Hardangervidda 2016, Day 10, Oslo to Rhos-on-Sea, 8th April 2016.

Well, the day has finally come, time to go home. Thankfully, the flight today is an evening flight which means the Ryggeekspressen bus from Oslo to Rygge airport does not leave until 3.50pm, so a pretty lazy day was on the cards. A late rise was followed by a little more packing before heading off to the local shopping centre to stock up on a few Norwegian delicacies to take home with us. Top of that list was brunost, the brown goats cheese that we all love so much.

Three of these babies meant over 2kgs extra weight straight off. Add to this a few tubes of Mills mayonnaise, which is another firm favourite and some other items and we had quite a load. This resulted in us getting back to the apartment to engage in another frantic period of packing, re-packing, redistribution of various items and yet more re-packing. Finally we were done, or as close as we were ever going to get to being done. Whilst at the shopping centre we picked up some things for lunch as well which, following an open vote, was yet more pølse!! Following lunch, all that was left was time to kill before heading off for the bus. This meant a period of calm in which the kids could do a little surfing on the web and I could catch up on the blog and ruminate on the trip itself.

The trip had been everything I had hoped it would be. Okay, so we hadn't got to a couple of the hytte I had hoped we would, but those plans were never written in stone anyway. As I have mentioned before, it is always good to have several contingency plans when heading into the mountains, especially in the winter. Because of Sean and Emma's career plans, I knew this might be a last chance for the three of us to holiday together. I am hopeful that this is not the case, but I undertook this trip with that thought at the back of my mind, so wanted to ensure it was a success. Sean, who had experienced such a trip before, just got on with it, as he always does, whilst Emma, after a bit of a shaky start, performed awesomely as well.

What did I learn? What conclusions did I reach?

1. MacBooks are HEAVY!

2. The planning I had done before the trip was meticulous and, as such, the trip went smoothly, even     with several changes in schedule. Never forget the 7 'P's. Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance! Still as relevant as when I first heard it 30yrs ago.

3.  Another little phrase I love, "Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from bad decisions". Your first time in the mountains, you WILL make mistakes/bad decisions. Limit the potential damage of such mistakes/bad decisions by taking as many precautions as you can in respect of the gear you are carrying and the plans you have made as well as listening to those who know better.

4.  Really think about what you are carrying on your back and keep your weight down to a minimum. Admittedly, my rucksack was overweight on this occasion, but I knew it was within my ability to shoulder the weight and I was so intent on capturing every moment of the trip that I carried almost every piece of electronic kit known to man!

5. MacBooks are VERY heavy.

6. Wearing women's tights under your socks really does prevent blisters. After not wearing them on the first day, I developed blisters. After we then found the tights, I wore them and prevented any further injury. Don't be sceptical, try it, it works.

7. Everyone seems to carry 'Compede' in their kit, as did we. They are very expensive blister plasters, even more expensive in Norway. I also had with me a small amount of 'Sudocrem' and fabric plasters. I tried both. With continued skiing, the 'Compede' ruffled up and did not sit in place. I do not think they even speed up the healing process really. The 'Sudocrem' creates a barrier over the blister, prevents any infection and aids healing. A fabric plaster then placed tightly over the blister keeps everything clean and in place. I found this method really sped up the healing process, far more successfully than 'Compede' and much more cheaply. So much so that I would not bother with Compede again.

8. MacBooks are HEAVY.

9. The DNT have loads of great advice on their website ion respect of clothing, equipment, travelling in the mountains etc., take a look at these links;

https://english.dnt.no/winter/

http://www2.turistforeningen.no/files/DNT/Nettsaker/SIKKERHETSBROSJYRE_DNT_A5_TY_ENG_Onsdag%20(2).pdf

https://english.dnt.no/loading-your-pack/

10. MacBooks really are extremely heavy!

So, that's about it. We left Hege's apartment, got the bus to Rygge, had a smooth passage through the airport and a quick flight back to the UK before driving back to our home in Wales.

Hardangervidda 2016, Day 9, Oslo, 7th April 2016.

Time for culture! Today is the day we decided to take in some cultural aspects of Oslo and top of the list was the Edvard Munch museum and his famous painting, 'The Scream'. First things first though, we had a lot of gear to sort out and skis to store, so we made that our priority, not least for the reason we wanted to keep Hege's apartment as tidy as possible.

