hiker crosses snow near summit of Koscielec (2155m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Poland – Tatra Mountains – Part 2

hiker crosses snow near summit of Koscielec (2155m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Nearing the summit of Koscielec, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

Perhaps there had been too many beers Friday night in Zakopane, so it was a slow start to get moving on Saturday morning.  Eventually the four of us were loaded into the car and on the way to the trailhead for the Five Lakes Valley in the Polish Tatra mountains.

Some roadworks led to some detours which extended the drive time.  But at some point we decided to call the hut to make sure there was room.  It was May, early in the season and a questionable weather forecast, but better to be safe.  At some point in the last year or so, rules changed in some of the huts: from – always having space, even if you sleep in the dining room, to – hut is full, you need to have a room.

Pulling off the road in one of the few places with phone reception, we finally contacted the hut. Full.  Shit!  Next try was to Morskie Oko hut.  Also Full.  Double shit!  There went those plans.

Having a map with me, I suggested we try Murowaniec hut, located on the ‘front’ side of the mountains, a few hours hike above Zakopane.  Luckily there were beds available.  And so a couple hours after we left Zakopane, we were driving back into the town to begin our hike.

The suspect weather had cleared into a nice sunny day by the time we finally got onto the trail, well, more of a fairly well worn path through the forest – the Tatra are a popular hiking destination.  Sometime afternoon we finally arrived at Murowaniec hut to a scene I am familiar with from hiking the Alps, benches of people sitting in the sun eating home cooked food with a glass of beer or two.  The food did smell good, and we were hungry, so after checking into our room for the night, we were ready to get something to eat.

Never having been to this part of the mountains, I wasn’t really sure what to do with the remainder of the day.  I had been up on Kasprovy Wierch, so wasn’t really interested in hiking up there again, and it looked really crowded up on the ridge anyhow.  There was still a lot of snow in all the gullies, so without winter gear we had a fairly limited list of possibilities.  I pointed out an interesting looking peak above the hut, but it turned out not to have a trail to the summit, so a fairly difficult bushwhack through the dense dwarf pines would have been required.  FInally, Jack pointed towards a tall, and from our angle, quite steep looking mountain, the 2155 meter high peak of Koscielec.

Still with a few spiderwebs of snow covering the face, it seemed like the best option, or at least we would go as far as we could.  Backpacks bag on – overnight stuff – we hit the trail in mid afternoon.

While I appreciate the wilderness we have in the mountains of California, sometime I like being able to hike, for the sake of hiking.  This is the experience in the Polish Tatra mountains.  Criss crossed with a seeming endless series of sign posted trails, all are well build and maintained, something like mountain sidewalks.

After an hour or so of hiking we reached a small pass at the base of the mountain.  The angle didn’t look too bad anymore, but I could tell we’d have a few sections of snow to negotiate.

The next hour was spent going up, up, and a bit more up, as the trail wound its way higher on the mountain.   For the most part the route was simple going, with maybe a short scramble here and there.  And of course, ever improving views as we came closer to the summit.  It had been t-shirt weather thus far, but the winds picked up as we neared the summit so it was back into a fleece again, which was good, as I was probably getting pretty sunburnt anyhow!

About five o’clock, with the sinking afternoon sun we arrived at the summit.  Wonderful views in every direction, but especially towards the 2301 meter peak of Swinica, still covered with a healthy layer of snow.

We took our time on the summit as the weather was near perfect before we eventually figured it was time to head back down.  Before leaving the hut, we noticed a sign saying, ‘kitchen closes at 21:30.’  Without further inquiry, we figured this would be the last time to order dinner.  A dinner I was greatly looking forward to from my memories of my last trip to the Tatra!

Descent was a little more complicated than the ascent and took a little more time than I thought.  The sky was growing dark as we arrived back at the hut a little before nine o’clock.  I was somewhat shocked to see a full on party going on in the dining hall, even with a live band.

Now looking forward to a good meal, we went up to order, only to be informed that there was only one selection of soup available – a sauerkraut soup that I don’t care for very much.  When asking about the 21:30 closing time, we were informed that was when the whole dining hall closed.  Shit!  10 hours hiking in the mountains and I couldn’t even get dinner.  I guess malted barley water would have to suffice, along with the remainder of my hiking food.

Luckily the presence of the live band meant the dining room stayed open later, so we could at least enjoy a few drinks, somewhat to the protest of the hut warden, who could have been doing good business with the full house crowd, but chose to close the bar, only returning sporadically and serving drinks when sufficiently harassed by enough people shaking money at her.

Sometime after 11pm my head finally hit the pillow.  Jack and I had discussed some place of getting up for sunrise, maybe even hiking up Kasprovy Wierch, we would see.  But by the early morning hours the hut began to creek and the windows bang in the increasing winds.  With barely a hint of morning light I got up to checkout the sky.  Fully grey, and the trees were doing quite a dance.  At that, I was content to stay in my sleeping bag for a while!

A lazy hike out of the mountains and back to Zakopane followed.  We headed to a place to grab lunch (another pizza for me) and as we headed inside, thunder began to rumble and rain fall.  Good timing getting down the mountain I guess.

We got dropped of by Jack in Krakow, where I then ended up on a standing room only mini-bus, I was one of the ones standing, back to Katowice before a tram back to Chorzow.

Overall, not the trip planned, but a good one none the less.  Zakopane is such a wonderful mountain town, and in the spring it is nice and green yet the streets, while still crowded, are not overly crowded.  I wished I had had a few more days just to hang out there and enjoy a bit of mountain town life.  Maybe next time…

Two female hikers hiking in Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Heading up the trail to Murowaniec hut, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

 

Female hiker sleeps on bench outside Murowaniec hut, Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Afternoon nap outside Murowaniec hut, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

 

Two female hikers hiking in Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Hiking towards Koscielec, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

 

Koscielec (2155m) mountain peak, Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: The 2155 meter high Koscielec rises in the distance, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  may 2014

 

Female hiker on the summit of Koscielec (2155m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: On the summit of Koscielec, Tatra mountains, Poland.  May 2014

 

View towards Swinica (2301 m) from summit of Koscielec (2155m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Panoramic view from the summit of Koscielec, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

 

Murowaniec Mountain hut, Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Murowaniec hut, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

 

Two female hikers sit outside mountain barn, Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Resting outside a mountain cabin, Tatra Mountains, Poland.  May 2014

Female hiker near Kasprovy Wierch (1987m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Poland – Tatra Mountains – Part 1

Female hiker near Kasprovy Wierch (1987m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Stormy spring sky over the Polish Tatra mountains, near Kasprovy Wierch, Poland.  May 2014

My first trip to the Polish Tatra mountains was in the late autumn of 2011 when I was making was way south from Estonia, through Latvia and Lithuania, before an epic, 18 hour bus ride to visit my friend Jack in Jaroslaw, located in the south east corner of Poland, more of less closer to Ukraine than anything else.  After a few days in the nearby Bieszczady mountains, we headed west to the high peaks of the Tatra.

Being November, we weren’t sure what to expect, but 2011 happened to be an unusually warm autumn in Europe and so we had snow free travel up to the hut at the Five Lakes Valley (Dolinie Pięciu Stawów) for our first night in the mountains.  The next day we continued on towards Morskie Oko hut, thinking about hiking Poland’s highest mountain, Rysy, before deciding conditions weren’t too good.

While somewhat small compared to the Alps, the Tatra left an impression on me as a wild and rugged set of peaks with some stunning views from the high summits.

Returning to Poland this May, I made plans to meet with Jack in the mountains again.  Staying in Chorzow, near Katowice, it took half a day on Polish busses to arrive in Zakopane, where we would spend Friday night before heading further into the mountains.

The weather forecast was so-so, actually rather poor.  Arriving on Friday afternoon in Zakopane, the skies overhead were heavy and dark.  Being lazy, and with a few hours of daylight left, we took the cable car to the summit of Kasprovy Wierch to at least get a few mountain photos.

