Olden Panorama Sightseeing by Bus

Welcome aboard Stromma's sightseeing bus through Olden. Over the next 90 minutes, we'll take you on a journey from the still blue of the fjord to the wild white world of ice – and back again. Olden is a small village at the innermost end of the Innvik Fjord, a branch of the great Nordfjord. This is where the fjord has retreated from the sea, where the water ends and the land begins. Between steep mountains, along an ice-blue river and beneath a sky barely visible between the peaks – this is where Olden exists. You may have already tasted Olden without knowing it. The crystal-clear water that bubbles up from the mountains around us is collected from spring sources in the valley and sold as 'Olden' – one of Norway's most well-known mineral water brands. It all starts with the ice up there. Sit back and enjoy the view. We have much to tell you.

Notice how the landscape changes around us. Behind us lies the fjord – calm, still, deep blue. Ahead of us, the Olden Valley opens up, framed by mountain walls that rise almost vertically from the valley floor. This valley was not shaped by chance erosion. It was the ice that created it – colossal glaciers that tens of thousands of years ago pressed their way down through the mountains with almost incomprehensible force, scraping out the bedrock metre by metre. What we see now is the result: the classic U-shaped glacial valley, wide and flat at the bottom, with vertical mountain sides rising to between 1,500 and 1,800 metres (5,000 to 6,000 feet) on either side. Where the fjord met the ice, the glacier left behind massive moraine deposits – mounds of rock and sand carried along over vast periods of time. Some of them form low ridges across the valley floor, almost invisible beneath the green summer landscape, but they tell a quiet story of ice ages and a world we can barely imagine. Today, it is the ice high up in the mountains that sustains everything you see around you.

Olden has been a meeting place for people for a long time. Long before the roads arrived, long before the tourists, families lived here who made their living from what the land provided – fishing, farming, and livestock. The river was the lifeline, the fjord the road out to the world. Do you see the house up on the hillside? It is called Singerheimen – the Singer Estate. William Henry Singer was an American millionaire and painter who fell so deeply for the dramatic beauty of the Olden Valley that he settled here and stayed for many years. He painted the valley, the fjord, the light and the changing seasons – and he gave back to the community by building a farm, a studio and a chapel, which he donated to the local residents. Down in the village you'll find two churches, standing side by side. The older one dates from the 18th century and was built on the foundations of an even older stave church. The newer church was built in 1934 and is still in regular use today – but it has its own little secret: in 1967, a violent storm lifted the entire building and moved it 23 inches (60 centimetres) off its foundations. It was subsequently anchored to the ground with extra wire. The church is still there. And it doesn't move anymore. Olden village has around 500 residents, while the wider Stryn municipality counts roughly 7,000. Yet this small place has made a disproportionate mark on Norwegian culture. The outdoor and fashion brands Ricco Vero, Sunde and Skogstad all have connections to this area – labels born of exactly the landscape you can see around you right now.

Do you see the river running alongside us? That is the Olde River, and what it carries is far from ordinary water. The Olde River flows directly from the glaciers high up in the mountains and down through the valley to the Innvik Fjord. It is so pure it is almost difficult to comprehend. Below us, in Lake Oldevatn – the lake the river flows from – the water is up to 300 feet (90 metres) deep and as clear as glass. This is where Norsk Brevat AS collects the water bottled and sold as Olden mineral water, straight from the source. Early in the summer, the river changes colour. The water takes on a greenish hue – and the reason for this is what is known as glacial silt: microscopic particles of clay and stone that the glacier scrapes loose from the bedrock and sends downstream with the meltwater. It is a natural and beautiful phenomenon, a reminder that everything here is connected: the ice above, the water below. The river is protected as a national waterway. No pollution is permitted, and construction along its banks is forbidden. This makes the Olde River one of Norway's best-preserved river environments – and a paradise for those who love to wade in with boots and a fly-fishing rod.

Look out across the valley floor around us. The green, lush plain is no coincidence. For thousands of years, the glacier has ground the bedrock into a nutrient-rich powder of minerals and clay, and spread it across the valley. The result is some of the most fertile soil you'll find in Norway. The farms in the Olden Valley have sustained families for generations. Goats, sheep and cattle graze freely here in the summer, and it is not uncommon to see a flock of goats settling calmly in the middle of the road, looking at the bus with the impassive dignity that only goats can manage. We ask you to remain calm. Further into the fjord region, fruit is cultivated – apples, pears, cherries and plums that ripen in the mild fjord climate. Some have even tried growing wine grapes, and it is said a local farmer recently won the title of Winemaker of the Year in a national competition. Who knows – perhaps Sogn og Fjordane is on its way to becoming Norway's Tuscany. The waterfalls and steep rivers around us are not only beautiful – they are powerful. The waterways here drive hydroelectric power stations that supply the region's industry with clean, renewable energy. It is an important part of the Norwegian picture: what looks like pure wilderness is also one of the country's most valuable energy resources – enabling energy-intensive industries like aluminium production along the coast. But it is the farmers and the goats who are the heart of the Olden Valley. Life here is demanding and simple, but the landscape is a compensation most city dwellers can only dream of.

