Viajar a pie

"Viajar a pie" is Spanish for "Travelling on foot"

Tag: Nordlandsruta

Norge Midt

WhereNorth-Central Norway
WhenJuly/August
Distance825 km / 513 miles
Length29 days

Saltfjellet

This trip was about making ends meet. I had been hiking in Northern Norway before, I had come back to hike some of the iconic names in the southern half of the country and I then started wondering about this narrow strip of the Atlantic watershed where the mountains meet the sea, a stone throw from the Scandinavian divide.

In the summer of 2023, I took a full month for a continuous hike to fill such long gap and get familiar with this rather off the beaten track region and reaffirm my love for travelling through the land on my own means.

See the menu to access all content for my trip in North-Central Norway.

Norge Midt Gear Notes

By

On 2024-11-01

In Norway, Europe, Trips

Whatever I considered worth mentioning about the gear items and techniques I used in Norway in 2023 goes here.

Shelter – Locus Gear Khufu

The Khufu is a one person, trekking pole supported, modular pyramid tent in DCF fabric. On this trip, I used the 2/3 mesh inner and the inverted-V pole extender for a two-pole, A-frame support.

The Locus Gear Khufu mid

Wind performance

I routinely used all staking points, 12 total, due to the mostly exposed locations but I fortunately never went through strong wind in camp so, unfortunately, cannot report anything new in this regard. The Khufu feels solid but I’ll need to wait for a tougher test.

Front view, fully staked down

Rain performance

I went through heavy rain and the tent handled it very well. The one thing that stood out as a major improvement over my previous default shelter, a MLD Silnylon Trailstar, was that the Khufu kept a drier environment inside overall. I had condensation but no misting, which I had often found as an outstanding problem with the Trailstar.

Most likely factors are the steeper walls and the use of an inner, even if its walls were mesh. I don’t know if the DCF fabric would make a difference over silnylon in waterproofness or condensation in practical terms.

I remember the wet conditions I often went through inside the Trailstar and how much of a problem that can be in a wet place like Norway together with my using a thin, summer season, down sleeping bag whose insulation can get compromised. The Khufu was significantly better in this regard. It still is my default shelter for the long distance.

Short side view

Waterproof top – Houdini The Shelter Anorak

I’d remember how vulnerable I had felt in the past in the Norwegian rainy weather in my default lightweight waterproofs and I had it clear I needed an upgrade so I got my first 3 Layer top in decades, hoping to up my game. I’m not sure how much it worked.

The Shelter Anorak is a design I like, pullover style with a loose fit and long enough to cover well beyond my waist. It was virtually new at the beginning of the trip.

Houdini The Shelter Anorak

My reservations are with the waterproofness. I’d expect a 3 layer, new garment with a 20K column to be seriously waterproof. The one issue that stood out from first use was that drops would impregnate de face fabric and wouldn’t bed off. This was shocking, every non-waterproof, cheap wind jacket I’ve used had better face fabric water repellency than this anorak.

The membrane layer would obviously be the main barrier but the outer fabric non-repellency was a bad start.

In practical terms, when I took the anorak off after any serious rain, I had some wet spots in my base layer, mostly in the elbow areas but nothing dramatic. It certainly worked better than my previous lightweight items but it didn’t meet my expectations. As stated above, my experience with 3 layer waterproofs is limited and I acknowledge this may be what it is.

Waterproof trousers – Rab Downpour Eco

Same as with the top, I felt the conditions in Norway demanded an upgrade over the minimalist items I had been using for years while keeping conscious the bottoms are less critical than the top, particularly when this latter covers well below waist level. That said, I wanted to feel like I could be hiking under the rain for hours and not take a full soak for granted.

