Snøhetta 2008

Of tall mountains, and primeval beasts.

Norway is shaped (loosely) like a spoon, with the handle pointing northeast (curving over to the east at the end), and the bowl to the southwest. The bowl contains most of the cities around its edges, most of the well known fjords on its west coast, and an almost continuous range of mountains running from northeast to southwest across the bowl. These contain all of the tallest peaks in Norway, though tall is a relative word, since the base of the mountains is at well over 1000 metres, with only a selected few glacial valleys dropping lower.

The mountain range is liberally strewn with national parks, each covering a large massif or smaller range, separated only by important valleys used for human habitation and farming (something very important in a country with precious little farmland). From northish to southish, the important ones are Sunndalsfjell, Dovrefjell, Rondane, Reinheimen, Jotunheimen, skip over several, then Hardangervidda. Reinheimen is mostly famous for containing Trollveggen, the tallest vertical rock face in Europe, at 1100 metres (there are obviously taller cliffs in the Alps, but they are not truly vertical). Jotunheimen contains the 23 tallest mountains in Norway, and Dovrefjell contains the 24^th; Snøhetta.

So far, I have done trips to the southern Telemark area and northern Hardangerjøkulen/Finse area of Hardangervidda, and from there, nothing until Nordland, half way up the handle of the spoon (inside the arctic circle). My existing altitude record in Norway was 1353 metres, in Hardangervidda. Snøhetta seemed like a good chance to break it, and a great way to spend 4 days in the Norwegian wilderness.

Up the Stropla

It's not as painful as it sounds...

We caught the night train from Oslo to Kongsvold, 5 hours, stuck again in the seats that do not recline. At Kongsvold, we waited for the sun to start lighting the path up before heading up there, so we would be able to see any Muskoxen that might have strayed into the forest.

