The pilgrims tale (2014) day 6, Sunday 14th September

I awoke this morning after a rather strange, even surreal, night. I had taken a walk from the pilgrim centre into the centre of Hamar to get some food. Hamar itself is a very typical Norwegian city with some very fine looking old buildings at its heart. My route into the centre took me through the residential areas of the the city and I again took the time to enjoy the Scandinavian architecture I love so much. It had been a beautiful day, and there were still many people about enjoying the late summer weather. As I got closer to the city centre, I entered an area where there was some quite considerable construction work under way and from here, in the distance, I could see plumes of smoke climbing into the sky and hear the body numbing base beat of dance music blasting out into the night. On reaching the city centre, I found a large open square with seating constructed in an amphitheatre style. Doesn't quite sound right that does it?, square and amphitheatre in the same sentence, but I'm sure you get the picture. At the heart of this arrangement was a large stage from where the smoke makers and sound systems were doing their stuff. It wasn't a concert as such, just more like some sort of public entertainment. My lack of Norwegian language frustrates me sometimes as I would have loved to learn what it was all about, but that WILL change. Another thing I noticed was the large ammount of Romany looking beggars scattered along the main concourse at regular intervals. I had seen this before in Oslo, but had thought it was confined to the capital, so was quite surprised to see it here.

I found a food store and decided to go Norwegian. Meatballs? Lopskaus? Fish? No!, a Grandiosa pizza, Norway's most popular dish. I also picked up a cold beer, only to be reminded at the checkout that it could not be sold after 8pm! Gutted! 

My return journey was along the same route where, in an area devoid of street lighting due to the construction work, I had a bizarre interaction with a car full of Eastern Europeans in a battered old Vauxhall Cavalier. I say bizarre because it was so unexpected, but what it really was was an attempted street robbery. Suffice to say, they picked on the wrong person and went away empty handed. The strange thing was, although angry about the incident, I wasn't angry that they had picked on me, I was angry that they were behaving in such a manner in my beloved Norway.

I woke early this morning so that I had time to grab a bite to eat, tidy the centre, pack for the flight home and walk to the railway station with plenty of time to spare. I should again mention the pilgrim centre at Hamar. It has accomodation for six people in one dormitory type room. In the main room of the centre is a large dining area and a computer available for the use of the traveller. There is a large, well equipped kitchen with a small offering of foodstuff for sale, shower room and toilet. All for the reasonable sum of 300nok. Here are a few photos;

I packed my rucksack for the last time, left the centre, and headed for the station. To say I felt a little dejected and a bit of a failure would be something of an understatement, but as I took stock of myself I knew I was making the right decision. My achilles at the back of my left ankle is swollen and painful, I'm assuming because of my altered gait due to the hip issue. Likewise, I have blisters in some very unusual places at the bottom of my left foot. If I had had more time I could have taken a few days out to rest and recuperate, but as I had commenced the walk so late in the year time really wasn't on my side. Additionally, a couple of days laid up might not have been enough, it could be up to a week according to a concerned Dr who has been following my journey. None of this made me feel any better, even though I knew I was making the sensible decision.

Today was going to involve planes, trains and automobiles, though not in that order. Train first. I had a little heart flutter when I arrived at the railway station to find that EVERY train that day had been cancelled, it quickly transpired that buses had been arranged in place of the cancelled trains and, thankfully to to repairs being underway on the railway track. I had enough time between the legs of the journey to allow for the extra time needed to travel to Oslo by coach instead of train, so wasn't too perturbed. It also allowed me to really take in how far I had walked. ONE HUNDRED MILES!!! As I gazed out of the window, I caught glimpses of the path I had followed along lake Mjøsa and through the woods. 

On arrival at the railway station in Oslo I made my way to the bus station and, having a couple of hours to kill before the express bus to Rygge for the flight home, I left my rucksack in a luggage locker and headed through the city to the waterfront. It was a beautiful, blazing hot Summers day, and I could not forego the opportunity to take in a few of my favourite sights.

