A glacier, wild water, and a 20 degree drop in temperature

 It may only be Norway's 45th highest waterfall but the waters of Volefossen cascading 350m down a sheer drop from the ice field above, coupled with the glacial river flowing at breakneck speed behind the van, provided an aquatic background to our overnight at the small Melkevoll Bretun campsite. We had arrived after a 21km drive down the only access road that, with its narrow tunnels and intermittent passing places, obviously hadn't been designed for the huge tourist coaches which apparently were not required to slow down for oncoming traffic even when the road narrowed to a single carriageway. 

A rainbow...with no rain

With rain forecast for the following morning we had decided to try and make an early start for the walk up to the Briksdalbreen glacier but the sound of the water was obviously good for sleep as we didn't wake until 8 am. Once breakfasted we set off with the spaniels for the climb to the glacier. By this time a large number of tourist coaches had arrived, disgorging dozens of passengers, many from the Far East. Selfie sticks were much in evidence as many of them went straight to the powered buggies that would transport them within a few yards of the glacier and save them having to exert energy in making the climb. They probably had dinner booked in Oslo that evening.

Sorting the sheep from the goats

Our walk up the steep paths and steps was made as the sun gradually grew hotter but it was well worth it. The melt water from the glacier cascaded down past us as we climbed and we experienced its cold temperature when the spray hit us when we crossed the torrent on a small bridge. Further up were small pastures where sheep and goats were enjoying the sunshine and, no doubt, wondering what all the fuss was about. 

The glacier itself was spectacular. We had experienced glaciers in Canada and New Zealand but those had been flat and could be walked on. The Briksdalbreen glacier hangs precariously over the edge of a precipice as the melt waters run from beneath it into a lake  before they began their plunge into the valley below. Notices warned people to be careful as the glacier was prone to 'calve', shedding huge pieces of solid ice which drop into the lake below causing a mini tsunami. Regrettably it didn't happen while we were there.

Various signs along the path showed that the glacier had once reached even further down the valley, notably during a so called mini ice age in the 18th century, about the period when the Thames froze over. Since then the glacier has been in retreat, no doubt another symptom of the changes in the climate. It did make me wonder whether it would still be visible from below in another 100 years. 

The spaniels received their normal quota of smiles from passers by and several took photographs of them. One lady came up to chat, told us she had a dog at home, and spent some time scratching their ears. Max, who is something of a water baby, was happy to launch himself into the cold water when he got the chance, but Elsa obviously felt that she preferred a somewhat higher temperature for her bathing activities. We dodged the gift shop, full of cuddly toy elk and polar bears, and made our way to the van. 

After lunch it was back onto the road with a view to starting the journey to Geiranger. We stopped off in Stryn, the main shopping centre for the area to get some more dog food. Foolishly I decided that, with the temperatures still hovering around 30 degrees, I really needed a second pair of shorts. That literally put the dampeners on things. We started the climb out of the valley in glorious sunshine along a succession of hairpin bends. Three tunnels and 800 metres  later we found ourselves in thick cloud and heavy rain and a temperature of 9 degrees. The shorts are still in the cupboard. 

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Lancashire-style weather arrives