• Crossing the Driva in front of Knutshøa. The station is quoted as being at 886.55 metres (why do they need to to give it to 1cm resolution, and is that on top of the pebbles or the sand under them?). The bridge over the river is our lowest point, a bit below 886 metres.
• Climbing through the forest to the plateau level starting at 1100 metres.
• Fungi accompanied the entire route, even managing to climb up to 1800 metres. There can't be much for them to survive on up there.
• Glowing clouds behind us signify the sunrise, though with the overcast sky, we would not see it.
• Looking towards Rondane.
• Leaving the forest - the last significant tree cover for the rest of the trip. Note the colour of the trees - mostly green, with some yellow starting to show. The mountain on the left that has snagged the cloud is Knutshøa, with the Nørdre (1684 metres), Midtre (1617 metres) and Syndre (1690 metres) summits.
• Sunrise catching Nystugguhøa (1757 metres).
• The terrain in the Stropla valley, stones, and small colourful plants; crowberries, bilberries, lingonberries, mosses, lichens, and various small shrubs.
• Some moving black dots on a hillside turn out to be our first muskoxen. These are ancient animals, originally residents before the last ice age, but since wiped out by hunting. Since humans wiped them out, they were reintroduced in the first half of the 20^th century from Greenland, and are now a protected species here. This is their home, not yours. They are distantly related to sheep (even though they look more like buffalo), and are just as stupid, but can weigh nearly half a ton, and be upto 2.5 metres in length.
• The clouds were thinning out over the distant mountains, but we would have to wait another day.
• The path over the plateau.
• A male muskox. These animals are dangerous, and the males most of all. They are herbivores, but will attack if they feel threatened. Never get closer than 200 metres. Never approach them from above. Most of all, never surprise them (don't sneak up to get a closeup photo). They can run exceptionally fast uphill, and nearly as fast downhill, as long as it is not too steep - much faster than you can.
• Distant sunshine lighting up the day's destination, at the foot of the mountain.
• The last proper trees line the side of the path, as we see the tops of all the surrounding mountains are covered by cloud. This was not the best way to start a mountain walk, but it was so nice to have a low temperature to walk in. About 200 metres away in the valley, we saw two muskoxen. Then just up ahead...
• A herd of muskox have crossed the path, and are just over 50 metres away on the slope below us. The signs clearly say that if they attack you, it is your fault for doing something they did not like, but here they have crossed our path without us realising. So we stopped, after carefully making sure they knew we were there and would not be startled if we appeared behind a tree. The herd is not really worried, and do not seem to mind us being there.
• When threatened, they protect their young by encircling them. They may display their disapproval by raising their ears and their hackles. They also may warn you that they are going to attack by stamping or snorting. When surprised, they attack without any warning. We have not been able to find much detail on what to do in this circumstance, except to say not to run away. Walk. Some also suggest lying down to show you are not a threat, but I can't imagine having the guts to do that if one were to attack. They also attack trees, so climbing one would not serve as a defence. Hiding does not work because they will patiently wait for hours for you to reappear. Jump a wall perhaps? Now ... where is a wall when you need one?
• A mother with her calf, showing the oversized faces, wide nose, and characteristic horns, that look like ragdoll plaits. You can see by her raised ears and hackles that she has seen us on the slope above, and is keeping watch, but she made no attempts to threaten us, and calmly turned and walked off with the herd. It's situations like this that show the limitations of my camera. Claudio was easily getting a sharp picture at over twice the resolution here. I need a new camera.
• Looking towards Rondane. The tallest mountains there are still covered by fiery cloud.
• After 27 muskoxen, the moraines begin, breeched by the outflows of glaciers and lakes. This is one of the terminal/recessional moraines.
• Tiered lateral moraines up along the sides of the valley. We recognised at least 4 separate sets of these, so this area must have some impressive glacial history.
• Outwash plain and earlier base of the glacier, with ground moraines. There should also be a mountain in this picture, but it is missing due to a water vapour eclipse. Here we met the Facebag group - about 30 high school students on an outdoor excursion. All walked 46 cm from the bag of person in front, looking up only to say 'hi'. <q style="voice-tone:monotonous">We is outside. We is enjoying. This what we do.</q>
• Colours of a breeched moraine.
• The clouds are slowly lifting, and show Kolla (1651 metres) back at the start of the valley.
• Buttresses of Storbrean (1901 metres) and Storkinn (1845 metres).
• Coloured marsh grasses.
• The head of the valley, bathed in sunlight. There was hope for the next day, when we would aim for the peak.
• Side of Storbrean.
• Then finally, Snøhetta's 2286 metres appeared, with the cloud washing over its lower bench and scar.
• The 1945 metre end of the Larstinden ridge; Larseggen.
• Reinheim makes its appearance at 1340 metres. What a glorious setting.
• Blue river. Stropla.
• We had planned to camp, and had brought everything we needed, but given the predicted -6°C temperature and 10 m/s wind predicted for the night, we decided to wuss out and use the hytta (cabin). Costs are ridiculous, at 270 NOK (£26, €33) for non-members. You have to stay 5 nights per year for it to be worth paying for membership (which also gets you the key to the hytta). Payment is made with an honesty box, including for food items purchased from the store room.
• Items such as bog in a tin.
• Or sodd in a tin.
• But it's worth it for the comfort, even if it is a little wussy. It is typical for Norwegian hiking. There is a wood-burning stove, gas cookers, library, living space. There is no electricity or running water - all water is collected from the river.
• There is plenty of sleeping space with beds in 4 rooms, and more in an emergency cabin in case the first burns down...
• The toilets, however, are worse than medieval, slowly filling up a pit until it gets dangerously close to making contact with the user (urgh!). It is then emptied into a sacrificial part of the river to slowly filter back into the ground. Do not take water from a river downstream of an official hytta.
• Snohetta from Reinheim.
• The clean side of the Stropla, showing the summer bridge, and sign post marking the water hole. In winter, the snow can get several metres thick here, and needs to be dug through to reach the water.
• The clouds clearing over the buttresses we had walked past earlier. It was still early afternoon, so we decided to go for another walk up a nearby ridge.
• Clouds sweeping over Larseggen.
• Snøhetta's Stortoppen and Midttoppen, showing the cairn, military antenna and fugly building on the top.
• Snøhetta.
• Cairn on one of the Storbrean ridges.
• Unripe multebær.
• A lone male muskox at about 1700 metres, on the flank of Storbrean.
• Rock field on the ridge, stained green by the lichens.
• The top of our walk up the Storbrean ridge, faced with a boulder field, and endless false tops rising into the clouds. And it was time for dinner. Still, a new personal altitude record had been set for Norway; just over 1560 metres.