    Akerbrygge

    Akershus

    City hall

And a few shots from around the city centre;

I mentioned before about my previous experience of the regularly spaced Romany beggars that line the length of Karl Johans Gate. Their numbers consist of middle aged upwards men and women sat at the side of the road, many displaying a variety of disabilities. Now, their ranks are swelled by young girls, working in groups and dressed in a bright array of traditional clothing, selling copies of a magazine I can only compare with the "Big Issue" homeless magazine in the UK. When I say selling, it is more of a hard sale. When the seller is ignored by the prospective benefactor, they proceed to tag along looking more and more upset, verging on tears, in a more and more desperate attempt to extort money from their target. On realisation there will be no funds forthcoming they give up, turn to their colleagues, have a laugh and target their next victim. The girls were working in teams of up to six and were obviously related to the older beggars if their interactions were anything to go by. As a natural people watcher, I found them quite fascinating to observe. Here they are taking their mid-day break, courtesy of Burger King;

Back to the bus station and I hopped onto the Rygge express bus where I boarded my flight and eventually reached home in the early evening. Was I happy to be home? Not really. I just wish I had started the trek earlier and allowed myself enough time to complete it in its entirety. I felt I was returning home leaving a job unfinished. Did I enjoy my trek? Not really. It was damned hard work, but I do feel a sense of accomplishment in the distance I covered. I learned a lot, about my ability to make the most of a bad situation and to push myself further than I thought I could. My expected daily mileage was, in reflection, ambitious. The guys at Cotswold had suggested that 10 to 14 miles a day was a good distance to cover. I had opted for 20 and paid the price. As I said before though, my schedule had really been set by the time of year I had chosen to begin the walk. I'm sure I will return to complete the pilgrims path, it is certainly my intention to do so. Next time I will be better prepared though. I will have a more realistic expectation of what the path entails and be physically and mentally better equipped.

On the subject of equipment, all the gear I had from Cotswold Outdoor in Betws-y-Coed held up, and behaved, brilliantly and I cannot thank them enough for their assistance. The Solomon boots took pretty much every type of terrain and condition you could throw at them and, after a good clean, look brand new. The rucksack was cavernous and held everything I needed. It was easy to adjust on the move and was comfortable to wear. I particularly liked the side pockets that had an additional opening that allows you to access the pockets from the front whilst the pack is on your back. The stove was what it was. Relatively light and compact, easy to use and ideal for one person cooking. Thankfully, the tic remover and mirror combination never saw the light of day!! I would again like to thank them for their support and advice.

On a final note, if you have enjoyed following me over the last week, and my ramblings (see what I did there?) have kept you amused, please don't forget that my main hope was to raise money for Cancer Research UK. You can still donate at justgiving.com by searching for "Walking the Walk" or following this link https://www.justgiving.com/Walking-The-Walk2/ or, if resident in the UK, text OLAV 99 followed by the ammount you wish to give, i.e £5, to 70070.

The pilgrims tale (2014) day 5, Saturday 13th September

Well, I awoke this morning with some difficulty and stiff as a board (not in the teenage boy sense either)! No ammount of stretching helped, and I have been pretty careful at the start and of each day. The hip was still throbbing and I felt like just packing it in there and then. At the end of the day, I am not out to break a world record or set some new precedent, I am merely undertaking an onerous task to try and highlight a very worthy cause in the fight against cancer. Doing myself permanent injury is not going to help that cause. I mentioned before that there has to be a defining point between determination and stupidity. I have probably already passed that, but have also been driven by not wanting to let people down. The last few days, practically every step has been painful. In order to compensate for my hip, my gait has obviously adapted in some way to cause problems elsewhere. I had known from the start that this walk was going to be tough, purely through lack of preparation if nothing else, but I thought strength of will might have carried me through. Instead, it was like entering the world of long distance walks and going from 0-100 in an instant. As I sat this morning looking out over lake Mjøsa, trying to work out what to do, my phone pinged with a message. It was from an old Inspector of mine, a real gent of a guy and someone who I always had, and still have, a great deal of respect for. He had gone to a great deal of effort to write a lengthy letter to me, weighing up the pros, cons and achievabilty of my journey, but the bit that clinched it was;

"You have already achieved a great deal ...

Don't hesitate to do what YOU think is right.

Please don't misunderstand my letter, I feel gutted for you but just want to put a voice where there is none.....

If I was with you I would be saying the same ..

You are already a hero in my book .... Don't damage yourself..."

