"We'll not risk another frontal assault. That rabbits dynamite!"

Ah, the great British institution that is talking about the weather. This weekend it appeared justified as a large low pressure settled over our part of the world and while the OMM competitors were dealing with this (!) on that side of the North Sea, the citizens of Bergen, Norway were mourning the loss of hundreds of umbrellas as driving rain and gale force winds stampeded into the city and promptly got corralled by The Seven Hills. We went out for a Vietnamese dinner last night and the city's litter bins and streets were strewn with the skeletal remains of umbrellas, torn nylon flapping in the wind like shredded skin.

The weather was slightly better this morning so a quick jaunt around the ol' backyard was in order. I donned waterproof mids and wee gaiters and was thankful as practically every path up onto the main ridge was running water. The little scramble pitch pictured above is normally dry, grippy granite but today it required a bit of concentration as a stream had appeared down the middle of it. Up on the plateau the wind hurled sheets of hail sideways at the few souls brave/stupid enough to be out today. Then a moment of magic. As I cowered behind a small cairn for shelter and pulled my Flux on a Mountain Hare in full winter pelage appeared in front of me and bounded effortlessly away from me in the terrible conditions. Obviously I need to work on my camera quick draw as my fingers were still fumbling with the Trio's zip as the Lupus loped away.

The Running Man - "Give me the Justice Department, Entertainment Division"

Running up the mountain at the end of our road keeps me fit. It also lets me play around in the rain like when I was a kid only these days I don't get yelled at to wear my 'big' coat, I'm old enough to wear what I like!

This is my running track. This is after 10 days of rain. The record in Bergen is something like 83 days in a row. I'll swap my trainers for flippers if that happens again.

You know it's a windy day in the hills when the waterfalls don't fall. A waterfall being blown back on itself.

Just to prove it's not all dark skies and precipitation. I managed to capture this sliver of sunshine on the suburbs of Bergen before heading over the edge of the ridge and back down to under-floor heating and porridge.

When conditions are like today you're feet are going to get wet. I don't care what waterproof lining you have in your Nik-Pu-idas pumps water and shin deep bog mud will get in. Deal with it. Wear unlined trainers, a pair of merino socks and keep going. Yes your feet will get wet but they won't be cold. Saying that, later in the year when we're under snow I may try some Rocky Gore Tex socks. I'm skeptical about waterproof socks ever since I tried a pair of Sealskinz. The Horror. The Horror.

Salvation

I'll be honest, Norwegian TV is pish. Even the english language stuff they show is rubbish. Salvation arrived in the post today. Blessed are the Amazon customers, for they shall inherit the mirth.

"You know we do it right, a mission every night, it's a bomber"

A pair of bomber wellies for the bomber weather we've been having. Cheap (by Norwegian standards), cheerful (not that black is usually described as cheerful) and the first pair of wellies I've ever bought myself.

Interlude

I finally got out today. Actually, that's a bit of a lie as I go out for a run up the local 'backyard' mountain a couple of evenings during the week when I'm not at Norwegian classes or doing homework but this was the first time I'd been somewhere different in a while. Last weekend I helped my boss to move house, from one side of Bergen to the other. During the week the weather had been awful (or awesome, if you're a duck), rain every day and some mornings it's been a bit icy on the back streets. Saturday was spent traipsing round Bergen city centre in the pouring rain trying to find reasonably priced 'bomber' rain gear i.e. stuff we could wear to and from work or school that wasn't especially 'technical' so we could save the good stuff for the weekends, safe in the knowledge that it wasn't damp/worn-out/missing when we needed it for a trip to the mountains. Saturday night we went to a friends house for a huge family roast dinner and loose plans were made for a bit of a hike on Sunday morning should the biblical rain decide to give us a break.

