Norway: Third Backpacking Day

Day three could be described by numbers.

We hiked close to 20 miles for 14 hours.

We climbed over 600 vertical feet.

We followed the sky ladder for 200 meters

We ate 1 piece of bread for lunch.

We saw 0 lemmings.

There were 99 bottles of beer on the wall.

Day three could be described in numbers, but that wouldn’t tell nearly the whole story. No, it wouldn’t even begin to describe the awe I felt at the summit, the sweat that was dripping down my face 100 meters into the sky ladder, the hunger I felt at hour 13, the frustration I felt at mile 14. Numbers cannot even begin to capture the beauty I experienced at the edge of Trolltunga, the sense of accomplishment that filled me as I got into my sleeping bag at 3 in the morning, or the wonder that flowed through me as I looked down into the Bearded Valley.

That’s right, I was in Bearded Valley (Skjeggedal for those of you who understand Norwegian). That is where the story begins.

We wake up and start the 4 mile hike to the base of our ascent. This was probably the easiest 4 miles of the entire trip. It was actually a flat path! In Norway? No way! Way. So 4 miles in we drop off some of the weight from our packs. We had to decide between ascending with full packs and camping at the top, or getting rid of weight at the bottom and coming back down to sleep. Thankfully we dropped off most of our weight at the bottom. Climbing so much with full packs would have been extremely exhausting.

Then some of the fun part comes. We have to hike up along the dry river bed to reach the base of the Sky Ladder. This sounds easier than it turned out to be. First, there were no marked paths, so we were kind of just hopping from boulder to boulder, approximating our path by just heading toward where we thought our goal point was. Second, after the dry river bed there were the extremely high grade slopes that were covered in snow. While some of the girls thought the climb was scary, I was not looking forward to our climb down those slopes. That climb down could very easily turn into a short tumble down. By short, I mean many, many meters long tumble down the side of a mountain.

No paths and steep slopes aside, we made it to the base of where the actual climb began. Trygve gave us a short lesson on how to use the carabineers and harnesses to secure ourselves to the ladder and we were off. Let me tell you, this was one of the greatest experiences I have had in my life. I was climbing up a ladder bolted into a sheer cliff face hundreds of meters above the base of the mountain. The largest cave I have ever seen, easily over a hundred meters tall (probably inhabited by trolls), waterfalls pouring over the cliffs, and the fjord down below were easily the most beautiful natural views I will probably experience in Europe while harnessed into something… okay, or ever.

After a good hour or so of straight up I climbed over the last leg of the Sky Ladder and was greeted with triumphant and relieved faces, and of course, a view. But this isn’t where we were going to stop. Although the views from here were absolutely breathtaking, Trygve had another place in mind to blow us all away, so we started trekking off into the snow blanketed landscape.

A few kilometers later and I realized that we had reached our goal: Trolltunga (or Troll’s Toungue). Interesting name right? Well, if you imagined the mountain was a troll, you would think that it would have a pretty big tongue. Now, if the mountain/troll stuck out his tongue, it would be a giant stone jutting out over the fjord. That is exactly what this was. Imagine a Norwegian version of Pride Rock from The Lion King but taller and without the supporting rock. Well, I got to stand on the end of that. It was incredible. Absolutely incredible. Check out the pictures if you don’t believe me.

Again, we had a little photo shoot, some lunch of just one slice of bread and some bacon cheese and headed off back down the mountain. Again, we had to make a decision. Do we go back down the way we came or the longer route which is milder in its descent? It was getting late and we didn’t want to navigate the boulder hopping in the dark (nor did I want to deal with sliding off a cliff due to the steep snow covered slopes) so we headed down the longer way.

I cannot say with certitude if it was the best choice. At least an hour after we started our descent, we were still higher than when we had started. I realize Norway doesn’t really understand downhill, but this was getting ridiculous.

Several hours later (and admittedly, many more breathtaking views of glaciers in the distance or fjords down below) we started to make some progress downward. It was almost dark when we reached the steep downhill similar to that of Langfoss from before. To deal with our frustration of ours of hiking and seemingly no progress, we started to sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and, incredibly, finished it just after reaching the road we were camping on.

