballads while the band’s rendition of YMCA had the enthusiastic audience springing to its feet.

It was a much quieter atmosphere the following morning when Hans Olav Sandvik, chairman of the board of Destination Sogndal and Luster, arrived to give us a whistle-stop tour of the area.

Sognefjord, at the heart of the region, is more than 204 kilometres long and plunges to a depth of more than 1300 metres in places — making it is the world’s longest and deepest fjord. Surrounded by towering mountains, there is a breathtaking view around every corner.

This is a significant fruit-growing and jam-producing region while one entrepreneur has even had success in growing late-season cherries for supply to a UK chain.

Crossing one of the fjord’s arms, Lusterfjord, on the eight-car ferry, we visited the must-see Urnes Stave Church which is on UNESCO’s world heritage list.

A lasting monument to traditional boat-building skills which were then adapted to church architecture, Urnes dates from 1132 and is the oldest of these remarkable wooden structures which have survived in Norway. It has withstood the ravages of time as its timber ground frame rests on stone foundations — the wood is not in contact with the earth and therefore has not rotted.

The area is a hiker’s paradise with challenging mountain hut-to-hut walks or gentle fjord-side rambles. Turtagro is regarded as the birthplace of mountain sports in Norway and was also the one-time haunt of renowned British Victorian climber William Cecil Slingsby.

The winding RV 55 road with its hairpin bends climbs 884 metres above sea level to the Turtagro Hotel. On a clear day, the views are said to be spectacular. But as the mist stubbornly refused to shift from the mountain tops, we had to take our host’s word for it and use our imagination.

In contrast to our first night at a hotel, our second night was spent at Jostedal Camping in an idyllic location by the Jostedola River which appears an almost luminous green due to the glacier water. We discovered camping in Norway not only includes pitches for tents and motorhomes, invariably they feature timber cabins and it was a pleasant surprise that our overnight stay was in a comfortable six-bed fully-equipped cabin complete with wood-burning stove.

The campsite is in the tiny hamlet of Gjerde — a two petrol pump, two general store type of a place — but one which has royal connections. During his time at St Andrew’s University, Prince William stayed here.

His security people discovered the visit coincided with a media conference and the hotel, where he was due to stay, was swarming with TV journalists. Jostedal Camping stepped in and the prince was accommodated in a basic two-bedroom cabin — literally a stone’s throw from the hotel — while the entire community kept the royal presence a closely-guarded secret until afterwards.

Gloating that we had stayed in a superior place to the second-in-line to the throne, the next day we returned to Sognal Airport and a last bird’s eye view of Sognefjord as we embarked on our next stage of our Norwegian trip to Stavanger via Sandefjord.

* Read about the next stage of Val Sweeney’s Norwegian tour in The Inverness Courier on Friday 14th November.

v.sweeney@inverness-courier.co.uk