I didn’t want to go for anything very fancy or heavy, didn’t do any deep market research and went for a safe bet with a decent record. The Downpour Eco from Rab worked well and it was not overloaded with features. The only extra it includes is the bottom leg zip which offers the obvious ease for on and off as well as takes my only down point. Bottom of the leg zips are an obvious weak point with a potential for failure, which is what you get with zips when they have to mix with dirt and rubble:

The flap cover helped but it was not enough

I acknowledge rain pants are not meant to stay on continuously so such zip may still outlive the garment. On this particular instance, the pants were new at the beginning of the trip and the zip didn’t show signs of down wear by the end. I could go with a non-opening and accept taking shoes off and on every time. If the opening is included in the design, I’d say hook and loop would be more robust.

Waterproof double layering

The idea here was to carry a second waterproof top and layer it on top or below the anorak in long lasting or heavy rain. At the risk of excommunication from the lightweight faith, this is as far as I was ready to go to feel like I could face the Norwegian weather and be comfortable with it.

The logic goes like this: every waterproof I’ve ever worn has been overwhelmed sooner or later and I didn’t expect my new, 3 Layer anorak to be an exception, just maybe a later. By doubling the waterproof layering, I would expect not only to postpone the getting wet yet more but I’d also look for some kind of synergy or added value.

This was meant as an experiment more than a heavier but sure-hit strategy. Testing conditions would require sustained, heavy rain in a thru-hiking context, in other words, what works in a day hike with a day pack may not do when out for longer with a bigger load. I wondered if the double layering would prevent wetting out for longer than the theoretical added times of each layer but which were these, anyway? In the end, my expectation was to feel better protected and more resilient to hiking in wet conditions for an extended time and to have a rough impression about this being worth the additional weight.

I considered several options for the second waterproof and eventually went for a poncho for several reasons: a garment different from the anorak so there was some potential for synergies as both pieces had their particular strengths and weaknesses. Then, the poncho would go over the pack, covering it better than any pack cover would and easing ventilation, thus minimizing the risk of too much waterproofing creating very damp conditions from within. I chose a Frogg Toggs poncho I had lying around, which is rather fragile but fairly lightweight. Vegetation at torso height is usually not a big issue while hiking in Norway.

Other than the added weight, what could go wrong?

Several things did. Mostly implementation’s fault more than the idea’s.

Number one, and this is a silly one, putting a poncho on over a full pack was an exercise in frustration, ridiculously difficult for such an apparently simple task. It may be related with my own arm reach. To me, it would always take several tries. Not that I’d be in a hurry but you don’t want to be fiddling with the waterproofs wearing when it’s already raining. This was an issue already known to me from previous trials of a poncho for backpacking but this time the paper-like nature of the Frogg Toggs fabric only made it worse. It’s very lightweight and doesn’t slide well over other surfaces so it was extremely difficult to get it to fall naturally behind the pack when trying to wear it upside down. A nylon poncho would have faired much better.

Number two, the poncho I used was not big enough. Not so much of an issue length-wise, being an additional layer over a full size waterproof system (I was using trousers too), but most critically volume-wise, which links back to the consideration of the big volume of a full thru-hiking pack and brings me to the next and main issue.

Number three, the snaps providing the side closing for the poncho were not meant to stand to much pull forces. Together with the limited volume of the poncho, it made the snaps come undone frequently and too easily, leaving the sides exposed and, very often, the front and back of the poncho flying around, exposing pretty much everything they were expected to protect. I’d end up breathing softly and crossing fingers, there was little else I could do.

All these problems would reveal specially when the pack was full. The whole thing was so unworkable that I ended up using the poncho as an oversized pack cover, giving up on the double layering and feeling silly about my poor choices.

My pack, impersonating ET

When food volume went down, I could use the poncho as it was meant to and, if pack volume was low enough, the whole scheme worked quite well but the limited test time didn’t allow for clear conclusions as to the validity of the idea.

Ghost selfie in heavy waterproofs

Next time I travel in Norway or other similarly wet place, I plan to try this idea again but I’ll definitely change the Frogg Toggs poncho for a woven fabric one that can be closed securely along the sides and has ample room to hold the pack at full load. Alternatively, I might go for a torso-only double barrier and leave the pack out of the system, a poncho-over-pack is always tricky when the latter is thru-hiking size.