The trip was also to do a bit of scouting for the next day’s hike, as one of the possibilities was to cross from Kasprovy Wierch over into FIve Lakes Valley and stay in the hut for the night.  But from up high, it was evident that without winter gear, there was still too much snow up high for the journey to be possible.  So it was back down to Zakopane for a pizza and some beers (and a Kebab on the way back to the guesthouse).

We made plans to head to Five Lakes Valley in the morning.

 

Sprintime view over Tatra mountains, from near Kasprovy Wierch (1987 m), Poland

Photo: Spring in the Tatra mountains, Poland.  May 2014

View towards Swinica (2301 m) from Beskid (2014 m), Tatra mountains, Poland

Photo: Snow covered Swinica, Tatra mountains, Poland.  May 2014

Stormy weather over Tatra mountains, Poland/Slovakia

Photo: Dark sky over the Slovakian side of the Tatra mountains, near Kasprovy Wierch, Poland.  May 2014

Female hiker takes in view of Llangorse lake from Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Brecon Beacons National Park – Mynydd Llangorse

Female hiker takes in view of Llangorse lake from Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Watching sunset over Llangorse lake from Mynydd Llangorse, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

With the long days of summer just around the corner it’s now possible to head out into the Black Mountains for quick evening hikes from here in Hay-on-Wye.  Normally, the default hike is Twmpa or Hay Bluff, the quickest mountains two reach, just down the road and the very eastern border of Brecon Beacons national park.  With rainy days often spent at the climbing gym at llangorse, I’ve often had my eye of the isolated peaks of Mynydd Troed and Mynydd Llangorse for some time.  And looking for something new to wander around to break out of the normal routine, I finally made the effort to get there.

Arriving at the small parking area between both peaks, I decided to head up the lower Mynydd Llangorse, at 515 meters, as the views towards Llangorse lakes seemed to be more promising.  A short ascent leads to the mountain’s ridge and fantastic views of the gently rolling hills and Hedged-in fields of the Welsh countrside.  In the distant west, the flat, table-like summit of Pen Y Fan rose into the mist.

A strange, soft light covered the last, fading off into the hazy distant mountain peaks.  At times, the sun would break through the clouds, casting beams of light over the land in typical Welsh fashion.  Sunset looked like it would be promising, so I stayed up on the mountain, often surrounded by the wild Welsh mountain ponies, grazing away on the spring grass, until strangely pink sun sunk below the horizon.  Now I’m just waiting for a day with some nice puffy clouds to head back again.

For more images from Mynydd Llangorse, and the rest of the Brecon Beacons national park, you can visit my Welsh image archive: HERE

View towards Llangorse lake from Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Views over the scenic Welsh countryside, Mynydd Llangorse, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

View towards Llangorse lake from Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Rays of light break through the clouds, Mynydd Llangorse, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Old drystone wall on Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Old stone wall on Mynydd Llangorse, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Wild Welsh Mountain Pony grazing on hillside of Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Welsh mountain pony at sunset, Mynydd Llangorse, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Wild Welsh Mountain Pony at sunset on Mynydd Llangorse, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Welsh mountain pony at sunset, Mynydd Llangorse, Black Mountains, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Female hill walker hiking on Carmarthen Fans - Bannau Sir Gaer with Picws Du in distance, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Brecon Beacons National Park – Black Mountain

Female hill walker on Carmarthen Fans - Bannau Sir Gaer with Picws Du in distance, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: View along the Carmarthen Fans, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

The Black Mountain – Y Mynydd Du, the strangely singularl named mountain range, not to be confused with the Black Mountains or Black Mountain itself, on the Western edge of south Wales’ Brecon Beacons national park is home to the some of the most stunning and wild mountains of the national park.  While the central peaks of the Brecons Beacons can have a near endless train of people heading up on a sunny Sunday afternoon, the Black Mountain receives only a fraction of the foot traffic which is one of the reasons that they are my favourite mountains in the region to hike.

When a fair weathered day presented itself a few weekends back, I headed west to hike one my favourite route: Bannau Sir Gaer – Camarthen Fans.  Often I hike in from the east, as it’s quick to get there, and often just ascend Fan Brycheiniog before returning, but this time I wanted to wait around until sunset, and so decided to hike in from the west via Llyn Y Fan Fach.  From Llyn Y Fan Fach, the trail ascends to Waun Lefrith, with scenic view of the entire Camarthen Fans, before continuing on to the first high point at Picws Du.  From here the trail descends before climbing again to Fan Foel and eventually on to the high point of the range, the 802 meter high Fan Brycheiniog.

Instead of descending the mountains and heading back to the car park, I decided to head back up Picws Du and back along the Camarthen Fan ridge to Waun Lefrith where I was hoping to wait for sunset.  Buts as the afternoon hours passed, heavy clouds began rolling in from the west, and it was evident that any sunset would be unlikely.  So after 7:00pm, as the spring sky was beginning to darken I began to head back down the mountain, slightly hurried by the calling of dinner.

For more images from Black Mountain, and the rest of the Brecon Beacons national park, you can visit my Welsh image archive: HERE

Female hill walker hiking towards Waun Lefrith above Llyn Y Fan Fach, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Hiking above Llyn Y Fan Fach, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Llyn Y Fan Fach and Carmarthen Fans, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Llyn Y Fan Fach and Carmarthen Fans, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Female hill walker hiking on Carmarthen Fans - Bannau Sir Gaer with Picws Du in distance, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: View along Carmarthen Fans, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

Rock outcropping on ridge of Carmarthen Fans - Bannau Sir Gaer, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Rock outcropping, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales.  April 2014

View along Carmarthen Fans - Bannau Sir Gaer towards Picws Du, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Photo: Last light touchest the summit of Fan Foel, Black Mountain, Brecon Beacons national park, Wales

Female hiker leaves footprints in sand on scenic Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands Winter 2014 – Horseid Beach

Female hiker hiking trail towards Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Hiking towards Horseid Beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

For a reason unknown to me, but likely having some purpose, the Monday morning ferry to Vindstand and Kjerkfjord leaves Reine at 07:00 am.  In early March this means it’s still quite dark out.  As the crew showed up and we boarded the boat I was still not sure where we would be going, but as the assistant came around to collect our payments I said Kjerkfjord.  We were committed now.

We were the only two passengers onboard as MS Fjordkyss idled out of the harbour and into the fjord.  The forecast was for dry weather, but I know better than to believe this, especially when Horseid is concerned, as the steep mountains gather all the nearby clouds and let them sit over the beach, dropping any rain they may have, before moving out to sea.  So as I saw the heavy layer of cloud hanging over the pass, I wondered if it would not have been better to go to Bunes, which was cloud free as far as I could tell.

As the boat headed deeper into Kjerkfjord the first few drops of rain began to fall from the heavy clouds.  Not again. I Thought.  I was hoping to hike this route at least once without rain.  My two previous visits having been rather soggy.

Soon the ferry pulled up to the small pier and dropped us off.  We were now alone and the end of the world.  Save for a few seagulls and the splashing of waves, the world was silent.

It must have been a bit colder here than in the fjord, as the rain began to turn into a warm snow, tentatively balanced on the border of freezing.  But it was just cold enough to save me from putting my rain shell on, where I would likely overheat on the hike up the pass.

An added benefit of the cold temperatures is that much of the normally boggy and wet trail was frozen.  Where feet would normally slip and sink into mud, the shoes gripped the solid ground and moved forward with ease.  That is until the ice was reached.

Though the trail was more or less entirely snow free, other than the light amount falling as we hiked, it was quite icy, especially on the beach side where the numerous small creeks oozed out over the trail in frozen sheets of ice.  The going down was slow, careful work to avoid slipping and several minor detours where required to circumvent some particularly icy sections of trail.  Eventually flat ground was reached and we could hike with a bit more ease.

In summer, the worst section of the trail is the section around the lake and to the back of the beach.  Despite my best efforts keeping my feet dry to that point, they never remain so, as hundreds of meters of bog and wet grass need to be crossed.  Again, the cold came to our rescue and the frozen grass crunched underfoot.  A few particularly muddy sections remained unfrozen, but these were easily avoided.