Snøhetta

• Sunrise over the meandering lakes of the Stropla.
• Hills at the end of the valley.
• Kolla.
• Sunrise lighting patches of the slope our path would ascend.
• and catching the edge of Snøhetta, which was annoyingly hidden by clouds again.
• Skarkollen (about 1700 metres).
• Light at the water hole.
• Looking over Reinheim towards Skarkollen and the magnificent buttresses of Storbrean, Storkinn and Nystugguhøa (1754 metres).
• Not far up, and the vegitation reduces to almost nothing. From here on, it's rocks all the way, except where it's snow instead.
• Glacier crowfoot, used to being the highest flower in the Alps, and failing here to get much higher than 1600 metres. It's harsh up here, you know.
• At the 1600 metre plateau of Snøhetta. There is so little up here, it's almost lunar landscape. The peak rises 686 (geeky oooh) metres above the plateau, enough to be a mountain in its own right, with a 300 metre dropoff making the scar.
• Bergschrunds (the big fractures) on the glacier.
• The landscape on the far side is so barren and red (due to moss), it could be Mars. The Snøheim hytta is down by the lakes, and in the distance is Jotunheimen. Somewhere in the haze of this picture are Galdhøpiggen (2469 metres) and Glittertind (2465 metres, or 2452 metres, excluding the summit glacier), the two tallest mountains in Norway. Snøheim is the lazy route to Snøhetta, with a road through an artillery range, making it easy to get to the top and back in just one day.
• Some mountains have thin poles denoting ski routes. This mountain has thick all-weather poles for military training. It also has fog covering the path running up the edge of the dropoff. Now you know why the poles are there.
• Teal lake on the plateau.
• The peaks of Rondane.
• The 450 metre cliffs of Einøvlingseggen (1676 metres), with more of Jotunheimen in the distance.
• Snowy hills.
• Sharp mountains at the northern end of the park, each about 1800-1900 metres high.
• Skredahøin (1891 metres and 2004 metres) with its 500 metre cliffs, and Svånåtindan (2209 metres).
• The 700 metre cliffs of Svanatindan.
• Ice formed by the freezing fog.
• An iced sign. Here we were met by Heather, whose memory is like that of a goldfish, but who was good company for the walk. She was touring Norway by bike, living off just 50 NOK (£4.80, €6) per day. As such, she was hoping for some scraps of food or sips of tea. Well, a bum on a bike is better than a bum in the city, so we were happy to oblige.
• The real top, and last of the false tops, welcome relief after a long trudge up the boulders.
• The silver lining of the clouds, as we rise above them, and are rewarded with an inversion.
• The final slope up the snowfield to the top.
• The changing temperatures had formed long ice crystals in the snow, standing out as much as 30 cm.
• The tops of Snøhetta: Vesttoppen (2249 metres), Hettpiggen (2255 metres), Midttoppen (2278 metres) and Stortoppen (2286 metres). The dropoff from the top is about 300 metres onto the glacier, shrinking to 150 metres at the glacier head. We spent nearly 2 hours here, just enjoying the view, while the Norwegians raced up and down.
• Climbing the cairn ... er ... yeah. A new personal Norwegian altitude record, 2286 metres.
• Istjørni, the turquoise outflow lake from the glacier.
• Ice on the north side of the summit. Looks beautiful, right? Just remember it.
• A hole in the clouds.
• The most impressive 340 metre cliff of Larseggen, catching the sunlight.
• Icicles on the ridge path. Most people had turned back here.
• The ridge path keeps clear of most of the iced-over snow, but also therefore keeps close to that drop. See the pair of people in front, they seem to be messing with their boots ... wonder what they know that we don't ...
• Midttoppen.
• Iced boulders above the steep top of another glacier. This is supposed to be a path, but it's slicked with ice, and very dangerous. We followed the other pair to the end of the ridge, where they seemed to walk down easily.
• Steep glacier.
• We could not see any signs of where they had descended, and had to make it up. The ice was partly melted here and could be chipped off some of the rocks. If only we had crampons - presumably the earlier pair had them, but we had not thought to need them at such altitude in summer. Forgot about the effects of latitude. This path was lethal, and given that we also were taking great care of Heather, it took us a whole hour to descend just 20 metres. It also felt a little too close to ... well ... maybe an edge of something.
• Gulp! It turned out to be the edge of a 150 metre drop. We had come down between the snow and rocks seen here. After exchanging various expletives and 'that was probably stupid' looks, we continued down the snow.
• The snow was just as bad, covered in a thick coat of ice, and almost impossible to get a foothold. Heather demonstrates the goose-step approach to digging in your heels for grip. Another hour ticks by...
• Is it wrong of me to say that I actually found this whole experience to be great fun? Not sure what I would do if I was heading up this route instead of down though; maybe even abandon it at the top after seeing the ice.
• The vast empty landscape on the far side. Above Larseggen are the only newly interesting mountains: Storskrymten (1985 metres), Litlskymten (1961 metres) and Grytkollen (1836 metres). On the far right, the largest peak is Storbrean again.
• The next part of the path was quite uncomfortable for those with knee problems, being made of steeply sloping boulders.
• At last we get to see the main peaks of Larstinden (2106 metres), lit by the sun streams. The main face is a 465 metre drop, directly into a lake.
• The Larstinden ridge, with the main peaks on the left, and Larseggen on the right. On the far left is the ridge from Vesttoppen. The lake is the lower Larstjørnin lake, at just over 1600 metres.
• Landslide caused by meltwater floods.
• Light and clouds playing on the 600 metre wall from Midttoppen to the upper Larstjørnin lake.
• The sun was getting low, and we still had another 300 metres to descend. But the light. The light.
• Light.
• Did I mention the light?
• Delta on the outwash plain.
• Source of colours.
• Dying embers.
• Fiery clouds over a small glacier.
• Glacier arches and waterfall.
• Upper arches and waterfall.
• Fiery clouds in Drugshøi (1957 metres). From here on, it is too dark for cameras, and we arrive just after nightfall at Åmotsdalshytta.
• The hytta was absolutely packed, so we stayed in the emergency cabin instead, which was also the toilet block. It was hunting season, and several hunters were out pointlessly (ever hear of 'farms'? crazy idea huh?) assassinating the wild reindeer and ptarmigans, with their prizes hung up by our door. The smell of death, however, turned out to be the toilets, which were filled to beyond comfortable use - many shocked would-be users found some stones outside to use instead.