Trousers – Ternua Ward PT

You may not know the brand/model but it’s a fairly common design across well known makers. I had reservations about its suitability for summer thru-hiking in Norway, which is the core of these comments below.

These pants are soft-shell, bi-component, 4 way stretch and black in color. Despite my general dislike for stretch fabric in trousers, I liked these ones from the second I tried them at the store. They were very good quality in fabrics, patterning and making and they were the closest you could get to a rock-star look in hiking clothing. My reservations were about the combination of a fairly thick fabric, the black color and their standard, non-convertible design having the potential for being too warm for summer hiking. Even in Norway.

Stretch, bi-component fabric is also slower drying than single layer, thin nylon, which is what I had used just the previous summer, also in Norway, with success and not a single time feeling I was too cold or unprotected.

I liked the Ward PT model too much to not give it a try though. It had pretty much everything I like in important design elements like pockets and lower leg hem cord-locked elastics so I could easily bring them up above the calf.

No kidding about the rock stardom

They worked very well and felt great overall. Not once I felt them too warm. While the bi-component fabric certainly takes more time to dry than single-layers, it’s also more comfortable when wet.

The most important statement here is whether bi-components are best for the Norwegian summer. Unfortunately, I don’t have a clear conclusion. Maybe it’s actually fortunate in the sense that the legs are too forgiving for any reasonable choice to work well.

Norge Midt section 2: Umbukta to Royrvik

By

On 2024-06-05

In Norway, Europe, Trips

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.

Second week

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.

Gresfjellet and Storakersvatnet

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.

Border cairn

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.

Okstindan ice

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.

Okstindan east side

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

Camp birch & ice

Very different light on the same spot in the morning:

I didn’t oversleep, dawn is very early in the northern latitudes

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.

Light and dark

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

From the catalogue of Norwegian lakes, 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.

Dead-end road

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.

Famvassdalen

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.

Camp birch & header

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.

Back to daytime darkness

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.

Good place to be on a rainy day

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:

Through the grass

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.

Final climb

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.

Grass and water

Easy walking

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.

Stormy clouds, morning light

Nordlandsruta sign

Garsmarkelva flow

Still shiny

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

Grannes Camping

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.

Wet Grannes

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.

Valley getting dry

Highland stream

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.

No sail, no row

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.

10:30 PM

6:30 AM

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.

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.

Tiplingelva flow, Borgefjell border

Tiplingelva flow, Borgefjell peaks

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.

Borgefjell landscape

Borgefjell landscape

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.

Ranserelva ford

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.

High and remote, best hiking in a long time

More Borgefjell landscapes

Yet more Borgefjell landscapes

Still hiking Borgefjell

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

Virmavatnet camp

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

Misty Virmavatnet

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.

Colourful mushrooms

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

The Virmaelva flowing into Namsvatnet

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.

Looking back north

Thick woods

Beach walking in Namsvatnet

Looking back across Namsvatnet, Borgefjell in the background

Cottongrass

Thick but passable

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.

Yet another lakeside camp

Sunset at 9:30 PM

Morning is peaceful and scenic:

Sunrise at 5:30 AM

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.

Royrvik churchyard

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.

Norge Midt section 1: Sulitjelma to Umbukta

By

On 2024-05-25

In Norway, Europe, Trips

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 first week on the trail when I walked from Sulitjelma town to the Umbukta mountain lodge.

First week

Sulitjelma is a tiny mining town in a most typical Norwegian location, the narrow flat strip by the lake that fills the valley bottom. At 67 degrees north, it’s about half a degree beyond the Arctic Circle. I arrived there in the early evening of a Saturday on the bus from the coastal town Bodo, where I had landed earlier in the day on a flight from Oslo.

It was dark grey above with rain in the forecast but with two hut options within easy reach, I started hiking right away, not without pigging out for one last time in the local grocery. It’d be one full week before I could do that again.