Female hiker hiking across sand at Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Hiking across Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Female hiker sets up tent on wild camping trip to Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Setting up camp at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Female backpacker takes in view from tent while camping at Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Wild camping at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Female hiker leaves footprints in sand on scenic Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Enjoying the brief winter sun at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Female hiker jumps in air on sand dune at Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Enjoying the brief winter sun at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Tent with scenic mountain backdrop while wild camping at Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Camping among the mountains at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Upon reaching the sand, it is a deceptively long walk to my preferred camping area on the small grassy hill at the front of the beach, overlooking the the waves as they wash against the jagged cliffs.  Here, there is one last obstacle to negotiate, in the form of a small creek.  Often it can be a small hop across and on to some rocks, but as we neared, it was obviously going to take a bit more effort.  Finding what I thought was a suitable place to cross, I put my trekking poles into the water and proceeded to jump.  The poles instantly sunk beneath the sand and I lost momentum, sending one of my feet deep into the water.  I mumbled a few low curses and I hiked up through the grass towards the top of the hill.  I guess I wouldn’t avoid wet feet after all.

As we began to setup camp I noticed the weather beginning to clear a bit.  I wasn’t sure if the March sun would rise high enough over the mountains for the beach to get any direct sunlight, as had been the case at Bunes beach a couple weeks before, but soon enough, the sun broke free of the clouds and cast a brilliant light over our camp and the beach.  We had been halfway through with cooking lunch, but gave this up to go enjoy what little sunlight we might receive.  A little before 13:00 shadow crept back across the sand as the sun returned behind the mountains for the remainder of the day.

With the beach now cast in shadow and the little warmth the sun provided gone, we headed back to camp to finally continue with lunch.  The fuel canister for my stove wasn’t enjoying to cold temperatures as I attempted to boil water for soup.  The best solution seemed for me to wrap my bare hands around it, my face a little closer to the flame than I would like, which provided enough warmth to get the stove moving at a slightly better pace.

The sky was nearly cloudless as evening arrived and I first headed back to the beach before then going out to the cliffs beyond camp, with some hope that maybe the sun might crest around the distant mountain which guarded the bay.  It didn’t, but there was still some nice light to be seen.

Normally while camping, I would spend some hours sitting around a campfire.  But in dry winter conditions, it was obvious that any attempt at a fire would likely light the surrounding grass and possibly start a wildfire.  Not something I was looking to do.  So it was back to the tent to warm up in the sleeping bags and stare at the stars.

The sky remained clear as the night progressed, and I proceeded with my usual system of having my alarm go off every 30 minutes in order to check for northern lights.  But as much as I would have loved a shot of Auroras filling the sky over my tent, they remained quiet.

Mountains rise above the scenic Horseid beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Winter twilight over Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Tent illuminated at night while wild camping at scenic Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Night at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

female hiker warms hands with stove on cold morning wild camping at Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Warming cold hands by the stove at Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Mountain peak rises above female hiker hiking trail away from Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Hiking back towards Kjerkfjord from Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Panoramic mountain view towards Horseid beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Panoramic view towards Horseid beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

Female hiker descending trail to catch ferry at village of Kjerkfjord, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Descending towards Kjerkfjord, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

View from jetty of small village of Kjerkfjord - Kierkefjord, only reached by boat, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: the Scenic village of Kjerkfjord, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

The only return ferry on Tuesday was the 15:00 afternoon one.  This gave us a plenty of time to lounge around camp before packing up and heading back over the mountain to civilisation.  It was another brilliantly sunny day.  One of those perfect moments where you’re glad to be out in the wild.  We gave ourselves longer than needed to make the return hike.  This turned out to be way more time than necessary as ascending the icy trail was much quicker than our previous day’s descent.  As we neared to top, we were cast back into the sun’s bright light, which remained over us for the remainder of the walk back to Kjerkfjord.

There is not much of anything in Kjerkfjord, but thankfully there is a small waiting room near the end of the pier; otherwise it would be a cold wait for the boat to come.  Though I still remember a bad storm in summer of 2010 while heading out to Bunes beach, and picking up passengers from Kjerkfjord, half the passengers getting on seemed near hypothermic and soaked to the core.  Perhaps it wasn’t the best day for a hike.  It turned out not to be the best night for camping either, as I had to take shelter behind the old lady’s house at Bunes to keep my tent from breaking.  The next two days were brilliant however…

Back at the car in Reine, we headed back to the hostel in Stamsund, which had now officially opened for the season, and I claimed my usual corner bunk.  The weather began to turn and gale force winds swept over the islands.  Indoor weather.

The storm caused havoc with the transportation and ferries were canceled or rerouted.  As the final days arrived, I was anxiously checking conditions in order to figure out a way off the islands.  In such condition, I would have likely taken the last flight of the day from Lenkes to Bodoø.  But as we were leaving Bodø on a Sunday morning, the airport in Leknes closes around 14:00 on Saturdays, not really ideal.  So with an OK looking forecast, I decided to gamble on the Hurtigruten being able to make it to port in Stamsund.

I kept checking the Hurtigruten website, which was reporting weather delays, but no cancelations for Lofoten.  And watching the marine traffic website, I could see the boat on course to Stamsund, though this didn’t necessarily mean it could make it to harbour.  Just before ten we said our goodbyes and left the hostel.  Soon enough we were greeted with the loud horn of the Hurtigruten arriving at the harbour.  The nervousness that I had been feeling all day calmed a bit.  Though in one last act to keep me a bit on edge, They seemed to have trouble lowering the passenger foot ramp, which lowered up and down for 20 minutes or so as us passengers looked on nervously.  Finally, they seemed to give up and we were herded onto the car elevator and taken below deck, where we then had to follow a maze of hallways and stairs to find the reception, my skis banging into just about everything they could.

It was a rough crossing, but not the worst I’ve encountered, as the ship made it’s way across the stormy waters of the Vestfjord and onward to Bodø.  Arriving in the early hours of the morning, we had a bit of time to spend in the ferry terminal waiting room before continuing on to the airport.  In my last couple winter encounters, the door has been locked, requiring a phone call to gain entrance.  But as I approached the doors open, where I was immediately hit with the stench of stale alcohol and some rather homeless looking guys sitting on the benches – the reason they began locking the door in the first place.  I made a bed out of chairs and did my best to sleep, but I was too nervous about the drunks to get much.  Unsure if the airport opened at 4 or 5 in the morning, we decided to split the difference and leave a little after 04:00am for the 30 minute walk.

Norway wouldn’t give us up so easily and we were given one last rainy walk through the dark streets of Bodø.  It turns out the airport opens at 05:00am, so we had to sit outside awhile before someone finally came along and opened the door.  Soon enough we were in the sky, and I was heading south after 5 weeks in the Scandinavian arctic.

 

Mountain peaks rise over empty sands at Kvalvika beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands Winter 2014 – A Night At Kvalvika Beach

footpints in sand at scenic Kvalvika beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Footprints in the sand at Kvalvika beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

It is a scenic bus journey from Narvik to Lofoten.  I keep telling myself that I need to spend more time exploring Vesterålen and Ofoten, yet when the opportunity seems to present itself, I remain in the west of Lofoten.  Maybe next time I say to myself.  Maybe if I’m ever allowed to move to Norway, then I would have more time to travel further afield and begin new projects.  But for now, Lofoten remains my focus.

Though somewhat deflated from my failed winter attempt at the Kungsleden trail in Sweden, I now had more time on Lofoten than I was expecting.  Or I should say, despite the fact that I’m born in February, I seem to consistently forget the fact that the month only has 28 days!  Before departing for Sweden, I had made a reservation for my car rental on March 1st, which once I actually looked at a calendar, would have cut my time on the Kungsleden trail a day or two shorter than I was wanting.  But as it turned out, I didn’t need those extra days anyhow and was returning to the islands a few days ahead of schedule.

On a misty Wednesday afternoon we hopped off the bus in Stamsund and headed to the Hostel and back through the door that I had departed only 10 days before.  I called the Car rental guys to see if I could get a car a few days earlier, needing something big to sleep in from time to time.  Luckily they said they’d have something available for me the following morning.  Perfect.  I was back on Lofoten and back in the continued pursuit of Photos.

