THE NORWEGIAN FJORDS
CHAPTER I
THE HARDANGER FJORD
To approach the Norwegian coast at sunrise is an exceedingly enjoyable experience. Myriads of rock-islands in the sea and cloud-islands in the sky, their perspective terminating on the distant horizon in a peaked range of inland mountains, themselves like a cloud floating in golden vapour of dawn.
As the rising sun burns its path upwards, the sparkling sea reflects the glory of the sky in countless hues, and the magic of morning is felt in the air, cool and clear as crystal, as the steamer slows to await the pilot and the sea-birds wheel around.
Threading this intricate maze of islands, indications of human habitation soon become evident perched on grassy headlands or nestling in rocky creeks, and soon we are at the busy wharf of the first port of call, Stavanger, a bustling and clean little town, whose eleventh-century cathedral stands in dignified contrast to the brightly-painted wooden buildings at its feet.
Bergen
The navigation of the coast here is exceedingly intricate—rocky islands and skerries innumerable, and narrow winding channels; lighthouses, which are seen at every turn, and on both sides of the steamer's course, indicate the dangers and test the skill of the pilot and captain as the steamer proceeds in a north-westerly direction to Bergen, the metropolis of Western Norway.
Founded by King Olaf Kyrre in 1070, Bergen has witnessed most of the stirring events of the nation's life.