— When does the last ferry to the island depart?

— Seems like at 21:00.

We’ve got an hour and a half and our route includes a ferry. So, it is 35 minutes by ferry, the rest is by car. If we are at the ferry in 15 minutes without killing ourselves, we will be on time.

We’re rushing through narrow, twisting Norwegian roads. It is good that we’ve already got down from the mountains by the Trolls’ Path and now there’s no serpentine. Frightening away local Teslas, we reach the ferry parking. Next is to insert the card into the ticket man’s belt terminal. “Come on, guys, you are the last ones. We depart!” – he says.

Thirty-five minutes respite while the ferry is taking us from Vestnes to Molde. It is possible to take a breath and try, despite shivering hands, to make some pictures of the mountains, which are rising from the grey ripple of med fjord.

The smell of burnt rubber and superheated brakes pursues us after we left the ferry. Hit the gas! We’re flying through the bridges of the most beautiful road in the world (according to the Norwegian marketers) aka The Atlantic Road, shouting, “no death, motherfucker!”

— Where is the fucking parking and the fucking marina?

Oh well, not even a marina, just a pier for two small boats. There’s one in its place. Phew! Seems like we made it! The descendant of local fishermen, huge, tow-haired, bearded and tattooed man was dozing in the captain’s chair.

— Man, here we are! Are you waiting for us? Hurrah, we are on time!

— You didn’t have to hurry, guys. I would wait for you anyway. No problem.

— But on the website, it was written that …

In short, fools are we!

A boat is taking us to a small island, it doesn’t take long. We’ve left the sea behind and now are on the North Atlantic. There’s a typical Norwegian fishing village on the island. Red wooden houses with turf roofs, a shed for boats, a pier, gangways, nets, oyster traps. Besides modern yachts and boats of different calibers, there is an authentic wood boat moored at the pier. Exactly on this one mad Norwegians managed to reach Australia (Thor Heyerdahl is not their only hero!).

The former fishing village with the buildings, which have remained since the 17th century is converted into a 50-room hotel with a restaurant and a pub (the restaurant and the pub are two different institutions).

Having thrown things into the room in traditional Norwegian style, we decided to have something to eat and drink. Necessary after a long journey.

Aha, a proper drop in! (c)

On the menu, there is fish and seafood bastards from the nearby waters, moose meat, boar meat and other local specialties. Traditional Norwegian cuisine, not without refinement, but without siphon, nitrogen and sous-vide.

Everything is THE FRESHEST. No wonder, it all was in the sea this morning with hopes for the well-off old age.

First, fish with crabs under crunchy Riesling in the restaurant, then the Norwegian IPA with moose meat in the pub. And, to sleep under the noise of the ocean. Tomorrow we have to reach Trondheim.