Here is the other side of Geirangerfjord, the one the tour brochures skip. High above the water, on the mountain called Åkneset, a huge slab of rock is slowly sliding towards the fjord. Tens of millions of cubic metres of it are monitored day and night by sensors, because if it ever fell in one go it could send a wave through the narrow fjord and the village at its head. The danger is real, the monitoring is serious, and the local authorities have plans for evacuation. It is the sort of fact that puts the postcard in a different light.
The same geology made the view. The fjord is a drowned glacial valley, cut deep by ice during the cold ages and flooded as the sea rose, and its walls are bare gneiss streaked with waterfalls. Farms such as Skageflå were built on shelves where there is no real reason to build, and the paths that reached them were so steep that people used ladders. You can still see a few of the ruins from the water, which makes you wonder about the people who lived there.
For a rider, the roads in are famous. From the south the road climbs through a high bare plateau, then plunges down in tight bends to the village. From the north, the Eagle Road comes in with a series of hairpins and a view that makes motorists stop in a row. A ferry also connects the fjord with Hellesylt, and another crosses the Norddalsfjord, so planning around timetables is part of the day. The roads are usually closed by snow in winter, and open again around May, though high stretches may stay closed longer. Heavy traffic in July can slow you to a crawl on the narrow sections.
Services are limited. Stranda, about twenty-four kilometres away, is the nearest town with a proper choice of fuel and food, and Stryn is farther again. The village at the water has seasonal shops and cafes, but you should arrive with plenty in the tank and use the ferry stops to eat.
Aim for early morning, when the cruise ships are not yet in and the mist rises from the water. That is when the fjord feels as old as it is.