Stepping out for Pause

Day five began with an early exit from the apartment where I had been since my arrival in Norway. I caught the city bus to the train station in the city center. There I waited for the transit bus to take me to Lillehammer. The train tracks to Lillehammer were under repair so the bus was taking the place of that leg of the trip. The bus station was only a few steps away from the train station in Lillehammer so the transition was easy enough to board the train. In all the city busses I had ridden in Oslo, as well as the one to Lillehammer, I was never asked to show a ticket. It’s my understanding they mostly run on the honor system, checking for ticket validation approximately once monthly. I did need to show my seat reservation while on the train.

The bus was smooth but the only evidence of the train moving was the changing scenery out the window. It ever so slightly rocked but was exceptionally smooth, easy to walk to the restaurant car to purchase a water. I got off the train at Vistra. With the help and encouragement of a early twenty-something, clean cut and nicely dressed couple from Ukrainian, I figured out there was a bus coming soon that would take me to my next stop.

The bus pulled up and the darling round faced, white crew cut driver in his fifties with sparking blue, blue eyes said he could take cash for my ticket and further more that he could take me all the way to where he turns around to come back. He charged me less than $3 (29 kroner). I quietly dubbed him Angel #4. When I got off I remarked about his excellent driving - I felt his appreciation of that comment. The ride from Vinstra to Skåbu (where the only other passenger got off) was extraordinarily beautiful. We had to stop to allow a herd of multi-colored sheep to cross the forest road. They were black and brown and white and speckled. We also had to slow to a stop anytime we met another large vehicle, such as a tank truck, to make sure both could pass safely. The farms were modest but clean and always freshly painted. The steepness from the road to just below the farmsteads was tremendous.

I finally got a quick glimpse of the precious Highland Cattle that I so desperately wanted to see. Across the countryside I saw many round bales but they were always covered in heavy gloss white plastic and almost always piled together in tidy stacks on the edge of the field. The ditches and fence rows were lined in pink.

My Oslo host had allowed me to leave many of my possession in the apartment so I could travel with what was on my back. The weight was supposedly distributed so that 70% was carried on my hips and 30% on the shoulders. I took a substantial amount of food provisions as well as cold weather clothing. My backpack was quite heavy (probably less than 13 kilograms - around 29 pounds) for me but would be considered “not heavy” for a typical hiker. Additionally I was carrying a large bag of food my host sent along. What’s thrill to discover the semi soft foil package contained a complete block of salted butter!!!! He also sent along a plump dried red pepper and some garlic to season the food at the cabin.

At the end of the bus line it was a short walk to the Dalseter Høyfjelldhotell where I encountered Angel #5. Greet-a (roll the r) showed me that the hiking map I had purchased didn’t cover the area where I wanted to go so she patiently provided me a new one, and pointed in the distance the direction I was headed. She said there were signs along the way and helped me strap on the food in my hand- must not carry anything, - and tightened my shoulder straps so the backpack was tighter against my body. Again she was efficient, not particularly friendly however exceptionally kind to this novice from America who only thought she know about the forest. She did mention there would be no shame in turning around and she’d be willing to put me up for the night if need be. “It’s a good day for a walk.” Her words rang a beautiful encouragement for the next three hours as I struggled with the enormous (my description) bag on my back.

It didn’t take too long for me to discover I was lost and that the smart thing would be to turn around. Within three hours, completely exhausted, with a shaking body, I was back at Greta’s mercy. Although I saw no smile I most assuredly felt her love as she gave me a room key. I felt no judgment and again thanked her for her kindness.

Window open, no need for screens, I slept well. After a good rest I went down to breakfast and left a plastic bag with half the weight and bulk of yesterday’s back pack which Greta had agreed to store for me. I was determined to make it to the cabin by nightfall. My aching muscles had fully recovered as had my confidence.

