Bærumsmarka walk 5 June 2005
A walk from Bogstadvannet across the hills of Bærumsmarka
We had planned for this to be a long walk, across Oslo, through Bærumsmarka, and then north to Sundvollen. It was the reverse of the walk that we had had to call off the week before, after being led on a wild goose chase through Oslo, with a native failing miserably to locate the sports shop, or the quickest route to it. By the time he got us to it, it had closed. Everything closes so early in Oslo.
The language barrier can make it very frustrating trying to explain to someone that we know what we are doing, we have a map, we will be alright, we have just moved here for a while and were not able to bring all of our walking equipment with us, and if you just told us where the shop was, we would go there ourselves. Me being a seasoned caver, experienced at route finding, and Moose, an experienced mountaineer, used to spending weeks at a time in the mountains of Tatry. How can I say this to someone else when neither of us can understand the nuances of each other's languages?
Anyway, the idea was to test the water, ignoring the paths, and making our own way through the forests, picking up as many summits and lakes as we could on the way. That turned out to be a bit too ambitious, and we ended up walking only to the far end of Bærumsmarka. In fact, we walked further through the city than we did through the forest. But distance is not everything. It was a good introduction.
The walk began at Moose's flat, waiting for Pavel to join us. Just as we started walking off, he turned up, so we began our 8 kilometre walk through the city together.
This is a sign we saw near the edge of the city. It was impossible to resist immortalising. I wish I had been faster with my camera, but just a little further on, we watched a wild deer walk across our path and into someone's garden. What a surprise when you look out of your window in the morning.
Didn't anyone tell you; Moose eat spruce. It actually tastes OK. A little sour - like the skin on a gooseberry. And it is addictive. I was eating them for the rest of the day.
I know there is not much arable land in Norway, but this is taking things a little too far...
Built like a wood shit house. Finally we had reached the far edge of the city.
Bogstadvannet, on the edge of the city. Looks very nice from here. A pity about all the rubbish and rotting fish heads around this edge of it though. Oops, did I spoil your enjoyment of this picture?
A much cleaner part of the lake. Perfect for swimming. Now, if only there was a pier for us to jump off.
Aah! Perfect! In you go Moose. We took the opportunity to have a rest, and add an extra pair of socks. After an hour and a half walking through the city in walking boots, feet were feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
Moose and his coffin nail.
Sorry guys, but this just reminded me of something ... can't think what it might be...
Oh yeah, that was it!
After passing through a tourist farm (!) with some rare cows, we got our first good view of the Bærumsmarka range. Our walk would take us over most of these hills/mountains.
Crossing some marshland. Who needs footpaths anyway?
The path passed through fields of clover, before entering the first part of the forest.
When we reached the river that fed the lake, we decided to cross it the natural way, instead of trying to find a bridge. Moose boldly took the lead, and informed us that the water was pleasantly cold, even when he nearly fell in, and when the water reached that height.
Aah, that's what it needs. Hold your boots in your hands so you can balance.
Pavel decided that his trousers would not dry fast enough, so he went in without them. I must admit that I also scared the wildlife by doing the same.
Many people do yoga. Even at the most inopportune moments. But what's with the penknife?
A picture of Moose taking a picture of me taking a picture of Moose.
Now on the other side of the river, we passed a small town, and some dandelion fields before finally reaching the forests of Bærumsmarka for real. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
Taking the opportunity, we ignored the path, and walked directly into the forest.
Like a miniature version of the rivers in Alaska. We crossed this river a couple of times before heading towards the first of the peaks.
The view over the edge of Bærumsmarka towards Nordmarka.
The peak was protected by a cliff. In theory, we could have climbed it. Maybe.
Well, let's see. If I put this hand here, then my right foot there, then my left ear there, I should be able to pull myself up by my eyelids. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
Scrambling up the slope beside the cliff. At the top, we were welcomed by a forestry track. Back to pseudo civilisation. We decided to follow the track for a little while.
What can I say? Whoever made this sign obviously had a sense of humour - or a complete lack of understanding for what they were writing.
The downside of being in a forest is having to witness the results of the logging industry.
It may by a good renewable source of resources, but that doesn't make it look any better.
In fact, Moose was so dumbstruck by the devastation that he promptly fainted on the side of the track. We decided to leave the path and follow our noses through the forest.
This may look like an artistic shot, but it is a sad reflection on the reality of the views here. This was fairly typical for a "good" view, always with trees blocking it, but giving enticing glimpses of what lay on the other side of the trees.
We continued upwards towards the first summit.
Finally, natural clearing gave us a view towards Venneråsen and the Merraskallen peak (424 metres). To the right is the 414 metre Høgåsen.
After a brutal battle of wills, Pavel's "walk without resting" won over Moose's "stop and look", so we continued to the real summit of Tømmeråsen (362 metres) to eat lunch.
