The Last Hike

One final hike. That was the thought that flashed in my mind as soon as my eyes opened this morning. My friends get back tomorrow, I leave on Tuesday,  I will likely spend Monday packing; I knew today was my last chance to get lost in the Norwegian mountains. So an hour later with pets fed and watered and some coffee and oats for myself, I pulled on my hiking pants and laced up my boots and headed out the door. My goal was to seek out and climb the 607 meters of the mountain Bynuten. It was a hike recommended by my Kjerag guide, and described as demanding by my hiking book but promising "magnificent views".

I managed to find the trailhead, despite the misleading information provided by GoogleMaps, and began hiking at 11:20. The trail first cut through a farm before diving off into the woods. The majority of my ascent was just flat out awesome. The trail passed by multiple lakes, small rippling waterfalls, went up wooded hills, and back down to open valleys. I stepped through packed dirt, gnarled tree roots, and lots of mud. I climbed rock staircases that must have been built with giant trolls in mind. I spotted small yellow stripped caterpillars resting on pink flower buds, startled a flock of
sheep that ran through the trees at my approach like a mustang herd running from a lion, and birds flitted between trees singing as they went. The air was full of soft sun and a cool breeze, and not too long in I stripped off my light jacket only putting it back on later when the breeze morphed into a gusty wind. I passed one woman coming back down within minutes of starting out as well as a dad with his young daughter just walking through the farm, but once in the woods there was no one in sight. And at every second, each new step, I was stunned by the beauty of nature around me.

Then, 10 minutes from the summit the rain began to fall, but lightly and I thought the event would soon pass. By the time I'd finally climbed the last rock that brought me to the great block of stacked stone announcing my destination it was clear that the rain was there to stay. Still, even through the drops and clouds, I was able to look down on one of the most wonderful views I've ever seen. I paused long enough to take a couple pictures (sadly my camera phone doesn't do well with pictures in rain) and to dig into my backpack to pull out and don my actual raincoat (my jacket was moisture wicking but definitely not waterproof) before beginning my descent. I had the choice to go the way I came or to go the full loop of the trail. I picked the latter, wanting the blessing of not knowing what the mountain and rain had in store for me in that direction.

Slipping and sliding over wet open rock and stepping (or mistepping!) through mud, I slowed my pace to a careful crawl. The trail itself seemed to have become a small river, and it wasn't long before I'd become a sopping wet mess. I could feel water sloshing around in both boots. My pants, cold and clammy, clung to my legs in bitter hatred. My fingers were white, slightly swollen and refused to straighten fully. Rain drops clung to my bangs and my eyelashes. I was absolutely covered in mud. By all accounts I should have been miserable, but I wasn't, not even close. I was in heaven.

I was outside. I was hiking. I was deep in the woods on the side of a mountain. I was in Norway. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was living a life I have dreamed of.  The weather had done nothing to dampen the incredible scenery around me, and each time I looked up from the trail my breath caught at the marvel of it all. I actually had to be careful not to get too excited. I had to remind myself to pay attention to where I was stepping because falling and hurting myself could turn things real bad real quick. 

There was only one point that my spirits flagged, and my exciting excursion turned to a doubtful misadventure. Bynutten has a sister, Selvikstatten her peak only slightly lower at 597 meters. Hikers have the option of extending their journey to include the loop to her summit; I had flirted with the possibility of doing so before the rain had begun falling and had quickly rejected that idea soon after. When I reached a part of the trail with markers directing me to Bynutten, Selvikstakken, and parking a cloud of doubt came over me. The direction to Bynutten was clear, but the directions of the other two were not and even when I pulled out my map I couldn't be 100% of the right direction. I knew I had to decide, that just standing there all day wasn't an option,  so picked the one that seemed most likely to be correct. At this point the wind decided to howled with a bit, and this combined with my lack of certainty as to where I was headed seemed to turn my wet skin ice cold, my steady legs weak with exhaustion, and my confidence in my ability to not end this hike in injury to plummet. A good thirty minutes or so went by before I reached the next trail marker that told me for certain I was not on my way up another mountain, a sight that gave me an instant rush of relief and jubilation.

The first/last part of the trail is really a packed gravel road traversing through a farm that slopes

steadily downward towards the parking lot. On my way up, many hours before, I had thought how nice this part of the trail would be coming back, but there is no way I could have imagined the intense utter relief I felt as I practically skipped my way back to the car. The rain had given me a brief intermission at this point and I looked around in every direction desperate to soak up as much of the beauty as possible. I finally couldn't resist any longer and stopped to pull out my phone for one last picture. As I pushed the button, heavy drops flashed down once more and I spent my final minutes in an impressive downpour. I didn't care though.

Finally, 5 1/2 hours after leaving it behind, I reached and unlocked the car. I threw my bag inside, and with only the briefest pause to strip off my drenched coat, dove in after it. Despite my clay like hands, I managed to insert the key into the ignition and bring it to life. I turned the heat on full blast, laying my fingers over the vents full of sweet gratitude for their blowing heat. A couple minutes later I turned my attention to a though that had finally become a reality - dry clothes. I tugged off my soaked garments and blissfully pulled on my new ones. I switched on the heated car seat (such a wonderful thing), pulled out my waterbottle for a long grateful sip, and then turned the steering wheel directing the tires out on to the road and toward home.

There is no doubt that Kjerag was, in addition to being the highlight of my time here, the favorite hike of my life. But todays hike with it's beauty, solitude, and three hours of rain might just be my second favorite. It will forever be one my most cherished memories.