We drove into Odda for some food to celebrate what we had just accomplished, but still had the 4 mile trek that we did in the morning to get back to our site. Trygve and Cecilie, the champs that they are, ran ahead again to set up camp so we could get to sleep as early as possible.

It was after 3 a.m. when we finally made it to camp, tents already set up and pads inflated. It felt so good to go to sleep after a day like that. I slept like a rock, not even a troll could have woken me.

Norway: Second Backpacking Day Pics

Norway: Second Backpacking Day

I though the first day of backpacking couldn’t be topped. Well, what was in store for me on day two was incredible.

After a filling breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and a little bit of cleaning up, we were welcomed into the fresh, Norwegian mountain air by some welcome sun. The day before our views were somewhat obscured by fog, but not today. No! We had blue skies and it was warming up considerably. Good thing too, because our hike took us further up and there was snow everywhere. It was kind of funny seeing us in shorts and tee shirts hiking through the snow, up mountains and across snow fed rivers, but it was also incredibly gorgeous.

Every so often we would have to fill up our water bottles. If you have been backpacking before, you might know about these little things called iodine tablets. Iodine tablets are what make water potable when you are in the middle of nowhere and can’t boil it. Well, for those of you know what iodine tablets taste like (essentially you are drinking pool water), you will be very jealous to know that the water is so fresh in Norway that you don’t have to use these. Nope! We just filled our water up from streams. It was cold and fresh, the best I have probably ever had.

Well, after a few hours of trekking through some of the most indescribably beautiful scenery we made it to our second cabin. This cabin was the cabin a famous Norwegian actor would build. It was huge! Room for thirty people to sleep, a gigantic kitchen, leather couches, fire places, a drying room, a dining room with several long tables for family style dinners. Seriously, nice. Well, we weren’t staying here, but we did enjoy some bacon cheese from a tube on bread and cookies in the company of some other Norwegians and their dogs before heading to our day’s goal, Langfoss, or Long Falls for all of you who can’t read Norwegian.

It was sometime between the morning and our hike to the falls that I realized, there are mountains stacked on these mountains. Day one was full of uphill hiking and I thought we reached the peak. Day two was more uphill hiking. What? Where did that mountain on top of the mountain I just hiked up come from? Did I mention that Trygve said that we would be going downhill after lunch. This is when the second realization of the trip hit me, the downhill is Norwegian for more uphill, and then some downhill, but mainly uphill. Tricky bastards.

Well, the Norwegian downhill was well worth it. After many hours of tough hiking, we finally made it to the top of Langfoss. Let me tell you, it was the best view of the trip by far, and probably my life. I was looking down upon a sun-filled fjord nestled between two mountain ridges. Waterfalls and streams poured down the sides of the mountains. It was perfect. Picturesque is too weak of a word to describe it.

A photoshoot later we headed down along the side of the falls. I thought downhill (the real kind) was supposed to be easy, but this was one of the hardest parts of the day. We had to descend 600 meters of essentially near vertical terrain. I was trying my best not to fall or slip on the rocks, but also take in the views. Sometimes, while I was staring at my feet trying not to misstep I would look up and be reminded of what surrounded me. It was a bit of a pity I had to pay so much attention to not dying.

At the foot of the falls we took in the surroundings some more while Trygve and Cecilie hitchhiked back to the cars that we left on the other side of the mountain. We enjoyed some kebap in the town of Odda for dinner and then set up camp near the point of our next adventure. If you like the pictures from this day, you won’t believe the ones from day three.

Norway: First Backpacking Day Pics

Norway: First Backpacking Day

A little late, we wake up and have a Norwegian breakfast of bread, meat, cheese, and spreads. Kristine bought this fresh strawberry honey at the Viking festival which was really good as a jam replacement. Oh! And I finally had some good milk in Europe! Finally. After months of wishing I could buy some good, cold milk which is pretty impossible in Spain, my wishes were fulfilled.

We all made sure we were packed and ready for the mountains. Well, as ready as one can be for what we were about to embark on. We hopped into the car and headed off eastward, into the mountainous region of Norway.

The ride was gorgeous. Seriously, the country is something unlike I had ever seen. I never imagined myself winding through the mountains on roads that hugged the fjords, but here I was, taking it all in.

