"That's a negative ... and right now I need two positives: one to cancel out the negative ... and one just so I've got a positive"

We took a trip out to the Hardanger West region this weekend to get some fresh air. The road up to the mountains has some of the steepest, curviest roads I've ever driven on. I could see Clarkson testing some new Audi beast on these roads (except he doesn't like Norway). Some of the tunnels literally corkscrew their way up and down inside the mountains. Exhilarating stuff. We spent the first night in the unintentionally kitsch Fossli Hotel, positioned directly on top of the pretty spectacular Voringfossen waterfall. On Saturday we headed out to Sysenvatent lake which we were informed was a stunning, full day of a hike to circumnavigate. Well, after a few hundred yards walking along the unbelievably pretty but tame shoreline we headed for the ridge above the lake in order to find one of the DNT paths that we could link together to create a slightly longer but more aesthetically pleasing trip. We started bushwhacking and bog hopping up the steep slope hoping to find the DNT path that was clearly marked on the map but after an hour and a half of scrambling with scratched legs and soaking wet feet we sat down at the top, had a snack and decided to get back to the car, drive down the road and try and find the start of the path from another car park we could see across the valley. The way back to the car was no easier. Just because we were heading downhill didn't make for an effort free return. The scrub was thick, the rocks were big and the steep gradient and almost complete lack of visible tracks made for a hard slog. The mood was black, we had wasted a morning and despite the awesome scenery we somehow felt down.

Back at the carpark we gunned the hire car up the mountain road and half an hour later we were back out of the car and finally onto the DNT path that lead out into the mountains. The sun started to shine and we found ourselves smiling again as the wild countryside spread out before us. Even my shoes started to dry out. The mighty Hardangerjokulen glacier (where they filmed the Hoth scenes in the Star Wars film The Empire Strikes Back!) which in the morning had been shrouded in cloud, sat in the distance shimmering translucent blue in the afternoon sun. We walked deep into the undulating hills for a couple of hours before stopping for a fresh brew and snacks. We wanted to continue to one of the hyttes to spend the night but our overnight gear was sitting in a roadside lodge lower down the mountain road. We reluctantly headed back to car, jumping over streams, still remarkably full of energy (thank god for Norway's answer to Peanut M&M's!). The sun had started to dip lower in the sky as we got back to the car but we still managed to catch the last rays of the day whilst enjoying a cold Newcastle Brown which we discovered in the campsite shop. Result!

Tough day at 'work'....

A couple of hours off from my new role as ‘house bitch’ gave me the chance to have a little run up Ulriken, one of the ‘7-fjellsturen’, seven hills that surround the city of Bergen. Every year the citizens of Bergen get the chance to prove themselves in the annual ‘7-fjellsturen’ event that takes participants along a recognised 35km route over the seven summits totalling 2300m elevation gain. Although the event is not timed some people manage it in under 6 hours.

At 640m Ulriken is the highpoint of the 7-fjellsturen. I started my walk a couple of miles away from the recognised route. I parked the car at the end of a residential street and walked straight into the forest. The path is graded and wide here but still brutally steep. There is no easy warm-up, you’re straight into huffing and puffing your way up the side of the hill. After 20 minutes the path ends and you’re out on rugged trails weaving between glassy tarns and granite slabs. I didn’t follow the map too much, heading in the general direction of the huge tower and ski station that crown Ulriken. After traversing a boggy valley with ankle turning tussocks I got to the bottom of a huge rock ‘staircase’ that climbed straight up the side of the main ridge. After another half hour of blowing my lungs out I was on the ridge heading north towards the summit tower. The views over the city were breathtaking. The bright sunshine afforded views from the lake studded suburbs round to the oldest part of Bergen with the docks and central shopping areas. The outlying suburbs squeezed their way outwards from the city centre through the valleys between the hills, the whole shape of the city defined by the surrounding geology. Unfortunately the peace and quiet of a wild hill top was missing due to workmen busy jet blasting the exterior of the cable car station in readiness for next summer.