Looking back, we could see the Holmenkollen ski jump, and the edge of Oslo. This landmark would be with us for the whole day - almost every viewpoint showed us that we were still within sight of the city.
A trig point, or trig peg, or something. This is how you know you have reached the summit. If you can find a tiny piece of metal under the moss, blueberries, tree roots, and anthills. And that implies you can actually work out where the top is, with no sign of a peak, just a gentle rise hidden somewhere inside a shroud of densely packed trees. Most of the time, you just have to assume you have reached the top.
Pavel at the summit, sporting a top-of-the-range pair of 3-year-old-girl's glasses.
The kitchen sink - er - cooker.
A Norwegian sandwich. Aka, a piece of bread with some stuff on the top. Salami, cheese, and various toppings should be piled on top until they teeter on the edge, showering bits of food around you as you eat. Hey, it's Norwegian custom. Who are we to argue?
An example of a summit. Somewhere hidden in there will be a metal peg about 10 centimetres tall. Do you think you could find it?
The areas between the peaks are deceptive. The ground is generally marshy making progress slow, but at least the trees are far enough apart that we did not have to force a way through here. There are almost no landmarks here, and navigation relies on either sunlight, or a compass.
A number of trees exibited this split personality, at about the same height above the ground as each other. This one was clearly the best example.
Don't be fooled. This is not a path. It is just the place where the marshy ground has prevented any trees taking root. Well, we fit here, so we might as well walk through it. Beside us here is the gentle 420 metre summit of Lønnmåsahøgda.
And again, this clearing is a marsh. A bit deeper than the others though, up to your knees, so we carefully picked a route around the edge.
Just as we started up towards the next summit, a cloud blew through the trees, and sent a rainshower down on us.
We donned waterproofs, and continued upwards
Pavel and a masked Moose at the next proper summit, Dæliseteråsen, 445 metres.
Me at the Dæliseteråsen summit with the trusty compass, and a de-masked Moose.
Moose dehydrating the potatoes. Sorry to have to show you that, but the translated Polish phrase was worth remembering.
The head of a juvenile spruce, complete with flying ant.
A panorama of the Tjæregrashøgda ridge from the edge of Dæliseteråsen. Just visible in the distance on the left is the Tyrifjorden and Steinsfjorden.
Tyrifjorden and Steinsfjorden, the original intended destination for our trip, but we would not be going there today. That would be next week.
A dark storm cloud rolling over Tjæregrashøgda.
Trees (what else?) on the edge of Dæliseteråsen.
Taking pictures on Dæliseteråsen. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
A sudden change in the wind, and the sun pearced the thick storm cloud giving us a warm light, but still leaving Tjæregrashøgda draped in darkness.
Dropping down into the next valley, we started to head towards the Triungsvann lake beside us. For the first time since Tømmeråsen, we heard voices from somewhere amongst the trees. Damer! Pavel got itchy feet, and tried to find them.
Moose and I stopped to relax and take pictures of this scoured rock. Pavel was more interested in damer chasing, so we started towards the Tjæregrashøgda peak where the voices had come from.
Instead of damer, we were confronted with a cliff. We walked around it to try to find a way up.
Moss growing on the cliff. There was no way we could climb up this.
Finally we found a gully which climbed up to a path.
At the top of the cliff was a plateau, with another cliff above it.
From the summit of Tjæregrashøgda, we were rewarded with a stunning panorama of Vestmarka. This would be next week's walk, crossing this picture entirely from left to right, and beyond to Steinsfjorden.
In the distance, we could see the sunlight break a hole through a stormcloud, streaking down through the rain, and lighting up the lips of the hole.
Below us we could see an inviting lake, and Moose and I planned to wade and swim across it. We clambered down beside a tall cliff, and approached the lake, but we were forced back by the deep marshy ground that surrounded it. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
The path continued downwards beside some rocky outcrops, dropping quickly to the edge of the hills.
After a final descent beside a scree slope, we were greeted with the most Norwegian of holiday destinations; a set of cabins, nestled in amongst the trees. The wilderness feeling disappeared immediately.
The path then became extremely monotonous, kilometres of pathway through forest, where we hardly bothered to look up any more. The only landmark was the Haslumseter kapell, where we took a short break to rest our feet.
Back on dirt track, we took some fresh water from a picturesque mountain stream.
Østernvannet, a picture made all the more striking by the stunning cloud formation sitting over the edges of the lake.
A stereotypical Norwegian picture; trees clinging to the bare rock on the edge of the lake.
And again, with added moss.
Remove accessories, and head for the water. Moose managed to stand on something sharp in the water, so was forced back onto dry land again.
Need I say more?
Trying to get out again is a lot harder than it looks. The bottom is either sharp rock, or several inches of rotting spruce needles, which plume around you as you move. It's much better further out.
Who brought the towels then?