The snow was just as absent as when I had left, though Roar informed me that one storm had passed, but was quickly melted away.  In fact, he was happy of the fact that in the winter so far, he had yet to need the tractor to clear the driveway of snow.  For locals, dry years make life easier.  For the photographer in search of winter on the islands, you need to plan to return again in the next year.

The following couple days were grey and uneventful.  However, checking the forecast Friday evening, it looked like the weekend would clear up a bit.  Not having had my fill of camping, we decided to head to Kvalvika beach on Saturday.

My previous visit to Kvalvika was a painful one, as I sprained my ankle hiking down from a sunset trip of Ryten and then had to hobble my way back out the following morning and spent the rest of my days sitting in the hostel.  So this time, I hit the trail with extra caution as it may have been snow free, but there were still significant portions of ice to negotiate.  Luckily the worst of the ice was on the fjord side of the trail, versus the steeper and slippery beach side of the mountain pass and was actually much easier hiking than I was expecting.  We arrived to an empty beach and picked out a nice place to put the tent for the night before beginning the process of scouring the beach to collect enough driftwood for a couple hours of campfire; much needed warmth on the first of March.

The weather didn’t clear as much as I was hoping, with a layer of cloud hanging over most the sky and casting a flat light over the beach.  I spent most my time wandering around the rocks and doing my best to avoid getting my feet too wet.  Sometime in the afternoon we were joined by another couple, Marcin Dobas, a talented photographer and adventurer from Poland, and his girlfriend.  I had been in some contact with them in the previous days and invited them out to the beach if they were in the area.  So evening came with the four of us sitting around in the light and warmth of the campfire until the winter’s cold made a warm sleeping bag seem like a wiser option.

I peaked my head out of the tent in the morning, light!  Well not much, but something to break up the otherwise still mostly grey and cloudy sky.  Soon it was gone, and Kvalvika was back to a cold, bleak grey.  We packed camp, said or goodbyes and then headed back over the hill.

Sunday was cold and dark.  I took a few photos here and there, but nothing of much interest.  We thought about heading out to Bunes beach on the afternoon ferry from Reine, but unfortunately it happened to be the ‘every other’ Sunday when there is no boat.  That plan not longer possible, we slept in the car near Reine and set our alarms for 6:00am, to catch the 7:00am Monday morning boat.  I faded of to sleep wondering where to go.  Bunes beach, the easier and safer option.  Or Horseid beach, the more difficult and wilder option, but also the more scenic and spectacular option.  The weather forecast was okay, but not brilliant.  And the last time I chanced Horseid I was tent bound for nearly 24 hours of endless rain.  I had the night to sleep on it…

Mountain peaks rise over empty sands at Kvalvika beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Sand, sea, and mountains – Kvalvika beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

 

Mountain peaks rise over empty sands at Kvalvika beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: The steep cliffs of Ryten and Fuglhuken rise above Kvalvika beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

 

Wild tent camping at scenic Kvalvika beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Wild camping at Kvalvika beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

 

Mountain peaks rise over empty sands at Kvalvika beach, Moskenesøy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Morning light illuminates the cliffs of Kjerringa, Kvalvika beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  March 2014

 

Northern Lights fill sky over Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Autumn Nights 2013

Northern Lights fill sky over Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights over Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

…This story picks up after I dropped my camera in a lake in Sweden.  My original plan was for about 10 days or so hiking around Sarek national park before returning to Lofoten for about a week to hopefully catch some Autumn color. Well, needless to say, my plans were altered a bit.

Leaving the hut at Saltoloukta, I was lucky enough to catch a ride with a fellow hiker for the 2 hour trip back to Gällivare, arriving sometime around noon.  And more importantly, early enough to catch the train to Narvik.

One can technically buy tickets while on the train in Sweden, but there is quite a markup compared when buying at a station in advance.  Gällivare is not exactly a bustling town and there is no ticket agent at the small, pre-fabricated building that is serving as a temporary train station while the main building is being serviced.  What exists in just a simple ticket machine.  Unfortunately, with America lagging behind the rest of the world in our credit card technology, the machine didn’t accept mine.  Hmmm…

I though about just paying on the train, then I noticed some teenage girl sitting in the corner listening to some headphones.  In my best attempt not to look like some creepy old guy who had just been in the mountains for some days, I asked her in my bad Swedish, well, I actually used Norwegian, mostly the same anyhow, if she spoke English.  Upon affirmation, I explained the situation, and if I could give her cash if she could buy me a ticket with her credit card.  Thankfully, the Swedes are trusting people, and she said yes, and got me a ticket.  Had the roles been reversed, I would have probably thought some sort of scam was underway.  In a gesture of a thanks, I gave her a bit of a tip for her effort, though I didn’t have any small bills to make the correct change anyhow.

It was mid afternoon as the train arrived in Abisko, the sun shining nicely overhead and groups of hikers milling about the place.  I quickly wondered if I shouldn’t get off the train and spend the night in the Hostel.  But this would have delayed me getting to Lofoten the following day, a Saturday, so I stayed on the train and continued on towards Narvik.  Up to this point in my life I have successfully avoided having to spend any nights in Narvik.  It’s a somewhat grim, industrial-ish place, and it seems to always be raining.

Sure enough, as the train neared the Norwegian border the clouds thickened and the sun disappeared.  Soon, the heavy clouds turned to rain as the train descended the edges of the Fjord.  Welcome to Norway.

The train pulled into Narvik in the early evening, heavy rain drops falling from the sky sending passengers running as they exited the train.  I immediately regretted not getting off in Abisko.  Too late now.

My first thought would have been to stay the night in the train station, but it was closing 30 minutes after the arrival of the train.  I knew there to be a hostel in Narvik, and sort of knew where it should be.  But after 30 minutes of walking around in the driving rain, I was merely wet, and still had no shelter for the night.  I simply couldn’t find the place.  It turns out that I could find it because it no longer exists.

Somewhat out of hope, and now wondering if I should start walking up the hill and look for a place to pitch my tent for the night I received some directions to another place that might be a hostel.  It was a bit hard to find, right down by the train tracks, but it was indeed a hostel, and even not overly expensive by Norwegian standards.  After a quick trip to the supermarket and a frozen pizza for dinner, I settled in early to bed for the night.  It happened to be a Friday night, and the reception to the hostel, a separate building, was actually a bar.  Norwegians party late into the night…

Saturday was spent on the bus, traveling from the mainland, through Vesterålen, before finally reaching Svolvær.  Being a Saturday, the Norwegians seem to slow down the public transport system in preparation for Sunday’s near total shutdown.  (Travel tip: always try and avoid traveling on Sundays, you’ll likely end up stuck in some random small town.)  This meant I had some weird 2 hour stop in Svolvær before the next bus to Leknes, where I had to wait again for an hour before the final bus to Stamsund.  I gave thoughts to hitchinking, but it the rain it would have been a futile effort.

I have complained about this before, but for such a bad weathered country, and Lofoten especially, the bus stops are shit!  The Norwegians seem to have no shortage of money to build endless tunnels and bridges, yet someone in the transportation department seems to have forgotten about us poor tourist that might have to wait and hour or two for a bus.  If your lucky, there will be a 3 sided plexiglass structure with an awkward, uncomfortable bench.  But good luck escaping the elements when the rain is blowing sideways.

After what felt like and endless wait I was on my way towards Leknes and another hour to wait for my last bus.  Around dinner time I finally wandered back down the driveway to Stamsund.  I caught Roar getting out of his van and he was surprised I was back so soon.  He informed me that my corner bunk was still free, so I headed back up to the loft and took my old bed, which I had left barely a week before.  Later that evening I told him of my happenings over in Sweden and we worked out the best way for me to get a camera sent over.  The waiting now began.

