Top of the world

One of my favorite clients shared some pictures from a family trip to Norway with me a few months ago and I fell in love with the place. Further north than Iceland and clearly within the Arctic Circle, it’s a place with extremely short summers (even shorter than Helsinki!) and, subsequently, an extremely short tourist season. I left for Lofoten, Norway on a Friday morning at 9:30am and arrived at my hostel in Hamnøy thirteen hours and two flights, two taxis, and a ferry ride later (not so easy to get to outside of tourist season!). It was totally worth it. (And thankfully, the partner on my case was very gracious to allow me to work remotely so that I could make the trip!)

Lofoten is a series of islands which were initially formed in the Ice Age and then “released” when the glaciers that once covered them melted 10,000 years ago. The largest islands (and even some of the tiniest nearby islands) are quite close together and are connected by road which makes the archipelago seem more like a peninsula, albeit the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous peninsula you’ve ever seen. The “islands” are not really islands at all but are more like mountain peaks jutting out of the Norwegian Sea with rorbu (tiny red-painted fisherman cabins) and sjøhus (“sea house” in Norwegian) scattered on the small areas of the relatively flat (and very limited!) land nearest to the water. The surrounding waters are a haven for Arctic cod, enticed from the Barents Sea by the warm Gulf Stream, and cod fishing is what the small community (approximated at only around 25,000 people total in the entire area) was built upon and still sustains it today. The cold waters and plentiful fish also make this a great place for whales and Lofoten is Norway’s last whale-hunting community. Although whale-hunting has long been a hotly contested and very political topic I read that the waters surrounding Lofoten have been estimated to contain 87,000 Minke whales and that Norway has a yearly hunting cap set at 670 of these. (They also require certain officials, including a vet, to be onboard any whale-hunting vessel to ensure the whales are killed humanely and that the catch is properly reported.) This industry, while relatively small from a numbers perspective, makes up about 30% of the local economy so is quite important for the livelihood of the people who live there.

Besides cod and whale fishing, tourism is the other mainstay of the economy and it is easy to see why. Lofoten is extraordinarily unique and really captivatingly beautiful. The natural and striking beauty has also drawn many artists to the area over the years and there are art and photography galleries in some of even the tiniest villages. I can see why photographers would flock to this place – it’s almost impossible to take a bad picture when the backdrop is Lofoten!

I had decided to stay in a hostel both because Norway is so unbelievably expensive and also because I wanted to be in one of the small villages near the most spectacular scenery but which have more limited options for overnight accommodation. I called the woman who owns and runs the place from my four hour “layover” at the ferry waiting room in Bodø to ask if she would be able to pick me up from the ferry dock at 9pm as was offered on the hostel’s website. She told me that, no, unfortunately she could not pick me up as she was going home at 6pm (but not to worry – she would leave my key in the door!) and also that I should make sure to bring food with me because nothing would be open when I arrived and it was several kilometers to the nearest market anyway. Guess if I was looking for “small village” I definitely got it! She told me she’d arrange a taxi for me and I loaded up on fish soup (sounds terrible but is really good!) on the ferry.

I arrived at the hostel, let myself in, and found room number three with the key in the door as promised. I opened the door to find a tiny little room with a single bed (too short for me so I had to scrunch), a lamp, a mirror, a rug, and a bookcase. The “rules” displayed on the wall told me that I was expected to take out my trash, strip the bed, and vacuum the floors before I left or I would be charged a cleaning fee. I was starting to wonder what the $50/night was paying for (plus the $15 fee for bed linens and a towel which were not included in the price of accommodation)! I guess if my lunch consisting of a roll with two slices of salami, one slice of cheese, and a lettuce leaf was $10 in the airport that this made sense but good grief! I was exhausted after a long week at work and despite the short bed, crumpled up and crashed until the morning.

I woke up, opened the curtains, and got my first daylight view of the fjord. It can only be described as magnificent! The jagged mountains jutted out from the fjord and reached straight up, all the way up it seemed, to the clouds while the cold water was a gorgeous blue-black and the red rorbuer lining the water completed the perfect picture. I had been really excited for this trip because of the pictures I had seen and, as always, the actual view was a million times more impressive. I immediately headed out in search of a bike so I could go exploring.

