Let me tell you about our magical fjord ride in Norway. The journey begins in the early morning fog along the docks in Bergen. The anticipation for the 5 ½ hour ferry ride hangs in the air. As more arrive, people shuffle forward crowding the entrance, anxious to get on and find a seat. Once on board, most drop their belongings on chairs and tables, claiming them for later and rush outside to take pictures and selfies. As the Ferry makes the slow exit from the bay in Bergen, the sun shines through and kisses the docks in a golden glow.

Clusters of homes peppered along the mountainside reflect on the rippled glassy surface. The morning is peaceful and quiet as I channel my inner viking, imagining what it must have been like to glide along these gentle fjords in long wooden ships, destined to explore new lands.

As we venture on down the fjord, the mountains grow taller and rockier, their tree coats receding to the base, and exposing their slate grey peaks. They loom over the channel of blue green water as dainty waterfalls spill icy snow melt down their side and into the fjord.

Around every bend is another lovely scene. We pass by small villages along the way, picking up new riders, adding new excited energy to the boat. Until finally, we arrive at our final destination in a small mountain town called Flam. 

As the ferry pulls up, we can see a wall of mountains spooning the small town and sheltering it from the harsh cold of the mountains to the east. Several streaks of white water plunge hundreds of feet into the river below.

We have arrived in our own neverland, and I never want to leave