The writing had been on the wall really, and discretion just had to be the better part of valor. I wanted to set myself at least one goal though which, as it transpired, turned in to two. First was reaching Hamar, the site of the ruins of an old cathedral which would have been one of the high points for the pilgrims of old. The next was to hit 100 miles walked. By completing the first I hoped to achieve the latter. I donned my boots for what was to be the last time, and wondered what a state I would have been in had I not been wearing properly fitted boots in addition to all my other problems. I really cannot say thank you enough to the guys at Cotswold for that small mercy. I left the cabin and trudged wearily away from the Tangenodden camp site at Tangen and headed once again North. At least today I was surrounded by open space rather than the overbearing trees of the previous days.

The theme for the day today was to be farming. For the last four days I had passed through field after field of farmland, seen lots of tractors and machinery, yet not a soul in sight. Today, a Saturday, it seemed like very man and his dog was out working in the fields, as well as his wife, parents, kids, and immigrant workers. Everywhere there were tractors shuffling backwards and forwards, large machines harvesting potatoe crops and people running around in a flourish of activity. The fact that it was a cloudless sky with a hot sun beating down couldn't have made it very pleasant work though. And there were some quite impressive looking farms too.

After a slight detour inland from the lake, the path inevitably led back towards the vast expanse of water which was still shrouded in a blanket of mist.

The route markers remained a bit of an enigma as well. You could go for a number of kms without seeing one, then all of a sudden there would be a little flourish of markers hanging from trees, yellow spray painted direction arrows and these more official posts;

And of course, always the churches.

Although seeing signs of life everywhere, it was still a very lonely walk. I'm sure if Mr Chaucer had walked this pilgrimage he would have struggled to fill a book as he did. Maybe the trail is different in the Summer months, however, looking at the visitors books left along the trail for people to fill in, I don't think so. The aim of the organisation responsible for marking and maintaining the St Olav Way's was, I think, to eventually earn the paths the same cudos as the Santiago de Compostela, but a lot of work has to be done before that will ever happen. Even though I have set myself a probably unsustainable pace, without that, it is still not a relaxed walk if done in its entirety. I know I have only completed a quarter of it, but that quarter itself is a poorly marked path over testing ground. Added to that, sticking to this route, you miss a lot of the real beauty of Norway that is the Norwegian Coast.

As I notched up the kms, my pace was starting to slow, or so I thought, and I looked longingly at the several bus stops I passed. That said, I hadn't seen a single bus go past, so it could have been a very long wait. I had solved the question of accomodation for the night early in the day by ringing the pilgrim centre at Hamar. Although technically out of season, they made sure a bed was made up for me and provided me with a code to open the front door. Payment was on a loyalty system. When I got my first view of Hamar through the trees, it couldn't have come soon enough.

The path followed the waterfront through Hamar, leading to the old cathedral. This had always been on my "to see" list as it looked quite an incredible building. That is to say, not the ruins, but the glass and steel structure built to protect and cover the remains.

A view above of lake Mjøsa basking in the evening sun and some of the marinas I passed on the water front.

And eventually I came to the cathedral.

Avd so the journey comes to an end. I hope I haven't let down or disappointed those following my endeavours and those supporting me. Suffice to say this has probably been one of the hardest tasks I have ever undertaken in my life. If I said it had been fun, I would be lying. It hasn't. But I do know I have reserves of will power I didn't know I had. I also know that I am able to make the tough decision to stop when going forward would be foolish. There are too many tales out there of adventures losing fingers/limbs because they didn't know when to stop. I'm not calling myself a great adventurer by any stretch, just pointing out there there is a time when the body can not take any more, and you ignore it at your peril. I would like to come back to finish the walk one day, a little wiser and a little better prepared, and I'm sure I will. For those who haven't donated yet, although I didn't complete the task, I think I have done more to earn a donation than having a bucket of tepid water poured over my head. Please give generously at https://www.justgiving.com/Walking-The-Walk2/ , or if in the UK, text OLAV 99 followed by an ammount, i.e £5, to 70070

I have walked exactly 100 miles, or 161kms, and felt every one of them. I have aches in places I did not know could ache and I am hopeful the feeling will one day return to my right big toe. Tomorrow, it's a train to Oslo, bus to Rygge and then a plane back home, from where I can already hear my bath calling me.