I headed out north east across the plateau, for no other reason other than I didn’t want to walk back the same way. I passed people well into retirement age jogging along the gnarly footpaths. I was having trouble trying not to slip into a stream or roll my ankle on the rocks but these oldies were running along with a deftness of foot carrying nothing but a small water bottle and a couple of energy gels. I stopped for lunch and soaked in the views. I watched planes landing at Bergen Airport over in Flesland. I watched ravens bickering overhead and I said ‘Hei’ to yet more grandparents jogging by. Fell running certainly beats spending your golden years at the lawn bowling club in my opinion. It was time to head home back along the ridge and down the tricky rock steps. I was frazzled when I got back to the car. I downed a litre of water and sat in the shade of a tree wondering where all this rain is that Bergen is famous for. I’ll regret that last statement soon enough.

I ain't sayin' nuthin.

They're berries, and there are black ones and blue ones!

£3 a punnet in your local Sainsburys, absolutely free in your backgarden in Norway! Blueberries, blackberries and even red currants and wild raspberries growing in our hosts yard "Help yourselves!". Oh, and we should be moving soon, across town, nearer the hills (at the base of one to be exact) and it's got the biggest balcony I've ever stood on.......

A weekend in Voss - Part II - You ain't seen nuthin' yet

We decide to stay in Voss overnight so we'd be able to have another day in 'the nature'. Our shoes dried on the hotel room window ledge while we struggled out of bed. We hoped we wouldn't be too sore from our so-called 'baptism of fire' yesterday and sure enough we felt pretty good as we stuffed ourselves at the buffet breakfast in the hotel on cereal, warm fresh bread with cheese and cold meats and mugs of fresh filter coffee. I'd been eyeing up what I thought was a small peak above Voss, a few kilometres from the plateau we were on yesterday. The mountain's bleak rocky top loomed up from the surrounding moorland and a huge tower sat on the summit. A quick trip to Tourist Information first to buy a 1:25,000 map of the area and we could see the peak we wanted to nail. Lonahorgi's summit was at 1410m according to the map and the car park was at 47m. Totally doable I thought to myself. How big is that anyway? Snowdon? Ben Nevis? I didn't have a clue to be honest. My hiking experience was limited mainly to the SWCP and the surrounding countryside. Having been hiking in Norway loads of times in the past M informed me that distances in Norway were always further than they seemed and that we shouldn't under estimate the challange we'd set ourselves. I knew it would be a tough day and that we weren't quite at optimal hiking fitness by any stretch of the imagination but come on, we'd seen kids running around the surrounding hillsides! We were probably slightly over packed, I was carrying both our gear in the Jiri 35, but we thought it was better to be safe than sorry for our first day up high. We set off at a good tempo following the red 'T's' that mark the DNT footpaths. The path took us through rocky outcrops, boggy valleys and twisted and turned up over the plateau and onto the lower slopes of Lonahorgi. The weather was stunning. Blazing sunshine and blue skies with just a sprinking of high clouds that brought welcome relief every now and then. The path kicked upwards again, the summit tower dissapearing intermittently as we crested several large 'steps'. We passed several locals out enjoying 'the nature'. Leather boots and short shorts are de rigeur in seems. Everyone shared a friendly 'hei' as we headed up through 800 then 900 and 1000 metres according to the map. After a few hours we needed to assess the situation. We were not going to make it back to the cable car in time for the last car down the mountain so now we had to factor in an hour and twenty minute descent at the end of the day, down the very steep path we walked yesterday. We pushed on, both in agreement that we could safely reach the summit and get back down to Voss in plenty of daylight. Then the mountain changed. Instead of following twisting paths through moorland and rocky outcrops the path became an indistinct line across solid granite slabs, punctured with small tarns and piles of scree. The red 'T's' daubed on rocks and small cairns were the only sign that we were still heading in the right direction. We came across pockets of snow here and there which made me wonder about the suitability of using lightweight trail running shoes but they coped fine, even when we had to cross a 40 metre wide snow belt. Brief glimspes of the summit tower kept us motivated but slowly we realised that the summit may be just out of our reach today. We hadn't started until midday and had plenty of daylight up here at this lattitude but we had been walking up for nearly four hours now and every step towards the summit was another step we'd have to take down again. Another alarm bell was the fact that we'd stopped seeing locals heading down. We were the last people on the mountain, in fact the last local we saw at around 1200m seemed suprised that we were still heading up. Finally, at 1370m we decided to call it a day. The four storey summit tower sat there, another 40m higher and less than a kilometer away but the terrain was basically scrambling on hands and feet over shark fins of granite, possibly another 45 mins one way and potentially another hour and a half to add to the four hours back to Voss. We sat there, ate our tea of bread rolls, lamb sausage, banana and handfuls of gorp and stared at the stunning views of the Western Mountains. I was dissapointed not to make it to the summit this time but grateful for the views, the lessons learned and the fantastic adventure we'd been on. After a few photos we pointed ourselves downhill, tightened the rucksack straps and headed back down the mountain. It took four hours to get back to the car. All the way down we fantasised about the cable car still running, about paragliders offering us a lift off the mountain, about ice cold Gatorade at the garage and what we could eat for supper. The last hour and a half of sliding down the steep path into Voss was torture on the feet and soul but we made it, with about 45 minutes of daylight, half a bottle of water and half a packet of peanuts left. Suddenly yesterdays so-called 'baptism of fire' felt like a walk in the park.