Mandatory stop before departure

It started raining a few minutes after departure and I had my first crash with the Norwegian weather and with my decision making. Instead of donning the full set of rain gear, I was lazy enough to trust the rain would not be too heavy and wore only my poncho, trying also to keep cool on the long ascent from the valley floor. It’d have probably been good enough if I had only hiked the 4 km to the nearest hut but I also decided to keep going one additional hour to a smaller, more remote shelter. I was fortunate the trail was well signed because the mist got real thick at times.

Langvatnet and Sulitjelma

Misty highlands

I arrived in Lomihytta wet, cold and rather pissed off with the experience as well as relieved to be there and actually find the hut! It wasn’t straightforward in the low visibility conditions, even  with GPS help.

Home in the mist

Lomihytta was small and simple but up to Norwegian comfort standards and it saved my mood for the rest of the day. I went to sleep hoping the following day would be clearer.

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Next morning, it was still overcast, dark grey but it wasn’t raining and the cloud had shifted enough to clear the ground except for the hilltops. Not the most encouraging conditions but technically fine. Off to my first full hiking day of the trip.

Grey morning in Lomi

South of Lomi, the route goes across the paradigm highland section where the actual trail is barely visible on the ground. I keep thinking how much hard work it’d be in the low visibility conditions of the previous evening. No matter the views, I’m glad to be back in the company of the this old friend that’s the DNT3 marker, I’m about to spend one month following it.

DNT marker on big cairn

The route goes down to the headwaters of the same valley I departed from in a couple of spots where I meet the birch trees and a DNT hut each time. I go past and keep going as far as I reasonably can for a first full hiking day aiming for a moorland camp overlooking Ballvatnet even though the smooth relief makes the lake barely noticeable.

First camp of the trip

My mood is as grey as the weather but I’m well aware how important it is to be here, doing this and I’m happy.

Next morning and everything is just the same. It probably helps the fact that, by mid-late July in these latitudes, nighttime is a very loose concept.

First morning in my tent

The route leaves the open ground around Ballvatnet to go across a saddle and down a valley. it’s easy walking in the low vegetation. For a while, the cloud feels thinner but this won’t last and it’ll soon go back to full greyness.

Easy walking in the low vegetation

Going down and into the lush green is very bad news: the vegetation multiplies its weight in water and I soon am seriously soaked from the knees down, very wet up to waist height. You couldn’t move without brushing on something that immediately releases insane amounts of water and it all feels very uncomfortable. The river views are beautiful though.

Skaitielva

I’m so wet I have this perfect excuse to plan for a hut night. The idea is a good fit as I’ll conveniently meet one of the DNT huts by the end of the hiking day. It wouldn’t be at all easy to find a place to camp in this valley without a hand reaper anyway. The nice thing is that the simple prospect of a comfy night in a dry place makes the trudge through the wet world much more bearable and my spirits lift accordingly.

Oddly enough, lower down the valley, the vegetation is far less wet, quickly transitioning into mostly dry and by the time I reach the Trygvebu hut my clothes are back to normal-dryish. Feet are still wet but that’s to be expected.

Trygvebu hut

Trygvebu is a front-country DNT hut with a dirt road and a farm nearby. It even has wired electricity. On a Monday night, a few other hikers are already installed and the fireplace is going. It’ll be a very nice stay.

Fireplace going in Trygvebu

The following morning, I finally see the sun for the first time since arrival in Norway. Living in inland Spain, I tend to feel about sunny days as routine and I welcome the cloudy ones, urban life being more forgiving than the constant exposure of the hiking life. Out there in Norway though, this sunny spell really lifts my spirits.

Blue sky at last

I eventually exit the valley onto Junkerdalen, a main east-west corridor where I cross my first road, the Swedish border just a few km east. There’s also the Graddis Fjellstue4 where I’d had pictured a possible coffee & cake run but, even though the place is certainly open for business, I see nobody around, no signs and no open doors so I skip the plan. I sometimes wonder when the high season is in these locations.