The pilgrims tale (2014) Day 4, Friday 12th September

I woke up this morning to rain beating a steady patter on the outside of the tent, one of the worst sounds to hear from the inside of a tent if you know that that day you are going to have to pack away the soaking wet nylon. I moped about for a bit, by which time the rain stopped, and so dried the outside as best I could before packing. It was clear from the map that I wouldn't see much in the way of habitation today, so I made a quick get away.

I didn't realise just how bad this day was going to get though. The trail immediately lead me into thickly forested areas that were so dense as to make you feel claustrophobic. This was not the "prepared" footpath I had been lead to believe St Olav's Way was and you had to really have your wits about you to save stumbling on hidden roots or slipping on wet stones. It is also not a route to take ageing relatives along for a Sunday walk. It actually became very oppressive to walk along the path. I had by now taken to listening to my iPod to break the monotony, which was a welcome relief. I started to question the whole idea of undertaking this venture in the first place. It had been intended to be walked in the summer, but circumstances meant I had the opportunity to do it now. When I say "now", the idea was to start it a couple of weeks ago, but personal circumstances made that impossible. Then, all of a sudden, I was committed to doing it. I must again say thank you to the guys at Cotswold for helping out with kit and advice, that has all gone splendidly. What does feel lacking now is my ability! I have NEVER even attempted to do anything like this. The limit of one of my walks is a day walk in Snowdonia! What's worse is that I am doing it alone, so no-one to share the burden of weight with, and have set myself a pace which I don't think is sustainable. Someone said to me, "You're not in a race", but I am really. A race to cross Dovrefjell before bad weather sets in, and a race to get back home to those I love. The prospect of being away from my children for so long is quite daunting. Last, but not least, is the state of my body. My hip is really starting to worry me, and every day I am not so much counting kilometres as minutes to the next medication. My feet are constantly sore and swollen and I am starting to develop blisters. Without going into too much detail, I am also chaffing in some very painful places. I am becoming resigned to not reaching Trondheim, but will take every day a day at a time and see where it takes me.

As for the woods, well, they just carried on and on and on! It didn't help when I inevitably lost my footing and went flying. What did I land on? The only boulder in the immediate vicinity. Which part of my body took the full force? Yep, you guessed it, my right hip. I did take some photos though. These are of a cabin, "hytte", that was made available to pilgrims for free;

Not bad for free! And this is a photo of the forest trail when it widened out!!

It wasn't until late afternoon that I eventually came down out of the woods to catch my first sight of the marvellous Lake Mjøsa.

Again, I had already decided where I would stay for the night, a pilgrim shelter at Epsa, but could not for the life of me find it. Plan B was another business offering accomodation for pilgrims, at a price, but by now, I didn't care. I just wanted to stop and get my boots and rucksack off. I rang the number I had for the place, only to be told they weren't open for business! Aaaargh!! So I had to walk another 6kms to get to a campsite at Tangen, Tangenodden camping. The thought of putting up the tent and being confined to that small space for the evening again just didn't appeal, so I decided instead to rent one of the small hytte. Good choice. I soaked my feet in the cold waters of Mjøsa and allowed them to cool down.

I had a 12 minute long shower, washed my clothes and did what I could for my ailments. A tic check proved negative, thankfully. My left little toe has now disappeared within a blister, which literally exploded when I grabbed the toe to examine it.

But all is not completely bad. I bought some pasta and sauce to make a big, and much needed, meal with a beer to wash it down. I am sprawled out in a cabin to sleep four and I am looking forward to a sound nights sleep. I ate my dinner on the porch of the cabin, looking out over Mjøsa.

It's really not difficult to work out why Norwegians don't go on caravan holidays to the UK.

I'm going to call it a night for now and see what the morning brings.

The pilgrims tale (2014) day 3, Thursday 11th September

Well, well........ 11hours sleep. I definitely must have needed it. I awoke at 8am and dozed until 9 before getting up and breaking camp. I felt like a new person. Admittedly, the hip was still bad, but I had clearly been exhausted during yesterday's trek. So, once everything was packed, off I set again. It was rather misty and damp this morning, but amazingly it did not dampen my enthusiasm, which was strange but good! I had decided to "knock it on the head" today after eight hours, no matter how far I had got. As 10 was a late start I decided to make up some mileage while I felt good. I quickly reached the church I had been aiming for the night before, only to be mocked by a warning sign for moose on the road! Will I ever see one?

