Behind the cherry farm, essentially its backyard, is Folgefonna National Park. Olav lives beneath a glacier. A short walk up the hillside in the company of the local sheep and the mountains plateau out with alpine lakes that are reminiscent of The Enchantments here at home in Seattle. It is a alpine paradise where one sees nary a soul.
The trail disappears here and I feel as though I could wander for weeks: turning over ever stone, cresting every ridge, winding my way along the ridge line and crossing the next fjord over. If I had the time I would have brought my pack and disappeared from the world to resurface with a scraggly beard and a silly grin on my face.
The Bleie’s use the park constantly. Olav hunts birds and reindeer in the Autumn. His mother hikes up constantly to maintain her remarkable conditioning.
Recently the Norwegian government brought in some Nepali sherpas to build a rock staircase up the mountain side. To my amazement it turned out to be a work of art. Nary a stone moved as I walked on it and the surface was remarkably flat. Apparently the fellow has been building trails here for years, a master of his craft.