I could have gone anywhere while waiting for a replacement camera, but I knew Stamsund would be the best place.  It is a place I can go, and more likely than not, know someone who’s there, or someone who might show up in some days or weeks.  As luck would have it, a few friends from over the years were already there, and a day after my arrival, another friend made during the summer showed back up as well, back from her adventures to the north.  It seems to be a small group of us that revolve around the arctic, and Stamsund in particular, the special place that it is.

In my wait I learned something about international shipping.  While you might have something expedited out of the US, Norway only has one speed: slow.  From placing the order, it only took a couple days for my replacement camera to reach Oslo.  I had been going nearly crazy checking the tracking number every few hours to see if any progress was being made.  Once arriving in Olso however, the camera entered a black hole, and progress seemed to stop.  After several days, one of my (Norwegian speaking) friends put in a call to the UPS office in Oslo for me.  They didn’t have much more info than I did, only saying that the Norwegian post was now in control, and it should show up ‘in some days.’

So it became a routine for the better part of a week, checking the tracking first thing in the morning, and last thing before going to bed at night.  ‘In transit’ was the constant status, day after agonizing day.

The Autumn this year was another mild and calm weathered one, the same as last year.  Beautiful days and clear nights.  Northern lights filled the sky on more than one occasion.  I quietly wept.  Ever try taking a photo of the Northern Lights with an iPhone?  Good luck…

On the morning of Tuesday, September 24th, 12 days since my camera took the plunge in lake Sitojaure, and over a week since it had arrived in Norway, I was getting somewhat worried that my camera might have disappeared somewhere.  I put in another call to the UPS office and received the news; it had been delivered.  What? Where?  Not at the hostel, that was for sure.

I didn’t mention earlier, but part of my concern was that there are 3 streets in Stamsund named more or less the same.  In the back of my mind I had some vision that unfamiliar UPS driver might end up at the wrong place, my camera sitting in the rain on the porch of some strange house; lost again.  But upon a bit more clarification with the UPS person, it appeared that it arrived that morning at the Joker mini-market/post office just around the corner.  I put on a jacket and immediately ran up there.

Relieved that my camera had finally arrived, I now was gritting my teeth over my next concern about the whole situation.  How much import duty was I going to have to pay on a $3,000 camera?  I was planning for the worst, 25%.  I  had been taking cash out of the ATM whenever possible in preparation, somewhat held back with a $300/day limit, and the fact that the ATM in Stamsund was removed last summer, the nearest one now 15 km away in Leknes.  I also worried that my account was probably getting dangerously low.  So it was in Nervous anticipation that I walked up to the counter and asked for my package.  I was asked for ID and then told to sign that I had received it.  ‘That’s it?” I questioned, somewhat unsure.  ‘Yep, have a nice day…’ came the reply.  Phew!  Not sure how I escaped that one. Relieved of my worries and camera in hand, my face was now a smile from ear to ear as I jogged back to the hostel under the bright sun and clear blue sky.

I now had six days remaining on Lofoten.

View towards Grytdalstind mountain peak, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Grytdalstind rises at the head of the valley, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

The weather gods must have felt sympathy for me, for what followed was five days of absolutely perfect weather.  I hit the mountains in a mad dash, four peaks in four days before my knee started to complain a bit.  When weighed against the chances of having my camera back only to sit though a week of rain and gales, which was very much possible, if not the likely state of things at the end of September, I got lucky.

First up was Grytdalstind, a somewhat obscure peak that seems to have received little traffic over the years, probably because what as what starts as a trail turns into nothing more than meandering sheep paths about half way up.  Finally even losing the sheep trails, it was a steep climb over loose rocks and blueberry bushes to the knife-edge ridge which makes up the summit.  Surrounded by higher peaks, it is no wonder that few people head up there, but it still makes for a challenging afternoon with some nice views down to Unstad beach.

Northern Lights shine in sky over sea and mountains of Vestvagoy, from near Myrland, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights over Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

The evening arrived with clear skies, which to me meant the possibility of Northern Lights.  It had been a strange Autumn thus far.  With a high amount of clear nights, the Aurora often remained quiet.  Then, during the cloudy days, I would check the Aurora forecast and later learn that thy sky had been filled with them in clear areas.  Never the less, a clear night was not to be wasted.  So I hopped in my rental car and headed out to the coast for what would likely be a long wait.  Just after 22:00, I began to notice that faint hint of green appear on the northern horizon.  By 22:30, a large, bright green arc filled the sky from horizon to horizon, growing in intensity over the following 30 minutes until it began to fade again.  My first night back with a camera, and the best Aurora of the season thus far.  Lucky again.

Evening twilight over Reine from summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Evening view over Reine from the summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Tent camping on narrow ridge of summit of Reinebringen mountain peak, Reine, Moskenesoy, lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Mountain camp on the summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Wednesday arrived with clear blue skies and a good forecast for the next couple days.  I wanted to sleep up high, hoping to photograph the northern lights from the top of a mountain.  On these clear Autumn nights, the temperatures had begun to drop to a few degrees below freezing, but that was no worry of mine, I could suffer a cold night for epic photos.  I set my sights on Reinebringen.  I had spent the night up here once before, in the summer of 2010, and even if the Northern Lights never appeared, with such fine weather, I was still almost guaranteed some nice images.  So in early afternoon I started heading west towards Reine.

I arrived at the summit ridge in mid afternoon with nice puffy white clouds in the sky and began my wait till darkness.  The air was cold, but as long as the sun was above the horizon, I was warm enough.  Once the sun fell behind the mountains, the temperature quickly dropped and I was forced into my tent and sleeping bag to keep warm.  I had, unfortunately, set up my tent in a somewhat awkward position, with the entrance slightly lower than the back; this was the only way it would fit.  In order to keep an eye on the sky, I needed to have my head poking out the front of the tent.  And so there I laid, in the somewhat uncomfortable position of my head lower than my feet, staring up at the star filled sky.  My position also meant that I only really had a clear view towards the southern sky, so every 10 minutes or so, I would crawl out of my sleeping bag and look towards the north..

The hours passed and I could feel my head growing tired.  Finally, just before midnight, a small green glow appeared on the northern horizon.  I hopped out of the tent and sturdied myself against the cold.  The aurora remained faint and appearing so late in the night likely meant that I was not going to have a repeat of the previous night’s display.  Disheartened and cold, I returned to the warmth of my sleeping bag.  My thoughts now focused on what the dawn would bring.

I had set my alarm to wake me before sunrise, but as it sounded in the early hours of the morning I didn’t have the strength to get out of bed.  I was tired and it was cold, not a productive combination of elements.  I let the hours pass until my tent was finally in sunlight and I willed the energy to stir from my sleep.  I want to think that I didn’t miss anything interesting, but I probably did.  Maybe next time.  By 10:00 I was back at the car and driving east towards Stamsund, blue skies overhead.

View over Reine and Fjord landscape from summit of Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Autumn view over Reine from Reinebringen, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Back in Stamsund later that day I wanted to be lazy, I truly did.  But I couldn’t.  With a few hours left until sunset I took the car to Holandsmelen, a small hill to the north of Leknes.  I didn’t quite know what to expect, only that it should be a somewhat easy hike, but a hike none the less, so I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about laziness.  Beginning in forest, the trail soon left the tree line, wandered across some bogs, before the final ascent towards the gentle round summit.  I arrived with near perfect timing, having about 20 minutes on top before the sun disappeared behind a layer of clouds hanging low on the horizon.  It was nearly dark before I arrived back at the car.

View of Vik and Haukland beaches from summit of Holandsmelen mountain peak, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Vik and Haukland beaches from the summit of Holandsmelen, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

 

View from rocky summit of Holandsmelen mountain peak, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Afternoon light over Lofoten from the summit of Holandsmelen, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Friday arrived with more blue skies and I knew I wanted something a bit bigger.  There are several mountains on my ‘to do’ list, but looking at maps, I decided on something new, Kroktind.  Not in much of a rush I headed out in mid morning for the 45 minute drive to the trailhead.  The route begins by following a cross country ski track, before climbing steeply up a low pass.  From there the trail circumvented a small peak before entering a beautiful alpine cirque with a small pond, just beginning to freeze over in the cold night, and then finally climbing to a wide ridge which leads to the small, exposed summit.  Another perfect day, and in a t-shirt on a mountain top at the end of September, amazing!  Sea eagles circled high overhead while the wilds of Ausvågøy stretched into the distance.  The clear silhouette of Vesterålen stood further away still.  This was as good as it gets on Lofoten, and in September no less!  I put a mental note to come back and camp down by the lake sometime in the future, and thought it could be a nice ski tour in winter.

