Norway 2024, part 14 (Uvdal, Imingfjell mountain area, Lake Tinn, Rjukan)
In Uvdal, there are two wooden churches, but they are not equally significant. I came here primarily to see the Uvdal Stave Church (Uvdal stavkirke) that is located on a hillside and requires taking a local road off the main route between Nore and Uvdal.
The wooden stave church in Uvdal is considered an important cultural monument due to its age and it is one of 28 similar wooden churches with that status. These churches were built using staves, large wooden posts that serve as supporting columns, hence the name for this type of church.
The other wooden church in Uvdal is located right next to the main road, in the centre of the village, but it is considered a “modern” church. I visited it later.
For now, I headed towards the Uvdal Stave Church, which I knew was not seasonally open, but that was certainly not a reason not to take the local road leading uphill. It turned out that I did the right thing. The church was still closed, but the view of it, the open-air museum with traditional village buildings made of wooden logs and planks, and the valley was exceptional.
While walking towards the church, I first noted the traditional wooden houses that can be seen here. Everything was exceptionally picturesque.
As for the church, I was momentarily worried about whether the gate was open, but there was no need for concern – nothing was locked (except the door leading into the church), so I was able to walk around easily.
The church was originally built after 1168, but was expanded several times to accommodate more people. This church, like the one in Nore, has a Greek cross plan, and due to the uniqueness of this style in Scandinavia, it has a special name – the Nummedals-type, named after the Numedal valley where these churches are located.
Since it was closed, I could only walk around it and examine a few details.
The entire interior of the church is exceptionally richly decorated, especially with murals. I could see this for myself by peeking through a few windows that were accessible to me.
When I finished the circle around the church, I took more photos of it, as well as of the beautiful view of the Numedal valley stretching east to west.
Then I retraced my steps back to the car, closing the gate behind me.
However, I was exceptionally filled with a sense of satisfaction here and this turned into inspiration and a desire to entertain myself further. Thus, we arrive at Mlog No. 9. This time, it’s Solveig's Song by the Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg (1843-1907). I had already explained the details about this song (see: https://svudapodji.com/en/norway-11/) while writing about sailing the fjords near Bergen, but the song came to my mind again here, so I sang it with all the la-la-la. There are many better performances of this beautiful song, but that should never stop anyone from having a good fun.
I took another photo of the Uvdal Stave Church complex and then I was able to continue on.
Then I descended the local road that led me to the main road and the “modern” Uvdal church I have already mentioned. It is also made of wood, but to distinguish it from the smaller, significantly older one on the hillside, it does not have the term "stave" in its name. It was consecrated in 1893 and was thoroughly restored in the mid-20th century.
Here, too, I simply walked around the church, examining some details, and then returned to the car to continue my journey.
Now I was ready to head to the final destination for the day, which was the town of Rjukan, located about 80 km from Uvdal. I quickly turned off the main road leading to the town of Geilo and soon found myself on a winding road. Just 20 minutes later, I was in the snowy realm of the Imingfjell mountain area. Fortunately, I soon came across a pull-out along the road where I could park and peacefully admire the beauty of the snowy expanse on a perfectly sunny day.
I even climbed up onto a stone wall to get a better view of the surroundings.
But, I didn’t stay long because I needed to move on. The whole time I was thinking about how lucky I was that the weather was sunny and dry. If it had been cloudy, there might have been fog at this altitude, or it could have rained or snowed, which would have significantly made my drive more difficult and slower. As it was, the drive was a real pleasure!
As can be seen in the previous photo, here as well, just like on the Hallingskarv plateau, where I passed a few hours earlier, there are houses, but they were almost all surrounded by deep snow.
Some are, however, built right beside the road, so access to them is easier.
Here, too, in several places, I saw parked cars where no one was around, so I again assumed that the owners had gone out for Nordic skiing, which is very popular throughout Scandinavia. It was indeed a shame to miss out on such a beautiful day.
I didn’t go skiing, but I truly enjoyed the drive, while soon enough the road began to descend. This was evident from the change in vegetation, too.
There were also more frequent signs of human habitation and at one point I noticed a traditionally built wooden cabin, as well as something that looked like a small sawmill.
The sawmill didn’t surprise me too much, as I was driving through forests, but I must admit I was a bit shocked when I saw the hillsides with fallen trees.
In some places, I passed by houses as well as by what were clearly commercial buildings, likely for processing timber. I still hardly saw anyone, but this time around, it seemed somewhat normal since it was Sunday afternoon.
