Exploring Norway’s Western Fjords - Bergen to Bøyabreen

Norway is famed as one of the world’s most naturally beautiful countries. So incredible is this tome-worn land that many of its wondrous landscapes are able to fly almost completely off the radar. In search of hidden gems, what Finding Earth writer Matthew Walsh encounters tucked away among quiet fjords is truly one of Europe’s greatest natural treasures.

For the first time this week, I’m up before sunrise. I’d like to say it’s not a necessity and that I’m an early riser by nature. Sadly, I’m not made that way and I’m sluggish as I walk to the harbour while the summer sun creeps over the mountains. I rub weary eyes as the ferry swings in. It’s a stylish, modern, massive catamaran. Not what I expected for cruising out into the fjords. I think I had much more of the Saga idea, a leisurely pace and a Gin Sling maybe.

It's a speedy boarding process, streamlined by post-COVID Northern European efficiency. The getaway is just as efficient, much to the protestation of a man on the dock insisting that the ferry of some three-hundred or so wait for his wife who has been “just getting breakfast round the corner” for some twenty minutes. We are behind schedule already.

The early morning light hitting Bergen’s harbour *© Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth 2024*

The ferry swings out of Bergen harbour at a speed I can only describe as “catching up”. I lean over the side of the boat with the hope of snapping a shot of the Bryggen, Bergen’s UNESCO heart, in all its vibrant glory in the still-weak light of a Nordic morning. It is already beginning to be crowded by tourists, I am quite grateful to be sailing away. I watch as the little summer yachts, tall ships and other ferries of the harbour shrink into the distance along with the city’s Hanseatic church spires. The city begins to stretch as the ferry speeds on.

What feels stranger is that I will soon be blasting down the Sognefjord, Europe’s largest, whereas now, out on the coast, the landscape is modest. Here, the country’s edge is crinkle cut, the land sliced by inlets just starting to become the idea of fjords. The sea off port is flecked with islands.

I fall in love with one island in particular. Small and pine-clad, with a single cottage and a jetty big enough only for a rowing craft. It’s painted in a patriotic red as many are, with a roof of grass sod, it’s as Scandinavian as a herring in IKEA. All that’s missing is a warm orange glow from the windows and a gentle billow of smoke from the chimney and I’d have my Christmas cards sorted.

The Sognefjord breaks the spell of Norway’s cottage coast. This is the other half of Norway, a land of giants. The fjord is bounded at the entrance by cliffs and colossal mountain ridges, like gates to some fantasy realm. I’ve never experienced a landscape like it. It’s a strange mix of landscapes, frankly. The land feels like the meeting of one of the world’s great rivers with a cliff-lined coast, mountain plateau, prehistoric forest, and a fringe of tiny villages and small holding farms. What it truly is though, is unmistakeably fjord.

The boat is eating up the miles. And it is miles, the Sognefjord stretches more than 120 miles into Norway’s interior. I won’t be travelling that far down, though, my stop is the relatively big town of Balestrand. By “big” I do of course mean it has a sizeable hotel and somewhat of a port. The Sognefjord is still miles wide here, mountains in the distance so far that they are occluded in visual fog, but I am changing ship and branching away.

The colossal walls of the Sognefjord *© Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth 2024*

I board the Fjordlady at around 12 o’clock in a welcome change of pace and blaring sun. My phone tells me the mercury has hit 25 celcius and I’m breaking out the sunscreen. As much as the weather may not be what I expected from a Norwegian fjord, the new vessel is.

There are now maybe thirty people, rather than the three hundred of the catamaran. The boat is all open-top, draping an obscenely large Norwegian naval flag behind it. And it is leisurely. Slowly goes it as it takes me down a tranquil arm of the mighty Sognefjord. This is the Fjærlandsfjord, and where it leads is my destination.

The fjord is a juxtaposition, gone are the grey waves and miles-wide open vistas of the Sognefjord, replaced are they by glassy teal waters, gently sloping green valley sides, and tall, trickling waterfalls. It’s nature at its sublime best. The fjord is winding its way towards its namesake town of Fjærland and one of Norway’s and indeed Europe’s natural wonders. Jostedalsbreen, the continent’s largest glacier. More specifically I am reaching for one of its arms, Bøyabreen. Throughout the year, thousands of intrepid adventurers will be heading to the Jostedalsbreen National Park for blue ice walks, glacier treks, ice climbing and all manner of stomach-churning adrenaline. It feels wrong to be approaching such a spectacle at such a serene speed.

My opinion changes when I see it. On a ridge, high at the end of the fjord, is a gleaming white crown. This is how it’s meant to be seen.

The still waters by Fjærland, with the Bøyabreen glacier peeking over the mountains *© Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth 2024*

At Fjærland, the fjord ends abruptly. It evolves into a thinning river and swirls through flat floodplain towards a ring of glacier-capped mountains. I alight for a second time, this time to board a bus rather than a boat and head further in land, from the timber town of Fjærland right to the foot of the glacier.

The road takes after the river, meandering through the floodplain. For a moment I am back in European scenery, a smattering of barns and fields and sheep. And then I am transported away again when I see the lake.

“Ok so the coach will leave in thirty minutes”, announces the driver over the speakers in ever impressive Scandi English. In a crucible at the end of the road is heaven. A turquoise lake, rippled by a welcome breeze and ice sharp. Time is of the essence, so I feel no shame in a quick jog to the shore. Surrounding it are sheer, 300-metre-high walls of rock and rushing waterfalls and, tumbling from the top, the crystal blue of the glacier. I will never see nature as pure again, I’m sure of it. I stand at the water’s edge, craning my neck to see the top of the glacier and dipping my fingers to feel Norway’s crisp lifeblood run between them.

Bøyabreen glacier, one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen *© Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth 2024*

Half an hour passes in a blink and with its passing comes a sinking feeling. I know now that I have a spectacular return journey to make, back through the fjords, down the coast and back to the timeless city of Bergen, but I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving something special behind. Like I’m turning my back on natural perfection.

I make a silent promise to myself to someday come back with a car, backpack, and tent, and give it the time it deserves.