I took the opportunity to fill all my water carriers from the church hose before moving on. Still going well, I reached the ancient stone bridge at Risebru, now replaced by a more modern, motor vehicle friendly bridge. 

A sign beside the bridge informed me that I was 5 mile from Christiania. Now, this could be confusing. A Norwegian mile, pronounced meeIa, is a distance of 10 kms. Christiania is the old name for Oslo. So what the old sign was actually saying was that it was 50kms to Oslo.

I then travelled through Norway's equivalent of suburbia, with estates of pretty wooden houses placed apparently at random and all with immaculately well kept gardens. I have always loved the way that Norwegians take such great care and pride in the exterior of their houses. It is probably because much of the year they are covered in a blanket of snow so they want to make the most of it in the Summer. For that reason too, Summer is a much worshipped time of year. 

A bit further on and I came across the welcome sight of a petrol station. I there filled up on a brunch of pølser, a Norwegian hotdog, and coffee which went down really well and definitely re-fuelled the engine.

At Eidsvoll Verk, I stopped to admire the bridge over the river in the middle of town and got a couple of Norwegian ladies to take a photo of me. They asked about my journey and were surprised I had travelled on foot from Oslo. Even more so to find I was continuing to Trondheim. So much so, that when they asked where I was from and I replied, "The UK", they enquired as to whether I had swum from there!

By now the sun was high in the sky and it was a pleasure to walk. The painkillers were doing their job and I was still making good speed. The path had dropped down beside a river and it really was an idyllic way to spend an afternoon. I was even able to forget about my hip for a bit.

The going had all been pretty good, although there was still a little of the single track footpaths. That is a bit of a mis-nomer though because I really think they should be called "single foot" paths because they honestly were more suited for a one legged man to travel along. When a footbridge appearing nearly brand new appeared out of the foliage, it really was quite astounding. This one looked as if it had only been put in place yesterday, yet to reach it required hacking your way through all sorts of plant life!

I had in mind a pilgrim shelter that I wished to stay in tonight, so had made that my goal. When I eventually crossed the bridge to pass through Eidsvoll, I still had some distance to go, so took the opportunity to fuel up a little more at a garage selling waffles and coffee.

Whilst walking along a particularly straight piece of road leading out of Eidsvoll, I saw in the far distance somebody sat at the side of the road. As I got closer I saw it was an old man sat on a large boulder. He was obviously a local man and waved cheerfully at the motorists he recognised going past. As I past him, he asked a question of me that I didn't understand, so I explained I was from the UK. He then went on in broken English to ask me the nature of my journey, where had I come from, where was I going to? I showed him on the map where I was heading that day, but due to an eye condition he couldn't see the map. He then went on to explain that he was seeing his Dr in the morning to arrange an operation. It was a rather strange conversation. Anyway, we eventually parted with a wave and a smile, he wishing me "God tur" and me wishing him the best of luck with his Dr in the morning. 

As I then headed into a heavily wooded area, the going began to get tough again. It was all uphill, my hip was throbbing and I was starting to feel a little demoralised. Truth be known, I was feeling really quite lonely. I knew the cabin I was heading for was near to a lake, so I decided that if I got my head down and made better speed, I could maybe take a bath in the lake, either on the way to the cabin, or drop my stuff of at the cabin and rush back for a quick dip. What urged me on more than anything through the woods though were the ammount of shotguns I could hear being discharged. Grouse hunting season started on Tuesday, and they were clearly bang at it in this area, (pun intended).

Anyway, the sight I beheld when I rounded a corner before the lake made me forget completely about staying in any cabin.

Enough said! The only downside was no phone connection, so no updates or messages from home. Anyway, I took my bath, and it was COLD, but got rid of some of the grime and eased the pains I was feeling in my body. Another 34 kms in the bag today. A quick kit check showed everything working as it should be and in good repair. The boots got a quick wash in the lake as they had had everything thrown at them, cow shit, moose shit, mud, bogs, you name it. But inside my feet were still totally dry and comfy. Just wish the hip would settle down.