Go Norse

SUSAN Gough Henly fulfils a childhood dream to explore Norway's majestic fjords, something she would do again in a heartbeat.

Stretch yourself ... kayak the World Heritage-listed Naeroyfjord to its end at Gudvangen (pictured), which is popular with BASE jumpers

I STAND on the deck of the fjord steamer as we marvel at the waterfalls plummeting down vertiginous rocky walls, the high summer meadows ringed with snow, the emerald waters of the deepest and longest fjord in the world. An American woman points to a dot of a farmhouse 400m directly above us and asks: "How does anyone get up there?"

I laugh at her question before replying: "I hiked there two days ago and would do it again in a heartbeat for the fiord view, for the flowers, for the sheer exhilaration ... and that was after kayaking for five hours from Flam." I am still on an adrenalin high. The woman looks at me as if she thinks I must have wild Viking blood in my veins.

Ever since childhood, flipping through National Geographic magazines, I have wanted to visit Norway's fjord region. Now I am finally here, with my 18-year-old daughter, Alice, and have decided we must get into it; the Norwegian company we tracked down via the internet, Njord Kayak, named for the Norse god of water and wind, really fits the bill.

Our trip starts in Flam, a well-known fjord stop, not much more than a junction between train and tour boat. Njord Kayak's wooden huts are a discreet distance from the tourist bustle, across a wooden bridge at the end of a pebbly beach. Our guide for the two-day trip, young Karlis Obuks from Latvia, is packing up two bright yellow double kayaks. Karlis's friend, Hashem Baroud from Palestine, will be his kayaking partner.

Karlis opens out a detailed map and traces our 36km trip with his finger. Starting at the end of the Aurlandsfjord, we'll kayak to Stigen to camp overnight above the junction of three fjords. Tomorrow we'll kayak the length of the World Heritage-listed Naeroyfjord to its end at Gudvangen.

Under a soft blue sky, we ease our kayaks through the silvery water. Behind us is a massive snow-ringed cirque, a natural amphitheatre. Passengers aboard the 10-storey Crystal Serenity cruise ship peer down upon what must look like tiny yellow ants inching along a rain-filled gutter.

Fjords are glacially carved U-shaped valleys, which are subsequently filled in by the sea. The Aurlandsfjord and Naeroyfjord are two of the five fingers of the Sognefjord, the world's deepest and longest, stretching 200km inland. At water level the drama is fierce. The sheer sides of the gneiss rock face glisten light and dark in the sunlight. Thin streams of waterfalls leap like liquid animals from distant purple mountain ridges that lance the sky at 2000m. Pale green birch and alder give way to darker pine trees and then alpine meadows where the tinkling of goat bells floats down to mingle with the cries of seagulls.

But instead of gawking passively, Alice and I become intent on developing a natural rhythm. Paddle, feather, paddle, front to back in unison. The reflections of the mountains dissolve into ripples with each dip of the oar. Karlis stops at the first waterfall to fill our bottles with glacial ambrosia. Hashem puts on his wool cap as a light rain begins to fall. We are grateful for our waterproof gear.

A ferry passes. Its passengers wave enthusiastically. We turn at right angles to its wake and surf the waves. The fiordscape is so immense that the 10 or more boats we see during our two-day trip offer a welcome context for appreciating the grandeur. They come and go so fast we scarcely realise we've seen them. We have entered another zone.

Turning a corner we see the village of Undredal, with its layered lime-green fields tucked into a fold between the mountains. Undredal's eight farms produce 10 to 20 tonnes of cheese a year, earning it the moniker of goat cheese capital of the world. We pull the kayaks on to the town beach and snack on fresh bread, cold meats and delectable goat cheese from a local shop before walking up the hill to the 40-seat medieval wooden stave church, said to be the smallest church still in use in Norway.

Stigen farm is a further 3km; it's owned by an American naturalist who grows vegetables in a remarkable garden as well as running goats in the high mountain pastures and making berry jams and rhubarb wine. As we are securing our kayaks for the night, the twentysomething founder of Njord Kayak, Eivind Nordeide, arrives from Gudvangen with five friends in single kayaks.

With our food and lodging on our backs, we climb a zigzag trail through a hillside of yellow, purple, pink and blue wildflowers. Stigen gets its name from stige, meaning ladder. In the early days, the farmers used ladders to get to the top, only pulling them up when the tax collector came. We find out that Hashem is from the West Bank and has never climbed a mountain before. We pick handfuls of juicy ripe mountain strawberries to give us a boost and Karlis, who has a leek peeking out of his pack, stocks up on fresh oregano to flavour a casserole. No freeze-dried food for us tonight.

We pitch our tents under a cluster of birch trees on a knoll to look directly out at a waterfall cascading into the fiord, now a celadon green under a clearing evening sky. There is an outdoor shower, picnic table, canvas swing chairs suspended from the trees, fireplace made from large slabs of rock and a petrol drum sawn in half, a composting toilet with the best dunny view in the world and an outdoor jacuzzi, which can be heated by a wood fire, overlooking the fiord.

We have the appetites of Norwegian bears. Dinner of baked salmon, corn on the cob, and Karlis's aromatic beef casserole with new potatoes goes down remarkably well amid chat in English, Norwegian, Latvian and Arabic. Over dessert of bananas doused in melted chocolate, Eivind explains his philosophy behind Njord, which he started seven years ago: "This place is inspirational and I am passionate about providing an engaging experience to promote understanding and tolerance as well as great fun." He works with the Red Cross Nordic United World College, one of 10 international high schools with the same goals. The Nordic UWC trains students, like Karlis, in first-aid and outdoor pursuits and Njord employs them in the summer.

Early the next morning, after hot porridge sprinkled with wild strawberries, we hike 400m up past the farm, across a glacial stream, through a field of shoulder-high purple lupins and the summer pasture farm and beyond the jam-making cottage to the high ridge of Beitelen, which overlooks the three-way junction between the main Sognefjord, the Aurlandsfjord and the narrow Naeroyfjord. From this eagle's-eye vantage point we see how the channel zigzags around the rock walls that have fractured at right angles to create a vista of softly changing blues and greens.

In the kayaks once more, Karlis, Hashem, Alice and I are welcomed by a couple of seal pups popping up their heads as we enter the quiet and much narrower Naeroyfjord. Waterfalls cascade in free fall over the sheer rock face. The fiord has become a sheet of dark green glass and our yellow kayaks skim the mirrored surface.

We pass the village of Styvi, a house on the pier trailing a silver stream of smoke to join the wispy clouds. Pulling the kayaks into Dyrdal, we gather kindling in a flower-filled glade to make a fire on the wide rocky beach. Feasting on sausages and toasted bread and cheese, we joke and chat like old mates and laugh in agreement at Karlis's new word for our adventures: sportistic. He says it means exploring the world physically, like an artist.