Once that was done, it was time to hop on to the now very familiar No.70 bus at Manglerudsveien and head back into the city centre. We got off the bus at the opera house stop and decided to first visit the opera house itself to see if there was anything going on inside.

The last time Sean and I had visited a couple of years ago, there was a live ballet rehearsal taking place in the large foyer, nothing going on today though sadly.

Next stop was a quick visit to the DNT shop in the heart of Oslo for some keepsakes. Sean and Emma had wanted some of the small, round, fabric DNT badges and I always enjoy having a look around shops selling outdoor gear. As it happened, I found a 'Bergans of Norway' jumper in a sale at half price, so we all came out happy. We then bumped into a few local characters.

As for the Munch museum, on previous visits I had always travelled by T-Bane, the Oslo metro. On this occasion though, we decided to walk the relatively short distance. The 'short distance' was to take us through the heart of Grønland and this in itself was an experience. Although having skirted this area on numerous occasions, I had never actually walked through it. It was quite a strange feeling, as though we had been lifted out of the city of Oslo and dropped off somwhere else. Pale skin and blonde haired people had been replaced predominantly by dark skin and dark hair. The high street fashion shops gave way to shops selling brightly coloured Middle Eastern fabrics, shops selling hijabs, small bazaars and kebab shops. There was also a darker side to the area and we witnessed several people obviously under the influence of one or more illegal chemicals, two of whom were entangled in a heated dispute. 

This is, after all, the area made famous by the books of Jo Nesbø and his fictional police officer, Harry Hole. We passed the Aker river and thoughts of drug dealers skulking behind street lights and in dark corners sprang to mind, again thanks to the novels of Jo Nesbø.

We eventually arrived at the Munch museum.

Here I was to experience my only real disappointment of the whole trip. As can be seen from the photograph above, the museum was hosting a visiting presentation of works by an American artist, Robert Mapplethorpe. Personally, I use the term artist loosely, but I'll elaborate further in a moment. We entered the museum, stowed our baggage in the locker room and began the tour. Large information boards were everywhere informing visitors of the similarities in style between Munch and Mapplethorpe and other aspects the two supposedly had in common. When we actually began looking at the works I was left astounded. The so called similarities consisted of such interesting facts as they had both painted/photographed a woman in a similar pose! They both created works on the male physique! They'd both done self portraits! I'm sorry, but what a lot of waffle. I may be a bit of a Philsatine when it comes to art, but please? Munch was an artist who painted/drew his subjects, Mapplethorpe was a photographer who concentrated on black and white photography. That one simple fact alone couldn't have made them any more diverse in my mind. And whilst I genuinely enjoy the works of Munch I could not see anything in the homoerotic works of Mapplethorpe that I could identify as art as opposed to pornography. Now, in this day and age, you have to be careful what you say for fear of people screaming 'homophobe', but the whole point of art is to inspire discussion surely? Even if that discussion is as to whether such pieces are art or not! The worst thing about the whole display was that many of Munch's works had been removed to make way for these photographs, exacerbated for me by the fact 'The Scream' was missing!!!! I was lost for words and felt so disappointed for Emma who had been desperate to see this world famous painting. Instead, we got to see photographs of gay men penetrating their own, and others, body orifices with items of various shapes and sizes and male genitalia too numerous too describe. I have to say, if the said photographs had involved male/female, female/female pairings or involved sole females inserting objects into their body orifices, I would have had exactly the same feelings, that they were pornographic photographs, NOT works of art! That any intelligent person could extrapolate anything but the MOST tenuous comparisons between the works of the two men left me lost for words. I sometimes wonder if some Norwegians, desperate to be seen as the socialistic, diverse and all accepting individuals they were once thought to be, try a little TOO hard to try and maintain that stereotype. We did get to see some of Munch's wonderful pieces though.

Towards the end of the exhibition I struck up a conversation with one of the guides in the museum and told him of my daughters disappointment at not seeing 'The Scream', to be told by him that the first of the paintings done by Munch, there are four 'Screams' in all, was on display at the National Gallery. That was a great piece of news and I determined that Emma was going to see 'The Scream' if it killed me. We quickly left the museum and headed for the nearby T-Bane rather than reversing the walk we had earlier taken.

