Tag: Borgefjell

In July and August 2023, I hiked for four straight weeks and 825 km in Norway between Sulitjelma, County Nordland and As i Tydal, County Trondelag. I broke the route down into four sections based on time criteria with the associated part-day break and resupply. This is the story of my second week on the trail when I walked from the Umbukta mountain lodge to Royrvik town.

After the due sleep, the only inalienable thing that’s left for me in Umbukta is a hearty breakfast. I make a big event of it, even if I’m on my own in the dining room. Then I need to put the pack on and step outside to brilliant blue skies.

The route skirts the Swedish border at a sharp bend of this latter, a series of oddly straight lines drawn across hills, valleys and lakes with no apparent geographic criteria. I do a short detour to the closest border cairn. I recall similar ones from my 2007 Nordkalott hike.

Then I come to the first view of the Okstindan ice. There’s a big icefield on top of those hills and several flowing glaciers on the slopes.

I’ll spend the rest of the hiking day going around Okstindan while enjoying the fine weather and cursing the oddly difficult terrain on a long, lakeside stretch, then crossing marshland in front of the east facing glaciers.

Once off the marsh, I can find some dry grass among the stunted birch for a quiet, nice camp overlooking the hills.

Very different light on the same spot in the morning:

I go by one of several lavvu that I’ll meet along the trip, it’s a teepee structure made with leaning tree branches and often wrapped in a layer of ground where moss and grass grow. It wouldn’t look like a shelter if it wouldn’t be for the door.

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The route leaves the valley floor in this usual move to avoid the worst of the marshy terrain even though the final goal is to keep downstream. Light and dark alternate.

Eventually, I come to the view of my next goal, the north arm of giant Rosvatnet:

Down there, I meet the tail end of a narrow tarmac road that gives vehicle access to a few farms at the north end of the lake. Below 400 m, the woods are thick enough to hide anything not immediately behind.

It’s in this area that I get aware of a meaningful change of scenery. All the way here from departure, I could still relate to the environment I’d remember from my Nordkalott hike in the far north of Scandinavia: it was all high fells with the occasional visit to a valley going below the tree line and very limited instances of a road crossing. Today and as I proceed south along the border with Sweden, the terrain is lower in average, the highland sections are shorter and I’ll be meeting a west-bound road in every main valley. This new routine will last for about 100 km all the way to the gates of the big wilderness that’s Borgefjell National Park.

I’ll be closer to rural urban areas but the hut network will be less dense. It feels more remote in a way because it seems it’s a region less popular for hiking. At least, I’ll keep within the trail network until Borgefjell.

With all this in mind, I cross over a short highland section to come down again to another similarly patterned farm area, this time the access road is dirt.

I get cell reception in this area and I can verify rain is on the way for the following morning. For the time being, the sky is only moody gray and I find the proverbial patch of dry grass for another comfy camp.

It’s overcast in the morning and it certainly looks like rain is about to start anytime. I make plans for a hut break, if needed, with an early start to try to avoid the worst of the weather.

Linking to the previous comment about the change in scenario, it’s worth noting the DNT¹ hut network will be gone for me for about a week. There will be emergency huts and some chances of farm/campground accommodation but the convenient regularity of the DNT huts will no longer be there for almost two full weeks. So far on this trip, I’ve been meeting one of these huts twice a day most days, which makes the prospect of rainy weather quite bearable with the option of waiting it inside.

This time around, there’s luckily a hut option 4 h from camp, only not a DNT one but when I arrive there after quite some time under serious rain, I’m happy to see it’s just as comfortable, including a sizeable porch for all the dripping stuff.

It’s only mid morning but I’d be happy to spend the rest of the day here. The forecast is inconclusive for later so I still hope the rain eases enough to make it easy to leave. With that in mind, I take the break for an early lunch.

There’ll be three other wet hikers arriving in the hut as I was there, all of them NPL² northbounders. They got the fire going, which I hadn’t. I think they’d had enough of the rain for the day and were probably meaning to stay for the night, which sometimes makes all the sense. Hiking the length of Norway in one go is tough enough to guarantee a break whenever it feels. I never dismissed the option but this time I was mentally ready to leave at the slightest chance.

By early afternoon, the rain had eased and the cloud cover was clearly thinner. Together with a so-so forecast, it was enough for me to decide to keep going. In a worst case scenario, it’d be less than 20 km to the next lowland and the chance of farm accommodation but the highland crossing would be a long one. I’d be in the hands of the weather gods.

This section of the big route along Norway goes under the Nordlandsruta name, not heavily pictured in the signaling. As per my recalling, this is only the second such sign I meet and it feels rather unofficial:

I cross another road, this time not a dead-end but and east-west way going into Sweden, the border just a couple miles away. Barely any traffic. I happily leave the road behind.

The sky is getting clearer and by the time I reach the highlands the clouds have broken enough to let some light reach the cottongrass.

I’m so glad for the weather window because it’s real beautiful up here, the paradigm mix of green grass and blue lakes plus easy walking with little rock, and I can enjoy my time in the area.

Clouds gather again and I get a good shower on my way down, which takes a good part of the optimism away from me and I decide on the go to use the option of the Tverrelvnes farm, which offers accomodation. There’ll be some more rain but I’ll be indoor by then.

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I’ll have the place to myself that night. Not busy.