Soon enough we met up with Cecilie and Trygve, some Norwegian friends of Kristine’s, loaded our packs with food after a stop at a supermarket, and made our way into the mountains.

First, a little bit on Cecilie and Trygve. Cecilie is one of the most energetic and happy people I have ever met. For example, after our 14 hour, 15+ mile trek and climb through the mountains, she ran around 4 miles back to the campsite to set up for the night. Trygve is super outdoorsy. He planned the entire trip for us, and new all the best sites. He also lent us most of the gear we used. He was equally as excited as Cecilie, and since he was the most experienced with this type of lifestyle, he also had to do the running when necessary.

Well, like I said, we made our way into the mountains. A short drive and a few sheep filled roads later (I feel like I can qualify as an experienced sheep herder based on the amount of sheep that fled our vehicle) we were at the base of a mountain, near a waterfall that ran into the fjord, surrounded by sheep. This was the least picturesque it would get for the rest of the trip. Seriously, what a terrible country.

Okay, right, so we started on our way up the mountain, crossing over the waterfall at various moments, passing through expansive hillside fields and over giant boulders. Only a few hours in we made it to the first set of cabins. Trygve asked if we were interested in going a few hours more to the next cabin, but our large, out of shape, American asses were quite content on staying at these.

Wow, were these cabins nice. They were equipped with food, cooking utensils, a stove top, some had leather couches, beds, books, games, fire places. Everything you could want for a cozy cabin in the mountains, it was there. Hint: Stansted was the roughing it of the trip. Well, we settled into the cabin, prepared a fire and made tacos for dinner. Afterwards we enjoyed each other’s company over the Norwegians’ first smores and some rounds of Dutch Blitz.

Since it was still light out (Norway, by the way, never gets dark during the summer, even in the south), we took the row boat out for a spin. Oh, did I mention that these cabins were overlooking a mountain top lake and were equipped with row boats? We soon realized that we were terrible at rowing boats as we could only go in circles or lines approximated by arcs. It was still really enjoyable though. Eventually it got somewhat dark so we retired to the cabins and went to bed. What a day.

Hasta Luego Santander

All the posters are off the walls. Each shirt is out of the dresser and packed away. Nothing still hangs on the hangers. I have just about packed up my room. It is my last day in Santander. 295 days have passed since I first arrived, bewildered, confused, foreign. Today I leave, still bewildered, confused and foreign.

I head off to Bilbao today for my internship. And although it is only an hour away, it feels like I am leaving a huge part of my life. Everything that I have known and grown accustomed to in the past ten months is staying here, and I have to venture into the unknown again. Scary, huh?

One of the scariest parts is that I still don’t exactly have a place to live. I mean, I have been in contact with this guy since… yesterday. I think the place will work out. But that apartment isn’t free for another week, so before that I am supposed to live in an alternative apartment. And that isn’t free until tomorrow. So tonight… I stay with David, a kid from my classes who lives near Bilbao. And thank God, because I really don’t want to start off in a hostel. Hopefully he can show me around a bit.

Anyways, I am procrastinating. Everything may have been emptied and cleared away, but now it just sits on the floor or on the table tops. I am putting off packing and writing about Norway. They just seem like daunting tasks. Instead I am writing about packing, kind of like two in one. I think that counts at least.

Well, I guess this is good bye Santander. It has been great. Don’t worry, I will come back to visit very soon.

Viking Pictures

Roughing it in Stansted and a Viking Day in Norway

Probably around eight months ago, Kristine, a friend from Norway told us we had to visit her in the summer. Being so far away and never turning down a reason to travel, we told her we would. Never did I actually think that we would follow through with this. There have been many other trips we said we were going to make but never did. This one felt no different.

Then one day Kristine started to badger me about coming. “So when are you coming? Have you booked your tickets? Look at this link of the beautiful fjords. And this one. And this one. I live in an incredible place, come visit me.”

Well, this must have worked, because within the following week the class was setting our exam schedule and I decided, well, if we can, let’s give ourselves a week in Norway. So as I tried to coordinate schedules with the Spanish, Hillary and Caitlyn were frantically booking tickets to London and Haugesund, Norway on Ryanair. Our promise was coming to fruition.