It was here we encountered a small problem. As we entered the T-Bane station, I purchased an adult ticket for myself using my Visa card. I then went through the process of sorting tickets for the kids, only to have my card repeatedly rejected! Having no cash with me, and no staff around to seek help from, I decided to just take the risk and get on the metro anyway. The only other option would have been to retrace our steps and walk. We made our way down to the right track and jumped on the metro, travelling just three stops to the National Theatre before getting off, only to find a mass of guys checking tickets!!! Uh oh!!! It was pointless trying to avoid them so, feeling extremely guilty, I approached one of them and "fessed up" to my crime, expecting some horrendously high fine. "Follow me" he says, which I do, fully expecting to be taken to a small side room and 'processed'. Instead, he lead me to a ticket machine and said, "It's no problem, it happens all the time, it's a rubbish system". He then took me through the rigmarole of ordering more than one ticket on the automated system, an option which is reached through a very non-descript button hidden away in the menu entitled "multi issue". Apparently, if that option is not selected and you try to re-use a card, the system puts a block on the credit/debit card and locks you out. Anyway, panic over and off to the National Gallery. 

The gallery was a short walk from the station and, we were pleased to discover, was free entry on a Thursday. The gallery itself is not huge by any stretch of the imagination and the works enclosed therein can be easily perused in an hour and a half or so. We made a beeline for "The Scream" though, which was probably at the furthest point away from the main entrance. It was easy to find, just follow the crowds! It seemed as if the one purpose for anyone visiting the gallery was to view "The Scream". And then, there it was, in all its glory, the iconic painting by Edvard Munch itself. We dutifully joined the queue of tourists waiting to view and photograph the painting, some taking longer than others as they posed for a variety of "selfies". As each respective party stopped in front of the painting, I was aware of a small, rather bland, male sat on a low pouffe tutting loudly at every new arrival in front of the painting. As our turn came, I made some comment to the kids in English as we paused to photograph and view the painting, at which point this male uttered "Do you mind, I'm trying to look at the painting!" A bit shocked as to the bitterness in his tone, I pointed out that so was everyone else in the building. His next comment? "How rude". I couldn't believe the arrogance of the man who expected all the other visitors to the gallery to allow him total exclusivity to the one painting for as long as he saw fit. I merely pointed out to him that the painting was going nowhere so, if he sat patiently, he might get his wish.

There were other paintings by Munch on display, not to mention paintings by a host of other artists.

Once we had finished the tour of the gallery, we decided to pay a quick visit to Akerbrygge and the city hall. No sooner had we got there though that we realised how much shelter had been afforded us in the city from the elements for, as we arrived at the sea front, an icy cold southerly wind hit us full force. We stuck it just long enough to get a photo of the city hall then retreated in full haste.

Following that, it was back to the bus stop and the No.70 back to Manglerudsveien. Into the 'Jokers' shop for all we needed to make pølser for dinner, followed by a relatively early night.

Hardangervidda 2016, Day 8, Tuva to Ustaoset and Oslo, 6th April 2016.

Our first "lazy" morning for a couple of days. No rush today, just a short 8km hop from Tuva to Ustaoset to meet up with the train to Oslo. Now, I mentioned yesterday that on my arrival at Tuva Aileen had recognised me and inferred there was a story behind that. Well, the last time I visited Tuva with Hanne, as I have pointed out already, was in a howling wind. Overnight, that wind increased horrendously so that by the next morning we were faced with a near whiteout outside. This was the day we were to make the journey down to Ustaoset to catch our train to Oslo, just as we were going to do today. We had pre-booked our train tickets through the NSB and as we had been able to secure them at the 'minipris', we were not entitled to a refund if we cancelled them. Also, being on a tight schedule, we needed to get back to Oslo in order to make our flight back to the UK. For that reason, and rather stupidly, we prepared to set off to Ustaoset. The same German couple we had travelled to Tuva with from Krækkja were also eager to make the same train and were going to travel with us.

We were advised by others not to make the journey, but chose not to heed their advise and continued anyway. We probably travelled only around 100m before we realised the stupidity in our decision. We could see nothing, not even the next stick on the marked trail. Realising the error of our decision,  we hurriedly turned back to Tuvahytte. I think those present were all pleased to see us return, especially Aileen. We then spent the next few hours staring out of the window desperately hoping that the weather would clear in time to allow us to get to our train, but increasingly coming to the realisation that it was not going to happen. I think Aileen took pity on us and eventually arranged for her husband, Peter, to ferry us to Ustaoset on his snow scooter.