Hamnøy is a tiny little village on a tiny little island at the mouth of Kjerkefjorden. There are several other tiny islands at the mouth of the fjord all connected by a small road (usually single lane with alternating one-way bridge crossings), also the main “highway” that runs along the length of Lofoten. I had seen a market from the taxi ride the way in and so took off looking for breakfast. An hour and a half but only five or so kilometers later (I stopped every 10 meters or so to take pictures – too gorgeous!), I finally arrived at the market and bought some basics - fruit, yogurt, bread, cherry tomatoes, diet Coke, and water – for the next couple days for the bargain price of only $40…yikes! Even trying to eat cheaply was costing me a fortune!

I wandered into Reine, the “biggest” of the tiny towns near Kjerkefjorden (still tiny), and found the bike rental shop…really a log hut with two people napping on a picnic table out front next to a rack of bikes. I walked up and one of the nappers sat up and was the quintessential hippie-girl you find in every gorgeous, sporty, tourist area renting out sporting equipment. I’ve been running into people exactly like her in Sun Valley and Jackson Hole for my entire life so I recognized the “type” right away (you know, the winter ski instructor / summer raft guide / evening bartender type – what an awesome life!). She had a Swedish / surfer / snowboarder chick accent (try to imagine that one!) and was very nice and very laid-back (as expected). I rented the bike for “the day” and when I asked her when it should be returned she said, in a long drawn-out hippie-girl way, “Aaaaahhhhh, yaaahhhh, just sometime today…anytime…just, like, sometime today…tonight…whenever.” Got it. I will definitely bring it back by whenever. She asked me, “Heeeyyyy, do you, like, want a bike helmet?” I said, “Do I need one? I mean I know I should wear one anyway but there doesn’t seem to be much traffic. What do you think?” “Yaaaahhhh, it’s, like, your choice. There’s not much traffic but, like, I’m on ambulance duty tonight and, like, I don’t want to, like, have to come scrape you off the road. So, like…don’t fall.” I said, “I don’t want you to have to come scrape me off the pavement either. I’ll be careful!”

I grabbed the bike, didn’t grab the helmet, hopped on, and set off further south on my way to the very last village in Lofoten called Å. Yep, just one letter, Å. Å (pronounced like a soft “o” more like “oeh” is the last letter in the Norwegian alphabet and so it is fitting that Å also be the last village on the line. It was only eight kilometers and a beautiful ride from Reine. Of course it took me forever to get there because of all the photo ops but it was absolutely perfect weather and a stunning place so I was happy to take my time. Not far out of Reine, a couple road cyclists came zooming past me and yelled a good natured and motivating hello (although “hello” was not part of it). I laughed – the Norwegians in Lofoten were so friendly! – and kept on riding. I stopped another or kilometer or so up the road at a turn-off for some more pictures and the same cyclists, also stopped, rode over to me and greeted me in Norwegian. I said the standard, “I’m sorry, I only speak English.” “Ah! She only speaks English! Where are you from?”

Turns out that the Norwegians speak even better English than the Finns (their native language being much closer to English to begin with) and we chatted about where I came from, why I was there, what I was doing, the fact that, yes, my name is Norwegian and, no, I can’t say it properly (which all Norwegians find, rightfully so, hilarious!) etc, etc. Then I asked them what their story was. “We are doing a 2,000 kilometer bike trip to increase awareness about the importance of wearing a bike helmet. Soooo…where is yours?” Gulp. I didn’t even try to weasel my way out of that one, “I left it at the bike rental shop. I have no excuse…you guys are totally right! I should be wearing one.” Instead of a lecture I just got a laugh, “And you’re even from the United States…from California! You should be telling us!” “I know, I know, I know. Stupid, stupid, stupid…” Turns out these guys were both paramedics in a larger group of paramedics riding together from the North Cape all the way to the southern end of Norway for this cause so they were definitely the right group to tell you what could happen to you if you were stupid like me and opted to wear sunglasses instead of a helmet. Thankfully, they spared me the gory (literally) details and just laughed again.

