You could fly. It would take an hour and you would see clouds. Instead, we took the train across the mountains and then the branch line down to the fjord, and saw everything in between.
The mountain line
The main line climbs out of the city through farmland, then forest, then a high plateau where the snow stays until June. There is a dining car, but the real ritual is the thermos: everybody seems to have one, and nobody is in a hurry.
Down to the water
The branch line drops almost nine hundred metres in an hour, through tunnels and past waterfalls so close you can feel the spray through the open window. The train stops for photographs. Everybody gets out. Nobody complains.
Why the long way
A journey that takes a day teaches you the distance. You arrive knowing what lies between home and here, and somehow you arrive more completely.
Bring a thermos, a book you will not read and a window seat. The rest takes care of itself.
