It’s a miracle Europe’s most breathtaking mountain pass exists at all

For a sparsely populated country on the roof of the planet, Norway boasts a surprising range of superlatives. Such as being home to the world’s longest road tunnel, the 24.5-kilometre Laerdal Tunnel; Europe’s tallest waterfall, the 860-metre-high Vinnufossen; and the most electric vehicles per capita – a particularly intriguing fact given the country’s wealth came from oil and gas.

We will experience many of these record-breaking credentials during this eight-day tour from Oslo to Bergen with Scandinavian specialist 50 Degrees North. But for many of our 10-strong group, today’s offering will be the highlight, driving over Sognefjellet, Northern Europe’s highest mountain pass, a 108-kilometre ribbon of tarmac that squirms its way from the picturesque town of Lom up and over a 1434-metre-high plateau and then down to the dramatic Sognefjord, one of the world’s longest and deepest fjords.

Not that we’ll be driving, of course. That task is being handled by Hugne, an unflappable Norwegian whose sparse, pithy commentary proves to be an entertaining addition to the tour.

After leaving Lom, we head into the Boverdalen valley, following Scenic Route 55 as it skirts the raging, glacial-fed Bovra River. The road soon starts to meander upwards, ascending through a lush, steep-sided ravine dotted with traditional sod-roofed farmhouses and punctuated by towering waterfalls.

Vegaskjelet is our first stop, the first of a succession of increasingly spectacular and difficult to pronounce viewpoints, where we try in vain to capture with our phones the majesty of the region’s sweeping valleys and a horizon studded with soaring, glacier-encrusted peaks.

Given that the area is blanketed by several metres of snow every winter, it’s a miracle that the road exists at all. Before it was completed in 1938, hardy locals would still make the crossing, using a system of stone cairns to navigate through the snow-smothered landscape. Even with today’s high-tech snowploughs, the route is still closed between November and May.

As we continue to climb, the road snakes through a slalom of three-metre-high snow poles, bordered by plunging valley walls and waterfalls gushing down jet-black rocky escarpments. At one stage, the route is blocked by a trio of sheep, who only move once we’re almost on top of them. “Lunch,” comments Hugne.