Setting off, (it’s now Saturday) I immediately found a short cut to the lake and found much delight in looking for the red marks on rocks and trees to assure me I was on the right path. The DNT (Den Norske Turstfornening) has a huge network of marked trails throughout the country for people to commune with nature. The reassurance I found is seeing these marks carried my enthusiasm though the day. If I didn’t see them I knew I was lost and turned back until I found red marks again. Although purple has been my favorite color since I was about 8 years old, I declared (this life saving) red my new favorite.

The terrain consisted of boggy marshes, streams across the path, good source of drinking water, fallen limbs and scat. I remained alert to my footsteps while admiring the beauty surrounding me. Things that I might have previously thought ugly had me mesmerized, moss covered rocks, long abandoned structures (very very few of these) rocks and decaying tree branches.

I stopped twice to strip off excess clothes. Added a bra but wisely no pansies. They were built into the mesh merino wool underwear I removed.

The sense of accomplishment of reaching above the tree line was secondary only to the feel of the mountain as she welcomed me and held me. I actually felt my heart opening like I’d never felt before, feeling safe and protected.

When I reached the top ( I went way too far and has to retrace quite a bit to find the red DNT marked path) I put on the borrowed wind hat and reached for my wind coat. I had cinched it down - on the outside- to the bottom of my backpack. Evidently it had worked loose because it was no longer with me. But I am more than half way to the cabin, my destination, with the really hard climb behind me. It’s only a material item, I could let it go - but I didn’t think it would be safe for me to be so far out with no outer protection. I told myself that if I found it by 3:05 (my ‘look alive’ Fitbit alarm) I would continue on to the cabin. After several falls ( I had taken good lessons from Chip so I fell gracefully without injury and figured out how to right myself) I was thrilled to find the bright red jacket on the path. However, I was back down the steepest incline and it was after 4 pm. My mind begged, ‘go back, go back, you can do it again! Don’t quit now!’ However, my body was swirling, I felt disoriented, couldn’t find the path back up, I tumbled to the ground once again and the route back to Greta’s place was clear. Sorry mind, the body won out this round.

The only other human I encountered on my nine hour journey was Urlsa. “Oh another human!!!” I exclaimed. She said she was from Germany but lived in Norway now. She was close to thirty with long strong limbs, straight brown hair wearing hiking pants of that same gorgeous red. When I told her I was amazed at how kind everyone had been to me she looked at me as though she’d never seen a creature with as many wrinkles and tiredness, either that or she didn’t understand what I meant about kindness. I told her I was going to fill my water bottle from the small steam flowing but I would have to remove my backpack because I couldn’t get back up if I bent down with it on.

“Shall I fill it for you?” She asked.

“Would you please?” I silently dubbed her Angel # 6.

I thanked her for her kindness and told her she probably saved me twenty minutes. A little ways down the path I noticed she had paused on the bridge over the lake to take in the beauty. “Memorize the feeling.” I suggested. “Oh I wish that were possible.”

“You can”, I replied. “Then you can recall it whenever you need some calm.” Again, that look of disbelief. “Are you staying at the Dalseter? Aw well, you are almost there, just up the hill.”

The final hour of trudging, resting, pushing myself just a few more steps at a time, although my body was spent, I was able to keep my sense of humor as I repeated “just up the hill” to myself over and over with a giggle in my mind.

I am happy to report Greta gave me my room back and personally went up to put the bedsheets back on because they weren’t expecting me until Monday. Unable to carry it all, I made two trips to the room, showered and ate some of my provisions and drank some more electrolytes. My muscles ached and I knew I would need a day of rest on Sunday.

The next day it hurt to walk. I was as stiff as I’d ever been. Grateful for no back pain, no blisters and no chafing, I went to breakfast

then back to bed for a two hour nap. There was a Danish guest these for three weeks who offered messages. I signed up for a 90 minute treat for myself. It was heavenly.

Two things: I admitted my shame at thinking I could act like a teenager pushing my body beyond its current condition. Secondly I was reminded of the time we took 99 year old Koko to Metanoia, retreat in the woods of Newton. She eagerly accompanied our jaunt in the woods where we got lost. “I’m going to go home and get myself in better shape so I can do this with more ease next year.”

Until next post, thanks for sharing my travels.