Norwegian Fjords Sailing: Guide to Exploring Norway’s Waters

The Norwegian Fjords are high on many a sailor’s ‘bucket list’ trips but remain sufficiently distant to retain the magic of isolation as Leo Kenny narrates

I had tired of the deliveries on other people’s boats. The ocean has neither reason, nor pity, but after a tough Atlantic crossing – via Azores – it convinced me to get another boat for myself in Nordic waters. I picked up Aglaida, my own Beneteau Oceanis 38.1 in Grebbestad, Sweden. Family and old crew mates from earlier adventures were joining for the bucket-list promise of sailing the Norwegian fjords. My old mate from Australia would join with his partner, who fearing the ocean, had opted to follow us along the coast in a camper van. Unfortunately, she also had a fear of bridges so I suspected Norway might challenge her.

In early June, before most Swedes had put their boats back in the water, we meandered up the Swedish coast to the idyllic bays of the Koster islands. After a swim in refreshing 12° crystal clear water warmed only by the midnight sun, we feasted on Havskräftor (Langoustines) and Wild Pacific oysters, that invaded the Swedish west coast 25 years ago. Next day, we pushed on to Strömstad to troubleshoot the new boat before leaving the Swedish coast. My batteries were not holding charge and I had a conundrum with the tricolor navigation lights. Nevertheless, that night we crossed the Skagerrak to Norway, and pulled into Stavern guest harbour just south of Larvik, to pick up my Norwegian crew. Early mornings along the Outer Oslofjord are awesome. We sailed the narrow channels towards Risør, via Jomfrurenna, with a 10kt ice wind on the beam before a snowy hour of coffee-time calm. 

The City of Poets

After a pleasant night in Risør , we made the 33nm to Ibsen’s hometown, Grimstad – the city of poets – with quaint white houses amongst the cobblestone alleys. Next day in a fair breeze, we passed Kritiansand and the Lindesnes lighthouse at the southernmost tip of Norway, deciding on an overnighter, to Stavanger. The midnight sun illuminated gentle swells until midnight, but as the morning broke around 0400, we were motoring into a relentless 20kt head wind. Rewarded for the last four hours with 30kts on the beam and full main and jib driving us along at 8-10kts, we rounded Tungeneset and rode a 15kt tail wind down the channel into Stavanger. Very respectable – 155nm in the 36 hours. Our Australian escort texted to say she had parked the van in Oslo.  

Sliding Aglaida into a cramped Stavanger guest harbour, we headed out for Norwegian Big Macs. Next morning, in a soupy sea fog with only zephyrs on our tail in Høgsfjord, we inched towards Forsand at the entrance to Lysefjorden to refill diesel. It was misty, 25°, with light wind from behind – an opportunity to test the new furling Code Zero between towering 600m high granite faces plunging straight down into the 420m deep fjord. The kind, old sun appeared as we dropped our kite, overwhelmed by the breathtaking Preikestolen, 604m above us. Anchorages are scarce in Lysefjorden, but we managed to find 3m in the bay of Storaneset. I set the anchor alarm because it dropped off into 50m just 15m from the shoreline. We all dipped in the wonderfully clear 15° fjord water before a dinner of meatloaf and broccoli shoots – serenaded by the anchor alarm. 

Next morning, I took the paddleboard over the glass surface of the bay while our Swedish crewmember’s drone captured the majestic Lysefjorden, and the storybook farmland on the circumference of Storaneset. Lest I run out of superlatives about these pulchritudinous fjords – a spoiler alert: I will let the photographs talk. Just when we thought it couldn’t get more amazing, it did just that around the next bend. Norway has more than oil.

With the Code Zero in an eerie silence, we glided another 17nm down the fjord, past 700m high glacial waterfalls. Nearing Lysebotn we watched base jumpers leap from the 900m fjord walls – 500m in free fall. Boom boxes pumped out rock’n’roll for those who had landed and sat around gulping Red Bull to keep the adrenaline pumping. They were ferried to an awaiting van in which they ascended the precipitous hairpin bends of the road around Lysebotn – the one we hesitated to show our Australian friends. 

The midday serenity was rudely interrupted by thunder, lightning and 30kt squalls – sudden onset windshear’s we had been warned about. They generally abate as suddenly as they appear, but in Høgsfjord, when it all became too much, running with three reefs in the jib, harbourmaps.com found us the well-protected bay of Ramsvik, south of Stavanger, where we parked for dinner, next to a 45ft Dutch aluminium sloop – the only yacht we had seen for days. 

