We also took advice on what wax to use on the skis, and I was quite pleased to find that I had actually selected the correct wax myself before asking for advice. My only concerns before we set off really was the weight of my rucksack. A condition of Emma coming on the trip had been that she should be able to do some school work in the downtime. Obviously, as a parent, I had absolutely no problem with that whatsoever. The only small issue with this was that she insisted she had to bring with her her MacBook Pro, (other brands of laptop are readily available, ............ please by one). How heavy is a MacBook?!?!?!?! As my main goal for this trip had been for the kids to enjoy it enough to do it again, the last thing I wanted was for Emma to be struggling with the weight of her rucksack, so I offered to take it for her as I felt it had been an issue during the journey from Hallingskeid to Finse. Once the packs were jiggled about a bit to accommodate this change in luggage, we were ready to go. We said goodbye to Finsehytta with a little reluctance, we had had a wonderful few days there. Although expensive compared to other holiday destinations, where else could you experience what the Hardangervidda has to offer. This was to be the start of our descent from the plateau which would eventually lead us to Ustaoset and the train back to Oslo.
As we set off across the lake behind Finsehytta, I was reminded of the same journey I had taken all those years ago on my first ski touring holiday with Hanne. On that occasion we were inexperienced to say the least and, although far from being anything like an expert, I have learned a lot since then. It was to be a pretty miserable day today though. The wind wasn't a serious factor, the light was far more of an issue. The sky was heavily overcast and the light was totally flat. There was nothing to suggest we were surrounded by mountains or even whether the land around us was flat, falling away or rising. Also, following the Easter rush to the mountains and the weekend visitors who had all gone home yesterday, the place was pretty much deserted. Ahead of us, in the distance was a group of three girls, two of whom were pulling pulks, the sledge like contraptions used for towing equipment behind a skier. And that was it! There were no other persons in sight. We soon caught up with, and overtook, the pulk party and then it was all down to us. We knew today was going to be a hard slog, if for no other reason than the distance we needed to cover, but it was made all the more onerous by the lack of other people and the terrible light. Even so, they both performed stoically. And this brought about a train of thought as I followed them across the frozen wastes of the Hardangervidda. Many men measure themselves by the size of their bank account, the size of their wallet, the size of their muscles, the size of their car, the size of certain parts of their anatomy, their trophy wifes, their high flying jobs and a myriad of other worthless and meaningless measuring sticks. But surely the measure of any man is his children and how they turn out. In that respect I truly fell a god amongst men. I was literally bursting with pride as I followed their tracks.
Navigation is definitely an area I would love to brush up on in the type of environment you find yourself in on the Hardangervidda. Okay, so there are sticks to follow and GPS to show you the way. But sticks can be lost in poor visibility and GPS batteries can run out. Navigating in good conditions in the Welsh hills or around the Welsh coast I am more than happy with, but I would love to be more proficient in areas where you are struggling to identify land marks, even in reasonably okay conditions. I had studiously interrogated the map last night and identified two places on the trail where there were "junctions" leading off to other hytte. I had a reasonable idea of what distances were involved in relation to both trails and so had these in mind to calculate our position. I was therefore surprised at how slow our progress was, even to the extent of wondering whether we had totally missed our trail. But surely not? Eventually we reached a junction in the trail and I think the kids were a little disappointed to hear we were only just short of the half way point. We made a decision to soldier on a bit further until we could find suitable shelter to hunker down out of the elements and have some lunch. We eventually came upon a huge boulder which afforded us excellent shelter and so stopped for our hot chocolate and, in my case, waffles with goats cheese and strawberry jam and, for Sean and Emma, a couple of filled rolls.
Feeling refreshed after our lunch stop I went to put my rucksack back on, but quickly became convinced one of the kids had surreptitiously added a few rocks to my load, jeez it was heavy. But no, no rocks, just a ridiculously heavy bloody MacBook. I decided there and then to write a letter of complaint to Apple about the weight of their equipment the minute I got home!
The terrain we were travelling today had little opportunity for practicing our downhill abilities and we seemed to be constantly climbing, even though that was not the case. There was one particular hill that I was not looking forward to though. I have personally christened that hill "Suicide Hill". When I faced that hill on my first trip with Hanne, I was by that point in a terrible state. Due to my inexperience on skis at that point, I seemed to have been spending most of my time on my backside. That in itself was not a major problem, but during the many falls I had lost a couple of key bits of equipment, as had Hanne. Several bottles of water! Rather than use bladders in our rucksacks, such as Camelbak or Source, we had instead used plastic bottles which were secured to the outside of our packs, and I use the term secured VERY loosely. Another thing I learned on that trip were the effects of dehydration, something I had never suffered from before in any way shape or form. In fact, on long mountain bike rides or road routes, people I had cycled with used to be quite surprised how little water I would use. I was to learn the hard way that this was not to be the case with cross country skiing.