We jumped at the opportunity, but it was hardly a easy ride and I think Peter forever regretted his decision to take us that day. The journey of maybe a couple of kilometres seemed to take forever. The snowscooter 'capsized' on a few occasions, tipping us off and into the snow. Several times we got bogged down in snow drifts and had to dig the scooter out. Hanne was terrified, as I would probably have been if I wasn't too busy being concerned for both Hanne and Peter, who was himself do no spring chicken. Eventually, Peter got us over the hill behind Tuva and into the valley at the bottom of which lay Ustaoset. As soon as we were over the hill the weather cleared so we hopped off the scooter, said our thank you's to Peter, and skied down to Ustaoset, all the time worried for Peter and his return journey, alone, to Ustaoset.

When we eventually arrived home we wrote a long thank you card to Aileen and Peter, later receiving a lovely reply from them. It was for this reason that Aileen and Peter remembered me and were happy to welcome me back, particularly as I had now brought my children with me. On talking to them, it transpired that after Hanne and I had left the hytte that day the weather only worsened and nobody else left for three days, so we had been lucky. For one that we had managed to get away and for actually having survived!!

This morning though was a much different prospect. Our train wasn't until 3.05pm, so we had plenty of time and decided to explore the students overnight snow caves once we had finished a leisurely breakfast.

The snow caves were really quite impressive and, I have to say, I was a little envious of the students who had had the opportunity to be taught all these methods of outdoor winter survival. The three teachers that were escorting the teenagers, who surprisingly elected to sleep and eat in the hytte, were a mine of information on outdoor survival and were more than happy to impart their knowledge and give us a tour of the snow holes. When it was time for them to leave we bade farewell to them as they headed off on their onward journey to Krækkja.

It was with a heavy heart that I re-packed my rucksack this morning because I knew the holiday was coming to an end. I had treasured the time I had spent in the mountains with my son and daughter. This wasn't a sea and sun holiday with family members running off to pools, beaches or bars. This was 24/7 in close proximity to each other, and if you have taken the time to look at the size of the bedrooms, you'll know what I mean when I say CLOSE proximity. Yes, of course, such a holiday is hard work at times, skiing 20+kms a day with 10-15kg on your back, but to me the satisfaction is complete when the day's journey is finished. The satisfaction that you have challenged yourself and achieved your goal. It doesn't have to be a huge goal, as shown by our two smaller tours from Finse, you just need to be realistic and only attempt something that is actually achievable. Each day brings its highs and lows, the highs of the amazing panoramas you are constantly surrounded by on the Hardangervidda and the odd low or two when your thighs are burning on steep inclines or your pack is dragging you down. The highs of seeing your children pushing their comfort zones and achieving so much. Suffice to say, it had been a wonderful time for me in the mountains and, I hope, for Sean and Emma too.

Okay, so we couldn't resist it, we delayed our departure so that we could have one last waffle each. Truly, if you are ever within a hundred kilometres of Finse, make the effort to go that extra distance and try one of Aileen's waffles. I tried all I could to pry the recipe from her but, alas, it is a closely guarded family secret. 

Waffles finished, plates cleared of every last crumb, we don skis and head off toward Ustaoset.

We started ascending again as soon as we left Tuva, but I knew it was only going to be a short climb before a long descent to Ustaoset. As we crested the last rise, we looked down into the valley to see trees for the first time in a week and the small dots of scattered houses in the town below.

The descent was looooong and steep, I think we all experienced at least one fall. Trying to slow yourself down on such a steep and narrow track on thin skis is a lot trickier than on Alpine skis, and it is still a skill I haven't quite mastered. We descended 278 metres in pretty quick time down to Ustaoset and all the time were presented with quite an incredible view of the other side of the valley.

We arrived at the railway station in Ustaoset with plenty of time to spare, so used the washrooms to have a bit of a freshen up and change into some "fresher" clothes. As we waited for the train, so it began to snow, which was for some reason a rather fitting end to the adventure. The train journey back to Oslo went without mishap and was just as mesmerising from a scenic point of view as last weeks journey unless, of course, there was hot pizza in the offing!

The four hour journey went smoothly with us arriving at Oslo around 7.15pm. 

A short walk took us to the sea front from where we caught the number 70 bus to Manglerudsveien and Hege's apartment. As luck would have it, the bus stop we got off at was right next to a Jokers store, so we made a quick shopping trip to pick up a couple of Grandiosa pizzas, Norway's most popular meal, and for Sean and I a couple of cans of our favourite Norwegian beer, Ringnes. A short walk took us to the apartment where we showered, ate and, dead on our feet by now, had an early night.

http://www.wikiloc.com/wikiloc/view.do?id=12844460

Hardangervidda 2016, Day 7, Krækkja to Tuva, 5th April 2016.

