"Scenic splendour sets the tone in this enchanting port of call,

idyllically set at the top of the innermost arm of Nordsfjord",says the ship's guide to Olden.Dress it up as you may, once you have seen one mountain with one waterfall running down one rock,you have seen them all.And when the fog envelopes you and the rain comes down as if there was no tomorrow,jazz it up as you will, nothing washes.And yet-the continuous panoramas become overwhelming in one enchanting wonderment.Mountains come to the water's edge of both sides of the fjord,the odd house clinging for dear life to the rocks.And from a distance you cannot make out a road needed to live in the dwelling and you ask yourself-how do they survive in the depths of winter?Only the closest of relationships can endure and it must be closeness out of choice.Olden,1000 inhabitants,makes up with other small settlements the township of Stryn with a total population of 6850.We docked at Olden at the strangest of times-5pm.It was spitting then,several hours later it began to rain hard and the following day it was pouring mercilessly.No respite.I went for a long,long walk.It seemed even longer than it actually was.