Ryfylke Refresher

Norway, a place I had barely heard of. Sweden? Of course. Denmark? Princess Mary lives there. Norway, not so much.
I met a boy in London who wanted to show me his Scandinavian home and I jumped at a chance to put Norway to my travel test. I was ready for the usual, show me a church, bring on a palace and don’t forget the sculptures.
He suggested driving to Ryfylke in west Norway and hiking to Preikestolen or Preacher’s Pulpit. I was intrigued when we arrived at the bottom of an average trail 25 kilometres from the city of Stavanger. Tourist hat on and camera ready, I took off behind him.
We climbed a steady, vertical pace for hours. My London speed-walk was useless here, and it didn’t help my ego that young children were bounding past, scampering up the sharp rocks with ease.
Finally reaching the top I was greeted with a flat expanse of rocky ground and icy, refreshing wind whipped my red-raw ears. This would clear the cobwebs but I was curious, what happy-snap gold could I find 604 metres up here?
A handful of steps further, I was met with the most breathtaking sight I have ever seen. I was suddenly standing on a large cliff face with a smooth, straight drop to the calm, cobalt fjord winding below.
Every cliché hit me like another smack from the freezing wind. I was standing on the edge of the world, without a barrier to stop me falling into it.
Encouraged to inch my way to the edge, I managed to dangle my feet over while praying a strong breeze wouldn’t send me to an early grave. It was terrifying and exhilarating. I managed to take a moment to admire the bare, cracked mountains surrounding us. It seemed like a beautiful, fractured gauntlet stretching endlessly.
I’m always ready for a tourist trap but what my travel companion opened my eyes to was heaven, danger, majestic scenery and his beautiful country. The experience of being on top of the world and feeling so insignificant at once, refreshed my spirit and whisked away the travel complacency that can creep in.