vistas, enhanced in this case both by a small
herd of grazing llamas and by a young visitor
in pink pants inspired to belt out the theme
song from Frozen as she takes it all in. Over
coffee, I ask owner Iris Westerås what it’s
like to live in such a place. She admits that
although the winters are dark—“in November
and December the sun doesn’t come up high
enough to go over the mountains”—she, like
everyone else in her family, thrives on the
daily interaction with so much natural beauty
and so few humans. Like,
really thrives. When I ask
what she does in her spare
time, she laughs. “ We
have a small cabin where
we go to get away. It ’s
farther up the mountain.”There are more glorious views on the
boat back to Ålesund and still more the next
morning, when I take one of the ferries that
serve as public transportation in these parts.
I strike up a conversation with Hans Lennart
Sævik on his way to work. As a pilot captain,
his job is to take over the helm of freight-
ers and cruise ships and guide them safely
through fjords or into port. He’s proud of the
fact that his work protects the environment.
“Norway’s coast is a garden full of roses,” he
says, “and our job is to show others where to
go so they don’t step on the flowers.” But he’s
just as proud of his position in a long chain of
locals who have lived in the fjords.
He tells me about the ones who emigrated
to America, and their relationship with na-
ture: how they wrote letters to people back
home that inquired longingly about whether
the snows had come yet or asked how many
storms had blown through that summer.
“You could feel how much they missed it,” he
says. “Not just their people, but their land.”This page: A passenger aboard the
Geirangerfjord ferry, below, takes in
the views of the fjord, above, which
has been named a UNESCO World
Heritage site.
Opposite page: A map of Norway’s
fjord region, above, might lead
travelers to Ålstad, where horses
graze in the meadows of the
Valldøla River valley, below.