Up and Down
Nesaksla is the peak just outside of Åndalsnes. It stands 715 meters. Am I actually going to climb this thing in 1 hour? how am I going to do that? The answer is very painfully and on a very steep incline. First, I wake up and have the Rauma Hotel's breakfast buffet, which is a similar spread to what I had in Stryn yesterday, complete with caviar tubes. All proteined up and ready, I start off for the very well marked entry to the Nesaksla path. I think of all of the climbs I've done with Gary, Stuart and Howard, and most recently Tev. This is Mont-St.Gregoire times 2, with more challenging ridges and steeper inclines. It starts off challenging, with long stretches up through trees, and soft dirt, until I start scrambling on rocks. There are many chains set into the rocks to hold onto, since in many places the path is just a steep rock climb.
I am generally terrified of heights. I do these types of hikes to confront that fear. Usually I do them with someone, and that's the real folly of the hike today. I'm on my own. And I am starting at 7:45am. And I do not see another living soul! At a certain point it dawns on me that my shoes, while good, are not gripping me adequately. I tie in tighter. After 15 minutes of hiking I am sweating large buckets. I have a 750ml bottle of water - is it even enough? The climb is treacherous but manageable. Won't the descent be far more dangerous? Are there bears in these woods? What's the square root of Pi?
Anyways, I get a hold on and keep climbing. After 45 minutes, I am doing nothing but scrambling on rocks. After 60 minutes, the treeline starts to fade away. After another 5 minutes, I start feeling the wind blowing, no longer blocked out by trees and bushes. And then I am at the summit, and it is the reason I came to Norway. I feel totally alone in the presence of Giants. All around me are snow capped mountains, lakes that stretch as far as the eye can see. The summit has a little hut where I imagine people camp overnight. I sit in it and eat my trail mix.
After 15 minutes of photographing what feels like everything 3 times over (I even manage to get a really good shot of me!), I start the descent. And here the real pain begins. Scrambling up rocks is easy. Scrambling down them you sometimes have to do in crab style. So I spend the next 90 minutes scuttling down the hill, scraping my palms. I fall only two or three times, but in safe places (And all occuring within a few seconds, the worst one happening when I slip on a wet rock and lend on my ass, while my hand falls into the mud spit out by a drainage pipe. Really more gross than painful, and I shake it off. Gradually the town becomes closer, and it's only when I'm within 200 feet of the entrance to the path that a couple in their '50s comes walking up towards me. They are locals, climbimg the mountain is no big thing for them, but they were surprised I had done it, and apparrently 3:10 is a decent time to finish it. They were the ones who would have found me if something bad had happened. At least someone was walking the trail. The rest of my day was spent cleaning up and getting out of Åndalsnes. I caught a train to Dombas at 3pm, which winds its way up a very scenic route, and at Dombas I changed to an Oslo bound train. It's from there I'm making my overnight train to Stockholm.
Back in Stockholm, I don't have much time free, so I blog for 30 minutes, slum it big time on food (1 whopper please, large fries!) I hop my Oslo train, where I am supposed to be sharing a cabin with another person. He's actually been switched to another cabin, so I have my own lockable room with a bed on the train to Stockholm. At some point I head over to talk to the conductor. On my way, a pretty blonde girl smiles at me, she looks familiar, but I can't place it, so I smile back rather stupidly and move along. After chatting briefly with the conductor (Something about a bathroom being closed in my area) I start back up the train, and I see the same blonde girl. Her head's partway out the window and we're going 80 mph. "Are you sure that's safe?" I ask. "I don't know, it's fun" she answers in German-accented English. Then I see her friend waiting for the bathroom, and I remember that they're the two girls from the bus who we took each others' pictures at the waterfall. We chat a bit, they left Åndalsnes as soon as they got there. They spent the day back in Oslo and are heading back to Stockholm, from where they'll take the train to Småland (It's a region in the South of Sweden, but to me it always meant the kids play area at IKEA - By the way, while everywhere else IKEA is the Swedish Flag's colors, in Norway, the IKEAs are red and blue, Norways's flag - Savages...). Småland is the home of Astrid Lindgren, author of the Pippi Longstocking books, and this is a pilgrimage for these girls to see the area that's where the books take place.(They are really young, 18 and 19 years old, names Magdalena and Leah).