While we were there, we saw an idiot semi-official making up rules to squeeze money out of some visitors who did not know enough to defend themselves. Make sure you follow the real rules: if you enter a hytta only to buy from the store, then you do not pay any rate, apart from the costs of whatever you buy. If you use it during the day (sit in the lounge, read a book, use the cooker, etc.) you pay the day rate (currently 50 NOK for non-members). If you use it after 18:00, then that counts as a night, and you must pay the nightly rate. If you camp, you must camp at least 150 metres (not 300, as some people incorrectly say) away from the hytta - this is a Norwegian legal requirement. The day/night rates are different for young adults, children, and members - fees are normally listed visibly somewhere in the hytta, but the note about 18:00 may not be immediately visible.

Return to Reinheim

• Daylight brought the stupendous view of the surrounding mountains: Stortoppen, Midttoppen, Hettpiggen, Vesttoppen, Larseggen, Svånåtindan, Drugshøi, Skulan (about 1620 metres), Storskrymten, Litlskymten and Grytkollen.
• Hunters - these are using shotguns to snuff ptarmigans, as opposed to the ones who use rifles to execute reindeer.
• The return path.
• Erratic.
• Boulder valley, very different from the smooth sculptures of Hardagervidda. This area has more sedimentary rocks as well as the gneiss - it even has some caves.
• Moss campion.
• Climbing up to the pass.
• Snøhetta and Larstinden, showing the steep glacier.
• Delta islands.
• Boulder fields at the pass.
• Caterpillar.
• Emphasised meander, such that the water flows in different directions on three sides of the peninsula.
• Cotton grass. Shortly afterwards, we arrived at Reinheim, having failed to find any Muskoxen for Heather to see. She then continued alone back to Snøheim.
• A forest of dwarf birch, in autumn colours.
• Reindeer moss, food of the reindeer, and edible by humans too, but not exactly tasty.
• Dipper.
• Flying from rock to rock.
• Red leaves; alpine bearberry, dressed up ready for autumn.
• Gruesome remains of a seagull, which died after swallowing a fishing hook - the line is visible.
• Suddenly, a rock moved, and began to glow golden - like a lion. Turned out the large dark rock that Heather had walked past on her way - just 10 metres away - was a lone male muskox. She had not seen it, moved away from it, or even acknowledged its existence.
• Claudio and Wolfgang (one of a German couple staying at the hytta) competing for photos.
• Muskox.
• After a while, he got bored and went to sleep by the path again. One big, silly face, staring at us.
• Sunset.
• Moonlight over Stropla.
• Luna.
• Comparing almost identical cameras.