The last piece of steep mountain. Our walk was almost over.
Moose tracks (sorry ;). Heading down the track, my knee decided it had had enough and started to hurt considerably with every step. I had probably strained a ligament. At least we were close to the end of the walk now.
The destination of the trees that we had been walking past all day.
Mooring posts in the waters of Bogstavannet (now the other side).
More mooring posts in Bogstavannet - these ones were home to an elevated black headed gull.
The river below the lake pours down some small cascades...
...And churns its way downstream.
We caught the bus instead of walking back across the city. Moose, who had not slept for the last 29 hours, could not stay awake any longer, despite having a beautiful view to look at (the damer in the seat behind me).
This is a sign we saw near the edge of the city. It was impossible to resist immortalising. I wish I had been faster with my camera, but just a little further on, we watched a wild deer walk across our path and into someone's garden. What a surprise when you look out of your window in the morning.
Didn't anyone tell you; Moose eat spruce. It actually tastes OK. A little sour - like the skin on a gooseberry. And it is addictive. I was eating them for the rest of the day.
I know there is not much arable land in Norway, but this is taking things a little too far...
Built like a wood shit house. Finally we had reached the far edge of the city.
Bogstadvannet, on the edge of the city. Looks very nice from here. A pity about all the rubbish and rotting fish heads around this edge of it though. Oops, did I spoil your enjoyment of this picture?
A much cleaner part of the lake. Perfect for swimming. Now, if only there was a pier for us to jump off.
Aah! Perfect! In you go Moose. We took the opportunity to have a rest, and add an extra pair of socks. After an hour and a half walking through the city in walking boots, feet were feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
Moose and his coffin nail.
Sorry guys, but this just reminded me of something ... can't think what it might be...
Oh yeah, that was it!
After passing through a tourist farm (!) with some rare cows, we got our first good view of the Bærumsmarka range. Our walk would take us over most of these hills/mountains.
Crossing some marshland. Who needs footpaths anyway?
The path passed through fields of clover, before entering the first part of the forest.
When we reached the river that fed the lake, we decided to cross it the natural way, instead of trying to find a bridge. Moose boldly took the lead, and informed us that the water was pleasantly cold, even when he nearly fell in, and when the water reached that height.
Aah, that's what it needs. Hold your boots in your hands so you can balance.
Pavel decided that his trousers would not dry fast enough, so he went in without them. I must admit that I also scared the wildlife by doing the same.
Many people do yoga. Even at the most inopportune moments. But what's with the penknife?
A picture of Moose taking a picture of me taking a picture of Moose.
Now on the other side of the river, we passed a small town, and some dandelion fields before finally reaching the forests of Bærumsmarka for real. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
Taking the opportunity, we ignored the path, and walked directly into the forest.
Like a miniature version of the rivers in Alaska. We crossed this river a couple of times before heading towards the first of the peaks.
The view over the edge of Bærumsmarka towards Nordmarka.
The peak was protected by a cliff. In theory, we could have climbed it. Maybe.
Well, let's see. If I put this hand here, then my right foot there, then my left ear there, I should be able to pull myself up by my eyelids. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
Scrambling up the slope beside the cliff. At the top, we were welcomed by a forestry track. Back to pseudo civilisation. We decided to follow the track for a little while.
What can I say? Whoever made this sign obviously had a sense of humour - or a complete lack of understanding for what they were writing.
The downside of being in a forest is having to witness the results of the logging industry.
It may by a good renewable source of resources, but that doesn't make it look any better.
In fact, Moose was so dumbstruck by the devastation that he promptly fainted on the side of the track. We decided to leave the path and follow our noses through the forest.
This may look like an artistic shot, but it is a sad reflection on the reality of the views here. This was fairly typical for a "good" view, always with trees blocking it, but giving enticing glimpses of what lay on the other side of the trees.
We continued upwards towards the first summit.
Finally, natural clearing gave us a view towards Venneråsen and the Merraskallen peak (424 metres). To the right is the 414 metre Høgåsen.
After a brutal battle of wills, Pavel's "walk without resting" won over Moose's "stop and look", so we continued to the real summit of Tømmeråsen (362 metres) to eat lunch.
Looking back, we could see the Holmenkollen ski jump, and the edge of Oslo. This landmark would be with us for the whole day - almost every viewpoint showed us that we were still within sight of the city.
A trig point, or trig peg, or something. This is how you know you have reached the summit. If you can find a tiny piece of metal under the moss, blueberries, tree roots, and anthills. And that implies you can actually work out where the top is, with no sign of a peak, just a gentle rise hidden somewhere inside a shroud of densely packed trees. Most of the time, you just have to assume you have reached the top.
Pavel at the summit, sporting a top-of-the-range pair of 3-year-old-girl's glasses.
The kitchen sink - er - cooker.