Junkerdalen drains into Lonsdalen, the main north-south thoroughfare, further north but the route cuts across high ground, offering great views of the Saltfjellet mountains to the west before coming down to the main valley holding the E6 road and the railway track for the Trondheim-Bodo line.

Good hiking, great views

I could have taken a train here for a resupply in nearby Rognan but after only 3 days on the trail it never felt worth the likely long wait for a service and most possible need for an overnight stay in town. Once across Lonsdal, I start climbing into Saltfjellet and the highest area in my prospect, month-long route under increasingly cloudy skies. I stop for the night before the grass/rock ratio gets too low in what would be one of the most beautiful camps in the trip.

Saltfjellet camp

The following morning, the clouds are broken and I can see some blue sky. I resume the hiking in a magnificent scenario.

Saltfjellet hills

The pass area is just under 1100 m high, a long, flat traverse where the light cooperates for some great images so let me share several in a row:

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Down on the other side, the route enters Saltfjellet proper but it doesn’t aim for the peaks and icefields to the west, instead turning south along a valley where it meets the birch trees and the increasingly powerful Kjempaelva, which it crosses twice over hanging bridges.

Kjempaelva

Bridge over the Kjempaelva

The trail leaves the valley floor to cut again across high ground where the hiking is much easier. The fair weather helps with the exposure and the light helps with the pictures.

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I hike on aware of the proximity of the Polar Circle line but not knowing if it’ll be somehow marked. Not only it is but the dry, grassy bits in the area are perfect for a camp as it is the timing so after 38 km of the most scenic hiking in perfect weather, I pitch my tent one last time north of the magic line.

Arctic Circle marker

Arctic Circle camp

After the due sleep time, I do this symbolic thing that’s going across the Polar Circle on foot and I can verify that nothing happens. Then the route takes me back down to the main valley where I meet the E6 and the railway tracks one last time. The thin cloud cover in the early morning has turned into thicker but broken clouds so it’s often nice and sunny on the ground.

The following highland section is very nice and easy walking over short, dry grass. The Swedish border, a topography-agnostic, odd straight line, is just a couple of km east as the crow would fly.

Grass, no rock

A short-lived rainy spell puts some value into the upcoming hut on the shore of Virvatnet but the clouds brake and by the time I get there it’s only light grey overcast.

Squall in the spotlight

Come down to the lake area, I meet my first mosquito hell of the trip. The route climbs up from the lake but not enough to escape the biting crowd unless I hike well into my discomfort zone so after 37 km I try to find a compromise between protection from the elements and a mosquito-wiping breeze and pitch my tent. It will be a moderately scenic but uncomfortable camp until I come inside.

Very nice except for the mosquitoes

Broken clouds and sunny spells again to start the following day, alternating later with overcast skies as I cross a not-too-high but rocky, lake-filled saddle.

Sunny spell

Unnamed lake

In the afternoon, clearings get bigger but so do clouds, with vertical developments that forecast thunderstorms. Indeed, as I’m having my lunch stop, I hear thunder and quickly resume the hiking. I still have a high pass to go over before day’s end.

No matter the weather, for this upcoming night, last in this first section, I had set my mind on the Sauvas hut complex, conveniently located close enough to section’s end to have a short final day. High altitude, lakeside, it looked like it’d be a scenic place to spend the night. With this prospect, I didn’t get too angry with the weather when localized showers started building and moving around. It was actually nice to see the rain from a close distance.

You won’t get me

It was a matter of time that one of these met my course and it did so around the pass area but it never was a big dump and the mix of rain and clearings provided for some nice lights.

Light after the storm

By the time I arrived in the hut area, I was almost dry, not really needing to be indoors but I still couldn’t feel other than great about the choice for the overnight. The place was indeed a beautiful one to be:

Ostre Sauvatnet and the huts

I made myself comfortable in the small hut. The sky cleared and the temperature dipped, which only made the fireplace more welcoming.

Sauvasshytta

I had to stay up until late but I got the sunset.

