Travelling Fletchers

Our time in Stavanger has been pretty awesome. A balance of being active and resting in equal measure. No dramas to report and everything went as if planned with precision – unless ice cream was involved. In truth, the plan was not to plan.

The journey back to Oslo was the reverse of Thursday’s trip to Stavanger. Seven and a half hours on the train, the same views rolling past the window. No less beautiful the second time.

I can’t give any direct tips on eating out in Norway. Food is expensive and we haven’t really done it, other than a small café stop for a pastry. Drinks felt comparable to home – a coffee around £2.50 to £3. Food, however, is much pricier by comparison.

When buying food there are a few important points to keep in mind. Shops are closed on Sundays, so plan in advance. Larger stores such as Kiwi or 7–23 offer better prices, though you’ll still be paying around £10 for a block of cheese. If you like fish or lamb, you’re in for a treat – these are the main dishes and favourite meats here. Chicken is available but not in the same quantities as at home. Vegetables look pricey, but they’re deceptively large. Peppers and cucumbers are much bigger than we’re used to and stretch further than you’d think.

And one final tip in advance – before shopping, check your accommodation has a tin opener. Good job we only bought one tin.

The next two days were set aside for rest and a little sightseeing.

To start with, I made sure I didn’t stiffen up from our hike by doing a mix of pilates, yoga and tai chi. To the trained eye, though, it probably looked more like me flailing my arms about than anything graceful. Either way, it worked. I’d packed my essential pilates spikey ball and was so glad I had. A quick foot massage wasn’t pure relief but it definitely helped and set me up for the day.

One of the perks of staying here was the canoes by the cabin, perfect for a gentle paddle on the lake. We took one out, dipping the paddles slowly as the water rippled around us. All the work was in the shoulders and a rest bite for our legs – a steady rhythm that gave us new views of the mountains while still feeling peaceful and unhurried.

Afterwards I decided to have a swim in the fjord. The water was bizarrely cold and warm at the same time – a strange mix that left me feeling refreshed and wide awake. Any tension in my knees melted away completely.

The rest of the day was spent playing cards, reading and generally resting. Even food shopping had to be carefully planned around our hike – we’d checked the opening times while sitting on the rock itself, and sure enough, was closed on Sunday.

Monday we went to Gamle Stavanger, the old town by the harbour. After the war, many of the wooden houses here were set to be demolished, but instead they were saved and moved into the street where they now stand together. The history of these houses is fascinating – they were designed so they could be effectively flat packed and transported when people moved. Now they make for a beautiful stroll – rows of white-painted cottages with flowers in the windows and cobbled paths underfoot.

From there it was only a few steps to the harbour. Fishing boats, ferries and cruise ships all jostle for space, and the cafés spill out onto the waterfront. It’s the kind of place where you could sit for hours just watching the world go by.

Finally we wandered around the town to look at some of the street art – bold splashes of colour tucked between buildings and across unexpected walls.

We compared notes on our favourites. I won’t tell you ours, but I’ll leave it to you to pick out which piece would have been your top choice.

Today was rock day! We’re currently nestled between Pulpit Rock and the Floating Rock – almost equidistant as the bird flies.

Setting ourselves the challenge of climbing one is one thing, but getting to the start is another. The Floating Rock would have meant a journey of nearly three hours, including a ferry crossing. Tempting, but that’s a lot of time before even starting the climb. Instead, we opted for the shorter route – a quick 20-minute drive to the BaseCamp of Pulpit Rock.

The drive was pretty enough. We knew the hike would take us up to about 600m above sea level, so with each hill the car climbed we comforted ourselves with the thought – that’s less work for our legs. Then, just before reaching the parking area, the road dipped downhill and we lost a chunk of those hard-earned metres. Our hearts sank almost as much as the road.

Boots laced, backpacks loaded and spirits high, we set off from BaseCamp. The first section was a steady climb, zig-zagging up a rocky path. At times it felt less like a trail and more like scrambling over a giant pile of trolls. We half-expected the boulders to suddenly roll over, present themselves as trolls and burst into song – or at the very least pass us along in a giant Mexican wave.

Each “step” felt like three steps from our staircase at home, only these weren’t smooth or even. Some had generous platforms where you could pause, others shot you straight into the next climb.