I say I'll see them later and head to bed. I have only slept in beds on trains 4 times. Twice on a round trip from Toronto to Montreal. I never felt secure and couldn't sleep. Once on a train from Jasper to Vancouver. Couldn't sleep then either. That night, on the ride into Stockholm, I sleep like a baby.
I am generally terrified of heights. I do these types of hikes to confront that fear. Usually I do them with someone, and that's the real folly of the hike today. I'm on my own. And I am starting at 7:45am. And I do not see another living soul! At a certain point it dawns on me that my shoes, while good, are not gripping me adequately. I tie in tighter. After 15 minutes of hiking I am sweating large buckets. I have a 750ml bottle of water - is it even enough? The climb is treacherous but manageable. Won't the descent be far more dangerous? Are there bears in these woods? What's the square root of Pi?
Anyways, I get a hold on and keep climbing. After 45 minutes, I am doing nothing but scrambling on rocks. After 60 minutes, the treeline starts to fade away. After another 5 minutes, I start feeling the wind blowing, no longer blocked out by trees and bushes. And then I am at the summit, and it is the reason I came to Norway. I feel totally alone in the presence of Giants. All around me are snow capped mountains, lakes that stretch as far as the eye can see. The summit has a little hut where I imagine people camp overnight. I sit in it and eat my trail mix.
After 15 minutes of photographing what feels like everything 3 times over (I even manage to get a really good shot of me!), I start the descent. And here the real pain begins. Scrambling up rocks is easy. Scrambling down them you sometimes have to do in crab style. So I spend the next 90 minutes scuttling down the hill, scraping my palms. I fall only two or three times, but in safe places (And all occuring within a few seconds, the worst one happening when I slip on a wet rock and lend on my ass, while my hand falls into the mud spit out by a drainage pipe. Really more gross than painful, and I shake it off. Gradually the town becomes closer, and it's only when I'm within 200 feet of the entrance to the path that a couple in their '50s comes walking up towards me. They are locals, climbimg the mountain is no big thing for them, but they were surprised I had done it, and apparrently 3:10 is a decent time to finish it. They were the ones who would have found me if something bad had happened. At least someone was walking the trail. The rest of my day was spent cleaning up and getting out of Åndalsnes. I caught a train to Dombas at 3pm, which winds its way up a very scenic route, and at Dombas I changed to an Oslo bound train. It's from there I'm making my overnight train to Stockholm.
Back in Stockholm, I don't have much time free, so I blog for 30 minutes, slum it big time on food (1 whopper please, large fries!) I hop my Oslo train, where I am supposed to be sharing a cabin with another person. He's actually been switched to another cabin, so I have my own lockable room with a bed on the train to Stockholm. At some point I head over to talk to the conductor. On my way, a pretty blonde girl smiles at me, she looks familiar, but I can't place it, so I smile back rather stupidly and move along. After chatting briefly with the conductor (Something about a bathroom being closed in my area) I start back up the train, and I see the same blonde girl. Her head's partway out the window and we're going 80 mph. "Are you sure that's safe?" I ask. "I don't know, it's fun" she answers in German-accented English. Then I see her friend waiting for the bathroom, and I remember that they're the two girls from the bus who we took each others' pictures at the waterfall. We chat a bit, they left Åndalsnes as soon as they got there. They spent the day back in Oslo and are heading back to Stockholm, from where they'll take the train to Småland (It's a region in the South of Sweden, but to me it always meant the kids play area at IKEA - By the way, while everywhere else IKEA is the Swedish Flag's colors, in Norway, the IKEAs are red and blue, Norways's flag - Savages...). Småland is the home of Astrid Lindgren, author of the Pippi Longstocking books, and this is a pilgrimage for these girls to see the area that's where the books take place.(They are really young, 18 and 19 years old, names Magdalena and Leah).
I say I'll see them later and head to bed. I have only slept in beds on trains 4 times. Twice on a round trip from Toronto to Montreal. I never felt secure and couldn't sleep. Once on a train from Jasper to Vancouver. Couldn't sleep then either. That night, on the ride into Stockholm, I sleep like a baby.
posted by Steven at 5:00 PM
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