Sunset in Sauvas

The next day starts foggy in Sauvatnet but it should be an easy day nevertheless, 12 downhill km where I expect a decent trail. By the time I leave the hut, the cloud has shifted enough to clear the ground and what I see is beautiful.

Sauvasskardet

By mid-morning, I get the E12 road and the Umbukta Fjellstue, from where I don’t plan on moving until the following morning no matter how nice and sunny the weather could possibly get. I deserve the break.

Umbukta Fjellstue

Umbukta is nice as well as rather small and no frills, very far from the size and relative luxury of other mountain lodges I had gone through in previous trips. It’s a Saturday and the place is super quiet. Once again, I wonder whether the high season is sometime else or this is it.

Whatever the buzz, I have the priorities clear: feed, find my food drop, get clean, feed again, relax, feed some more. The box I packed and sent away one week earlier upon arrival in Bodo is indeed waiting for me. Nothing else could go wrong.

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The menu is far from complex and I go for two rounds, lunch and dinner, of the same burger. I’m proud to say I downed it all both times.

Second round

It was a nice stay where I also met a couple of NPL5 northbound thru-hikers and had the chance to talk trail. First section was over and I was feeling fine, both physical and mentally. Good times, I love my half-day breaks.

 

Norge Midt Facts and Figures

By

On 2024-03-09

In Norway, Europe, Trips

I routinely take key notes at the end of every hiking day. Bringing them all together makes for some interesting stats.

Field notes

Final route

I followed the E1 track by the book, with variations in the off-trail sections too small to be worth registering. Starting point, as planned, in Sulitjelma, county Nordland. Effective ending point in As i Tydal, county Trondelag.

Distance: 825 km

This was the effective trip distance if I trust the mapping tools. Actual walked distance was about 10 km longer after being forced to backtrack to the closest hut in front of a dangerous stream ford and stormy weather on day 26.

Days: 29

That’s hiking days. I hiked every day of the trip except for the evening fly-in, evening fly-out.

Average: 28.5 km/day

That’s if I calculate based on the effective trip distance. I fell a bit short of my intended, loose and completely pointless goal of averaging 30 km/day. If I take day 1, when I started hiking in the evening, out of the count, my average goes up to 29 km/day.

Longest day: 38 km

This was on day 5. I did several 37 km days too.

Full hiking days: 21

Did nothing but hike.

Short hiking days: 8

I include here all days where I walked less distance, time or both than usual, broken down into the opening and closing days, the two resupply days and four days with an early stop due to weather. Some of these latter were actually tougher than any normal hiking day.

Days with rain: 19

These include any kind and amount of rain. Put it the other way, there were 10 dry days. Rain was heavy and/or long-lasting for only 11 of those 19. Norway is a notoriously wet place.

Wet and dark

Camps: 18

Camping being my default, this time amounted to almost 2/3 of the nights, my highest ratio so far for all my trips in Norway.

Saltfjellet-Svartisen

Hut stays: 7

Every time I felt like enjoying a Norwegian hut, I’d indulge, no questions asked to myself. There were always some weather reasons behind the indoor thing but sometimes there would also be just some comfort factor or a need for a break from the outdoor after an accumulation of exposure weight.

Holden hut

Lodge stays: 3

Two of these were planned to go with my two resupply stops, the third was a handy option at the end of a rainy day.

Limingen Gjestegard in Royrvik town

Full resupplies: 2

Full resupply number 1 was a mail drop in Umbukta lodge on day 8. Second one, a supermarket run in Royrvik town on day 16. Both locations were on trail.

Supermarket in Royrvik town

Food supplies for the final week were from the pantry room of several huts along the way.

Days where I met nobody: 1

This was on day 19, north of Skjaekerfjella National Park. Ironically enough, I started the day from a front country hut in a small village but it was very early and there was nobody around. Nobody on the trails or off the trails, where I spent a good part of the day.

Days where I regretted being out there

This is not in my notes but very clear in my head: there were none. Reminder to myself.

