The maelstrom (which seems like a word only ever used in Victorian novels) is at its most active at high tide by all accounts, so we donned frock coats and hooped dresses and walked beneath the soaring road bridge to see it in action.
The turbulence is created because the tide has to move through a narrow channel which connects two fjords. Four hundred million tonnes of water rushes through an opening one hundred and fifty meters wide and creates whirlpools up to five meters deep and ten meters wide. I can’t say that they were as big as that when we saw them but no-one was anxious to go swimming.
We could have stayed in this neat little campsite for days but there are so many more things to see so we pulled back out onto highway 17 – the Kystriksveien coastal route – which hugs the shoreline for almost seven hundred kilometers. My vocabulary for magnificent mountain splendour is beginning to run low, suffice to say that there was a lot of it. T didn’t see a great deal as he was practicing a maths exam in the back. Yes, we really are that mean. When his brain was full though we stopped at a little beach for a cuppa and a chance to wiggle our toes in the sand. I could have fallen asleep it was so warm and quiet. Tom paddled and Philippa brought us tea and melon slices.
A little further on is the Holand information centre, and next to it, down a steep single track road is the small jetty from where the ferry goes across the fjord to the glacier. The small parking lot is virtually empty and looks over the water to the frozen blue icefield beyond. Its so pretty and quiet that we have decided to stay here for the night and catch the ferry tomorrow.
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