After our epic journey yesterday we awoke, surprisingly, to find none of us were suffering from aches, pains, strains or other injuries. We'd had an early night last night after sitting for a while in the lounge area of the hytte, playing cards and talking to other guests. Not that there were that many of them, guests that is. There was a family party of four English people, a group of three Englishmen and a group of three French people, and that was it. We'd had another lovely dinner which was followed by a very quaint desert featuring the logo for the DNT.

Another interesting feature at Krækkja was a mass of upwardly pointing icicles outside the main entrance. These have obviously come about from people standing their skis in the snow at any angle other than 90 degrees. When it has subsequently snowed over night in freezing temperatures, the snow/ice has remained after the skis have been removed from the snow. I tried a number of times to take a photo that captured the sight and keep it looking impressive, but seem to have failed dismally.

They just looked so much more impressive if you were there! 

So, anyway, we were again making an early start as we once more had a not inconsiderable distance to travel today. The routine was becoming pretty much second nature by now. Get up, wash, get ski kit on, strip bed, pack gear, get breakfast, wax skis and go. Breakfast at Krækkja was pretty much the same fare as Finse, though not quite as lavish a spread. This was probably more to the size of the establishment than anything else, but there was certainly more than enough to eat. I went to check out and, at the same time, checked on weather conditions. Our slightly grumpy looking landlord assured me that conditions were good to travel. Today's weather was again promising to be overcast with the sun possibly making an appearance mid-afternoon with a slight wind which we would be skiing into. There had been fresh snow overnight, enough to cover all the tracks left from the previous day's toing and froing, but nothing that would cause us any problems. All I needed that I didn't already have was an additional tube of wax, the colour for the day being a most definite red, or so I was told by the landlord and, like I said, they know best.

Before finally leaving, a visit to the WC was required. As I walked across from the main building I noticed one of the other guests stood half way between the two buildings apparently transfixed by something only she could see. On my return to the main building I was surprised to find her stood in the same spot, only this time Sean was stood beside her, and they both appeared to be filming something. When I asked Sean what he was looking at it all became clear. Perched on the roof of the nearby dormitory block was one of the elusive animals we had seen plenty of evidence of, but never actually seen in the flesh, a "Ripa".

We had heard about them, were shown photographs of them by Bankt on our first night at Hallingskeid, had even seen their footprints in the snow, but had never actually seen the living thing, until now. I'm sure once you've seen the photographs no explanation is needed as to why they are so hard to see in this white wilderness. Bankt also had a tail to tell about how women riding on the backs of motorcycles used to be referred to as "exhaust ripas", though I'm assuming something got lost in translation there, I must look into that tale again. 

All kitted up, waxed up and ready to go, we said farewell to Krækkja and its trusty guardian.

Clearly, the "trusty guardian", a huge huskie, was not so oblivious of what was going on around him as he appears to be in this photo and neither was the invisible man travelling with Sean and Emma as it would appear above. You have to wonder in future years, when the kids ask "where was dad" on such and such an occasion, whether they stop to wonder who it was stood patiently on the OTHER side of the camera!?

When I had last made this journey it had been in an almost howling gale with Hanne. We had left Krækkja together with a German couple whom we had met at the hytte and found out we're also heading for Tuva. The wind was at our backs the whole time and we seemed to spend the whole day travelling through a perpetual sea of snowflakes. The plus side was that we had to put no effort whatsoever into our skiing as were were quite literally blown from A to B. The down side was that we saw pretty much nothing and, if we had to have turned around, we would really have been in dire straits. We had been very lucky indeed.

Today's journey was far more pleasant a proposition altogether. Although a little grey, visibility was excellent and the wind really was negligible.

The only negative thought I had was of lugging that bloody MacBook halfway across Norway again, just another of those unexpected chores of parenthood. In all fairness, Sean offered to bear the burden for the day and he's a strong enough lad, but that would have just left me feeling guilty for the day. The skiing was going great though. Emma had really found her rhythm and Sean was like an old hand. The only real hinderance today was that, as the temperature rose, the snow was becoming quite wet which is not conducive to get any sort of glide going. This situation saw not only the air temperature rising but, as the sun made a more and more constant appearance and we were putting more and more effort into our skiing, so too was our body temperature rising.