One of them said, “I have been to San Francisco. It is a really great city.” I replied, “Yes! I really love it. There are lots of great things to do and places to go nearby. In fact, road cycling is really big there. There are also some fantastic roads and hills for cycling.” Without missing a beat, one of them asked, “Is that an invitation?” He caught me a little off guard there. I blinked, then smiled, and said, “Sure! Here, let me give you my card.” Almost in unison they said, “Alright!” So, that’s how I became friends with Torbjørn the Norwegian paramedic. Torbjørn and his team were on their way to take the ferry dock in Moskenes on their way back to the mainland so had to leave. He said, “Wow. How did we find a girl from San Francisco named Østby in Lofoten?” as they took off. Agreed. Kind of bizarre.

I left for Å when the paramedics took off for Moskenes and the little one-letter village was just as quaint and picturesque as I had heard. I wandered around “town” a bit and then made it to the literal end of the road which led to a campsite perched near a cliff overlooking the rest of the rocky island (no more flat parts for a road!) as it continued further south. Too bad I wasn’t camping – the view was amazing! I hung out for a bit taking pictures and eating “lunch” (cherry tomatoes and trail mix) before heading back north.

I biked back near Reine and had heard about a hike up Mt. Reinebringen which rewarded the steep climb with unparalleled views of Reinefjord and the villages scattered over the islands. Now all I had to do was actually find the hiking trail. I knew it started near the tunnel entrance on the south side of Reine so I parked my bike off the side of the road (no need to lock it up or hide it in rural Norway!) and started picking my way through the forest to try to find the trail. Just when I thought I’d found it I’d lose it again. I started up a few different paths before deciding to just go for it. I knew where I was going – up the side of the mountain – so I figured I’d just make my way up until I ran into the trail.

Thankfully, this strategy actually worked out and after climbing up a rock face for a while on which there was obviously no “trail,” I ran into a well marked hiking trail which I rightfully assumed must be the one to the top of Reinebringen. (See, sometimes you don’t need a map!) I knew from looking at it that this was going to be a steep climb. Fjords are spectacular because of their sharp rise to the sky and this mountain was one of the famous “walls” towering over Reinefjord. It was basically like doing lunges for a couple hours straight but with some slippery mud and ankle-turning rock navigation thrown in. I kept on keeping on though and finally made it to the top, a little annoyed at how much harder it had been than I had anticipated and also pretty tired! I took the last couple steps to the top and then suddenly had an unbelievable aerial view of Reinefjord, many of the islands, and the long, beautiful Lofoten coastline stretching north as far as I could see. SO worth it.

I took my time at the top enjoying the surreal view and taking more pictures. I ran into a couple Swiss guys who were on a long trip in the Nordics and had actually come from northern Finland into Norway (Finland and Norway share a border north of Sweden…yes, there really is a “north of Sweden!”) and were now making their way south through the country. They were very friendly and helpfully, taking some pictures of me and the view that I wouldn’t have been able to get otherwise, and then followed behind me on the way back down even yelling ahead, “Are you alright?!” when at one point I stepped on a pile of rocks which turned into a land- and Andrea-slide. I was fine and also happy that someone had been around in case I hadn’t been!

The climb down was almost as much work as the climb up with all the mud and rocks. I was pretty happy to get to the bottom again and get back to my bike (which was, of course, sitting untouched exactly where I left it). I jumped on my bike and started riding quickly back to Reine. It was already about 7:30pm and was getting colder by the minute…and I still had to turn my bike in before walking the five kilometers back “home.” I decided somewhere en route that maybe I’d actually keep my bike for another day, thinking maybe I’d do a long ride north along the coast and check out some new islands. I came screaming into Reine and up to the bike shop…which was closed and locked and probably had been for hours. I then realized I was starving after a long day of biking and hiking and, knowing that there were few options for food, and even fewer that would be open outside of “high season” (basically, July), I saw an “open” sign in a window and decided to go for it, whatever “it” was would be better than more trail mix and an apple for dinner. I was pretty dirty from the day but figured it was Norway and it was a small town, they wouldn’t care…I opened the door to the restaurant and told the girl behind the bar that I’d like to stay for dinner. She left to set a table for me as I set my backpack down and tried to pull out my jacket which was clean and a bit more presentable than the dirty clothes I was wearing. I was startled by another girl jumping out from the kitchen who just happened to be the bike rental shop chick from earlier that day, “Heeeeyyyy! How did the bike, like, work out for you today?” I smiled and said, “Great! It was great! I was actually thinking of keeping it for tomorrow but no one was at the shop.” “Yaaaaahhhh. We’re closed. But yah, like, keep the bike. Just, like, come back to pay tomorrow. Cool?” Cool. And after running into her I knew they’d be ok with my less than proper dinner restaurant attire.