The first big marker was Urskar, a stretch of boulders stacked like nature’s staircase. Here the path opened out briefly and rewarded us with a view back down towards the lake – already a reminder of how far we’d come.

Pushing on, we reached Neverdalskaret, another rocky rise that kept the legs working hard. By now the steady rhythm of climb, pause, climb was well drilled in, and our hearts sank each time the path tilted up again.

Further still, the trail eased into Tjødnane, a gentler section dotted with small pools of water. They looked tempting, but we’d been advised not to fill bottles here, so we stuck to what we’d carried with us. It was still a good chance to pause, catch our breath and steel ourselves for the final push.

The final stretch was the toughest and the most exhilarating. The trail narrowed, the rocks underfoot felt sharper, and every step carried a sense of “nearly there.” My legs were tired, my water lighter, but I kept going with one thought in mind – the views at the top and getting that photo.

Then, almost without warning, the path levelled and spilled out onto the great flat slab of Pulpit Rock itself. After hours of climbing, suddenly there it was – the sheer drop, the fjord stretching out below, and the feeling of standing on the edge of something vast.

The top was alive with people, and not everyone seemed too bothered by the warning signs. Some ignored them completely, sitting right on the edge of the rock as if the 600m drop wasn’t there at all. Others were only mildly disobedient – perched close enough to dangle their feet over but still with some solid rock behind them.

Many people were busy taking photos of each other, swapping places in front of the view. We offered to take shots of couples and groups together –  and they were always grateful. I’d say they jumped at the chance, but that feels a little too ironic given the setting.

We spent some time just sitting – partly to rest our legs, partly to soak in the view, and partly because the rock itself was busy. It took a while before there was space clear enough to stand, breathe, and take in the full drama without a crowd in the way. When the moment came, it was everything I’d hoped for. The view, the sense of height, and yes – finally getting that photo.

It was time to leave, although we could easily have stayed longer. Among the four of us, the idea of an ice cream at BaseCamp before heading back to the cabin quickly won out. With that thought in mind, we hauled ourselves up and started the long descent.

When climbing up, I’d kept my focus on the next step rather than looking ahead at the route still to come. On the way down, I had to do the same – only more so. With the sheer drop never far from sight, the last thing I wanted was to miss my footing.

At one point I slipped. The others were ahead of me, so there was no one close by to catch me. In that instant the world slowed down. I felt my centre of gravity shift, knew I was wobbling, and somehow my body just reacted. My arms shot out like a corkscrew opening a bottle, flailing until they levelled off to steady me. A passing hiker reached out and grabbed my arm, helping me back into balance. In that second, I had been rescued. Onlookers from many different countries all spoke at once – the universal language of concern: “Okay?”

Taking a moment to recover, we carried on. The path was marked with milestones every 50 metres, each one a tiny victory as it meant we were that bit closer to the bottom. Sometimes we missed them altogether, too focused on our footing, but when we realised we’d passed two or more without noticing, we celebrated with a little punch in the air – closer still, step by step.

I’d always thought going downhill was the easy part, and assumed this would be no different. But how wrong I was. The steep steps down were punishing on tired legs, and more than once I resorted to sliding down on my bottom just to be safe. At one point the trail even tilted upwards again – a section I’d completely forgotten about from the climb up. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see an “up” before.

Finally, we arrived back at BaseCamp, ready for that long-awaited ice cream. The thought of it had carried us down the mountain step by step. But when we reached the shop, we found it had closed just two minutes earlier.

All we could do was laugh – tired, sore, but proud of what we’d done. Ice cream or not, we’d climbed Pulpit Rock.

We now enter a very different culture. Oslo. Having cancelled our overnight stay we pushed on to get the train to Stavanger and came across a minor problem.

The train wasn’t running from Oslo to the west coast at all – engineering works had taken over our plans. Instead of the scenic glide we’d expected, we were welcomed onto a coach for the first leg.

Our app indicated that we had a three-minute walk with six minutes before the bus departed… we made it. In Norway, when getting an interconnecting train with a bus replacement service, there is a requirement for the train to wait. We finally felt the rhythm of the rails again.