Before we knew it we reached a main road that we had to cross and which declared we were nearly half way to Tuva.

Surprised at the progress we were making, we decided to stop as soon as we found an appropriate location for both a bite to eat and to re-address what we were wearing. We were all three now absolutely sweltering hot and need to strip off one or two layers of clothing. When we did stop at some exposed boulders to sit on, we were taken aback by the vista surrounding us. The area really is quite breathtakingly beautiful! Seen from the Hardangervidda, the high mountains surround you and appear more like rolling hills than the high mountains that they are. I know it's a real cliché, but whoever coined the phrase of the appearance of the landscape being like an iced cake couldn't really have put it better. After our last couple of days of greyness we were now blessed with the sight of the Hardangervidda in all its glory. Quite often, the photographs don't do the area any justice because you lose all sense of proportion.

Refreshed, rehydrated and reclothed, we set off for their second half of the day.

After having crossed the road I mentioned earlier, we had picked up the trail of a snow scooter which helped our progress immensely. 

Instead of forging our way forward through fresh, sticky snow, we had been able to ski on the area compacted by the scooters tread. We were sorry to see the tracks make a sharp turn to the right and disappear into the distance, leaving us once again with an expanse of virgin snow ahead of us.

As we were getting closer to Tuva, we were seeing more and more patches of vegatation appearing through the snow and exposed rocks. This allowed us to see many of the markers for the DNT's summer routes which are basically large rocks, or a cairn, with a large red 'T' painted upon them.

Just as we all started feeling a little tired, after all, we had by now had two long days of skiing back to back, we joined on of the many prepared trails around Tuva. These are tracks that are cut into the snow on a regular basis for cross country skiers, either for exercise, training or leisure purposes, and made the going that much easier.

In the photo above you can see our destination in the distance, Tuvahytte, a very welcome sight. We pulled up outside the front of the hytte and I was surprised to see a woman we had seen at Finse a couple of days ago. I had last seen her walking across the lake toward Geiterygghytta on snow shoes, so was surprised to see her here. It turned out that she had actually taken the train from Finse to Ustaoset and then walked up to Tuve. Lightweight!! I walked into the hytte to see the landlady, Aileen, who recognised me straight away. There IS a story to be told there, but I will save that for tomorrow. She rushed off to get her husband, Peter, and he too welcomed me back. Not only that, she was so pleased to welcome me back, and to meet Sean and Emma, she treated us to a waffle each. Now, one thing about Aileen's waffles, they really are the best in the whole world. I don't mean the best on the Hardangervidda, or the bests in Norway, I mean, THE BEST IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!! We dug into them and the kids quickly agreed with my opinion as to their tastiness.

No embellishments to the waffles are required. No jam, no brunost, no cream needs adding, to do so would spoil the waffle and probably upset Aileen.

Although there were only three of us at the hytte, Aileen informed us that there were a party of 22 school kids turning up later in the afternoon, though they would not be staying inside. Only the three accompanying teachers would be resident at the hytte and joining us for meals, the 22 kids would be sleeping outdoors in snow caves. That is something I have always wanted to do, so I was really looking forward to see what went on later. In the meantime, we showered and sorted our gear out in our room, which was a very pleasant, good sized room with four bunks. I also took a few minutes to relax outside with an ice cold beer and take in the surroundings.

A sudden flurry of activity marked the arrival of the school party and all three of us watch the ensuing meleé as they unpacked their gear and began cooking up their evening meals outside before beginning the task of digging there snow holes. The instructors went around surveying the area with Avalanche probes, checking the depth of the snow and identifying suitable places to begin digging. Then came out shovels and ice saws before several hours of frantic digging began. It has to be said, digging a snow hole is a time consuming process. It is not a quick fix survival technique by any means, it is more a scenario of identifying the danger you are in at an early enough stage and making early preparations. If you were travelling through worsening weather and trying to push forward as far as possible before stopping, a snow hole is not by then what you will have either the time or energy for, though there would be other options. Snow holing is both time and energy consuming though, and we had ample proof of that as we watched the activity outside. Happily, our entertainment was interrupted by a lavish two course meal prepared by Aileen.

The activity outside continued late into the evening as students came in and out of the hytte asking advice of the teachers, who were also rushing in and out checking on how their charges were getting on. It was exhausting watching them.

We eventually retired to our room with mixed feelings about heading back to Oslo tomorrow. I could happily stay in these mountains for a couple more weeks if I had their choice.

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