I had an excellent dinner (of fish, what else?) and my waitress was really curious about me so kept me company for a while asking me where I was from and why I was in Lofoten. She grew up in Reine and had run into only four Americans (including me) in Lofoten over her past 25 or so years. I had never heard of Lofoten until my client told me about it so was surprised to hear that, according to her, it was “more known than Oslo” in Europe and had been a longtime travel favorite of the Germans (it’s also fairly well known in Finland so maybe I’m just the American dummy). So many places to see and so many travel treasures to find!

When a large group of properly dressed, clean, and beautiful (really, all of them, both the men and the women) Norwegians showed up for their dinner reservation it was time for the grubby American to get back on her bike and go home. I pedaled as fast as I could as it was now quite cold (in the 40s Fahrenheit) and was home 15 minutes later. I lucked out and didn’t even have to wait for the shower (oh, the joys of staying at a hostel!) which was probably a good thing for everyone in the house given the mud I was carrying on my body!

I spent the evening going through my pictures and planning the adventure for Sunday. The woman who ran the hostel had told me that morning about a “good hike if you really want to do some mountaineering” to the highest point in Moskenes, Mount Hermanndalstinden (1,029 meters, about 3,369 feet), and I was thinking that hiking might be more fun than just biking along the main road all day. I had no idea how long the hike was (still don’t know!) but confirmed with a few locals that the views were “beautiful,” “amazing,” and “spectacular.” “Spectacular” was enough to get me so I was back on my bike the next morning to catch the 11am boat (the only one on Sundays) up the Reinefjord to the starting point of the hike. Now that I didn’t need my bike for the day I was hoping I could drop it off and not pay. I was also in a bit of a hurry to catch the boat (I still had time but not if I had any problems finding the specific dock) so, again, came screaming into Reine and up to the bike shop. My Swedish surfer chick was there again, napping on the picnic table. Before she could, like, say hello, I jumped in and quickly blurted out, “Hi! I had a change of plans and am going hiking now so don’t need the bike anymore. I hope that’s ok!” She began, “Yaaaaahhhh, suuurrre. Where are you, like,…” “I’m going to take the boat up the fjord and then hike up Hermanndalstinden.” “Woooowwww! That is supposed to be REALLY beautif…” “Yes! I’m excited! Gotta go! Have a nice day!” and I was off. She smiled and waved a slow, good natured, hippie-girl wave as I ran toward the docks.

I caught the boat with time to spare and we spent about an hour touring the fjord and dropping travelers off at different villages. My stop was the last stop and I got off with two men from eastern Germany who were also out for a day of hiking. When I had looked at the map that morning it looked like I’d get dropped off at the end of one branch of the fjord, hike between a few lakes and then make the ascent of Hermanndalstinden. I don’t know why I thought there would be any flat, or even relatively flat, ground on which to hike given what I had seen of the are the previous day but I was pretty surprised to see that just to get to the starting point of my “main” hike up Hermanndalstinden that I had a 1,000 foot ascent straight up beginning with my first step off the boat.

There was a visible trail starting near where we jumped off the boat and one of the German guys took off up the trail while his friend followed and I brought up the rear. As the boat sped away the driver yelled back at us, “I think the trail starts over there. Behind the building!” He pointed us in the opposite direction. Oh. Thanks! We all backtracked a few steps and went in search of the trail behind the building. We found it and despite the mud and the very steep climb, were making pretty good time up the side of the fjord.

The trail was very well marked until we got about halfway at which point it went from being very well marked to being completely unmarked. I was ahead of the other two at this point but had stopped to try to find where the trail picked up. The guys caught up to me and they also started searching. No one could find anything promising so we just made our own trails up the side of the fjord. One German went one way and I followed the other one knowing that we’d get to the top but hoping that paving our own way wouldn’t be too disastrous. Besides stepping a few times into ankle-deep mud and water, thus starting out the day with completely wet (cold!) and muddy sneakers, the hike up wasn’t too disastrous even if it was rather difficult without a trail. We all eventually made it to the top to find a very clear trail coming up from somewhere but exactly where it came from and where we got off track none of us could figure out. Normally I would say it was just another day in the life of Andrea but I had two equally confused Germans proving that, at least this time, it really wasn’t just me. We arrived at the top of the fjord wall to find a mountain lake 1,000 feet up, overlooking the beautiful teal-blue water in the fjord from which we had just come. It was to be the first of many jaw-drops that day.

