It was a really warm Friday afternoon in the city, it was the kind of radiant warmth cold blooded animals must enjoy when they're charging up their batteries in the morning, faces lifted to the sun. It made me sluggish and I almost didn't set off for my planned night at the summit of Hauggjelsvarden but the sunsets in the preceding week had been stunning and I relished the chance to see one from a different perspective than our balcony.
As I left the tarmac and climbed through the trees I could hear the wind building in the branches, shaking them violently and as I topped out above the trees the wind cut through me. I realised that pitching my tent on the summit would be an exercise in futility, especially with 2g titanium pegs. After 2 hours of climbing I reached the top. I hung around the summit cairn for a few minutes, considering my options, and was rewarded with a glimpse of an eagle rising on turbulent updrafts. He/she got one glimpse of me and wheeled away sharply, leaving me with the task of finding somewhere just off the summit that would afford me a campsite with a good chance of the Laser Comp staying on the same mountain as me.
Reluctantly I found a spot in a small valley about 25m below the summit, without the superb view I had planned to experience on this trip and also without the perfectly flat, soft pitch I had scouted out on a previous visit. I found the flattest piece of ground I could and promptly put my tent up the wrong way round. Good start. Eventually I got myself sorted out and settled down to some yummy Real Turmat dinner followed by a locally made chocolate brownie who's richness defeated me before I could finish it. A can of Swedish cider washed it all down and I sat waiting for the sun to set. Unfortunately my sunset watching was spoilt not only by my sheltered spot but also by the fact that after a busy week at work I turned in before it really had a chance to set at 22.25...
Six hours later and the sun was up again. We haven't even got to the shortest day yet. Light streamed into my billowing tent and I snoozed intermittently for a couple of hours, my bones not used to my summer sleeping pad after a winter on the luxurious but heavy Exped Synmat. The wind hadn't let up all night but thankfully I carry the lightest modification you can make to the notoriously chattery Laser Comp, a pair of foam earplugs. With a full day planned by The Boss it was time for me to head home. I had just enough time to rustle up a fresh (if a little lopsided) steam baked chocolate muffin and a mug of coffee to fuel my descent back to the city.
On days like this the word 'scudding' is often used to describe the skies. I couldn't work out the origins of the word beyond the image of Scud missiles streaking across a desert skyline. Well, one of the free online dictionaries has it defined as 'To run or skim along swiftly and easily' so I guess scudding clouds are those fierce looking beasties that threaten hail and biblical rain as they whip along, seemingly inches above your head. This day was one of those. Instead of the skies usual seemingly infinite infinitness.... it felt like I was climbing a rocky step-ladder on my way up to paint the fluffy ceiling. Thankfully the sky didn't fall on my head.
Although it wasn't full of featherweight sil-nylon goodies or the latest titanium trickery this was a parcel I thought I'd be really excited about. A new modem to replace old Ericisson HD105i who spluttered and wheezed his way to silicon heaven over the course of the past couple of months, providing us with hours, minutes or seconds of internet connectivity a day as the little plastic box deemed fit. When he finally gave up the ghost we went 'off the grid'.
It's been refreshing to be honest. I didn't realise how much I relied on the internet to keep in touch and keep up to date with current events. Over here, in another country, so much of the miasma of daily life just floats by me, un-noticed and unassimilated. Conversations overheard, newspaper headlines full of gossip, advertising in every medium still trying to sell me crap I don't need. All of it, unless I concentrate hard, washes over me like white noise. I find myself a lot less concerned with other people's business.
With the internet I pick and choose where and when to get my information from but without it I've survived. With no daily weather forecast I simply packed a coat, just in case. With no e-mail I called people instead. It even got to the point that with no blogs to read I actually talked more to M about everything. Whether this was a good thing or not you'd have to ask her...
For better or worse we're back.