Immediately after, excited, Kristine invited all of her Norwegian friends on the backpacking trip through the mountains and fjords she was planning for us. The excitement was building, mounting. She even made a Facebook Event Page for our trip and kept posting videos and pictures of the things we would do and see.

Well, all the excitement and planning paid off. You will be able to see in my pictures the fruits of our labor. But first, the trip.

Our trip started Wednesday, June 8^th with a flight to London Stansted Airport where we had a short layover. Excuse me, I guess I mean short when I compare it to Hillary’s future layover in Iceland of two and a half days. No, our layover was about 18 hours, and we spent every minute of it in the airport. Ever see the movie Terminal? Well I haven’t, but I imagine the movie sums up what living in an airport is like. We ate prepackaged food we bought at the convenience store, laid uncomfortably on the airport benches, and slept more uncomfortably on the floor in front of some closed check in desks. Luckily I had a sleeping bag and sleeping pad packed for the trip so we weren’t lying directly on the floor. Unluckily, at 3:30 am, after about three hours of half restful sleep, staff went around waking people up to clear the way for check ins. Who checks in at 3:30? Nobody. All in all, the stay probably still rated better than the hostel I stayed at in Paris. Seriously, say no to Jules Ferry International Youth Hostel. Worst place ever.

After a rousing night at the airport, admittedly less exciting than a night at the museum, we boarded the plane to Norway where I finally got some decent shut eye. Another “on time flight” later and we were landing at Haugesund’s airport where “Home of the Kings of the Vikings” was proudly displayed on the building along with some tribal drawings of a Viking and what I think were some birds.

After a little liquor shopping at the duty free (Norway is notoriously expensive for alcohol), Kristine was waiting for us outside of the airport. It feels so good to know somebody when you show up in a foreign country, and having them pick you up at the airport is even better. Having food waiting for you when you get to their house can’t be beat. It’s almost like home. Almost. (Hint: Mom and Dad, it might not be so terrible to have dinner waiting for me upon my homecoming after 13 months.)

After a hearty lunch of mom-made potato salad, sandwiches and refreshing Norwegian water, we headed off to pick up some hiking shoes, got our things together, and then went to a Viking festival. That’s right! We happened to be visiting Haugesund during their annual Viking Festival, complete with Viking fighting, Viking food, Viking crafts, Viking buildings, Viking ships, and everything else Viking that you could want. Even the Viking horns to drink from! All of this was on sacred Viking ground where they previously found artifacts from past Viking colonies! Disappointing fact: Vikings did not wear horns on their helmets.

Well, after some delicious burgers and a little CSI, we hit the sack for some actually very satisfying sleep.

Hiking and backpacking to come.

Another Overdue Update

I have my last final tomorrow. My last final in Spain. My academic responsibilities in Santander are coming to an end. I don't know if I should be overjoyed or saddened or a little bit of both. I can't dwell on that now, though. I still have one test remaining: Foundation Engineering.

I read through all the chapters in the book. I went through all of our old homeworks. I looked over all the powerpoint slides. I reviewed my own notes. I feel like I have exhausted what I can do now. All I have left is to watch movies and write my blog.

Yes, long time no see, blogging world. I have been on hiatus, for no reason at all. I guess I should quickly recap my life from where I left off before I write my next blog about my adventures in Norway.

So I left you in Porto. Well, after Porto I visited Erica and Iona in Madrid where they both have been studying for the past semester. Finally, a little CCC love, I missed it, although have not been to any concerts still.

We explored Madrid, ate some long craved for (by Hillary) southern food at a restaurant called Gumbo, clubbed a little, went to a quiz night in an American haven and retired into the sun in Retiro. While I really enjoyed seeing my Cornell friends, I just wanted to be back in Santander. I wanted my own room with my own bed. I had been travelling for 3 weeks now and was just tired. I always seem to need a vacation from my vacations.

Back in Santander I had work to catch up on. More prelims and problem sets than I really wanted, but put my nose to the grind so we could host a Chili Fest of our own later that week for our Italian friends. I have gotten pretty good at corn bread and we have experimented a little with some chilis. We had our good old original beef recipe accompanied by a pork and beer chili and my personal favorite, a white bean chicken chili.

