“Well, the Earth Mark Two in fact,” said Slartibartfast cheerfully. “We’re making a copy from our original blueprints.” There was a pause. “Are you trying to tell me,” said Arthur, slowly and with control, “that you originally…made the Earth?” “Oh yes,” said Slartibartfast. “Did you ever go to a place…I think it was called Norway?” “No,” said Arthur, “no, I didn’t.” “Pity,” said Slartibartfast, “that was one of mine. Won an award, you know. Lovely crinkly edges. I was most upset to hear of its destruction.”

From The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

I thought taking a solo road trip would exempt me from bickering in the car. Wrong! Siri and I are barely speaking now. By “Siri”, I’m referring to my iPhone’s GPS system, who persistently reminded me to “proceed to the route.” But I wouldn’t. I mean, I would… eventually. I kept taking detours; I couldn’t help myself. And can you blame me?

I’m currently in Hovden — a stop on the way to my next destination in southern Norway. My “three and a half-hour” drive here from Ulvik took about double that time because of my inability to stay on the path. But I don’t regret a single detour.

Norway is, by most reckonings, a small country. I’m still on speaking terms with Google, who says that Norway ranks 62nd in terms of land mass. But looks can be deceiving. My map sure was. Maps are two dimensional and don’t account for elevation — the “lovely crinkly edges”. And Norway is very crinkly.

For example, check out this road…

It seems to turn back on itself because I was hurtling down a mountain. And by down, I really mean “down and through” because most of this loopy road was tunnel. Oh, that’s the other thing maps don’t tell you — the extent to which Norwegian mountain roads are underground.

After going through roughly a hundred tunnels and at least a hundred roundabouts (Norwegian road planners love roundabouts, apparently), Norway decided I was ready for my first tunnel roundabout. (!)

At first the tunnels freaked me out… until I realized that at least in the tunnels I rarely met the dreaded “road narrows” sign. The key word in that last sentence is “rarely”. I’ve now learned that there are a few tunnels here with two-way traffic on what would pass for a bike path in America. When you meet another car on a road like this — say, in a dark twisty tunnel or on the steep ledge of a windy fjord — you do your best to find a bulge in the pavement and squeeze by one another. And when you meet a camper van, motor home or big rig truck, you do the same — and pray.

Speaking of prayer, my second-favorite detour today was visiting the Røldal stavkirke. Built in about 1275, the church has a magical quality. The crucifix hanging above the nave is associated with a large number of miracles.

But my favorite detour of the day has to be Odda — the charming town at the end of a long, narrow road along the fjord, where I was able to buy weather-appropriate footwear.

Now, at this point you must be wondering how that can be better than all of the waterfalls, mountains, fjords, churches, etc. But, dear reader, you have no idea. I’ve been going through four pairs of socks a day since Saturday.