Playing with baby goats in Flåm
With our fjord ride from Bergen over, we arrive in Flåm, a small village surrounded by mountains covered in greenery and streaked with waterfalls. The village sits at the end of the Aurlandsfjord in Norway, and is home to everything a tourist needs: hotels, gift shops, restaurants, and a train station.
We off board, cameras already pointed up in every direction, trying to capture the magic of this Neverland, to freeze its perfection in time so that the moment may never die. Many tourists around us spread out toward the higher end hostels or toward the restaurants and gift shops. We walk across the river down the road to Flåm Camping og Vandrarheim, a series of shared cabins, kind of like a hostel.
There is a small detached office, like a ticket booth, at the front of the property. The glass is covered in stickers and small signs. A couple in backpacking gear stand infront of us, waiting to check in. Behind the office, to the left are a series of small cabins. People gather around barbecues and picnic tables, and children play on creaking swing sets.
The party is in full swing…
The hostel manager hands us our keys and directs us in the direction of our cabin. I confirm that we have our own room before stepping away. I’m more than a little nervous about staying in hostels ever since I saw a horror film about one and my view of them has never been the same.
Our room is small, but clean. It has two bunk beds, one on each wall and a large window with only the bottom half covered in drapes. We set our stuff down, lock our door, and leave to go exploring.
We wander near the water’s edge as the sun moves lower in the sky, hiding behind the now deep purple mountains. We snap more photos and skip rocks before going in search of our dinner.
We dine on hearty red meat, mashed potatoes slathered in gravy, and cooked mixed veggies. As we wander back to our hostel, with the eternal sunset light, we notice the party has only grown.
Off to our left was a wired fence with a short step later leaning against it. A sign read “Feel free to climb in and play with the baby goats”.
We looked at each other and nodded. When else would we have this chance?
In the pen are five small goats, some white, some black. All of them were busy with their heads buried at the base of a small tree with it’s bottom third bare of leaves, their tails wiggling back and forth as they strained to nibble away on leaves and blossoms just out of reach.
We sit down next to the goats and ty to pet them, and they immediately climb in our laps trying to get higher up on the tree. A few other hostel campers join us and get on all fours, inviting the goats to climb on their backs.
If you look anything like a horizontal surface,
a baby goat will find ways to climb you…
We spent the next half hour acting like furniture with our new four legged friends. Our hostel mates begin picking up the goats and holding them while the goats munched on the taller tree branches.
The hostel manager walks up to the pen and says in an exasperated voice, “please don’t feed the goats the rest of my apple blossoms. I won’t have any apples left!”
We freeze, looking at the tree and back to the goats in our arms. A guilty smile forming on our faces.
We set the goats back on the ground and they scurry away back toward the tree.
“We should probably go to bed” Jeremy says as we make our way over the fence.
Outside our window, the sun is still up, and the campers are still out playing music and drinking as the children run around. I looked at my watch, realizing it was 11 pm. We lay down in our bunks and try to fall asleep, but the light streams in through the uncovered portion of the window right onto our faces.
”It’s going to be a long night” Jeremy says as he rolls over.
Sleep does eventually come, but not before I replay the whole morning and afternoon eating, wandering along the fjord’s edge and ending our day playing with baby goats.