More Italian food and problem sets followed in the weeks to come. I eventually met with Ferrovial, my summer employer. The interview was really just a “What are you looking for?” type of deal, nothing to be too worried about. I will be working on the Historical Archive of Euskadi building in Bilbao for six weeks, although I still haven’t heard anything from them and am supposed to begin next Monday.

I then had finals. I took four tests in the week and a half leading up to my trip to Norway, notably two of them being for Coastal Engineering. Yes, I had my second prelim two days before my final. How are you supposed to know what you are doing incorrectly when you have barely just been tested. Oh well, turns out I passed that class.

What was really great was that before two of my afternoon finals I got to go see prehistoric art in the Cantabrian countryside for several hours in the morning. While my peers were studying, I was in a Land Rover sick to my stomach navigating steep hills and cow pies to see a few rock carvings. This happened two Fridays in a row. Great. Sad thing is, these carvings will be around longer than anything I will ever design. Ugh.

Probably one of the most interesting things I have done between Porto and Norway was that I tried surfing. A few of my Italian friends knew this place we could rent boards and suits for 10 euros for the day over at Somo Beach so the Sunday before I headed off to the fjords I caught the ferry and a few waves. While I wasn’t outstanding, I was pleased that I got up a few times, especially since the Italians gave me a five minute lesson before I entered the water. I was sore and felt like I ate a pound of salt afterwards, but it was amazing to think that I would start the week off hanging ten in the Atlantic and end it at the edge of Trolltunga jutting into the Norwegian fjords. But more on that later.

Porto Day 2: Wine Caves

Prepare yourselves for the classiest trip I have taken yet.

As you already know, I was in Porto. The first day, if you read the last post, was spent just wandering around, getting to know the town. You know, the usual. Well, the second day was a very different pace.

Hillary and I struck out right away. We knew that MGMT was playing a concert for the Burning of the Ribbons Festival, and the lady at the desk told us we might be able to get tickets if we went to some random café and asked around, maybe a random student could help us. Problems abound, one being we didn’t speak Portuguese and another being we couldn’t find said café, we were unsuccessful in the procurement of tickets.

Well, it was 5 o’clock somewhere so it was time for a drink.

Really though, around 11 am we headed off to our first wine “cave” or cellar for our first tour and tasting. We scoped out the lot of options we had and picked out the cheapest ones (read: free). Our first tour and tasting was at Croft. They served us a nice white port which was very smooth and sweet. We then set off for the tour. After the tour we got a ruby vintage port which we enjoyed on the terrace. (Are you getting the sense of classiness yet?)

I learned a little bit about ports on this and my other tours.

1. Port is sweet because they stop the fermentation process early, locking in the natural sugars.

2. Port is a strong wine, usually 18% to 22% alcohol.

After number 1, you may wonder how number 2 is true. You clever ones might be thinking, I thought the fermentation was stopped early. Well, that brings me to number 3.

3. The fermentation process is stopped by adding alcohol. From what I gather, it is brandy.

4. There are a few different types of port. The most common being Ruby, White and Tawny. They each pair with different courses, but usually as a dessert or aperitif.

So that is about all I know about port, or maybe just the interesting things I picked up that would fit in a blog about travel.

Hill and I thought that drinking too much before lunch was just alcoholic, so we got some lunch at a small Portuguese diner and then came back to Taylor’s for more tastings (after a siesta in the park of course). Taylor’s is situated up on the hill and has a great view of the city from their gardens. They also have this awesome tasting area which has a ceiling reminiscent of a circus tent with colored fabric draping across and a really nice library with books the size of my torso and the age of my great great great great… you get the idea. The books were old.

Oh, and every place we went had stools and tables made out of barrels. Neat!

After another tasting and tour we passed out on the river bank. Finally, we headed back to the hostel with a tawny in tow and made dinner, taking it easy on our last night.

The last day we picked up some post cards, wandered a little, and were sent off with a complimentary glass of tawny from our hostel and the promise that if we ever found ourselves in Porto again, we would have a home. I think this lady was the owner, and she was one of the sweetest Portuguese ladies I have met (although I haven’t met too many Portuguese ladies).

On to Madrid!

Oh, you may have noticed the blue and white painted buildings. These were everywhere and were actually made out of painted tiles. I guess Portugal is kind of a big deal when it comes to decorative tiles.