By the time we swapped onto the train again, the landscape had shifted – mountains softened into green valleys and wide lakes. The journey still ran to time.

The journey to Stavanger was a journey of two halves – the first half I was going backwards and the second forwards. The train pulled in to Kierstensands and had to double up on part of the track! It made for a change and was fun travelling that way. Somewhere along the way, we met another interrailer from Germany who was travelling solo. She’s a student, and it was nice to swap stories and hear about her adventures.

Coming to Norway is a first for us – and so is actually getting the car we hired. Usually we end up with “something similar”, but this time we drove away in the exact model booked.

It’s a Toyota RAV4 – the boys assure me it’s a nice one. I’m not a car person, but I can confirm it’s smooth, comfortable, and has a boot big enough for four backpacks plus a few days’ worth of shopping. We could have easily squeezed in a fifth person with luggage to spare.

The drive to Forsand was like no other. About half the journey was underground – Norway really does love a tunnel. Some stretched on so long you almost forgot what daylight looked like. And when we finally emerged, it was still light – even at 21:30 on a rainy day, the grey waters mirroring the dramatic grey sky.

Just our luck, the main road was closed, and our hosts helpfully guided us onto the coastal road instead. It wound along the water’s edge, a narrow, twisting single track now shrouded in semi-darkness. With David focused intently on the road, I could let my eyes wander across the fjords to the tiny lights twinkling from houses on the opposite shore – like a fairy town in some hidden, magical wonderland. Definitely a place to see again in daylight.

The place we’re staying could best be described as a hiker’s cabin. Built to sleep eight, it gives us plenty of room to spread out – and comes complete with a composting toilet. It’s simple, cosy, and feels like the perfect base for exploring this part of Norway. We’re near Forsand, Norway – and for those tempted to Google it, make sure you add “Norway” or you’ll get a plethora of IKEA links for a wardrobe. The same goes for Stavanger – without “Norway” you’ll find yourself scrolling through an abundance of IKEA mattresses instead.

Our first glimpse of our surroundings in the morning was through one large frame and a single glazed panel, perfectly capturing a huge rock and a still lake. The weather was cloudy, the low clouds curling around the rock and shifting the view as we watched. It was like having a real Harry Potter picture on the wall – alive and changing before our eyes

For now,  we are simply happy to sit and watch the ever-changing views.

Before I tell you about the Color Fantasy, let me share a bit about food prices in Germany. Supermarket costs are similar to the UK and picking up supplies has been fairly easy. Eating out is much more expensive compared to home. The tax system is structured differently, making eating out a luxury. But the quality of food is much higher and so much more enjoyable. One tip we’d been given was to travel with a camping knife, fork and spoon set – these have been most useful as we’ve bought salad bowls in supermarkets that we could share between ourselves.

Returning to our journey, the Color Fantasy isn’t just a ferry – it’s a floating mini-cruise. There’s a spa for pampering, an indoor Aqualand with pool and waterslides, shops to browse, restaurants for every taste, and evening shows to round it all off. You could almost forget you’re travelling between Kiel and Oslo. The tip here is to book early – although everywhere will be crowded as this is effectively a 24-hour cruise, meaning everyone wanted to cram in as much as they could. We opted to sit on deck and watch the scenery pass by.

The route from Kiel to Oslo on the Color Fantasy takes around 20 hours and is as much about the journey as the destination. Leaving Kiel in the afternoon, the ship glides out through the busy harbour and along the Kiel Fjord before heading into the Baltic Sea. The scenery changes from bustling docks to quiet stretches of coastline dotted with small beaches and forested headlands.

One of the highlights early on is passing under the Great Belt Bridge in Denmark – an impressive span that feels even more dramatic when viewed from the open deck of the ship.

There was also the added bonus of a beautiful sunset.

We woke as the journey slipped into the Oslofjord, with its winding channels, wooded islands and colourful Norwegian houses signalling our arrival. As we were a day behind our plans and bookings, we pushed on to catch the train to Stavanger.

Packing up this morning I felt smug – I thought knew I could pack my bag with space. Turns out, I couldn’t. It took three attempts. Every time I turned round I found something I’d missed. I knew something was off when I had to tighten the straps. On the plus side – I did remember to pack my battery pack somewhere I can actually reach it. Maybe that’s a good omen for the day ahead.