The Germans were heading back toward Moskenes, a long hike back across the island to the coast from which we had come, albeit several kilometers further south. I was planning to do the same hike back to the coast later that day but only after climbing Mt. Hermanndalstinden. I was growing a bit concerned, however, given that the start of the hike, not even the “real mountaineering” had been such an intensely steep, slippery, and rocky climb up. I also realized at this point that there were going to be little to no flat parts on this hike and that I better be prepared to climb (and descend – much worse!) all day. I, of course, didn’t have a map so still needed to figure out from what I had heard about the hike exactly which peak I had signed myself up to climb. I looked north and saw a few different “peaks” ending with one which was clearly the highest but looked really high and extraordinarily rocky. I was sure that couldn’t be it. It’s probably not even possible to climb that one, right? Right?!

I was tempted to just do the long hike back without conquering the still to be positively identified Hermanndalstinden but made myself continue on…how could I miss the opportunity to get the spectacular views? When would I ever be in Lofoten again?! (I now hope to go back in winter sometime, actually. Want to see that fjord and those peaks with snow!) I kept going and, again, had many more increasingly emphatic jaw-drops and “spectacular!”s along the way. It was getting ridiculous really. At one point I was standing in the middle of a flat area on a peak with a 360° view including the ocean on both sides of the island, no less than five absolutely gorgeous mountain lakes, the magnificent Reinefjord, and innumerable impossibly jagged peaks framing the entire scene, some still with snow caps. Unbelievable. I was also staring up at what I was now quite sure actually was Hermanndalstinden but was still quite a ways and two intermediate climbs away before the final ascent. I had only been able to start hiking at noon given the boat schedule so even though it was only 2;30pm, I knew I was looking at a long, tough climb there and back even before I started the long hike back to the coast.

Again, I decided there was no way I was going to miss this so I kept going. I tried to make up time where the climb or descent wasn’t too steep and carefully continued forward in the parts that were. I thought I was doing pretty well until a super-blonde Norwegian fjord-jumping superman appeared out of nowhere running, no, bounding, along the trail with his dog on the way up to Hermanndalstinden. This guy was probably 20 years old and looked like he was filming an ad for a sporting goods company or something as he leaped from rock to rock before seamlessly scrambling over one pile of boulders and then seamlessly, easily climbing the next. I don’t know if these people are naturally athletic or what but this guy certainly put me in my place! I swear he passed me like I was standing still and I was still in awe when I noticed him on the peak in front of me, not too many minutes later, swinging his body gracefully up the side of what was to be the steepest and most precarious part of the entire hike. I hate it when that happens! At any rate, the guy was an impressive athlete.

I kept moving (however, decidedly not bounding) along and after a couple hours of careful foot placement, good rock-holds, and only a few slips and falls, I made it to the top of rock-piled Hermanndalstinden. There I was, literally sitting on the very top boulder on the mountain looking at a wall of fog being held at bay by the mountains to the west on my left, and then perhaps the most amazing natural beauty I have ever seen on my right…a “top of the world” view of the larger fjord, mountains, tiny villages, mountain lakes at all elevations, summer snow, just amazing in every direction. I had also been exceptionally lucky with the weather and while it wasn’t very warm (I was in the Arctic Circle after all – not sure what I expected!) it was beautifully sunny and not even breezy. Had there been any amount of wind I wouldn’t have felt comfortable scaling some of the rocks on the way up so this was really just a gift all around.

