Wandering to the dining room of our hotel for breakfast, we once again listened to the bleating goats across the highway. Breakfast was sparse, but cutting down a bit was okay with how we’ve been eating on this trip.

We had a good day of driving ahead, stopping frequently as we do, to take pictures. Goats lined both sides of the road, and a mother goat and her two babies sat quietly a short distance from us, with no fence between them and us. Jason pulled over so I could take a picture out the window. Momma goat was not happy. She jumped up and approached my window so quickly that I barely had time to close it before she put her nose inside the car—a little frightening! 

We climbed higher and saw the sign that said Lysebotn Road 31 km. We had shown pictures of it to the twins, and they came to call it the ‘Crazy Road.’  It’s the road I had seen on one of my Norwegian sites and jokingly sent the picture to Jason, saying, “We should go on this road.” He said, “Absolutely!” Now we are about to drive on it. It’s probably the worst road I’ve ever been on, with a narrow single lane and steep, sharp curves. It still gave us fabulous water views far below, breaking up with large ice sheets. It was beautiful, and with few places to turn off the road, Jason still managed to squeeze our little car into small places so he could take pictures. Another turn of the corner, and we came across small hills stretching for miles, filled with Inukshuks – thousands of them, making us realize how many people trek up these steep, winding roads. It was so cold and windy up there that we didn’t stay long. My fingers were frozen stiff before we got back in the car.

We got to the highest part of the road, where there were some lookouts, and I headed out to stand high above the valley and look down. Jason was happy to stay back from the cliff edge and take pictures, but he did manage one of the outlooks for a few moments before stepping back. 

Then, it was time to head down the part of the road we were waiting for. It’s a 2-way road with barely room for 1 car, a 1 km drop in altitude with 27 hairpin turns, ending in a dark, narrow, tunnel through the mountain that does a complete 360° turn inside. This is the part I feared the most, and it ended up being a piece of cake compared to what we had just driven on. We arrived in the town of Lysebotn three hours ahead of schedule, so we hung out at the local restaurant after driving through the four streets of the village and up a steep hill behind the town to get some pictures of the road we had just come down.

It was a 2.5-hour ferry ride from Lysebotn back to Stavanger. Old and rusty, the boat afforded no inside spaces to sit, so we sat up on the top deck to get the best view, but it was cold and windy up there, so not the most comfortable. We have had gorgeous weather throughout our trip, but the last couple of days have brought clouds, wind, and a bit of rain. You can’t have everything, right? I don’t take many pictures as I leave that up to the pro, but I got one of what looked like a troll peeking out from his cave in the rocks. It’s the only troll I’ll be bringing home.

We disembarked from this ferry only to jump on another 20 minutes later. We should have kept track of how many ferries we’ve been on— probably 7 or 8. This particular ferry held 14 cars. We were the 13th, and they had us park at 45 degrees so they could cram the last car on. This ferry was even older and rustier, with no place to get out of the car and a short ride, so we were glad to get off. Another couple was not so lucky on the previous ferry. They were supposed to get off at one of the stops, but somehow, the person organizing us put them on the ferry almost last, so they could not drive their car off. They weren’t happy, and we don’t know what happened to them as this was the day’s last ferry.

We continued our journey and found ourselves settling in for the night at a hotel Jason suspected had once been a hospital. Despite that, it was a comfortable and peaceful place, tucked away from the hustle and bustle. Dinner was simple—hot dogs from the nearby gas station. Sitting there, I couldn’t help but think, ‘I never want to see another hot dog when I get home!’