Back to a world with electricity

• Low cloud.
• Cloud hollows.
• Sunrise.
• The wall of Storbrean.
• Looking back at the peak from the coloured morraines.
• This could be the same bull as the night before, but it's a long way for him to travel, given that they seem to be lazy, remaining in one place for days to eat.
• Large moraine.
• Distant muskox herd.
• 300 metres of wall on an unknown 1626 metre peak. This sits above a side valley that has its own summer bridge.
• A sighting of two male muskox running around a hill turned into what I can only describe as the most impressive wildlife display I have ever witnessed, as they fought over the right to mate with the females in the area. The speed they ran up and down this hill was truly impressive (even if it was in a funny, lolloping, rabbit-like motion), and clearly showed that a human would be no match for them in a chase.
• Preparing for a charge.
• The charging male rears up at the last minute, in order to throw his full 400-500 kg weight at his opponent. The impact is softened by a cushion of air under their bony horn plate, to prevent them getting a concussion.
• They don't always hit. Sometimes they miss like this - though their horns still might catch. It may be a useful defence mechanism if one attacks you - step to the side at the last moment, since they cannot turn sharply. Don't want to test that suggestion though.
• We watched the fight for 15 minutes all told, at which point one of the males finally got tired and lay down. The other stared at him for a minute, taunting him to fight again, until he too lay down for a rest.
• So far, I had seen just three birds of prey in Norway: a sea eagle in Lofoten, and two Gyrfalcons in the south. This is the fourth; a kestrel, easily recognisable by the way it hovers.
• The mountains beside Rondane.
• The peaks of Rondane, where Rondeslottet on the left is the tallest, at 2178 metres.
• Outflow plain at the end of the valley. There are two more muskox herds in this picture, if you know where to look (and have the original resolution photo).
• There, I helped you find this one.
• Colours of a mini forest.
• Photographers. Heidi (the other half of the German couple) and I sat, watched, and laughed. I guess she is used to this sort of thing.
• A relatively large herd on a ridge. The most we ever saw in a herd was 8. This one had 7 members. In total, we saw 42 Muskoxen on the return (including the one at the hytta the night before), of a total of 135 in the park (based on the 2003 count).
• Forest with rocks.
• A second bird of prey appeared and quickly began soaring overhead. From the shape and flying style, I immediately assumed buzzard, but it turns out there are no buzzards with this pattern on the tail, and other photos confirm that this is a golden eagle, only the second one I have ever seen in the wild.
• Harebell.
• Hairy caterpillar.
• Back at the tree line, something had changed. In just the few days we were here, the trees had changed into their autumn colours.
• Red, orange and yellow.
• Autumn with red.
• A path through autumn.
• Red.
• Grass cabin.
• Driva.
• In colour.
• Back at Kongsvold.
• Pretty in pink.
• Snøhetta and Svånåtindan seen from the train back. Just after this, I saw my first ever moose; a mother and two calves lazing under a tree. However, with only 3 seconds from a moving train, there was no way I could take a picture. Oh well.

This was easily the best single walk I have done in Norway, and by far the most successful in terms of accomplishments and wildlife. Well worth it. In case you are interested, the park guidelines are:

You may: Go wherever you wish on foot and on skis. Hunt and fish like elsewhere. Pick mushrooms, berries and common plants for your own use. Camp.

You may not: Damage plants, or fell characteristic trees! Disturb animals and birds! Use motor vehicles or motor boats! Cause contamination or discard rubbish! Spend the night in a camper or caravan!

Cycling is only allowed on a designated dirt track (which is lame). Not sure about climbing or caving, since the leaflets only cover tourist versions of both, not the real stuff. Then there are the contradictions; hunting without disturbing animals, and walking off-trail without damaging a few plants. But the rules generally seem to be just common sense, while allowing a lot of freedom.

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