More things taken by Germans

In Berlin I visited the Pergamon Museum. The primary attraction of the museum are a pile of statues taken from the Temple of Zeus (and the stairs, pillars and altar) from Pergamon in Asia Minor. I never gave much consideration as to whether I would see the place from whence they came.

The view from Pergamon

The same day we went to Troy we took the long, winding road up to Pergamon, high above the countryside. Pergamon was built as a center of religion and culture, rather than commerce. It's position made it difficult to get to, but it had rich patrons and attracted the elite of Asia Minor.

The view of no river

Like the other ancient cities we visited, Pergamon suffered a number of earthquakes. These, combined with the silting of the Caicus and the growth of Ephesus, led to its demise.

Pergamon was the first place I have seen a proper Acropolis. Though the altar was taken by the Germans, the layout of the Acropolis is still clear today. I was interested in the way the marble structures were built; the foundations of the building were of heavy stone, with a marble facade, and not of solid marble slabs.

Once I saw this, it seemed obvious. Who would build foundations out of marble?

Acropolis: Note the change in colour of the stones

But the decorative sections, the pillars and carvings, were all done in marble.

It took us, in our bus, a long time to wind back and forth across the mountain to reach the city; I can only imagine what a hassle it would have been in ancient times. Nevertheless, the view from the top was stunning. If the day had been less hazy, we might have seen to the sea.

Pillars and the marble facade

It was an eight hour day, with a lot of time spent in the sun and the heat, and we were all exhausted when we reached Kuşadası. The most impressive ancient city, Ephesus, had to wait for the morning.

This must be what Skyrim feels like

They say that in the south of Norway it rains more than 300 days a year. This has been a particularly wet year. I woke up in Stavanger and it was raining. I had breakfast and it was raining. I checked the ferry timetable and it was raining.

I went to Stavanger with the purpose of seeing the Pulpit Rock. No way was rain going to stop me. When a break in the weather came I jumped on a ferry, caught the bus and started a hike that over 150,000 tourists make every year. Many of them with their dogs.

Wooden path, not raining - so far so good.

The path was mostly made of rocks. When it was flat I stepped or jumped from one to the next, but more often than not it seemed to be going straight up or down and I realised, in a moment of nerdy shock, that this must be how my Skyrim character feels.

Sorry, Knut. You're a trooper.

A ways into the trek there was a signpost indicating that the marked path (spray-painted arrows) split in two - cliff path and hill path.

Does anybody pick the hill path? Does it even really exist? I have no idea.

Around the cliff path it became clear that the clouds, which had held off for most of my journey, would not hold off much longer.

Bit of weather coming in

With such a clear destination in mind (the rock, always the rock) it was tricky to take the time out to enjoy the views on the way up.

Not at Pulpit Rock yet, so not allowed to enjoy this

The last hundred meters or so were the most interesting. At one stage the path fell away, with a single rocky outcrop, only a few inches wide, provided the only foothold to cross. It was scary for me, difficult for people with shorter legs, and very interesting for those who had brought their dogs.

But it was all worth it for the spectacular Pulpit Rock...

...can you see it?

Six hundred meters straight up and completely encased in fog. In a rain cloud.

I took a few photos from the edge but they came out white. No view at all. A little to my left was a girl lying with her hands out over the space.

"Move forward," her boyfriend called. He was holding a camera. "It doesn't look like you're over."
"I'm not going forwards or backwards," she said. "I'm not moving anywhere."
"It's not much of a photo," he said.

As they pulled themselves upright I asked if they would mind taking my photo.

"Why don't I get one from over there?" Tiff offered. I agreed.
I sat on the edge with my feet out over... nothing. Tiff took a photo and checked the result. "Hang on a sec," she called. "I want to get another one."

Take the photo take the photo take the photo take the photo...

The record will show that I've sat in a similar spot on the Grand Canyon. This was a completely different experience. There is nothing beneath you, nothing at all. With the fog all around us, if somebody slipped off the edge they would just... disappear.

For scale; the white streak is a passing tour boat

Kyan and Tiff and I went exploring around the hill and found some spots where the cloud had cleared to get some better shots.

Just to prove I was somewhere awesome

It rained harder on the way back down. By the time I reached the bottom I was drenched, but happy that I had made the journey. In the forty minutes I had until the bus arrived, I amused myself by taking photos of the car park.

This isn't even scenery. This is just where I caught the bus.

I was exhausted. The pamphlet had said it was an eight hour round journey, but I was back inside six. I got a pizza to eat in my room (it was a really good pizza, they seem to make really good pizza in Norway), watched the Olympics, made some waffles (love these hotels) and went to bed.

Some things seen while running in Bergen

I ran up a hill and took some photos. Here's the harbour.

The city center

As the record shows, I don't take a funicular if walking is an option. Look at all these suckers.

Hm, that's interesting

...oh no

I stumbled into a haunted troll forest. Always a risk in Norway.

But I escaped! And took more photos on my way down.