Kroktind (707m) mountain peak reflects in small lake, Austvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Kroktind reflects in small mountain pond, Austvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

 

Rugged mountain landscape viewed from summit of Kroktind (707m), Austvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Rugged mountain peaks of Austvagoy from the summit of Kroktind, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

Saturday brought more sun, but by now the winds were beginning to pick up and I could tell the weather was going to shift.  I had given the thought of one final mountain, Himmeltindan, the highest mountain on Vestvågøy, but my laziness won and I was content to stay at sea level and eat popcorn.

The weather finally turned to rain and wind for my final two days on the islands, but this was okay now.  Despite all the setbacks, I had accomplished more than I imagined I would have and so I settled into my next worry; would the Hurtigruten ferry make it to port at Stamsund?  Roar always likes to tease me that I’m going to miss the boat.  And indeed, I think he must have a weather machine in his garage at the hostel, as I often seem to leave on days of gale force winds, unsure until the last moment if the boat will arrive.  On a couple occasions, this has even led me to buying last minute plane tickets for the final flight of the day off the islands and back to Bodø.  But at last, the ferry pulled up to port in the choppy waters of the harbor.  I said my goodbyes to the Islands and stretched out on a seat to get my 4 hours of sleep for the night.  After four visits to the islands in 2013, I did not know when I would see them again…

Illuminated tent with Northern Lights in sky at Kvalvika beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands Summer 2013 – Part 4 – Falling Down

Female hiker hiking in Evening summer sun on summit of Ryten, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Hiking into the sun on the summit of Ryten, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

[ This is part 4 of my Summer 2013 travels on Norway’s Lofoten Islands: PART 1PART 2PART 3 ]

I fist visited Kvalvika beach in the summer of 2006, where I spent two days hiding in my tent for the rain to end.  It never did.  Since then I’ve learned the advantages of checking the weather forecasts and now have had a few wonderful nights camping at the beach.  It remains one of my favorite places in Lofoten; relatively easy to get to and amazingly scenic.  But the best views are not from the beach itself, rather from the nearby peak of Ryten, which if you have been to Kvalvika, is the 500 meter vertical cliff on the right side of the beach.

Friday morning I cruised my mid 90’s Subaru rental car away from Stamsund and headed west towards Kvalvika along roads that are now more familiar than those of my own hometown. I think I know every curve of the E10 by heart and can find all the pullouts even under 2 feet of snow – except when there’s too much snow, and I end up just getting stuck.  Nearing the parking to the trailhead I saw a large bus parked.  Uh oh!  I hope there’s not going to be a school group camped at the beach!

By late morning, the backpack was on and we were making our way towards the beach.  Since my last visit in April, a kind person has placed some stones and boards across the more boggy sections in the start of the trail.  Thank you!  I often wonder why the Norwegians don’t use more of the ‘mountain sidewalk,’ as I like to call it, planks of board run across particularly boggy sections of land, which is rather prevalent in next door in Sweden.  The opinion of the Norwegians seems to be that you either wear giant boots or suffer with wet feet.  Though often unsightly, the ‘mountain sidewalk’ actually does help in keeping the trail from spreading multiple meters wide as people attempt to circumvent the bog.  But so it goes.  There are not many people in Norway anyhow…

Within 30 minutes or so of hiking, Kvalvika beach finally comes into view and I can always feel my pace quicken at this point.  Though this is where the trail becomes a bit steeper and rougher as it descends towards the beach, so a bit more caution is needed.  Still worried about the school group camping on the beach, I looked down and scanned for an encampment of tents that would probably resemble an invading Roman army.  Nothing came into sight.  A bit further down the hill I observed a bit of movement and then my eyes focused on what looked like the a large animal migration from some nature documentary.  It was the school group leaving the beach and hiking up towards me.  I will say, that I really appreciate the Norwegian/Scandinavian ethic of getting kids out into the wilderness at a young age, you can really tell this enjoyment of nature carries on throughout their adult lives, and much more so than in my fellow countrymen.  But it is something as an American I’ve never really experienced out in the wilds.  I know enough not to expect mountains to be empty in Europe and popular places like Lofoten.  I just wish the groups could sometimes be a little smaller.  And hopefully not end up camping at the same place as myself.  Luckily, we gave our greetings as we passed and we arrived to the beach almost empty.

From up high, there seems to be an unlimited assortment of camping areas.  Upon closer inspection the grassy bluffs at the back of the beach are thoroughly covered in sheep shit, how do you think the grass stays so short all summer long, and sometimes a bit of careful cleaning up might be required.  But overall, there is a wonderful assortment of places for a tent and you should generally have no problem finding a place, even on a crowded summer evening.  I have a favorite spot out past the ‘not-to-be-named-hut-at-the-secret-beach-in-an-award-winning-film-by-some-Norwegian-surfer-dudes,’ and luckily no one had set up there for the night.  After pitching the tent it was off to search for firewood on the well combed beach of late summer and there is generally a bit to find if you search hard enough.

I always feel a haste to head right up Ryten.  But when I look at my watch and realize there’s 6 hours until sunset, it’s best not to rush things too much.  It can be a long, cold, wait at the top.  On this afternoon though, there was a layer of cloud hanging above the horizon, so I decided to head up around 6:00 pm, with a sunset around 8:45 pm, so as to hopefully get some nice light across the beach

Ryten is one of those mountains that looks higher than it really is and the 500 meters can actually go by pretty quickly.  Just start walking, maybe with some good music coming out of your Ipod, and you’ll soon find yourself nearing the top.  The view from Ryten towards Kvalvika is best as an afternoon/evening photo, when the sun will be in the northwestern sky and shine directly into the beach, which is shaded by high mountains from every other direction.  And actually, the end of August is already a bit to late in the season for the beach to be fully illuminated, the sun now setting too far to the south to fully shine across the beach without being blocked by the surrounding peaks.

Female hiker overlooking Kvalvika beach from nearby mountain, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Halfway up Ryten, the views are getting good! Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Female hiker enjoying view of Kvalvika beach from near summit of Ryten, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Overlooking Kvalvika beach, 500 meters below, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

While the winds had been calm when leaving the beach, upon reaching the final summit ridge to Ryten it was evident that conditions had changed and a  cold east wind was blowing across the summits.  It was quickly evident that it would be somewhat pointless waiting around until sunset, such as I did on an even colder and windier day in May, as I would struggle to keep my tripod from falling over, much less get anything resembling a sharp photo in the fading twilight.  So with the sun just about to sink below the sea we were heading back down the mountain.

The sky was turning a nice color as I was nearing the beach.  Somewhat distracted with the scenery, I took a careless ‘hop’ off a grassy step and then landed on a surface that was far slipperier than I was expecting.  My foot immediately slipped, then turned sideways as my leg folded and I found myself heading face first into the small creek just above the beach; my leg now bent in an unhealthy position beneath me.  Fuck!  I was 20 feet from the sand, yet I slipped and fell.  As I righted myself I could feel that something was wrong in my foot.  Not wanting to waste time with checking things out incase I would be completely unable to walk in a few minutes, I put as much weight on my trekking poles as possible and hobbled across the beach and back to the tent.  By the time I arrived my ankle had already become quite swollen and too painful to put any weight on.

I was pretty sure nothing was broken, but hell, it hurt!  What I was hoping would have been a nice evening shooting photos late into the night turned into something of a suffer fest.  I did my best to enjoy the campfire we built, but it was a struggle, sitting awkwardly on the plank of wood turned bench upon which I could never get comfortable.  After an hour or so like this, Northern Lights appeared in the sky.