After a quiet night, we motored north on a mirror to Kopervik, to provision before continuing to the delightful island of Røvær, motoring up a canal into a picturesque bay at Suggevågen. After I sorted the Webasto heater that was spewing diesel fumes, the crew returned from the highest point on the island, waxing lyrical about the panorama of natural and cultivated landscapes on islands out towards the open sea. 

Orca Encounter

Motoring through a mist over a flat calm Bjønafjorden, we were greeted by a pod of 10-15 Orcas rollicking in the morning light. Juveniles (as excited as us), broached and slapped their tails just 50m from both starboard and port. We negotiated the channels of Raunefjorden, passed under the mighty Askøybrua bridge, and rounded Brøstaneset. Avoiding enormous oil tenders and one of the ubiquitous Hurtigurten liners, we ensconced ourselves in the last remaining mooring on The Bryggen, (the dock). Norwegians have a penchant for saying what they mean and, Hurtigruten (which means the fast route), has eight ships servicing the Norwegian coast. Bergen lived up to its notoriety as the rainiest city in Norway as we headed for the market to buy fresh shrimp and langoustines.

Next morning, the funicular up to Fløien, rewarded us with a spectacular view over rainy Bergen. Back at the boat, we bid our Swedish crew adieu and crossed the Byfjord, to a lovely bay – Skitnedalsvika in Håøyana nature harbour. Rain clouds hung low next day, as we rounded Askøy into Strusshamn – a pearl of a guest harbour framed by old white houses. It was Midsummer, and we ate fantastic Bergen shrimp with homemade garlic bread. 

It was an early start to pick up my Romanian UN colleague, (and his fine Romanian wines). Passing Øygarden we reached the entrance to Sognefjorden before sundown. In Langøysundet, we anchored in an emerald, green channel of a miniature fjord. We had a quick dip in 13° crystal clear water and caught six Norwegian whiting. As the midnight sun waned over the islands, we supped on excellent Norwegian prawns, Artic cod, and Romanian Shiraz. 

A steady westerly filled the Code Zero next day. Doing 9kts, we dodged Hurtigrutens Nordnorge before finding the beautiful harbour of Norvik. On anchor next to an island with a bonsai arrangement of trees which would not be out of place on Japanese shores, the fresh fish dinner with Romanian Chardonnay was perfect, staring at snowy peaks of the mountains to the east. The sun didn’t set until 0100. 

Fog hung low over the morning deep green fjord as we motored the 12nm to Høyanger. We baked six nice Alaskan Pollock we caught with a broccoli side and fine Romanian Shiraz that night – a recipe for a sound sleep in pouring rain. A baited line in the water overnight hooked a Spotted Catshark! The fillets were surprisingly tasty in the (little-known) Norwegian delicacy of Sognefjorden shark omelets, that we made for breakfast.

The rain had cleared next morning when we found the most picturesque anchorage I have had the privilege to use. Glacial waterfalls tumbled down 1,200m mountains either side of the crystal clear green Finnafjord. At the end was glassy green water over a sand beach. The sound of kids playing and a dog barking on the shore next to a farm over a kilometer away, punctured the late afternoon stillness of the fjord as we barbecued on the beach. Next to a driftwood bonfire, I fell asleep to the roar of the waterfall behind us after a dessert of the abundant wild strawberries nearby. 

The Sogneford looked mystical, dark, and deep next morning. It rained all night. I took the SUP into a long tributary nearby. I don’t recall such breathtaking beauty; walls of the fjord and sky on the water-mirror was disorientating. The perfect reflection was just as real with the images turned upside down.

At midday, motoring to Balestrand, waves suddenly smashed us from all sides with catabatic 30kt winds blasting down from the mountain. The moods of this mystical fjord change by the hour. We rode 25kts of wind on our tail in Sogndalsfjord and dropped anchor in front of the quaint village of Fimreite. Aglaida swung carelessly on the snubber rope at dinner. The midnight sun was nowhere to be seen. A soft aroma of Norwegian cow dung complemented the ever-changing mood of this fjord at midnight. 

Next afternoon, we visited the quintessentially Sogndal’s, Dampskipskaien Café og Bar. It served delicious fish soup and special beers. Two very talented ladies serenaded us with Norwegian folk songs on traditional Hardingfele/accordion and guitar. It rained down in buckets that night.

We reached Flåm as the enormous cruise liner Silver Dawn left Aurlandsfjord, and anchored for the night, 20m from the beach. We were woken after midnight by a mini tsunami – caused by an avalanche west of Flåm. Then into Nærøyfjord – less than 100m wide in parts – with its coniferous vegetation clinging for dear life in nooks and crannies, and perhaps the most beautiful fjord in southern Norway. 