Sunday morning and low and behold we had sunshine. Not a lot, just patches here and there speckling the city and surrounding mountains but it wasn't raining! Due to the Bergen International Film Festival being on in town we only had time for a quick jaunt but we managed a blast up and down Livarden (683m), 20 minutes drive out of the city. The Norwegians set the pace and boy was it fast. I hardly got a chance to get the camera out. The track started in a deep pine forest then blasted straight up a gradual ridge line. The conditions were wet to say the least. 10 days worth of rain either sat in boggy areas either side of us or poured down the path in a small stream. One side of the hill was swathed in thick fog and the other was bathed in weak sunshine, both conditions split by our route up the ridge. There was a bitter wind at the top too so after pulling on all our spare clothes and sharing a big bar of chocolate we turned tail and marched straight back down at mach 1. The path through the trees at the end was treacherous and we spent quite a while picking lines around bogs and sliding down rooted chutes to the ski path at the bottom. With the film festival calling we jumped straight into the car and headed home munching on chocolate lefse.

A game of two halves

The day started with so much promise (see earlier post below) but we failed to adhere to the KISS principle (Keep It Simple Stupid) or the 5 P's (Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance) and instead of just walking out of our apartment and up the hill to the snow we had an 'idea' and walked down to the bus stop, took a bus into the centre of Bergen and then walked up to the Floybanen funicular railway and took a cable car up to the top of Floyen to get to the snow. The idea was to walk down the other side of Floyen, across the dam ("Is this the God dam?!"), up the darkside of Ulriken, along the ridge and down to our place for tea and medals sometime in the early evening. Unfortunately every tourist and local in Bergen had the same idea and we were not enjoying the peace and quiet of the countryside but listening to the general hubbub of hundreds of people sharing 'our idea'. The footpath off Floyen is partially paved too and we couldn't get down quick enough. We walked across the dam and then the real fun and giggles started. We followed the 1:25K map as best we could but could we find the path up the darkside of Ulriken? Could we balls! We even passed a couple of locals coming down the only faintly footpath-esque route visible who's first words were "Don't go up there!". They displayed visible use of the ass-crampon and after all four of us checked the map again we decided to retreat. It also started raining, hard. It was a pish moment. The weather, time and navigation ball-ups were sending us home while the first snows of the year washed away 200m above us. We walked despondently back to the main road and took a bus home. Our mood was darker than the skies.

We mooched about at home, eating our packed lunch at the breakfast table and watching the mighty Reds go 0-2 down at Man City by half-time. I looked out the window. Still raining but only drizzle now. If I was going to turn it around I had to do something now. M was already under a blanket on the sofa with her head in a book and she didn't entertain the idea of running up the hill to play in the snow, even just for a few minutes. I on the other hand got dressed, put on a warm hat and left the building.

20 minutes hard slog later I was high on the forest paths and snow lay all around me. We should have done this first thing this morning! It was still raining lightly but I kept the pace up and stayed toasty. I slipped and slid out onto the hillside and up to the first hytte. Clouds were rolling in hard on the main ridge and with darkness only two hours away I knew further progress would be foolhardy. I had the place to myself, only seeing a couple of people coming down off the mountain while I was huffing and puffing my way up. Snow muffled all the sounds except the trickle of water as the sun earlier had created a lot of snow-melt.  It was stunningly cold and pretty as a picture. The lakes were dead still and reflected the monochrome scenery perfectly. I took some pictures, zipped the Lite-speed up tight and jogged home, my fleece beanie and Powerstretch gloves were damp but warm. When I got in I checked the BBC website and saw that Fernando had turned things around too, scoring twice and setting up an injury-time winner. Result!

FIRST SNOW IN BERGEN! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Woke up this morning to heavy drizzle and thick, thick clouds over the whole of Bergen. Visibility was minimal and the street lights glowed dull orange in the murk. We made breakfast and checked e-mails for an hour as the clouds lifted and the sun began to burn through. Then I heard M squeal with delight from the study (insert joke here). "Joe! Snow!". I ran over to the patio doors that leads to our balcony and the sky had cleared completely revealing snow on top of the hills over the other side of the city. I craned my neck around to get a view of Ulriken, almost behind us, and was greeted with the sight of snow down to about 400m. I grabbed the camera, walked onto the balcony and fired off a couple of photos. We were going to go into the town for lunch to celebrate my birthday tomorrow but instead we're heading up the mountain to play in the snow. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The Aftermath

A pair of XA XCRs, a pair of 10 year old Berghaus boots and a pair of ID gaiters in the sink. Two pairs of troos , a pair of wind shirts, one pair of gloves and a hat on the floor. All covered with mud. All much needed and gratefully used up on the hill this afternoon when it hailed and the wind nearly blew M over. It was cold, wet and windy. We had a great time.

