Over the Edge, Norway Unfolds

High above the waters of the Lysefjord, Pulpit Rock offers spectacular views. More than 90,000 people a year make the two-hour trek to the overlook. (By Casper Tybjerg -- Innovasjon Norge)

In summer, a bus runs to the Preikestolen trail head from Tau, the town where the ferry from Stavanger docks. I arrived a few weeks after that bus had stopped running. Joyce had to work, so I borrowed her minivan and gingerly navigated my way through Stavanger's roundabouts to the ferry, where my vehicle was squeezed in like the sardines in the canning museum I'd visited the day before. From Tau, it's about a half-hour drive to the trail head.

It cost $10 for parking and $40 roundtrip for the ferry, but the view was worth it.

For hikers who have time to linger in the area, there's a lodge that's part of Norway's hut system. But that, too, was closed to the public for the season. (Preikestolen and its related trails are on land owned by the Stavanger hiking association.)

From the lodge, the trail rises about 1,000 feet as it winds for about two miles through trees, a marsh and lots of rocky outcroppings.

For short stretches, the path seemed almost like a slate floor. But more often I had to watch my feet as I picked my way over the rocks. One particularly steep section involved clambering from boulder to boulder.

That strenuous climb took me to a saddle, where I was rewarded with a small glimpse of the upper reaches of the Lysefjord.

Preikestolen is a popular place for Norwegians to show off to their adventurous visitors, I discovered.

An engineer from Azerbaijan named Elchin struck up a conversation with me. He was doing oil work in Stavanger for a few months, but his group couldn't get out on an oil rig at that point, so their Norwegian job trainer took advantage of the good weather to take them exploring.

He wondered about my hiking alone, but I assured him I was okay. Earlier, I'd visited the Stavanger hiking association, where a helpful woman reassured me that going solo wouldn't be a problem.

His trainer kindly offered to snap a picture of me at a little lake, and I returned the favor later.

We stood in wonderment when we reached the pulpit, where we could see the azure fiord stretching out for miles.

The cameras came out again in an attempt to capture the grandness of it all: "A vantage point unrivaled anywhere else in the world," states the Lonely Planet Norway guide.