Norge Midt Highlights

By

On 2024-02-07

In Norway, Europe, Trips

I’ve let the memories sink, then dug them out. This here below is what’s stuck after spending one month hiking the length of Norway where the country is at its narrowest.

Norge Midt

Linking steps for one month

This is about the great synergy in following a continuous path for an extended time, starting somewhere and ending some place else when it feels the latter is half a world away from the former.

There is something unique about this. On the most basic, it’s the old known feat about doing some actual travel so it’s not just walking around but actually going somewhere. Going deeper, there’s this beautiful idea about meeting the land as it is and facing the challenges. Show me what you have, I’ll make my way through it no matter what.

Scenario

My first working title for this section was the most obvious “Scenery” but as I developed the idea it changed to what you see now, a subtle but meaningful update. This trip was not as much about breathtaking views and more about a flow through the landscape, a scenario where stuff happened.

Borgefjell highlands, where stuff happened

This was a bit of a revelation to myself. I had always pictured Norway as the postcard-perfect hike and part of the idea for this trip was to challenge such cliché and see what would happen, which takes me to the next point below.

Less obvious Norway

It’s not all glacial valleys, rock walls or lake basins, Norway hiking can also get rather mundane and, guess what, it remains very attractive and interesting.

It was only my third hiking trip in this part of the world. Before this last, most of the going had been high latitude, high altitude or both. In the lower figures, there was a different world comprising stuff like conifer woods, birch woods, farming communities, endless moorland and way more water than the land can hold. It made for less spectacular, often tougher hiking but it felt for real. I loved visiting this other Norway.

Sylan region

Going off-trail

This is about meeting the place in its own terms, not only because of the obvious absence of a trail or any signaling to follow but also and mainly because of the limited availability of shelter infrastructure for extended periods. In a place like Norway, this changes everything.

Going off-trail is something I wouldn’t probably choose, given the chance but I was also intrigued by the prospect. Being parts of a set route, it helps for those of us unfamiliar with the region know that it’ll be walkable, which is pretty much the only basics I’d need to know, the rest is just the added challenge.

Hike through this

I spent about the second third of the trip going mostly off-trail. The eventual return to the trail network became my brightest beacon, something to fight for when the going was rough.

Sometimes the off-trail wouldn’t look like much different from the signed routes. Among all the factors that would shape the hiking experience, being off-grid was just one of them. In the right conditions (fair weather, firm ground, low vegetation, no obvious obstacles), it could be easy and enjoyable walking but it wasn’t gonna be that perfect for long, not in Norway. Adding the lack of trails, signage or shelters to the typical array of difficulties pushed the experience deep into the type-2 fun. It was challenging for me.

In retrospect, it was a highlight and I was happy it was an integral part of the trip.

Camping

It’s the pretty settings and the welcoming feeling about camping out being the natural thing to do. Finding home in the wilderness and being comfortable after the hard work.

Being native to a place where you take firm ground for granted, it’s always a bit of an initial shock, even if it’s not the first time, to hike and camp where everything seems to be a giant, endless marsh. You need to learn to read the land so you can find the best potential for good camping spots as you go. This is a great learning experience. Other than the obvious convenience, it’s a way of connecting with the land.

Finding dry ground

Hutting

I’m echoing myself here, see the Highlights section for previous trips in the region, but let me tell you (again) how important the shelter infrastructure is in a place like Norway. I’d say “for me” but I’ve met enough fellow hikers relieved to be inside to not feel alone in this.

Summer conditions are nice for hiking, the camping is wonderful and whatnot but there are times when I just needed to be inside, be it after a traumatic weather event or a simple accumulation of weight on my emotional shoulders. Come such time, the Norwegian hut system is the place to be and the simple knowing makes life plain nicer on the trail.

I went through some of my finest times on the trip sipping warm coffee by the fireplace. That’s a lot to say about an outbound experience.

Whatever by the fireplace

Type-2 fun at its best

Thru-hiking in Norway is tough, no surprises here, yet I’m doing it here again because I know I love the challenge, if only in retrospect.

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