Standing on the summit of Dalmannshornet, in the midst of the Sunnmøre Alps
The mountains: Brekketindane (centre horizon), Slogen (pointed peak to its immediate right) and Jakta (following right), captured from the summit of Dalmannshornet. The glacier in the picture on the left is bathed in the warm light of sunrise. I overnighted on the mountain to see this glorious morning begin. I took the local bus from Ålesund and was dropped off on the side of the road where the trail began. I took a cut-lunch and a thermos, slept a few short hours of twilight in my driza-bone and, after photographing the Alps, I hiked down the mountain to catch another bus back to town. Easy.
Trollveggen - The Troll Wall
Another driza-bone overnight trek was Trollveggen, 1600 m above Romsdalen, near Åndalsnes. The trail begins at the top of Trollstigen. Everything in these parts is named after trolls and, I have to say, it's no wonder. Below was how it looked in the afternoon when I arrived, although fog soon rolled in and I had an eerie troll-world twilight to get through on my own, one mile up.
The image below: Trolltinden - The Troll Mountain
|
As fog rolled in, the valley disappeared, and so too did all the space around me. Without a view to scale anything, the memory of a one-mile drop beyond the edge of land in front of me was scarier than actually seeing it. Huddled under my driza-bone in the damp cold twilight, I watched as fog lifted up over the wall, raced passed my eyes, and then off to the the wild beyond.
|
The pointed bit jutting out from the cliff further along behind me is where many have base-jumped; some to their death. It has been outlawed from this wall because of the high winds that pass through Romsdalen below. Jumpers can have their chute pushed back into the wall and fold like a wet sock.
Behind me, the final approach to the wall is up a steep rocky slope of loose smashed granite. A week before I was there a man was killed in a rock slide getting up to the wall alone, as I had. Dogs had been brought in to find him when he'd failed to return. The landscape is ferocious, terrifying, and that's what makes it so beautiful. Enjoy the view, but do hang on as you ride on my wave. Slartibartfast deserved that award. |
I joined an organised trek to the summit of the highest mountain in Norway, Galdhøpiggen. I jagged a perfect day to photograph Jotunheimen and was the only one on the mountain sporting shorts and a singlet, (I had to do it). We crossed a glacier, Styggebreen, to get to the ridge leading up to the peak and, when I got there, can you believe this, there was a kiosk. Granted, the view usually extends no further than the hand in front of your face due to rain, hail or snow, with fog almost a guarantee, so the prospect of a hot chocolate inside a crude shack has been welcomed by many.
Not on this day, however. How does it get better than this?
Not on this day, however. How does it get better than this?
Of all the stupid things I've done, this earned a place in my top 10. The scene is the highest mountain road pass in Northern Europe, Sognefjellsvegen. It may only be 1434 m, but I was in Jotunheimen, and it was -14º celsius. A family driving by nearly ran off the road and into a ditch while gawking at me. My toes remained a painful red for hours. Red is good - blood is still flowing. |
Another trek I did was to Kolåstinden on skis, in the Sunnmøre Alps at Easter time. That was interesting - I was still learning to ski. My local guide promised me that I would be a better skier when I came down than when I went up - the bastard. He'd had a triple bypass and could still ski faster than me. He said: "If I can make it up there, then you can too. Easy." Fair enough, he only half-lied - I made it up and back and, granted, I was a better skier than before, but it wasn't easy.
In the image below we are about to cross a glacier approaching the summit of Kolåstinden. These Norwegians had the right idea, being towed by the dog. It wasn't such a good idea when another dog fell into a crevasse. To summon a climber was one thing, but finding one with the courage to drop down into the shifting ice after someone else's dog? No problem, it was Norway. The dog was safely on the surface in a matter of hours.
What a country!
What a country!
Slogen
Slogen is my all-time favourite mountain. Her lines and features are distinct - they set the mountain aside from all others in the region. There is a cabin that stands in the high valley at her feet, Patchellhytta. I made a few trips into this region while using Patchellhytta as a base, though I didn't always reach my goal. The weather, as with all adventures, calls the shots, and even when I persisted, at times access was denied.
On one such morning, having arrived at Patchellhytta alone the day before, I was joined by a Norwegian couple planning to walk up to the summit of Slogen on skis. The weather closed in behind them and the following morning was a white-out, well, it's actually more like a grey-out. I did my best to capture this on film though I have few words to explain what it felt like.
There is no separation from anything in the landscape. There is no near and no far. There is no up and no down. With each step I had no idea where the ground lay until my boot came to rest on something - anything. It was all the same colour, all the same tone.
When they aborted they suggested that I accompany them back down the mountain for safety. I was planning to stay for a few days, but decided to act on their better judgement. They had, without doubt, the upper hand - local knowledge. The weather hadn't been forecast, but they knew that smell. When we left there was no evidence anywhere of the tracks they had left coming up the day before. Everything was white and there was a creek somewhere under all that white. Getting back down to the tree-line again marked something of a safety line and, due to my insistence, an opportunity to pause and photograph my rescuers.
Thank you.
On one such morning, having arrived at Patchellhytta alone the day before, I was joined by a Norwegian couple planning to walk up to the summit of Slogen on skis. The weather closed in behind them and the following morning was a white-out, well, it's actually more like a grey-out. I did my best to capture this on film though I have few words to explain what it felt like.
There is no separation from anything in the landscape. There is no near and no far. There is no up and no down. With each step I had no idea where the ground lay until my boot came to rest on something - anything. It was all the same colour, all the same tone.
When they aborted they suggested that I accompany them back down the mountain for safety. I was planning to stay for a few days, but decided to act on their better judgement. They had, without doubt, the upper hand - local knowledge. The weather hadn't been forecast, but they knew that smell. When we left there was no evidence anywhere of the tracks they had left coming up the day before. Everything was white and there was a creek somewhere under all that white. Getting back down to the tree-line again marked something of a safety line and, due to my insistence, an opportunity to pause and photograph my rescuers.
Thank you.
The image below was a blink of sunset captured from back in Ålesund using a 400 mm lens. I am looking at the same weather that closed in on me at Patchellhytta the day before. The Alps disappeared for a week.
On a very different day - the summit of Slogen
Below in Norangsfjord, you can see the pointed shadow of Slogen in the water pointing to the village, Sæbø
Norangsfjord, with the mountains, Jakta (center), and Slogen (the pointed peak in the top left corner)
From any great distance, the point of Slogen is always obvious
Little had I known that years before on my first journey to Norway, while admiring the pointed mountain in the center of this picture, that in time to come I would be standing on that very peak looking down into this valley, Norangsdalen
Hjørundfjord
Austerdalen
Hornindalsvatnet
Geirangerfjord in Winter