Disaster Strikes

Next day was the long-awaited arrival of my wife and Jack our Golden Retriever. Flåm has great connections, but she and her brothers, drove the 16 hours from Stockholm, carrying six new batteries. (Everything but diesel is expensive in Norway). I was bursting to show them Sognefjorden. Then disaster! Early morning, Jack decided to leap off a 2m high sea wall onto a beach. Following, I landed on my backside in the sand. At Laerdal hospital, a CT scan confirmed a fracture of my L2 vertebrae. Thanks to Oxycodone I was still able to lay on my back, install six new batteries and also welcome my twin girls to Flåm with a couple of hours in a fabulous floating sauna. Its inner ice-dip trapdoor allowed us to cool off in the 12° fjord water. The girls had arrived on Flåmbana from Bergen – confirmed by them as the most scenic railway journey in the world.

With such good crew, I managed to show the family the idyllic Nærøfjorden where we spent blissful nights on anchor in Holmaviki nature harbour, near Gudvangen. We revisited all of the wonderful Sognefjorden anchorages (and more). Jack learned to negotiate the steep galley steps like a rat, and leapt from the deck to the quays with ease – often just when we were casting off! He was ecstatic when he saw the dinghy launched for a toilet-trip to a beach. He had no problems even in 25kts – albeit he preferred the cockpit to the foredeck.

Late August, my old Canadian UN boss from Bangladesh joined us in Flåm with his son. The exquisite beauty of the snake-tongue forks Aurlandsfjord and Nærøfjord was not wasted on them. But it was time to head south before the North Sea storms at the end of summer. The Canadians took the Flåmbana back to Bergen and at the mouth of Sognefjorden, the ‘old’ Swedish crew rejoined, enroute to Stavanger. Expecting 50-60kts, we holed up in Leirvik for a few days of eating.

In God’s good time the storm abated and with some sun, at last, on our pineal glands, we headed for Bergen through the charming foggy inland channels between Radøy and Osterøy. We stopped for lunch near Høgesäta where I managed to bag a dozen good sized mackerel, which were barbecued under a clear blue midafternoon sun. 

Champagne Sailing in the Norwegian Fjords

Bergen Bryggen was as boisterous as ever as we, once again, backed into the last available berth on the quay. Inquisitive tourists watched us crack a bottle of Champagne to welcome my old colleague from Singapore for an afternoon cocktail. Next day was my 35th wedding anniversary. The Swedish crew agreed to take Aglaida to Stavanger – affording my wife and me a romantic Norwegian lobster dinner and a hotel rest before her departure with Jack, for Oslo. Next morning I boarded Hurtigruten, bound for Stavanger, to revisit the exquisite Lysefjorden with the Swedish crew who had missed it on the way up. It was no less intoxicating than my first visit. But it was getting late in the season and with storms on offing in the North Sea, it was time for a crew change for the final leg back to Sweden. 

My Romanian and Norwegian crew rejoined in Stavanger, along with an American UN colleague. We needed to hightail it south to beat expected 50kt winds, but not before we bagged a couple of dozen nice sized mackerel just off Tananger. As we reached the safe harbour of Sirevåg 60nm south, the wind was howling, but our little harbour shielded us until two days later when we continued south in thick fog. 

Passing Lindesnes, it was pitch dark at midnight, with 30kts abeam and 2m swells. I managed a 360° before motoring at 3000rpm into the big swells to put in a second reef. But the sun greeted us again as we entered the deserted Grimstad guest harbour for a well-earned rest. 

At the crack of dawn next morning, we headed the 70nm across the Skagerrak for the final leg back to Grebbestad, making up to 10kts and reaching Grebbestad late afternoon. It was sad to bid farewell to the crew after a magnificent three months.

Spoiler alert! I knew I would run out of superlatives to describe this Norwegian odyssey. Between June and September, we had clocked up 1,500nm in heaven. Never have I seen such unparalleled beauty and splendour in my 45 years of sailing the globe. Why were so few yachts doing this? Some harbour captains suggest that rain and the threat of windshear in the fjords keep the numbers down. For me, it was worth it; even when 50kts kept us tucked up in a Leirvik for a few days.

The night before Aglaida was hoisted out of the water for the winter, I was alone, feasting on Havskräftor, sipping some Sauvignon Blanc, and pondering the unbounded beauty I had experienced over the last three months. Five things stood out: the places in post cards actually exist; Orcas like me; there is nothing wrong with shark omelets for breakfast; Norwegians are cool; but most of all, more people are crazy not to sail here. 

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