Flåmsbana and Blaming it on the Rain

From BERGEN to MYRDAL & FLAM, NORWAY -- June 18, 2006

Terrible weather had set in again. For whatever reason, my luck never seems to give out. I wandered Bryggen one more time before boarding the train for Myrdal, the end of the Eurail-covered Bergen-Oslo line leading to the fjordland valley of Flåm. From here, I bought my ticket aboard the Flåmsbana train, which descends a breathtaking 2800 feet in 50 minutes flat, carving its way through mountains and skillfully engineered tunnels to the sleepy town of Flåm, resting peacefully in the heart of the valley below.

I had entertained the thought of using Flåm as my base for exploring nearby trails, waterfalls, fjords, and glaciers, and my excitement for the portion of my European journey had been building for months. And yet, as I boarded the train in Myral, rain splotching the windows of my compartment, it was all I could do to bite back the frustration that was brewing like a dark cloud inside me.

The forecast was a disaster. Whereas I had more or less expected rain in Bergen (they average 275 days of rain a year!!), Flåm's rainstorms had come as quite a surprise. Flåm, situated at the head of Aurlandsfjord, and framed by tall, draping mountains, was by comparison supposedly the "Sognefjorden sunbelt." But for the next four days (three of which I had planned to stay in Flåm), rain would be my constant companion. I either had the worst luck imaginable or God really had it in for me.

So, I spent the next two days, instead of exploring the beauty of Norway's fjordlands, sinking $30 in phonecalls back to the States (it was Father's Day, after all, and my birthday, and besides, my Savannah-based brother was in town for the week, and who knew how long it would be until he and he had a chance to catch up again). The hours-long phonecall home almost didn't happen, which, after forking out big money for a phonecard that would only be usable within Norway phone, would have been enough to send me into quite a dither.

Fortunately, I eventually figured out the inane public phone system (which required a deposit of another US $2 just to place the call). So when an elderly couple started hanging around the phone booth waiting -- rather impatiently, I might add -- as the minutes ticked by, you can imagine I wasn't in any mood to hang up and call back.

It did get a bit ugly, especially as they didn't understand a lick of English. My apologies fell on deaf ears and were met only with the death stares of eye rolls of the woman who believed me to be the most insolent of phone gluttons. But I didn't relent. Amid the chilly rain that hung thick like a wet blanket around me, I was too wrapped up in the warmth of familiar voices to concede. So I made a few enemies that night. I'm sure it won't be the last time. But hey, I'm entitled every now and again, aren't I?

The rest of the two days I spent recuperating from the hours of missed sleep I'd rack up like a bad debt, curled up in my log cabin/dorm room with a few decent novels borrowed from the communal bookshelf.By the time my morning of departure came, I wasn't too sad to tear myself away from Flåm, but trying to be a good sport about the fact that Mother Nature, once again, had managed to flatten my high hopes and long-awaited plans. Oh well. What are you gonna do? I could have let out a few tears, but I figured the sky was already doing a pretty good job of keeping things wet and depressing around here, so I checked myself out instead, and headed off to the harbor for what I hoped would prove to be a less-than-heartbreaking ride along the Næeroyfjorden.

~Melanie