We left Ålesund early, the road tracing islands and bridges south through a familiar rhythm of ferries and tunnels. By late afternoon we rolled into Bergen, parked the car, and traded steering wheel for cable car, riding the Fløibanen up to Mount Fløyen. From the lookout, the city spread out in orderly colour—Bryggen’s timber fronts, the harbour, and the enclosing hills.
The next morning we committed to rail, boarding the Bergen Line east to Myrdal, a high, wind-scoured junction. There we changed to the famous Flåm Railway, a steep descent through waterfalls, farms and tunnels.
At Flåm we swapped tracks for water, cruising the narrow reaches of Nærøyfjord, a UNESCO-listed fjord where cliffs close in and the scale recalibrates your sense of distance. We overnighted near Stalheim, then doubled back the following day to rejoin the rails.
The final leg carried us east across the plateau to Oslo, a journey stitched together by roads, rails and water—each change of mode sharpening the geography, and quietly slowing the pace enough to notice it.