Look up. It is hard not to. The mountain sides around us rise to between 1,500 and 1,800 metres (5,000 to 6,000 feet). These are not mountains you climb to enjoy a view – they are mountains that set limits on the sky and squeeze the winter daylight down to just a few hours. They form part of the Jostedalsbreen National Park and encircle one of the wildest and most inaccessible mountain plateaux in Europe. The sharpest peak you can see over there is called Ceciliekruna – Cecile's Crown – and measures 5,633 feet (1,717 metres). The name carries a sorrowful story: a young man once climbed this mountain to reach his future bride on the other side. But when he arrived, he was told she had fallen ill and died. He named the mountain after the bridal crown she would never get to wear. The mountain sides here are beautiful – but they are not gentle. There are 15 named avalanches in the Olden Valley – snowslides so regular they have been given their own names. Concrete tunnels have been built along the road to protect against the worst of them. It reminds us that the nature here is not a backdrop. It is a force.

We are now heading back north through the valley. As the lake slides past on one side and the mountains on the other, there is time for a few stories we didn't get to on the way out. Imagine living here two or three hundred years ago. No roads. No electricity. No way to understand what caused the lightning strike that hit the mountain, or what made the cow disappear on a dark autumn evening. You need stories. Norwegian folklore is full of creatures that inhabit exactly these kinds of landscapes. The Huldra is the beautiful, dangerous forest spirit who lures men off the path and into the wilderness. In the rivers lurks the Nokk – a water creature that can take the form of a white horse to tempt the gullible into climbing on, only to drag them down into the depths. In the mountains live the trolls, clumsy and slow, but dangerous to those who show no respect. What is fascinating about these stories is that they are not merely superstition. They are geography. The Huldra belongs in dense forest where it is easy to get lost. The Nokk inhabits rivers with strong currents and dangerous eddies. The trolls live in mountains where storms can surprise a hiker in an instant. For people who lived close to nature, these stories were survival manuals in disguise.

Now you are here. In front of you is the Melkevollbreen glacier. It is a branch of Jostedalsbreen, separated from the main ice field up in the mountains and sent down toward the valley floor. The glacier has fascinated visitors since the first tourists of the 19th century came here by horse and carriage and gazed up at the ice with a mixture of awe and relief that they did not have to cross it. The ice here has a distinctive colour – blue-white at its deepest, almost transparent at the edges. The colour occurs because the oldest and deepest layers have had all the air pressed out of them over thousands of years, and light bends differently through bubble-free ice than through ordinary snow. But the glacier is not what it once was. Photographs from the early 1900s show ice reaching all the way down to where the campsite now sits. Today it has retreated far back – hundreds of metres are gone in just a few decades. It advanced during the snowy 1990s and was for a time the only glacier in Europe with a growth rate. But since then it has retreated year by year. What you see now is not a static thing. It is a living process. Look carefully.

There is an old story among those who have lived long enough in the valley to hear it. They say that beneath the Melkevollbreen glacier sleeps an ancient spirit – Ismor. No one knows quite when she arrived. Perhaps she came with the ice itself, pressed down from the mountains in the cold age. But she is there, deep down, in the blue-white layers no human hand has ever touched. In the morning, when the valley is filled with mist and ice and mountain blur into one another, her breath rises from the glacier's crevasses in thin, white veils. And if you listen – truly listen, not to the tourists and the buses, but to the deep sound beneath it all – you can hear her. A low, pressing hum from the ice moving in the darkness below you. People in the valley say that Ismor does no harm to those who treat the glacier with respect. But she never forgets those who leave litter behind, who laugh at what she has built over thousands of years, or who believe that the nature here is something they can own. Respect the ice. And she will see to it that you return safely to the fjord.

Imagine living here two or three hundred years ago. No roads. No electricity. No way to understand what caused the lightning strike that hit the mountain, or what made the cow disappear on a dark autumn evening. You need stories. Norwegian folklore is full of creatures that inhabit exactly these kinds of landscapes. The Huldra is the beautiful, dangerous forest spirit who lures men off the path and into the wilderness. In the rivers lurks the Nokk – a water creature that can take the form of a white horse to tempt the gullible into climbing on, only to drag them down into the depths. In the mountains live the trolls, clumsy and slow, but dangerous to those who show no respect. What is fascinating about these stories is that they are not merely superstition. They are geography. The Huldra belongs in dense forest where it is easy to get lost. The Nokk inhabits rivers with strong currents and dangerous eddies. The trolls live in mountains where storms can surprise a hiker in an instant. For people who lived close to nature, these stories were survival manuals in disguise.