A Norwegian sandwich. Aka, a piece of bread with some stuff on the top. Salami, cheese, and various toppings should be piled on top until they teeter on the edge, showering bits of food around you as you eat. Hey, it's Norwegian custom. Who are we to argue?
An example of a summit. Somewhere hidden in there will be a metal peg about 10 centimetres tall. Do you think you could find it?
The areas between the peaks are deceptive. The ground is generally marshy making progress slow, but at least the trees are far enough apart that we did not have to force a way through here. There are almost no landmarks here, and navigation relies on either sunlight, or a compass.
A number of trees exibited this split personality, at about the same height above the ground as each other. This one was clearly the best example.
Don't be fooled. This is not a path. It is just the place where the marshy ground has prevented any trees taking root. Well, we fit here, so we might as well walk through it. Beside us here is the gentle 420 metre summit of Lønnmåsahøgda.
And again, this clearing is a marsh. A bit deeper than the others though, up to your knees, so we carefully picked a route around the edge.
Just as we started up towards the next summit, a cloud blew through the trees, and sent a rainshower down on us.
We donned waterproofs, and continued upwards
Pavel and a masked Moose at the next proper summit, Dæliseteråsen, 445 metres.
Me at the Dæliseteråsen summit with the trusty compass, and a de-masked Moose.
Moose dehydrating the potatoes. Sorry to have to show you that, but the translated Polish phrase was worth remembering.
The head of a juvenile spruce, complete with flying ant.
A panorama of the Tjæregrashøgda ridge from the edge of Dæliseteråsen. Just visible in the distance on the left is the Tyrifjorden and Steinsfjorden.
Tyrifjorden and Steinsfjorden, the original intended destination for our trip, but we would not be going there today. That would be next week.
A dark storm cloud rolling over Tjæregrashøgda.
Trees (what else?) on the edge of Dæliseteråsen.
Taking pictures on Dæliseteråsen. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
A sudden change in the wind, and the sun pearced the thick storm cloud giving us a warm light, but still leaving Tjæregrashøgda draped in darkness.
Dropping down into the next valley, we started to head towards the Triungsvann lake beside us. For the first time since Tømmeråsen, we heard voices from somewhere amongst the trees. Damer! Pavel got itchy feet, and tried to find them.
Moose and I stopped to relax and take pictures of this scoured rock. Pavel was more interested in damer chasing, so we started towards the Tjæregrashøgda peak where the voices had come from.
Instead of damer, we were confronted with a cliff. We walked around it to try to find a way up.
Moss growing on the cliff. There was no way we could climb up this.
Finally we found a gully which climbed up to a path.
At the top of the cliff was a plateau, with another cliff above it.
From the summit of Tjæregrashøgda, we were rewarded with a stunning panorama of Vestmarka. This would be next week's walk, crossing this picture entirely from left to right, and beyond to Steinsfjorden.
In the distance, we could see the sunlight break a hole through a stormcloud, streaking down through the rain, and lighting up the lips of the hole.
Below us we could see an inviting lake, and Moose and I planned to wade and swim across it. We clambered down beside a tall cliff, and approached the lake, but we were forced back by the deep marshy ground that surrounded it. Thanks to Pavel for the picture.
The path continued downwards beside some rocky outcrops, dropping quickly to the edge of the hills.
After a final descent beside a scree slope, we were greeted with the most Norwegian of holiday destinations; a set of cabins, nestled in amongst the trees. The wilderness feeling disappeared immediately.
The path then became extremely monotonous, kilometres of pathway through forest, where we hardly bothered to look up any more. The only landmark was the Haslumseter kapell, where we took a short break to rest our feet.
Back on dirt track, we took some fresh water from a picturesque mountain stream.
Østernvannet, a picture made all the more striking by the stunning cloud formation sitting over the edges of the lake.
A stereotypical Norwegian picture; trees clinging to the bare rock on the edge of the lake.
And again, with added moss.
Remove accessories, and head for the water. Moose managed to stand on something sharp in the water, so was forced back onto dry land again.
Need I say more?
Trying to get out again is a lot harder than it looks. The bottom is either sharp rock, or several inches of rotting spruce needles, which plume around you as you move. It's much better further out.
Who brought the towels then?
The last piece of steep mountain. Our walk was almost over.
Moose tracks (sorry ;). Heading down the track, my knee decided it had had enough and started to hurt considerably with every step. I had probably strained a ligament. At least we were close to the end of the walk now.
The destination of the trees that we had been walking past all day.
Mooring posts in the waters of Bogstavannet (now the other side).
More mooring posts in Bogstavannet - these ones were home to an elevated black headed gull.
The river below the lake pours down some small cascades...
...And churns its way downstream.
We caught the bus instead of walking back across the city. Moose, who had not slept for the last 29 hours, could not stay awake any longer, despite having a beautiful view to look at (the damer in the seat behind me).