Hardangerfjord

I rented a small car in Bergen and drove east on the E16 and then south, dropping into the Hardangerfjord valley through a series of tunnels that emerge without warning into open water and sky. My first proper view of Hardangerfjord was from a layby above Norheimsund — the fjord spread below me like a river that has forgotten where it’s going, broad and unhurried, with the Folgefonna glacier visible as a white mass on the plateau above the far shore. I pulled over and ate a mandarin and stared at it for a long time.

Hardangerfjord is the widest of the major fjords, and its character is entirely different from the theatrical narrowness of Geirangerfjord or Nærøyfjord. Here the water is calm and the slopes are cultivated — orchards of apples, pears, and cherries terraced above the waterline, with traditional painted farmhouses nested among them. In May, when the apple trees flower, the entire south shore turns white and pink and the bees are working so loudly you can hear them from the road. I arrived in the second week of May and the blossom was at its absolute peak, a thing so extravagant it seemed to be happening by accident.

The village of Utne at the fjord’s junction is small and almost entirely unhurried. The Hardanger Folk Museum there holds the finest collection of traditional Hardanger embroidery I have ever seen — a decorative needlework tradition unique to this region, intricate white-on-white patterns based on pulled threads. The work requires such patience that looking at it feels like a moral experience. An older woman in the gift shop told me that her grandmother had embroidered every tablecloth she owned. She said this the way people say things they are not sure how to feel about.

From Odda at the fjord’s southeastern end, the road climbs toward the Folgefonna glacier. I drove as far as the summer road allows and then walked across a snowfield to the blue-green ice of the glacier’s edge. The melt streams running out from under the ice were the clearest water I have ever tasted. Tasted, because you do taste it — a cold, mineral nothing that is somehow more satisfying than drinking. A couple from Germany was doing the same thing a hundred metres away, filling a bottle, and we exchanged a look that didn’t require any shared language.

The drive along the southern shore on the Rv550 is one of the most underrated roads in Europe. It passes through Lofthus, where the orchards are thickest and a narrow lane descends to a small hotel where Edvard Grieg came to write music. The hotel still stands and still serves guests, and if you arrive at the right hour of late afternoon the light on the water is exactly the kind of thing Grieg was presumably looking at. I ordered a coffee and sat on the terrace for an hour and thought about what it would mean to live in a place beautiful enough to make you a composer.

When to go: Early to mid-May for apple blossom — this is the specific reason to come and it lasts only two to three weeks. July and August for hiking to Folgefonna glacier while the ice road is open. September for colour on the hillsides and empty roads. The fjord is accessible and beautiful all summer but the blossom timing is worth planning around.