Tverrelvnes is at the very end of a dirt road giving access to several farm areas. There’s cell reception. Not much of interest on the waves for me at the time except for, guess what, the weather forecast, which is dead clear this time: heavy, persistent rain from noon onwards the following day and I make plans to be indoors for the episode. It won’t be difficult, the next valley is only 12 km away and there’s Grannes Camping there where I’ll be happy to get a cabin and wait the rain.

With this prospect, I spend a happy morning enjoying some good hiking in extraordinary light. The clouds are ominous but the sunlight still makes its way.

It’s a success story. I make it to Grannes by mid morning in still dry conditions.

The place is far from glamourous and the smaller cabins look particularly decrepit but I have a fireplace and a porch and I have it clear I won’t be moving from here for the rest of the day. Fingers crossed for the next morning.

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It did rain for the rest of the day and most of the night. I spent some quiet, lovely time watching the rain, my only issue not being able to freely go through my diminishing food supplies with still 3 days worth of hiking in front of me before I could replenish. No services whatsoever in or around Grannes. Hattfjelldal town was only 25 km down the road but with no apparent chance of public transportation and very little traffic whatsoever, I concluded going there would be more a problem than a solution. I stayed in Grannes.

The following morning, I kept browsing the precip animation in the forecast to see it move around and clear my location by mid morning. I wouldn’t wait for so long and left Grannes still in the rain while steering clear of the puddles trying to keep my shoes dry, if only for a few minutes.

The rain did stop and the subsequent mix of cloud and light offered some scenic views back down the valley and another memorable highland crossing.

Coming down into yet another east-west valley, I had a first crash with what was about to come for long stretches in the next 10 days: a fading trail in bushy areas where progress was tough and slow. Potential utter nightmare in rainy weather but just a reality check requiring some mental adaptation otherwise.

A narrow channel between two lakes provided some extra entertainment while riding this pull boat that saved a long orbital around the water. Poor trails but not devoid of key infrastructure.

Another valley and another dead-end gravel road that I need to follow for 5 km before resuming along the trail network. I make camp in a convenient moorland bench just 7 km shy of the border of Borgefjell National Park.

Borgefjell is know for being the biggest wilderness area in this region and one of the biggest overall in Norway. There are no trails but, as far as my route through it goes, except for the way in and out, it’s all highland so I’d expect good walking on short grass. The access trail though must rank among the most awful paths I’ve ever walked, badly obliterated by more foot traffic than the marshy terrain could hold. Deep mud puddles.

The Tiplingelva flow is the end of the trail network. Borgefjell is on the opposite side. I cross over the hanging bridge and under some blue skies.

The crossing of Borgefjell was one of the highlights of the whole trip. Once in the highlands, it was a rambler’s paradise of uninterrupted beauty that brought back memories of similar, long stretches in the Nordkalott.

Other than the chance of odd weather, the only meaningful obstacle in these locales is the streams. Even up high, they can be tricky to ford. The Ranserelva had a bridge but it required a considerable detour so I followed a straight line and crossed with great care.

It took me most of the day to go across the high areas in this corner of Borgefjell. I didn’t rush. After the last pass, I had some drizzle but nothing serious. Best hiking in a long time.

It was breezy and cold by camp time. Lakeside with a view for the occasion.

Morning is overcast, windy and cold with occasional showers and mist around camp.

I come down from the highlands and cross from Nordland into Trondelag, below the treeline and into the usual mix of stunted birch and marshland. It’s fun to choose route and I alternate between the freedom of a straight line across open marsh and the more convoluted but firmer ground of the dry outcrops. It will still be off-trail for the rest of the day and I’m glad to verify there’s no impenetrable bush, the going is rough and slow but not difficult.

By noon, I reach Namsvatnet and the end of the climb down at the southern border of Borgefjell:

The urban world is at the other end of the lake, 21 km bordering Namsvatnet that I presume tough because it’s relatively low level, just below 500 m, with no trails.

I was ready for a nightmare traverse here. The terrain is shown in the maps as a mix of woods and marsh and I would have guessed it’d be a tough choice between bad and worse with no clear clue which one would be which. It certainly required some mental adaptation, no 3 mph here, but it wasn’t so bad and I was happy with the challenge in a stretch that many thru-hikers seem to avoid by taking a boat along the lake.

After the early morning gloom, I had beautiful weather, which certainly helped. The conifer woods were thick at times but the often dense understorey is always soft and never thorny so it seems to always be passable. The marshes are always a beast of their own but they were walkable and sometimes they’d be a relief from the bush. Progress was slow but steady. I happily incorporate this bit of knowledge to my Norwegian hiking background.

At the far end of Namsvatnet, I’ll meet a dirt road that’ll lead to a tarmac road and eventually Royrvik town. I make camp before any of that happens.

Morning is peaceful and scenic:

It’s only 17 easy km to the end of this section in Royrvik town. Shortly after leaving camp, I get to a dirt road giving access to some lakeside cottages, then onto the road network for the final push.

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Royrvik is the only town in my route. It’s rather small without much of an urban plan but it’s got a supermarket and a hotel, which is pretty much all I’d need. I arrive there on a Sunday so I need to leave my shopping for the following morning. It’s only mid-morning and I have the rest of the day to do nothing, which is a great thing to do after the trail time.

The Limingen Gjestegard was a lovely place to stay, super hiker-friendly or just super friendly. Once again, not many guests around. Early August doesn’t seem to be high season over here.

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I greatly welcome the break. I’m aware the following week can be among my toughest hiking ever and it’s set as the real challenge in this trip. Let me get some good rest and hearty food before that.

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Heavy rain is in the forecast for the following day but I make a conscious decision to not worry. Not yet.