I was about to miss my ship in Norway - here's what I did next

"This guy has no idea," I think smugly, as I spot a man wearing a brown dinner jacket and incredibly white dress shoes boarding my bus.

Little do I know, "man in dinner jacket" will be the one to smirk at me and my calamity later.

The bus slowly fills with people wearing more appropriate attire, all looking the part to climb 323 metres above sea level to reach Dalsnuten, a picturesque Norwegian peak of rolling green hills and giant rock formations by the Gandsfjord, near the south-western city of Sandnes.

It is the first port to get us among nature on a seven-day cruise of the Norwegian Fjords (plus Copenhagen) on Holland America Line's Rotterdam, and considering hiking is a national pastime of this Scandi country, I want to make like a local.

Ljerka our tour guide insists on a pitstop at a bush-drop toilet - "a must" before setting off (I'm glad to have used one of the ship's many luxe bathrooms, with toilet paper, before we came ashore). The grass is an iridescent green and the odd sound of "cuckoo" drifts from the trees as we trek higher and higher.

Sporadic round boulders bubble out of the ground, faces appearing in the cracks, as you might see animals in clouds floating through the sky. In Norse mythology these rocks are actually trolls turned to stone by the sun.

"His shoes won't stay white for very long," Ljerka interrupts.

If this is what "man in dinner jacket" wears hiking, I wonder, then he must look a million dollars if dining at Tamarind, an a la carte restaurant on board with all my favourites from South-East Asia, China and Japan. The thought makes me hungry, but thankfully I have a traditional Scandi snack, Kvikk Lunsj (like a Kit Kat and translates to "quick lunch"), to enjoy at the summit - mandatory in Norway I'm told.

I chomp into my chocolate wafer, feeling alive with the cold air brushing my face and spectacular surrounds of the hills meeting the fjords, where our floating home can be seen. What a sight.

Time for the descent, where we divert to a different route back to our bus, but avid hikers (like myself) are allowed to strike out on our own, leaving the group behind - which goes well enough, for a while at least ...

"I think we're supposed to go right, not left," I yell out ahead. "Ljerka said to stick with the lake." I stand back with an uneasy feeling. An American couple and two French women look at each other, then proceed to keep walking towards the summit, not the bus.

"They're going the wrong way," says a Dutch woman, Tanja, who joins me with a second couple. We all agree to "stay put", which was Ljerka's advice if lost, until that idea turns sour when the rest of the tour group are nowhere to be seen. Time's ticking and we can't be late for the ship's departure (never be that person, but more on that later).

I had pre-downloaded Google Maps to my phone, so am able to find where we are on the map without any signal. But our problem is the Americans, who have realised their error, but are still not keen on going in any direction that isn't their idea.

There is much debate about which way to go off into the woods as the afternoon sun melts to dusk. And damn, I have a waiting reservation at the Greenhouse Spa and Salon for a hot stone massage.

To my horror, I turn to discover Tanja and the other couple have quietly left the group. Panic sets in. I start walking, the French women follow, while the Americans turn it into a race.

I have never felt such joy to see an oversized tourist coach than I do in this moment. As I board I can feel everyone's eyes burn into me (including "man in dinner jacket"). Thank God for that spa appointment on the ship.

Lying blissfully on a massage table, surrounded by pretty aromas, my mind wanders back to the first day on board. Nick Hollevoet, the cruise and travel director, was giving a presentation in the panoramic World Stage theatre.

"If you're somewhere on a sunny terrace and you're enjoying a cappuccino and you hear [the foghorn] no rush, you're too late," he said to a room of giggles.

Hollevoet wasn't kidding.

One late afternoon I'm relaxing with a fresh green juice from the Sea Bar by the pool (Norway is cold, but a closed roof makes sunbaking far more appealing). "I've got gossip," my new Canadian friend, Trina, says as she sprawls on a recliner. I listen intently. "Michael didn't get on the ship ... did you hear them calling his name?" she says. "It doesn't surprise me."

I'd met Michael at a solo travellers' lunch in the exquisite main dining room on our first day at sea - a charming get-together to meet others who knew no-one over a two-course lunch. But Michael hadn't booked any shore excursions (like I had) or attended the daily lectures on each port (like I had), and said he wanted to "wing it".

I had a premonition this could be problematic, and so it was. He had to make his own way to the next port to catch up and became the talk of the ship.

With more than 2000 people on board, I thought I'd feel overwhelmed by the size of the Rotterdam. But honestly, it is just like being in any five-star hotel. And with a generous-sized Vista Suite (with balcony, lounge and a desk), I could have easily enjoyed Norway from the comfort of the ship like some others I met along the way.

But I can't resist the chance to feel like a local. Next stop is Mandal - the country's southern-most town - for a leisurely history walk. Seve, our guide, calls it the "Riviera of Norway" due to its warm summer climate, compared to the rest of the country, and white sandy beaches.

Red and yellow tulips peek out of median strips and alongside cobblestone paths around town. Beer gardens spill out from a traditional restaurant into the tight laneway in the centre of town - it's like stepping into a postcard.

The next day I wake at 5am to admire from my balcony the sublime landscape drifting past. Tucked up in a plush robe with a cuppa from room service, I watch cute little wooden houses protrude from the pine trees. The fjord gets busier with boat traffic, eventually morphing into the denseness of the nation's capital Oslo, with idyllic forest as the backdrop.

As we anchor, I notice a mix of old-meets-new architecture, with the modern Holmenkollen Olympic ski jump off in the distance - my destination once I disembark.

Norway is about 75 per cent forest, so if you don't hike, camp or ski you're a bit of a "black sheep", says our guide, Miles. This hike is all downhill and more like a Sunday stroll, wandering through toboggan routes past wild blueberries, Norwegian spruce trees and birch.

We make our way back to town via train, safely to port a good 40 minutes before the ship's departure - not quite enough time to try out a floating sauna on the fjord. Maybe next time.

I feel like each stop only scratches the surface of each destination and leaves me yearning to return. Probably why there are so many repeat cruisers.

The writer was a guest of Holland America Line