Now I could only see snow on the mountain peaks, but I still greatly enjoyed the drive. I usually don’t have any strong feelings about driving; I see it practically – if I need to go somewhere by car, I just drive and that’s it. However, here I really enjoyed driving. Perhaps it was also because I hardly encountered any other cars on the road, so I could be completely relaxed and enjoy the spectacularly beautiful day.
Then the road took me to Lake Tinn (Tinnsjå), which, with an area of over 51 sq. km, is one of the largest lakes in Norway. It is also one of the deepest lakes in Europe, with a maximum depth of 460 meters.
In April, the sun sets slowly in Northern Europe, so I didn’t have to worry about whether I would reach my final destination before dark. After all, I was only about 30 km from the town of Rjukan, where I had booked a room.
Along the way, I passed by another of the many waterfalls that exist in Norway.
Here is the map that shows where I drove on this day:
The main reason I came here is that Rjukan, along with the town of Notodden, which is about 75 km away, is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site for its industrial heritage. The industry in these areas developed in the early 20th century, when the demand for agricultural products began to rise in the Western world, creating a need for artificial fertilisers. It was here that the Norsk Hydro Company started producing artificial fertiliser from nitrogen found in the air.
To support this, hydroelectric plants, power lines, factories and transportation systems – including railways and ferries to ports where the fertiliser was loaded – were built in the region, along with towns. Buildings were constructed for the worker housing and all the necessary institutions in order to ensure the smooth functioning of the area. All of this illustrates how the new global industry developed in the early 20th century.
Even at the entrance to the town, you can see details that confirm all of this.
Since Rjukan was essentially built "from scratch" in the early decades of the 20th century, many of its accompanying institutions are relatively recent as well. For example, the Rjukan Church that was consecrated in 1915.
I drove to the guesthouse where I had booked a room two months earlier. As I approached the parking area, I saw that part of the guesthouse, including the main entrance, was under renovation, so I went to some side door. There was a note saying: "We closed at 6 PM. Here’s a phone number, please call us." The number listed was unclear to me – whether it was a mobile or landline, or if it required a local prefix, and what the prefix for Norway was. I didn’t have internet, but I did have roaming in case of an emergency.
Still, I first I went to a small kebab restaurant nearby, explained my situation, while the owner helped me by telling me that it was a mobile phone number and what the dialling code for Norway was. I sent a message and then waited for a few minutes. A man appeared, gave me the key to the side door and to my room, and then left. I was completely alone in the guesthouse.
After settling into the guesthouse, I even had time to take a walk around the town. Although most of Rjukan was in shadow and the sun was behind the horizon defined by mountain peaks, it hadn’t officially set yet, so it was still technically "daytime."
The town seemed incredibly empty, but that might not be surprising – it was cold and it was Sunday evening. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in a ghost town.
I went to the main square in town, where you can find the municipal building and the city library (at least that’s what was written on the front facade).
However, in this part of the town, the most prominent feature was the hydroelectric power plant on the opposite bank of the local river, the Måna.
I photographed it along with the monument to Sam Eyde (1866-1940), one of the founders of the Norsk Hydro Company.
Speaking of monuments, near the main square there is also a monument to Gunnar Sønsteby (1918-2012), who was a member of the Norwegian resistance movement during WWII and who is the Norwegian with the highest honours in the country.
I also photographed some buildings that I believe were constructed for workers around a hundred years ago, as they have uniformed appearance.
Now, I was finally able to go eat something at one of the few places open, which was a local restaurant. I didn’t have great choice, but in the end, I was full and content.
By the way, after I had already decided to visit Rjukan, I realised there was another interesting reason to come to this sleepy town. It’s known for a unique feature: Rjukan is located at the bottom of a narrow river valley and is surrounded by high mountains. The valley is so narrow and the surrounding mountains so high that, during the winter months (from September to March), the town doesn’t receive any direct sunlight. Of course, on clear days, the sunlit mountain peaks are visible, but the town remains in shadow.
To address this, a decision was made to place large mirrors on a suitable spot on the mountain top to reflect sunlight onto the town. This was done in 2013, but it’s not a fixture that illuminates the entire town; rather, it only reflects light onto the main square. Ultimately, it’s an artistic project.
I arrived in the second half of April, which was well into spring, so the mirrors didn’t need to be in operation while the next morning, direct sunlight streamed through the window of the room where I was staying. It was my last day in Norway on this trip.