The hotel beds were so comfortable that getting up took some time. I’d planned to be at the port for 8am to sort a new booking – but I didn’t wake up until much later. They say things happen for a reason. Cam and I arrived at the booking office at 9.32, to discover it had been open for just two minutes. We were first through the door.

Ticket booked – we were ready for our day. Or part day. Or, more importantly – brunch.

Kiel sits up on the Baltic coast in northern Germany – a busy port with ferries, the Kiel Canal, and plenty of naval history. It’s known for its sailing week in June and for fish dishes, especially herring. Shame we didn’t have time to explore more.

Things we’ve learnt so far… we need better planning – or no planning at all. Thinking about it now, it would have been better to arrive the night before. That would have given us extra time to explore and some wriggle room for late trains, which we’ve now been told are notorious in Germany (wish us luck for the return).

The other thing we’d probably do next time – and it’s definitely feeling like a “when” not an “if” – is not book in advance. By changing our booking today, the new cruise counted as an upgrade, so we now have a cabin with a window. And it’s cheaper than the original one we booked back in January, which was an internal cabin.

Another tip – make sure you have travel insurance, and one that includes cancellations. Good job we did. We were taught by the best in this respect – thanks to my parents.

Packing most things the night before meant we only had a few finishing touches in the morning. Oddly, it felt too easy – we all thought we must have forgotten something. Bags zipped up with space to spare, we decided it must just be experience paying off.

We headed for the 7.38 from Berlin to Kiel via Hamburg – no reservations needed. It felt a little strange, almost unsettling, not having a seat booked. But we needn’t have worried. Most of the seats did have reservations, but the slips are now digital, so they looked empty at first glance. We chanced it, sat down, and no one came to claim them.

We rolled into Hamburg with only a very quick turnaround to get the connecting train to Kiel – barely enough time to check the platform before hopping straight on. Good job the train app shows platform details or we might not have made it.

Tip for next time – always travel with a charging block. Tickets are checked on every train, and if you’re using a digital version, you need the battery to prove it. My haphazard-but-space-saving packing did fall down here – the charging block was with me, just buried somewhere deep in the bag.

We were making good progress… and then… we stopped. Sat staring out of the window for an hour. Then came the surprise – we reversed all the way back to Hamburg. And there we sat again. The problem? Firstly there was clothes on the line so we swapped trains and then a signalling issue further along.

Finally, we started to move again… only to the next station, mainly because there wasn’t enough space to keep us where we were.

We’d left Berlin early, worried we wouldn’t make it to the boat on time. After eight hours of travelling, we finally arrived in Kiel at 14:10…

Just in time to watch our 14:00 ferry sail out of the harbour!

This is where Booking.com came into its own. With the push of a few buttons, we booked into a local hotel so we could regroup and make a plan for what to do next. Sometimes travel goes smoothly, sometimes it throws in a curveball – but that’s half the fun. A missed ferry just means an extra chapter in the story.

It was time to leave – another early start to catch a train to Kiel. This time it was a local train, a fairly short journey by comparison.

As we left our apartment, I had a moment to reflect on all we’d done since arriving. We’d packed so much in – learnt plenty – but most importantly, we’d laughed together.

One of my favourite laughs came in the ‘well equipped’ kitchen. I say that not only because this was how it was described but also because it was very precise – exactly 4 plates, 4 bowls, 4 knives, 4 forks, 4 spoons. Four coffee cups and four mugs. Perfect for a family of four.

But scissors? Nowhere to be found. Opening any packet became a slow and careful exercise in knife skills.

The real surprise came when I spotted what was in the cutlery drawer – 4 cake forks!

Which, when you think about it, makes perfect sense here. Berliners take their Kaffee und Kuchen very seriously – that daily mid-afternoon ritual of coffee and cake. And not just any cake – think Käsekuchen, Bienenstich, Black Forest, and, of course, the Berliner Pfannkuchen doughnut. In this city, cake clearly takes priority over scissors.

Berlin – a city to return to

We loved the city – and the feeling of space that comes from being bombed in WW2 and then rebuilt.