"Suicide Hill", on first appearance is a near vertical wall of snow with no end in sight to the climb. I had already been flagging by the time we reached this point and my heart dropped at what was to come. Actually travelling uphill in skis is an art in itself. Some inclines, if the skis are waxed properly, are a doddle to just ski straight up. Some more severe hills require you to walk in a fish bone pattern. Basically, you angle your skis out at about 45 degrees, depending on the severity of the slope, and also dig in the inside edges of the skis. This is all done in conjunction with an efficient use of the ski poles to enable forwards and upwards momentum. When not proficient at this technique it is extremely energy consuming.
I was NOT proficient. Not only was my ability lacking, but the dehydration was starting to take effect on me. Half way up the hill, after numerous falls, I fell one last time and went pretty much "loopy". I just lay there, and when Hanne came to help me I started screaming at her like a maniac, telling her I couldn't go on and that she should leave me there to die. Needless to say, she was overcome with concern for me and just wanted to help. I, on the other hand, really did just want her gone so I could drift off to somewhere better. Even today I am a little sketchy as to exactly what I did and said, though I am certainly not proud of what I do remember. At one stage I even threatened her with the ski poles, making as if to use them as spears should she come any closer. I remember craving fluid, I think somewhere in the more sane recesses of my brain I must have identified what was happening to me, and shovelling handfuls of snow into my mouth, not something that is recommended by any means but, as I have said, I was slightly mad! Whether it was the snow or not I'll never know but slowly, and very sheepishly, I came back to my senses. Hanne plied me with cup after cup of hot chocolate and I was once again "whole". Hanne had been absolutely terrified, and understandably so. Personally I am glad I don't remember all of it, but I certainly resolved NEVER to get in that state again purely for lack of fluid intake.
As the three of us approached the hill it was every bit as steep as I remembered it, the only difference this time being that I was properly hydrated and much more proficient on skis. It was a shame that the visibility had improved just enough to allow us to see the severity of the climb ahead, but there was no avoiding it any way. As it happened, Sean just stormed ahead like a machine. Emma on the other hand was a little perturbed by the climb in front of her, not being that good at the uphill sections. "Not to worry" I told her and suggested she take off her skis and simply walk up if it got too much. Eventually, she decided to do just that. The snow on the trail was quite hard packed and so not a real problem, so I just took it easy with her up the hill. No dramas, no tears and no maniacal episodes. Once at the top we continued on our way. I was still waiting for a second junction to appear, but nothing. It seemed we had come way to far for it not to have by now appeared. The onwards trudge seemed never ending when, all of a sudden there was a slight inconsistency in the marked trail. The sticks seemed to make an abrupt turn at a promentary. We looked around for other sticks but could see none, only an apparently wayward route marker. We made our way to the top of the rise to see, low and behold, a building spread below us. Surely it couldn't be? It seemed so much bigger than I remembered. But it was! Below us was Krækkja, and never a more welcoming surprise there was. Not only that, but the final leg was a sweeping downhill run. We even had a welcoming committee consisting of one of the biggest huskies you have ever seen, it was a beast of a thing, but the minute you approached it, it immediately rolled onto its back so you could scratch its chest.
We entered the hytte and I was so relieved to drop my rucksack, Apple I hate you!! I immediately recognised the landlord at reception from my last stay with Hanne, but was surprised to find him still there, he's certainly no spring chicken. I would hardly call him a welcoming personality, dour would be more appropriate. He's the sort of person who, on appearance, you're afraid of asking a question of in case they get angry!
The hytte itself is not as spacious as Finsehytta, not surprising really as Finsehytta is the DNT's largest building. Even so, the rooms are "bijou" to say the least. Also, one of the quaint features of the hytte is that there is no power to the bedrooms. A candle and a box of matches are provided for use by the guests for illumination after darkness falls. Also, although the showers and washing facilities are inside the main building, the toilets are housed in a separate block which requires the donning of outdoor clothes to go and complete your ablutions! Not a pleasing thought when you have warmed yourself up and got nice and cosy after a freezing cold journey! I think for the kids though, it was the smell that was a revelation. Don't forget, we are staying at premises in the middle of dozen wastes, a condition most definitely not conducive to plumbing. As such, the toilets consist of wooden boxes with a very simple hole cut into the top of them. For comfort, a traditional toilet seat is then screwed to the top of the said box. I think Emma had a little surprise, not only from the smell on first entering the toilet block which, in fairness, attempts to assail all your senses, but also from the sight which met her on lifting the toilet seat! Basically, you are looking at a huge pile of other people's faeces deposited over a period of weeks. I always wondered what actually happened with all of this once the thaw arrives, but it never seemed to be an appropriate moment to enquire about it. It's just one of the little nuances of ski touring in Norway.
