I'VE BEEN to HELL and BACK!

I found myself at Oslo some time ago with a weekend to spare. My Norwegian friends urged me to take a rail trip up north to Norwegian State Railways' (Nordlandsbanen) very last railway station serving the small seaside town named Bodo.

Well, I had a Eurailpass in my pocket - and this is something I'll always recommend for travelers to Europe for two reasons. One, it allows travel by First Class, and that's wonderfully comfortable, specially for overnight trips. Two, a railway station is often located in the heart of town, so you reach the city centre straightaway and do away with a long and expensive ride from the airport.

It was only after I had ensconced myself in a Nordlandsbaden First Class window seat for the day journey and began reading the leaflet I'd picked up at the tourism counter that I realized the bounty I'd let myself in for. The first lap from Oslo to Trondheim was going to be a bit humdrum. But after that, the four-hour journey north from Trondheim to Bodo promised a memorable experience.

I was going to Hell! Literally and incredibly. Halfway on the journey our train was going to stop for 30 minutes at a townlet called, of all things, Hell. Not only I, but all foreigners on board were agog with excitement at the prospect of going to Hell. The great moment came soon enough. The train lumbered to a halt and disgorged a whole load of sinners like me onto the low, modest platform of Hell station.

The station building is cute and picturesque. It is over a hundred years old, having been opened in 1902. The station has only two platforms and doesn't seem to be busy at all but I learnt, to my surprise, that Hell station is a junction serving three regional lines in Stordal district. There was time for a quick walk down the lane for a peek into Hell village. The path was flower-lined and all homes had flower bedecked gardens. I looked hither and thither but there was certainly no sign of the proverbial hell-fires to which sinners are condemned!

But why this name? The explanation is so simple it made us laugh. The name derives from Old Norse hellir, which means 'cave'. In present Norwegian, hell means 'luck'. It's as simple - and charming - as that.

We bid goodbye to Hell and trundled along soon enough. It wasn't long before another frisson of excitement swept the train. We were approaching the Arctic Circle and were going to cross it! The Arctic Circle is the parallel of latitude that runs at 66 degrees 33 minutes and 39 seconds and marks the southernmost latitude (in the Northern Hemisphere) at which the sun can remain continuously above or below the horizon for 24 hours. As we all know, the region north of this circle is known as the Arctic. I realized with a shock that our destination, Bodo, is in the Arctic where the sun never sets!

Our crossing of the Arctic Circle was a bit of an anti-climax. Our train was moving very fast and though the Arctic Circle is marked we went past at considerable speed. It was a case of here this moment, gone the next. If you fly across the International Dateline the airlines give you a certificate to that effect. Sadly for us, Norwegian Railways offers no such souvenir for those who cross the Arctic Circle on board its trains. So you'll just have to take my word for it.

It was late afternoon when I reached Bodo, so the sun was still nice and high above the horizon. I checked in for a night's stay at a modest hotel near the station and went out for a walkabout and a meal. I found myself childishly looking at my wristwatch every five minutes! When would the bewitching hour be struck?

The light began to grow dimmer as the evening progressed and my excitement correspondingly mounted. As midnight approached there certainly wasn't any bright sunlight as we know it but it was more like dusk. I then understood. The sun might not actually set but midnight is more like the twilight of sunset. But it's true neither sky nor earth is dark.

What a marvelous day! Not one or two but as many as three incredible experiences all on a single day, I thought to myself as I climbed into the First Class Sleeper coach of the last train from Bodo to Oslo. (It leaves after midnight so tourists who have stayed up can use it.) I slept as we slipped into the dark night, crossed the Arctic Circle and cruised past Hell. Didn't I want to stay up? Of course not, I'd already seen it, done that.

On Sunday, I steamed into Oslo, safe and sound. I'd been to Hell ... and back.

END