The Olde River is not just a beautiful sight. It is one of Norway's finest salmon rivers. Every year, sport fishermen make the pilgrimage here from all over the world, armed with fly rods, waders and dreams of the great Atlantic salmon. The river is protected and strictly regulated – only a limited number of anglers are permitted to fish at any one time. This keeps the population healthy and the anticipation among fishermen high. Salmon fishing on the Olde River is not for the impatient. It demands early mornings, cold knees and a willingness to stand completely still for hours while the water rushes around your boots. But those who master it say there is nothing quite like it. The clear, cold glacial water, the sound of the river, the mountains all around – and then, suddenly, the sharp tug of a salmon striking. The river is Olden's lifeline. It has been so since the first people settled here. And it will remain so long after we have all moved on.

The first tourists to find their way here were not just anyone. They were British lords and ladies – men and women with enough time and money to embark on long, demanding journeys to the wildest corners of Europe. They arrived by steamship to the end of the lake, and from there continued by horse and carriage, and finally on foot. And it is said – though no one can confirm it with any certainty – that ice from the glacier was harvested and shipped to London, where it was used in cocktails at the city's most exclusive clubs. Ice from the ends of the earth, in the glasses of the British upper class. In 1890, a small road was built from the end of the lake toward the glacier, and with that, Olden suddenly became accessible to more visitors. Until 1965, the lake remained the main route out of the valley – a motorboat had made daily runs since 1915. When the road through the valley was finally completed, everything changed. After the First World War, the farmers began to receive guests. They sold food and lodging and drove visitors around the valley. It is that tradition that Stromma's red double-deckers are part of today. Some things change. The spirit of discovery remains the same.

High above us, behind the mountain ridges on both sides of the valley, Jostedalsbreen stretches out of sight. We cannot see it from here – but it is there. Always. Jostedalsbreen is the largest glacier on the European mainland. It covers an area of approximately 190 square miles (500 square kilometres) and is at its thickest point close to 2,000 feet (600 metres) deep. Think about that: 2,000 feet of ice, stacked up like a wall of frozen time. Its highest point lies at 6,421 feet (1,957 metres) above sea level, and the glacier sends out a series of glacier arms – ice tongues – down toward the valley floors on all sides. The glacier became part of the Jostedalsbreen National Park in 1991, and today the park is one of Norway's most important protected areas. It is not only the ice that is protected – it is the entire system: the mountains, the meltwater rivers, the wildflower meadows, the birdlife and the rare plants found only in the immediate vicinity of the glaciers. And one of those glacier arms – one of the ice tongues from this vast plateau – is where we are headed now.

A glacier is not a quiet place. It lives, moves, sighs and creaks. And it remembers. A glacier forms over hundreds of years. Snow falls, layer upon layer, and the pressure from all the layers above slowly crystallises the snow into ice. Given enough time, the mass of ice begins to move under its own weight, millimetre by day, down along the mountain sides. It is slow. But it is inevitable. Along the way, the glacier scrapes rock and gravel from the bedrock beneath it. This material is what gives glacial rivers their greenish or milky blue colour. And it is the same material that, over thousands of years, has turned the valleys beneath the glaciers into the fertile, green places we see today. But the glaciers are changing. The climate is warmer, the summers longer, and the snow each winter deposits is no longer enough to replace what the ice loses. What we are on our way to see is something that will not last forever. That perhaps makes it a little more worth looking at carefully.

We are back in the centre of Olden. This is a chance to stretch your legs – take a stroll along the river, grab a coffee, or browse the local shops. You'll find outlets for Norwegian brands including Ricco Vero, Sunde and Skogstad. The walk back to the ship takes just a few minutes. And while we are here – take a moment to consider what the valley we have just driven through really means. Melkevollbreen is retreating. That is a fact. The climate is changing, and the glaciers of Jostedalsbreen National Park are among the most visible evidence we have that the world is shifting. The glacier is not merely beautiful – it is part of the hydrological system that keeps the rivers, farms and industry of this region alive. Cruise tourism has grown considerably, and the local community is actively working on sustainable solutions – from electric tourist vessels to restrictions on cruise calls in sensitive fjords. It is not easy. But the people of Olden have always lived alongside great forces of nature. They have survived avalanches, isolation and storms. They are not unprepared.  

We are now on our way back toward the centre of Olden and the cruise terminal. Behind us are the valley, the glacier, the river, the farms and the mountains. Ahead of us is the fjord – the same fjord that received you here this morning, and that will soon carry you onward. Take a moment to think about what you have seen today. You started at the sea. You followed a river from its source in the glacier down through a valley that the ice itself created. You heard about the people who chose to live here, and the stories they made to make sense of the forces around them. You saw a glacier thousands of years old that is changing right now, while you are here to witness it. Not bad for 90 minutes on a red double-decker bus. Olden is not a place you merely see. It is a place you feel – in the cool air, in the sound of the river, in the strange, quiet power of an ice landscape that reminds you that the world is much larger and much older than any of us. Thank you for joining us. And if you ever get the chance to come back – take it.