Lessons learned:

1. Hiking up mountains is a LOT different to hiking long distance paths
2. In Norway it IS always further than it seems

A weekend in Voss - Part I - Baptism of fire?

We decided to have a short break out of the city before my girlfriend's job starts on Monday. We drove out on the awesome E16 about 100km east of Bergen to the town of Voss which is a host to all kinds of mountain sports both in the summer (kyaking, paragliding, parachuting, mountain biking, etc) as well as winter when it offers a whole host of ski runs with lifts across the mountains. We'd briefly visited Voss before on a holiday a few years ago and had enjoyed the lakeside setting surrounded by mountains but we didn't get out into the mountains beyond taking the cable car up to 600m, having a quick stroll around the plateau and then enjoying a coffee in the cafe with views across the valley. This time we intended to get some proper mountain walking done and our first decision was not to take the cable car out of the town and into the mountains but to hike from the town centre car park, up to the Voss Folk Museum and then follow the footpath up the side of the mountain. The young lad in the Tourist Information office had assured us that whilst he would send most tourists up in the cable car the path wouldn't be too steep for us. In reality the path gains around 500m altitude in 1km so it was basically like climbing rock strewn, root filled, muddy stairs for an hour! Welcome to hiking in Norway I thought! My legs weren't used to this kind of proper hiking and it felt like a baptism of fire. Once at the top (after sucking in lungfulls of mountain air to catch our breath) we had a quick gander around the plateau at the views of mountains above our position and across the valley before trying to take a circular route down but we ended up on the ski paths that zigzag the area. The paths are floodlit during the winter but at this time of year they are just wide, boggy scars through the forested mountain side. My unlined running shoes were soaked through and caked in mud but my feet were warm. Before long though we were lost, without a map, and heading back to the cable car station where we declined the offer of the last car down the mountain before closing and opted instead to walk back down the steep path to Voss. It took us almost as long to walk down than it did to slog up. The path is very loose under foot and at times were were using the ass crampon to descend certain rocky steps. We stopped briefly to gorge on wild raspberries and blueberries and wonder at the locals RUNNING up the path but after three and a half hours we were beat and looking forward to a night in a hotel by the lake. Hiking in Norway was going to be a lot tougher than I'd thought.

I am a mole and I live in a hole

Drove along the most amazing road today on our way to the Dale of Norway factory. The E16 from Bergen to Voss. It hugs the curvy coastline of numerous fjords and dissapears intermittently through tunnels up to 2km long. One minute we were diving through darkness, the next we crashed into bright sunshine or thundering rainstorms depending on what the weather was doing in each of the valleys we raced through. Each time we rifled out of a tunnel we were met with spectacular scenery, soaring sheer rock faces, vast vistas down immense fjords, perilously perched enclaves of wooden houses and the constant threat of huge juggernauts barrelling along the road without giving a damn how wide our wee hire Polo is. We stopped in Dale for coffee and waffles with jam and sour cream before pointing the car towards Bergen, cranking up Meatloaf on the radio and grinning from ear to ear as we swooped back through the tunnels.

