Andalsnes, Norway
Summer 1997

Derek A. Smithson

Twenty four hours after I left home I was sitting having lunch in the sun on a bench by a mountain hut five hours walk into Dovrefiell. A flight, late in the day fiorn Newcastle, gets to Oslo in time to catch a sleeper to Rornsdal or Trondheim or places en route. I had to wake before five in the morning to have breakfast before leaving the train at Kungsvoll and this led me to be close to Sn0hette by mid-day and to discover this is really an interesting mountain. I walked over the highest summit which consisted mainly of large boulders, but the other two summits are jagged knife blades of rock. What tenifying and wonderful situations I missed for the want of a competent companion who could climb difficult with a touch of severe as the guide book says. A local hunting guide merely said, “It is hard”. There’s also Lars Edge, at the western end with the typical miles of steep rock above a lake, with no-one climbing.

I found another mountain that I intend explore even though I don’t expect to interest anyone else. But before that I came across a beautiful valley, like a miniature Utladalen, with a picturesque old saeter where it is possible to buy milk in the summer. From here I took the path on the wrong side of a gorge and experienced a typical Norwegian trap of a steep hillside covered in small birch trees and never quite difficult enough to be worth the descent to start at the right place. The birch trees were dry. I also spent a day walking to a hut with a shower, where meals were served and where there was beer. Slott0 is not even 2000m. high, but even on the map it looked inaccessible. From the map I judged that there might be a walking route from the east, via a valley with a lake, I was told that, if guided, there is an exposed walking route at the western side and when I saw Slott0 I realised it is a complicated mountain or group of mountains that might be fun to explore. I may even find a way to the summits.

{Looking across the head of Isfjorden towards Hen and the mountains north of Grssvdalen}
 

{Upper reaches of Hoemsdalen showing the peak Juratind}

My last full day before descending gave me a good pass crossing and a thrilling ascent to a small hut by a still frozen lake.  Still frozen after what is said to be the hottest, driest summer for over a hundred years.  The pass was started by the lake side, very early to avoid the heat, and a path wandered through the forest until a rock slide and mud slide made it disappear, but not for long, once I found the courage to cross the mud slide.  Then there were alpine meadows with waterfalls and two arches of snow over streams.  Forgetting the boulder fields, a finale of a snow field at a reasonable angle brought me almost to the foot of a rocky pinnacle which I had seen most of the way up. The descent was steep scree and then what I call whale-backed slabs, steep enough to call for care but with good footing between each slab, and then a narrow path through the bilberries, which allowed my knees to recover some what before the ascent up a side valley to the hut. A good day, a longish day but now I was canying less. Only meals for the hut and some snacks for the descent to Andalsnes (a six hour walk) and the wait for the sleeper. Andalsnes to many people means Romsdalen and the big walls, but I never got to them. They are not suitable places for old men with no companion of proven patience.

Norway, again, in continuous sunshine with comfortable huts and friendly people -who nearly all speak English! Norway, again, with its boulder fields to tiy the patience and biting, flying insects to test the temper. Norway with its lovely rough rock to help the river crossings and the deep swift water for the unwary. Norway with its flowers. Some of the trails were made dull by being fairly flat with a slow changing scene and the personal limitation of staying on marked trails so that one was heading from one red marker to the next, but then there were flowers contrasting with the rock and grass. I’ll be going again.