On the Viking trail

It’s an explosion of blue and green. The two colours swirl, smudge and melt into one another in the quiet of the Norwegian fjords; like dolphins, dancing and diving around the boats that pass them across these waters.

This is the Sognefjord, Norway’s largest and most famous fjord. Framed by ageing mountains on the sides and an icy wind all across, these waters run endlessly, constantly teasing and flirting with the sky.

The sky is not one to be out done. It answers the teasing water with magic of its own, pulling on different clouds and sketching new patterns; some heavy like a dark cloak, some breezy like a summer shirt; the sky is thundering and dark one minute, it is bright and blue the next; a different sky every 2 kilometres.

Breaking the monotony of this blue-green symphony are the little villages precariously perched on the edges of the fjord. A cluster of orange, red, white, yellow and pink splashes dot the corners.

Bright hotels and tiny stores nudge each other, holiday homes and farms wink at the boats, full of tourists gaping at them. The old churches stand even taller and the grazing sheep ignore the crowds, as a car pants up the winding road. Life in the mountains goes on.

All along the waters you can see chunks of history floating past. Listen to the mountains carefully and you’ll hear tales of valiant Vikings, the men behind the heavy steel armours and fur coats; of their wives and their homes in the mountains; of their incredible ships that wondered the worlds.

The view throughout the ride swings prodigiously between spectacular to stunning and breathtaking. Adjective abuse is common here. And the songs of the birds and the wind are punctured by the continuously clicking shutters. As this five hour ride draws to an end, the mountains are replaced by more urban sights. But like everywhere in Norway, nature prevails and everything else dances to its tunes. The scenery changes, the brilliance remains.