Normally Northern Lights would be a joy to me, especially so early in the year.  But now all I thought about was pain.  Unwilling to let the opportunity go to waste, I crawled on my hands and knees, careful to avoid the numerous piles of sheep shit, to someplace that seemed like a decent composition.  Luckily things worked out that it was the best framing for me to lay on the ground.  So that I did for the next 20 minutes until the lights faded and I once again crawled back to the tent.  After that exertion I decided it was time for bed.

Illuminated tent with Northern Lights in sky at Kvalvika beach, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Northern Lights over my tent at Kvalvika beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

I didn’t take any pain medication, wanting to know how bad my ankle really was, and if I’d be able to hike out in the morning.  My foot throbbed into the night.  I didn’t sleep.

The moment of truth came with the morning as I crawled out of the tent and made my first attempt to stand.  It was painful, but not overwhelmingly so. Now I loaded myself on Ibuprofen and for the first time in 12 years of carrying it through the wilds, had to use by ace wrap to tie up my ankle so it would remain as inflexible as possible.  The hike normally takes me about 45 minutes, now I was imagining something more along the lines of 2 hours.  Slow and steady my motto would be.  And so the journey back to the car slowly began, step after painful step.  It took a while, but eventually we made it back to the car.  No need for any sort of rescue operation.  But as Roar later informed me once back in Stamsund, I wasn’t in too much danger anyhow, ‘The farmers would be collecting their sheep in a few weeks, and could have taken you back with them…’

Random brand mixed vegetables, usually some mix carrots and peas, are the cheapest cold item to buy in the supermarkets of Norway.  And so this is what iced my ankle over the following days.  There was some nice light and I would have been tempted to the mountains, but I now had something bigger on my mind.  Would I be able to hike 7 days on the Kunsleden trail in Sweden, which would begin in less than two weeks!

I was forced to remain seaside for my last few days on Lofoten.  Not the way I would liked to have finished the trip, but at least the sprained ankle came at the end, not the beginning!  And luckily my ankle was not as bad as it could have been and there was no need for a (expensive) doctors visit. After a few days, despite some ugly looking bruising, I was about 40% mobile on horizontal ground.

Finally, it was Wednesday, September 4th, and time to depart the islands for Germany.  Normally I would enjoy the 1km walk to the Hurtigruten ferry terminal as a bit of time to clear my mind for departure, but thankfully a friend offered us a ride this time.  I was raining anyhow…

And so another Summer on Lofoten ended.  I knew I would be back in a few weeks, so it was not really a proper goodbye.  Little did I know at the time though, that I would be back in little more than a week, after my camera decided to take a Swim in Sweden

Scenic Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Sunset at Myrland beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

 

Scenic Myrland beach, Flakstadoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Evening Twilight at Myrland beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2013

mountain bivy on rocky summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands Summer 2013 – Part 3 – Hermannsdalstinden

Evening light over mountain landscape from rocky summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Endless mountains as seen from the summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

[This is part 3 of my summer travels: go here for PART 1PART 2 ]

The Hostel at Stamsund, Justad Rorbu og Vanderhjem, the formal name, but everyone just calls it Stamsund, is a magical place and one of the reasons I fell so much in love with Lofoten during my first stay there in the summer of 2001.  The hostel is simple and charming, set in an older fishermen’s building now around a hundred years old, with the tide lapping against the rocks underneath the kitchen – dining room floor.  Over the years it has become a home away from home for me, and hundreds of others who return year after year.

My arrival on this stormy morning was completely unannounced, with few people even knowing I was on the islands.  Yet as I walked in the door of the kitchen to the large group of people sitting around the table I was immediately greeted, ‘Cody, hello!  When did you get here?’

‘Oh hello Cody, I have just made some tea, would you like some?’

‘There’s still some food left on the table, help yourself if you’d like something to eat…’

And so before I could even change out of my smelly clothes or take a shower, I found myself sitting around the table, recounting stories of my last days and hearing about the travels of others whom I might not have seen for a year or two, and trying to put to memory the names of a few new faces whom I’m sure I’ll see around again in the coming years.  Only in Stamsund.

It was now Monday, August 19th.  As afternoon carried on, the rain fell heavier and heavier.  Tuesday it also rained, Wednesday as well as Thursday it continued.  But the forecast for Friday afternoon and the weekend looked promising.  And so I formed plans for the morning, Hermannsdalstinden.

Friday morning I said my goodbyes and caught the bus out of Stamsund to make my way to Reine and again take the ferry.  This time however, I wasn’t going to Bunes or Horseid beaches. I was heading towards Hermannsdalstinden, which, at 1029 meters above the sea, is the highest mountain on Moskenesøy, and the western half of Lofoten as a whole.  It is a rugged and impressive peak that has been on my Lofoten ‘to-do’ list for quite some time, but for some reason has never worked out.  This time I would be in luck.

Twilight light over mountain landscape from rocky summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo:  Twilight arrives on Lofoten, Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

There are two approaches to Hermannsdalstinden.  The main route begins in Sørvågen and heads inland, passing the Munkebu hut, before continuing on towards the mountain.  The second option is to take the ferry from Reine to Forsfjord.  This has the benefit of saving you a few kilometers of hiking, for the cost of 120 NOK ferry ride(!). The savings in horizontal distance earns you a steep, slippery ascent until the two trails meet.  Once you leave the boat in Forsfjord, there is no going back.

CLICK HERE for hiking route info on Hermannsdalstinden.

As the afternoon ferry departed Reine the sky was still partially filled with low, peak concealing clouds of mist rising in the strong sunlight.  The water of the Reinefjord was like glass, and the boat sped across the surface into the perfect reflections of the surrounding mountains.  After a couple stops to drop off some mail and pickup passengers returning from the beaches the boat entered the deep shadows of Forsfjord and it was now my turn to leave.  Despite a rather full boat, I was the only one to exit in Forsfjord.  I was now alone, only 5 kilometers and 1029 meters ahead of me.  It was 3:45 PM.   I watched for a moment as the boat disappeared in the distance and then began my journey.

The benefit of the Forsfjord route is that you save over half of the (horizontal) distance to the mountain.  The tradeoff is that you convert distance into a steep, slipper slope, at times having to pull on the bracken and trees to keep from slipping backwards as your feet struggle to take purchase on the muddy slopes.  It is somewhat of a relief that after reaching the half way point of the first climb the trail begins to follow a series of rock bands and steps, making for sometimes more exposed, but altogether easier travel.  After 200 meters of ascent the shores of the first lake are reached.  Only 800+ meters to go!

I was initially unsure of where I would camp for the night as I knew the summit to be rocky and not overly conductive to camping.  I had received a bit of beta from some others that there was something of a grassy ledge below the summit that would work for a tent.  Knowing it was unlikely to rain I wasn’t overly worried about shelter. At worst, I would find as flat of a rock as possible to lean against during the short night of late August.  If the weather did turn bad, I could just sit around in my rain gear, or begin hiking back down the mountain.

A little after 7:30 PM I scrambled around the last few boulders and found myself just below the summit.  The sun was getting low on the horizon so I tossed my backpack against some rocks and got to work taking photos.

I never saw anything looking like a good spot for a tent, but I did find several good options to bivy for the night.  I finally decided on a nice flat rock that, although quite close to the edge, was protected by a few rocks that would most likely keep me from rolling off and falling 30-40 meters.   I settled myself in for the night as the last bit of twilight was fading from the sky and the full moon rising higher above the Vestfjord.  At some point in the night the winds picked up in strength and brought a bit of a chill.  I cinched up my bag so that only my nose was visible.  The moon was bright overhead.

mountain bivy on rocky summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: My bivy spot on the summit of Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Lofoten Islands Sunrise from Hermannsdalstinden, Norway

Photo: Warm greetings of the morning’s sun, Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Hermannsdalstinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Dark clouds fill the sky as I descend from the mountain, Hermannsdalstinden, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

I was up before 05:00, waiting for what the day would bring.  An uneventful sunrise as it turned out.  But I was thankful for the warmth as the first rays of light pierced the cold morning air.  The steam of my tea drifted into the breeze as I held it tightly to heat my hands.  And so there I sat, alone, watching sunrise on the top of Lofoten and wondering what another day in the north would be bringing me.  It was one of those moments that’s probably nicer to share with others, but if you cannot, it’s still better to be there than not.