Ideal weather for trolls?

My man-flu abated today so we had a quick run out, up and down Ulriken in the back yard, just to blow out the cobwebs after a week and a half of nothing more strenuous than walking to or from work. I also got to try out my new Norheim winter troos despite it being a bit warm for that sort of thing just yet. In fact, stopping for lunch at 600+ metres is just the place for that sort of thing and M also coveted my Flux. We're also trying to work out if we can escape this weather for my up coming birthday weekend and find some sunshine and hopefully snow (woop woop!) between a couple of hyttes. To make us feel better when the weather in Bergen is rubbish we look at this weather. Maybe the trolls move slower in -35C.

Transitions: R&R on the other side of the country

Half-term. You've got to love the concept... especially when you're both members of the school staff and able to disappear for a week! Unfortunately I had developed a serious case of man-flu so a period of R&R was in order for the pair of us. With a car at our disposal for a few days we decided to race right across the entire width of Norway to M's mum's hytte just inside the Norway/Sweden border. As we began the ten hour drive we started to notice changes in the scenery. In the space of a week the trees had started to turn, green leaves giving way to yellow, golds and reds. The curvy road out of Bergen was a continuous ribbon of autumnal confetti as a mean wind bullied the leaves from the trees. As we headed into the mountains the odd golden tree here and there gave way to clumps and then swathes of yellow on the hillsides.

I know I post quite a few 'tunnel photos' in my blog. I guess I'm still excited every time we dive in and out of these feats of civil engineering and living in Norway sometimes there isn't any other way of going ROUND the mountain so they decide they'll go THROUGH the mountain instead. Well on this trip we got to go through the mother of all road tunnels, the Leardaltunnelen. At 24.5km (17 miles and allegedly the longest road tunnel in the world) it has cavernous grottos periodically along it's length, each one bathed in different ethereal lighting themes and parking places where you can get out and takes photos of 18 wheelers thundering by at 80kmph inches from your Carl Zeiss lens.

It always amazes me how driving in Norway seems so much less tiring than driving back in the UK. I put it down to being able to drive for hours at a time on almost deserted, perfect curvy roads. Mile after mile of stunning scenery helps of course and you can stop where you want for a flask of filter coffee and sandwiches. After a slight mis-direction by our navigator based in England, relaying directions by text message, we arrived at the hytte. First job, get the wood burning stoves fired up!

The next day we enjoyed a lazy breakfast of bacon and eggs and headed out under clear blue skies to the very Swedish-looking forests around Kirkenaer to a lake we'd visited before. This time I made sure I was armed with my new Shimano travel fishing combo that packs up so small and light that it'll sit in the side pockets of my OMM packs. We parked the car right next to the lake, the temperature gauge reading 5C, and stepped out into the biting wind. 10 minutes later and I managed to winkle out a wee Perch. It wasn't going to break any records but it made me smile, my first Norwegian fish.

We spent the next couple of days doing the same kind of stuff. Sleeping late then enjoying cooked breakfasts, visiting local towns and villages, exploring the gravel 'Bom' roads that snake through the forests (obviously where Norway creates rally driving talents such as Petter Solberg) and grabbing a spot of fishing here and there. We spent hours strolling around the countryside trying to capture the colour of the season in the northern light, doing it no justice in the process!

On the last evening we had a final drive into the forest and soaked up some much needed sunshine and M indulged in a spot of fishing. I managed to lose about £20's worth of lures in sunken trees and weeds before catching a small pike as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Too soon it was time to head back across the country to our home on the west coast. The next morning we drove back through the mountains and we realised that time had marched on even further during our short trip away. Up on the hills there was the years first dusting of fresh snow. The ice warning on the dashboard was flashing and the display said 2C. Exciting stuff. Our thoughts turned to snowy adventures, blizzards, crampons, cross country skiing and down filled jackets. The seasons are truly in transition.