Norway: Day One

Our first full day in Norway started with a lie-in of biblical proportions for me, 10 a.m. I think the past few days of camping, packing, saying goodbyes and travelling caught up with me and i got in a solid 11 hours sleep. We got up slowly, went to the supermarket, stocked up on cheese, bread, fishcakes, reindeer sausage and then home again for a lazy brunch. In the afternoon we went into Bergen centre, visited the fish market, tried whale meat, bought half a kilo of fresh prawns and loaded up with maps at a book store. The weather cleared in the afternoon, the sun blazing the mountains in light and the clouds that had shrouded the peaks drifted away. We drove into the 'nature' as they call the countryside here and explored several roads into the mountains looking for trailheads and ended up at the fjord in the photo, watching the sun set behind the mountains.

Here at last

We arrived safely in Norway after a transfer in Stavanger. The view from the place we're staying at for the time being is classic west coast Norway. Green with grey skies, rain skating across window panes, red houses and hills in the background. Welcome to Bergen!

Leaving, on a jet plane

Sat on the coach, on our way to Heathrow. We watch the country we've lived in all our lives slip by with every mile. In a few hours we'll be in our new 'home' country of Norway. Just hours before we're right smack bang in the mountains. The coach journey is not easy. Four 'Daddies little princess' teenagers sat behind us decide that the whole coach needs to hear about their boyfriends, how brother Harry is in Argentina, how excited they are about going to Thorpe Park and how 'Daddy drives a Porsche! Mhaw mhaw mhaw!'. Fight back the boiling bile. Resist the desire to kill. Maybe i should have had some breakfast before I left at oh christ o'clock this morning.

Red Bull gives you dinner

My brother fired up his 8g Red Bull can alcohol stove on our 'last' camping trip. The little fire breather quietly boiled a mug of water in just a few minutes while we listened to owls and watched deer crash down the hillside. The fire was stubborn, too much rain in the preceding days, but we managed to stay warm and dry all night. We split logs and fed the flames whilst a hip flask helped warm us from the inside. Morning and the hike out came far too soon. Home to an empty flat and my worldly posessions lying in three bags on the empty bedroom floor. In 48 hours i'll be in Norway...

Unemployed

I left my job yesterday. I've never left a job without another one lined up. It's scary but refreshing too. A chance to try something completely different. I retired my coffee mug and spoon to the work kitchen, said my goodbyes and thanked everyone for my Cotswold vouchers and slipped out the door for the last time. My friend and colleague Cy gave me a lift home, via Cotswolds where i got a pair of merino long johns, just in case it gets nippy in Bergen. Off on a wee overnighter with my bro when i get home, another 'last time', for now.

Livin' in a box, livin' in a cardboard box

It's all gone, our entire world packed up in boxes and shipped out to Norway.

Last time?

This was supposed to be the last time that i would get out in the UK, an evening walk in the forest with my Dad and brother. Dad picked us up in the Defender, lit up the BFs and we were out to the forest in no time. The midges were out in force and cowbells filled the thick warm air. We looked for deer tracks in the mud and talked about Norway a lot. Halfway round we stopped for fresh brews, each of us cooking our own. It was an excuse to play with 'toys'! We listened to ravens and deer on the way back to the car, walking through the scars left below the pylons. Friday is now our real last time out. Better get on with packing...

(Wind)shirt and Thai

I left my Roclites to dry out after my morning run over the heath and took my girlfriend over to the annual Bournemouth Thai festival which we visit every year. Its a great place to stuff your face with amazing Thai food from dozens of Thai restaurants. This years favourite was the leek dumpling with sweet soy sauce (pictured). There was also Thai massage tents, Buddhist monks giving blessings and a big ol' Singah beer tent. Unfortunately this year the weather was pish. Good job we packed his 'n' hers windshirts so we could fend of the showers and watch the local Thai community get down and boogie in the rain.

Favourite movie theme tunes

Found this on Youtube today, one of my favourite movies of all time and a great soundtrack. The lyrics feel more poignant with my impending departure to Norway. This poster of Crapgame is available here (thanks Dan!)