Norway in a Nutshell: Traversing Snow-Capped Mountains, Fjords, and Waterfalls to Discover the World's Most Beautiful Landscapes.
If Copenhagen is a fairy tale and Oslo is a melodic poem, then the journey ahead is an epic written by nature itself.
"Norway in a Nutshell" is a classic route that many consider a once-in-a-lifetime must-do, and we finally welcomed the most anticipated day of our entire Nordic trip.
At 7:00 AM, the sky was still a pale, grayish blue.
After breakfast, we wheeled our luggage into Oslo Central Station to catch the train to Myrdal. On the platform, people waited quietly. There were no massive crowds, no urgent overhead announcements—just the sound of the train gliding to a halt right on schedule.
As the train pulled out of Oslo, the scenery outside our window began to shift.
The flat cityscape was soon replaced by dense forests, followed by expanses of frozen lakes. The further west we traveled, the higher the elevation climbed, and the thicker the snow became.
Soon, the entire world was reduced to dark pine trees, pristine snowfields, and the occasional red wooden cabin.
Those pops of bright red were particularly striking against the pure white backdrop, creating a scene that felt quintessentially Norwegian.
Along the way, I could hardly bear to blink.
Because every passing minute framed a completely different picture outside the window.
One moment, the train would plunge into a pitch-black tunnel, only to emerge into a breathtaking, wide-open vista the next. Sometimes, we crawled along the edge of a sheer gorge with a seemingly bottomless river valley below. Other times, snow-capped peaks stood quietly in the distance, glistening silver under the sun.
It turns out that the train ride itself is a journey to be savored.
Around noon, we arrived at Myrdal Station, sitting at an elevation of over 800 meters.
There were no bustling shops or frantic crowds here—just a few train tracks crisscrossing amid the snowy peaks.
A few minutes later, the real star of the day slowly pulled into the station.
The red-and-green Flåm Railway (Flåmsbana).
Spanning just 20 kilometers, this route is hailed as one of the world's most beautiful mountain railways and ranks among the steepest standard-gauge tracks on the globe.
The train slowly began to move.
Unlike the swift long-distance train we had just been on, it rolled at a leisurely pace, as if intentionally giving us time to soak in every inch of the view.
Steep rock faces began to rise outside the window.
Meltwater streams rushed violently down the slopes, while waterfalls cascaded from cliffs hundreds of meters high, their mist catching the sunlight to form delicate rainbows.
The train descended steadily through the valley.
In just one short hour, we transitioned from a snow-blanketed wonderland to a small village tucked beside a fjord.
The most unforgettable moment of the ride was the Kjosfossen waterfall.
The train made a special stop for several minutes, allowing all passengers to step out onto the viewing platform.
The massive falls roared down the cliffside, the deafening sound echoing through the valley as icy mist sprayed our faces. Just as everyone was busy snapping photos, ethereal music drifted from the mountainside, and a woman in a red dress appeared near the rushing water, dancing gracefully.
She was Huldra—a forest spirit from Norse mythology.
This brief, enchanting performance added a layer of mystical allure to the snowy mountains.
When the train chugged forward again, people kept looking back, half-hoping the spirit would reappear.
In the afternoon, we arrived in Flåm.
This tiny village of just a few hundred residents sits snugly beside Aurlandsfjord, a branch of the Sognefjord, which is the longest and deepest fjord in the world.
No skyscrapers. No traffic.
Just snowy peaks, the fjord, and small boats quietly bobbing in the harbor.
The village was so peaceful that the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.
Instead of rushing to our next stop, we took our time strolling by the harbor.
The fjord before us was as smooth as glass, perfectly reflecting the towering, hundreds-of-meters-high cliffs on either side. The peaks were still capped with heavy snow, yet the foothills were wrapped in lush green forests. It felt as though all four seasons were captured in a single painting.
That night, we stayed in a small wooden cabin right by the water.
As the sun slowly set, the sky faded from pale blue to cotton-candy pink, and finally to a deep violet.
There was no city neon—only a sky blanketed in stars.
Opening the window, the crisp, icy air carried the briny scent of the fjord right to my face. The faint cry of a seabird echoed in the distance. In that moment, time seemed to stand still.
The next morning, we boarded a ferry, officially setting sail into the world's most stunning fjords.
The boat slowly pulled away from the dock.
The towering cliffs on either side drew closer, with some sections rising almost vertically for nearly a thousand meters.
Waterfalls spilled from the peaks, hanging like threads of silver against the rock faces. Occasionally, we’d spot a solitary wooden cabin clinging to the steep slopes, leaving us to wonder who could possibly live in such magnificent isolation.
The ferry navigated through Aurlandsfjord and into the UNESCO World Heritage-listed Nærøyfjord.
At its narrowest point, the shores were only a few hundred meters apart. Looking up, the sheer mountains nearly swallowed the entire sky.
This wasn't an ocean.
It felt more like a colossal valley carved out by ancient glaciers.
Tens of thousands of years ago, glaciers thousands of meters thick slowly pushed their way through, carving out the awe-inspiring fjord landscapes we see today. Now, humans are merely passing travelers in their wake.
After docking in Gudvangen, we transferred to a bus.
The bus climbed steadily up winding mountain roads, treating us to a relentless reel of waterfalls, lakes, and snow-capped peaks. The driver navigated the twists with expert precision; every turn felt like flipping to a brand-new postcard.
Before long, we arrived in Voss, where we caught a train heading for Bergen.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the train wove through forests and past glassy lakes.
In the distance, small towns began to glow with warm lights, signaling that our journey was nearing its end.
By evening, we finally pulled into Norway’s second-largest city: Bergen.
Stepping out of the station, we were immediately greeted by the salty tang of the ocean breeze.
Fishing boats were docked in the harbor, and the iconic wooden houses of Bryggen stood in neat rows. Bathed in the warm yellow glow of the streetlamps, the timber structures made it feel as though we’d stepped straight into a medieval Hanseatic port.
After two days of trains, ferries, buses, and railways, we had finally completed what is widely celebrated as the most beautiful journey in the world.
Many people describe "Norway in a Nutshell" as a transit route.
But to me, it felt far more like an intimate dialogue with nature.
No man-made structure could ever rival the grandeur of those snowy peaks; no painter could truly capture the profound depths of the fjords; and no photograph could ever replicate the sheer awe of standing on that deck, watching the rushing waterfalls, the mirrored mountains, and the clouds drifting across the summits.
To this day, I still remember that pristine, almost surreal landscape.
And I finally understand why people say: "If you only visit Norway once in your lifetime, you have to do Norway in a Nutshell."
But our journey isn't over yet.
Next stop: Tromsø, at 70 degrees north latitude.
There, the Northern Lights we’ve been dreaming of are waiting.