After an hour of so I noticed some eerie looking clouds beginning to form over the mountains to the west, and combined the the ever increasing wind, I figured I should probably start heading down.  For the second time on this trip, I found myself descending a mountain in the early morning.  Seems a bit odd, with the full day ahead, but so it goes…

Half way down I sat and watched clouds swirling over the peak which was now full concealed with any remaining blue sky being consumed by a wall of gray from the west.  By 10:00 the sky was completely filled dark and forlorn looking clouds.  I passed some others making their way up the mountain and wished them luck, I would not have liked to be heading in their direction.  The difference 15 hours can make.

Soon enough I found myself arriving at Munkebu hut.  Somewhat tired and with nowhere in particular to go I set up camp.  I gave though to heading up Munkan, and had the weather been better, I would of.  But the summit was in the clouds so I laid in my tent and slept the afternoon away.  Lazy life, that of a mountain photographer.

The following morning brought an uneventful hike down to Sørvågen and then what I can only describe as pathetic attempts to hitchhike back to Stamsund.  I managed get a little past Hamnøy, before going nowhere for an hour + of standing on the side of the road until the only bus of the day came and took me to Leknes.  It was a Sunday after all, not good for hitching I guess..  With no busses to Stamsund, I ended up walking about halfway and catching a couple rides.  My feet were now thoroughly sore by this point.  Reaching the hostel, I setup a mattress in the sun outside and once again took a nap.  Exhausted.

Monday brought rain once more.  As did Tuesday.  Blustery weather came on Wednesday before then things began to calm a bit on Thursday.  And finally, in what seemed to be a developing pattern on this trip, the weekend’s forecast was once again good looking.  A plan was made – Camp and Kvalvika beach and hike up Ryten for sunset.  This would be my third time doing this combination of beach and mountain, and it what is now one of my favorite overnight tours on Lofoten.

…Continued PART 4

Storsandnessanden beach looking towards mountains of Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Summer rain passes over Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

 

Waves break across rocky coastline at Unstad beach, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Passing storm at Utakleiv beach, Vestvagoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Horseid beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Lofoten Islands Summer 2013 – Part 2 – Escape

Horseid beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Heavy clouds hang over Horseid beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

[Lofoten Islands Summer 2013 Part 2.  Part 1 -HERE- ]

As I reached the summit of the pass between Kjerkfjord and Horseid beach, proper rain turned into heavy rain.  I was also hiking fast and getting hot.  I should have changed into a synthetic shirt, but believing that the rain would only last a few more hours I foolishly stayed in a cotton shirt, which proceeded to get wetter and wetter from my sweating under the burden of my heavy backpack.  By the time I reached the beach, heavy rain had turned into torrential rain, with drops so big they hurt.  I was becoming increasingly soaked by the combination of sweat, rain, and sideways blowing wind.

Reaching the small grassy bluff at the far end of the beach, it was a mad dash to set up my tent beneath the falling sky.  I am quick with tents.  But by the time I through my backpack inside, jumped in and closed the rain fly, everything was wet and I was completely soaked through and through.  Pools of water formed under my dripping wet rain gear as I placed it in a corner of my tent in a haphazard attempt to keep the rest of the tent from getting wet.  My only hope at this point was to strip down to my underwear, crawl into my sleeping bag and hope my body heat would dry me off while I waited for the rain to end.

Hour after hour passed and the rain still fell.  Evening came, then night and the rain continued, unbroken.  I didn’t bother with cooking dinner.  Finally sometime around 03:00 the clouds broke and the winds came.  In the predawn light, I used my tripod, along the the guy-lines from my tent to setup a poor-mans clothes line by which I would attempt to dry my clothes.  The winds blew stronger and stronger, with my tent flattening out once again.  By 06:00 I was fully packed, dressed in semi-moist clothing, with the wettest stuff tied to the back of my backpack.  Despite the early hour, I was ready to get out of there as it looked like a full on storm was about to arrive.  Sand stung me as I crossed the beach and progress was slow as I walked into the winds.

Horseid beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: The rain has stopped, Horseid beach, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Instead of returning back to Kjerkfjord and the ferry to Reine, and shelter, I took the steep muddy trail that would lead me beneath the steep spire of Kråkhammatind before descending into the lush valley of Fagerådal and eventually finishing at the DNT mountain hut at Selfjord.  On the map, the trail looks relatively straight forward, but in reality, it is often steep, muddy and rocky, with very few moments where one can simply walk.

While I heated myself up to a sweat on the steep ascent, once gaining the pass I exposed to the full front of near gale force winds, and quickly took a break to put on all my jackets.  I would have liked to camp up here, but there was no way my tent would survive in such conditions, so I continued on.

Sunlight pierces through clouds on Solbjørnvatnet, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Stormy sky over lake Solbjørnvatnet, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Clouds conceal dramatic mountain peak of Kråkhammartind, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Clouds conceal the summit of Kråkhammartind, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Scenic mountain valley around lake Fageråvatnet, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: View towards lake Fageråvatnet, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

Green summer birch trees below dramatic mountain peaks, Moskenesoy, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Green Birches of Summer, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  August 2013

The descent to shores of lake Fageråvatnet was particularly treacherous under the weight of my heavy backpack, with steep sections of loose moss covering otherwise bare, wet rock at 45 degree angles or more.  Loss of footing would have lead to a bad fall or twisted ankles.  Once reaching the lower ground, the trail twisted through trees, over rocks, under rocks, until finally reaching the inner waters of the fjord where it turned into Lofoten super bog.  To this point I had kept my feet more or less dry.  On the last 1 km of trail, this was a hopeless effort and I gave up trying to hop between the ever shrinking, and sinking, dry clumps of grass.  Luckily by now the sun had come out and it was actually beginning to look like a nice day.

The standard Norwegian DNT hut key works for opening the door at the Selfjordhytte, a group of two cabins an a couple out buildings at the end of the fjord.  Upon my arrival I was greeted by a nice French woman who informed me of the news that the water pumps were not working.  The nearest source of water?  Back across the 1 km of bog to a small stream.  I knew I should have filled up my water bottles as I passed!  So before settling down for the afternoon, it was time for more wet feet.

Another text message weather forecast told me that a big storm would be arriving in the morning.  But now into early afternoon the day was actually hot and the winds seemingly gone.  Though a German couple arriving later that afternoon also from Horseid beach informed me that it remained quite stormy and cloudy there.  Such is the changeability of Lofoten. I was in bed before dark, a real bed this time, alarm set for 05:00.

Rain fell in waves throughout the night, but seemed to have backed off as I walked out the door of the hut at 06:00, the sky dark an ominous looking.  I had 12 km walking along the road ahead of me, with no chance of shelter and little chance of catching a ride as there are only a few scattered houses along the way.  Once I left, there would be no return and I would be at the mercy of whatever the sky decided to throw at me.  Despite the chill in the air, the wind, and the off and on sprinkles of rain, I hiked in a t-shirt, so fast I was trying to walk.  In just over an hour I passed the trailhead to Kvalvika beach and knew I was just over half way to the E10 and a good place to hitch a ride.  Or if that failed, the bus would come by at 10:00.

Reaching the outskirts of Fredvang, the rain grew heavier than I would have liked and I was back in my waterproofs for the remainder of the walk.  In a little over 2 hours I reached the E10.  Not bad for 12 km or road on an empty stomach!  A few cars passed, but I must have been a bit rough looking, and none stopped for what seemed like an eternity.  Until finally, a young German family pulled over and could take me all the way into Leknes.  With a light rain still falling, I walked a few blocks to the main road to Stamsund and as luck would have it, a car driven by a Polish electrician quickly pulled over and took me to the corner of the hostel.

I put on backpack for one last time and walked down the familiar road towards the yellow buildings on the edge of the sea.

…Continued PART 3