Getting around has been so easy. The subway is wonderfully simple, with numbered tube lines that make navigation a breeze. The trams are quiet, regular, and just as easy to use.

People are happy to chat – and if you try a little German, they smile before replying in English. The point is, they welcome everyone. And it’s such a clean city too.

Most of all, Berlin is layered with history – and we didn’t even cover half of it. But that’s ok. We’ve left plenty for next time. And I’m sure there will be a next time.

Next stop – Kiel.

After a few heavy days of history we wanted to lighten the mood – so we planned a segway tour of the city.

First though – a few checks.

There’s a minimum weight limit for segways – otherwise I guess they’d never move. David, Cam and I had been on one before. Charlie hadn’t. We looked up the ride requirements and wondered if she’d meet them. Having a healthy child and no cause to weigh her, I had no idea.

We also don’t have any scales in the apartment (that would be weird).

So I did the next best thing – messaged the mum of her best friend to ask if she knew her daughter’s weight. They’re close in size – so we thought that might give us a clue.

The mum didn’t know either – but she did have a set of scales and her daughter at home. She kindly obliged and weighed her on the spot. The verdict – yes, it was possible Charlie could ride. She should be over the minimum weight limit… even if only by a small margin.

We turned up for our booked segway session only to be told it had actually been cancelled! BUT… the good news was we’d been upgraded free of charge to the two-hour tour. Twice the time for the same price.

We had a tour of Berlin on a segway – a whole wobble of us gliding through the city.

It started with a practice ride. Naturally, the other three took to it like ducks to water. Me? I just kept going round and round in circles – clockwise, too – and couldn’t work out how to reverse it.

Whilst we were waiting, I took my day bag off. This gave me a little more stability – and a centre of gravity I actually knew the location of. It sounds so simple, but it worked. I could at least go forwards, backwards, left and right – just needed to work out how to stop.

Then it was time to go. Off we went – like ducklings following a mother duck. Although in this case, the mother duck was sitting astride a moped… with 12 wobbly segways trailing behind.

We zipped past Berlin landmarks – the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, and stretches of the Berlin Wall still standing. We learned snippets of history mixed with local fun facts – we saw where the wall had once stood and followed the line of cobbled stones that lead the way, quietly reminding everyone that the city was once divided.

There were cobbled streets, tram tracks to weave between, and then traffic coming from the opposite direction just to keep us on our toes.

We only had four falls in the group – and three of them were David. We could almost start charging admission.

By the end, even I was weaving between the group with something close to confidence. Two hours had flown by – and so had we.

Outside our Berlin apartment door, the pavement is set with small brass cobbles. They’re called Stolpersteine – stumbling stones. Each one carries the name of someone who once lived here, along with the year they were taken away and their fate. They shine in the sun, but their stories are heavy.

On Sunday we visited Sachsenhausen. Opened in 1936 as a model camp, it was designed to set the blueprint for others that followed. Our guide showed us many things in this both impressive and horrifying camp – the watch towers, the places of execution, the rooms used for experiments, and the autopsy facilities.

One story will stay with me. The guide took us to the so-called neutral zone – the strip of ground between the camp fence and the wall. Step into it, and you’d be shot. A guard once snatched a prisoner’s hat and threw it into the neutral zone, ordering him to fetch it. The man obeyed – and was killed. The guard then had to complete pages of paperwork for the shooting. That same paperwork could be used to apply for leave, because the guard claimed he was ‘traumatised’ by the incident. The cruelty wasn’t just in the killing – it was in the cold efficiency of turning it into an administrative task.

Sachsenhausen’s story didn’t end in 1945. After the war, the Soviet secret police used it as Special Camp No. 7 to detain political prisoners, suspected Nazis, and others they considered a threat. Thousands died there from disease, starvation, and exposure. In the 1960s, East Germany turned it into a memorial – but one that largely focused on communist resistance. Only after reunification did it become the broader memorial and museum we see today, reflecting the full and complex history.

We returned feeling rather numb, the mood sombre. Berlin remembers its past in many ways – sometimes with grand memorials, sometimes with a few words on a small square of gold in the pavement. Both are hard to walk past.

Processing a heavy day in Berlin the best way we know how – with ice cream in the sunshine.