I spent some time taking pictures and enjoying my “summit” before heading back “down,” really up and down, up and down, up and down, on a two hour hike just to get back to where I had turned off from the main path. It was now 4pm and there was plenty of sun but I didn’t really have any idea how long the last leg would take me. I carefully made my way back down the mountain and then turned to take the trail back to Moskenes. It was this part of the hike that I had really underestimated. It wasn’t as steep, high, or precarious as Hermanndalstinden but it was almost maddening how many ascents and descents were required to make any kind of headway. Again, this is my fault for not realizing (or just observing) what hiking in this area would be like but it took another full four hours to get back out and into civilization. The hike itself was stunning, breathtaking, I really just can’t say enough about it, but I had no idea at any point how much farther I had to go or how much longer I would be outside hiking with no more food, completely wet shoes, and with the sun slowly but surely setting over me. I wasn’t wearing proper hiking boots which was a problem in itself but then part of the trail was very wet, very slippery, and very rocky. Bad combination. I had been dealing with this all day and was being very careful with my foot placement – all I really didn’t need was to break an ankle out there! There was no cell coverage and while someone would have figured it out if I didn’t make it back it would probably take at least a day or two, of this I was quite nervously aware. Thankfully, there had been only minor slips and falls earlier that day and although I didn’t know how much farther I had to hike, I could finally see the coast and the village of Sørvagen so knew I was in the homestretch (relatively speaking)!

Just when I had made it successfully through the muddiest, most slippery area, and after I’d already climbed up and down about six different peaks covered in sliding rocks and boulders, I reached my foot out to step on what should have been a good, solid rock…but it wasn’t. I no sooner put my foot down then it slid off into calf-deep mud. I fell forward fast and hit the rocks on the ground in front of me hard…as did my brand new camera and brand new lens. I peeled myself up off the rocks and besides one leg and shoe encased in mud and some minor bruises, scrapes, and cuts, I was pretty much fine. My camera didn’t fare so well and when I was finally able to pry the lens cover off the lens (the fall had rammed it on there good!), I had a pile of shattered glass on my hands instead of my lovely lens. UGH. Better my favorite lens than my favorite legs but so frustrating! I mourned the loss of the lens for about 20 seconds before I decided I better keep moving. No time to be depressed about your camera lens when the sun is setting in the Arctic Circle!

Thankfully, I didn’t break the lens until the very last 30 minutes of what turned out to be a 9 hour hike. (I still missed out on some fantastic pictures!) When I finally emerged from the forest a little after 9pm, I was exhausted but ecstatic about my day. The broken lens was a bummer but the sacrifice for what I was able to see and do was well worth it.

My only worry at that point was that I was already exhausted, very hungry, had been in wet shoes for 9 hours and who knows how many kilometers, and I still had about ten kilometers to walk along the main road to get home. I was seriously contemplating hitchhiking again (having had such an extremely successful first hitchhike experience the last time I was in the Arctic Circle!) when I ran into a restaurant I had seen a great review for in a guidebook. Even better, there was a big sign which read, “OPEN. Velkommen!” YAY!

I walked in, even dirtier than I had been the previous day, and in an even nicer restaurant, and asked the waitress if they were still open for dinner. “Yes, of course! Pick a table! Would you like the window?” Thank goodness for open restaurants in the middle-of-nowhere-Norway, laid-back waitresses, and other such small graces! I had another great seafood-centric meal and then had my friendly Russian waitress call me a taxi. I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to such an amazing day (sans the final fall)!

I had to make the long trip back to Helsinki the next morning which meant I needed to get up before 6am to catch the bus to Leknes for my first of three flights. (I had taken the three hour ferry from Bodø to Moskenes on the way over but was taking a 25 minute flight from Leknes, about 50 km north of Moskenes in Lofoten, to Bodø on the way back.) I woke up, got my things together, did my best to clean the hostel room (although I bagged the vacuuming – not sure the other guests would appreciate this at 6:15am and I figured that the hostel owners could and should handle the vacuuming themselves anyway!), and ran out to sit at the bus stop. This was my one shot to get to the airport that morning so I didn’t play games this time and was sitting there ready-to-go 15 minutes early. The bus pulled up exactly on time and I hopped on and settled in for the 90 minute ride. I had been wondering how on earth 50 km (30 miles) could take 90 minutes and it became clear immediately…I was on the school bus with all the middle and highschoolers in Lofoten. We stopped ever few kilometers or so, sometimes more often at more remote farms, and picked up every school-age kid for 50 km. It was a gorgeous ride and actually kind of fun to be an observer to a normal part of life on Lofoten but, still, very funny. I’m sure at least a few of those kids were wondering who the new, mute girl was.

A mere fourteen hours later I was back in Helsinki and already missing one of my new favorite places in the world. Loved Lofoten. Love Lofoten!