09 Oct – Three times a year

Earlier this week, the plan for tonight was to post the food blog that I’ve been saving for some “down” time. Now that tonight is here, there are other events I’d prefer to share that will be equally entertaining. Part of it is also that my belly if full. The evening ended with a slice of delicious cake… devoured at church.

Every afternoon at work there is an energetic bird that is dressed for a tuxedo affair. It’s white and gray, with a black collar and a splash of yellow on its head. The bird hops around the building entrance just outside my window. As it hops the tail counter balances, creating quite a little dance performance. Many times it is more entertaining than my computer screen. Using the word “tragedy” to describe yesterday’s events would be overkill, however from the bird’s point of view it might be fitting.

Yesterday after lunch I exited the cafeteria and stepped into a process of the receptionist and a cafeteria worker observing some disturbance. Apparently there was a bird… woosh-flap-flap… yep there it is... flying up and down the hallway between the glass doors at both ends. We tried three different times to frighten the bird out the door. One time it was so close, the bird was latched onto the lit exit sign right above the door. It could feel the breeze, but it wouldn’t fly out. It took a wrong turn and flew down another hallway and into the factory (more like a warehouse size) building. We were disappointed. The receptionist was bummed that the bird wouldn’t survive in the factory. It’s actually quite common for birds to live in the rafters, so it was just a matter of time before it happened here. I’d guess it occurs about three times a year, so this one will have to wait a couple months before it will have some company. My selfish bummer was that I have no daily afternoon performances any longer. I’ve since looked up the bird, and suspect it’s a White Wagtail (appropriately named).

To keep my girlish figure while eating out 7 days/week I go running at least every other day. It’s worked so far and the concerns will start when the snow starts sticking and the daylight has retreated by 5pm. Today was the 5.5 mile loop up the local steep hill, pass a pond, through the woods, and down another steep hill. I’m always on the look-out for moose, as they frequent the very same woods. The running gear is currently capris, long sleeve t-shirt and a fleece/knit hat. I’m sure in another 2-3 weeks I’ll need a vest too.

A coworker recommended a historical concert for tonight. It is only for Christmas, Easter and this occasion that the 70+ candles in the church are lit. The candles flicker from the three large baroque/ornate chandeliers that hang perpendicular to the “stage”. Being that this is one of the three times that the candles are lit, it seemed to me the best way to experience the church. The church is a few hundred years old and the organ was inaugurated in 1765. It was shut down in 1889. After a bunch of fundraising and restoration sweat, the pipes blew again in 2001. This evening the organ keys were tickled by a performer from England (David Sanger). He played eight songs from the 1500s – 1700s. The first 5-10 minutes I was skeptical of sitting through an hour of it, however the music/organ sounds slowly grew on me. By the time Bach and the last two songs played I had come to appreciate the sound and his skills. The baker’s skills were also a masterpiece. The concert wrapped up with a slice of white cake, chocolate almond sliver mousse filling, with an almond marzipan icing that was draped over the cake similar to fondant. Pure goodness for the taste buds after getting an organ earful.

06 Oct - Tunneling to Date Night in Oslo

One of the first entries hypothesized that there are many tunnels in this country. Well, I finally have metrics to prove this hypothesis. I counted 25 tunnels on my return trip this past weekend. You may think, “that’s not crazy,” especially for a 5 hour drive. The kicker is the first 20 tunnels were burrowed in 45 minutes. Yes, that’s a tunnel every 2:15 minutes. Some of the tunnels are 100 feet, some are a mile long. Some have lights and some have reflective arms that reach out from the rock, as if they will push you back on the road if you veer to the side. In reality I think they just spring back, allowing you to demolish your vehicle into the wall.

My car’s “Service Engine” light had started blinking a couple weeks ago. Coincidentally, it started about the day the rental agency expected the car to be returned (my travel arrangements were faulty). Long story short, after work on Tuesday I made the trip to Oslo airport to exchange the vehicle. While at it, I would get a smaller car… both to save money and have a convenient road-sized vehicle. Oh, was it pouring. I can’t remember the last time I’ve driven in rain like that… I know I know, easy to admit coming from a SoCal resident. It’s probably been since my teenage years in NY. I was just hoping that the 2+ deg Celcius would remain steady that night so the rain didn’t turn to ice and snow for an even more eventful drive.

Oslo is the capital of Norway; however it’s not that big and well-known to Americans… let alone visited by them. This particular night it was enjoyed by two Americans, heck … New Yorkers, and to be even more specific Hampton-ers. Yes, it’s a small world. Last week at a customer’s house, the customer and my Dad were in a conversation. She was just starting a new job (based in London) and was visiting Oslo the next several weeks for training. Oslo! My Dad informed her of my situation, and you can figure out the rest. It was date night with Dad’s customer. We have more in common than knowing my Dad and the Hamptons. She graduated with a Mechanical Engineering degree and is very active in the outdoors. Despite being late (Oslo traffic and slow drivers in the weather), being lost (the nearest Parking Hus driving distance from the freeway is not the nearest bird’s eye distance), and being a soggy sheep (it was raining cats & dogs), it was a very pleasant dinner.

Since I was running late, at the car I changed out of my heels and into my brown hiking boots. I figured they would be better footwear to navigate the streets quickly without worrying about puddles nor breaking an ankle on the cobblestones. We met up at Union Station and walked to a restaurant she was familiar with, called the Theater Cafeen . When we checked our coats to the valet coat hanger (person), I was disheartened by my faux pas. An optimist would claim my clothes were business casual (these plans were not on the schedule after my shower that morning). However, with brown boots peeking out of the black slacks, even the optimist would say I was under-dressed. The restaurant was quite beautiful and the live pianist on the balcony gave the antique décor a classy 1920s or 30s feel to it. I discovered later from my Norwegian coworkers that the country’s celebrities go there to be seen wining & dining. The wining and dining dishes of choice that evening were the classics… fish soup and a poached cod plate. They were done wonderfully, especially the fish soup. Nearby to the table was a large picturesque window. It overlooked a dark park square that was only lit from the street and business lights reflecting in the puddles and wet cobblestones. Folks with umbrellas strolled down the sidewalks and leapt across the drenched streets. One could almost imagine Dick Tracey or Sherlock Holmes turning the corner.

The return drive (11pm-12am) was surprisingly crowded for a Tuesday at midnight. There were men and machines working on entire road sections, constricting the useable lanes to a single lane on the opposite road. It was all worth it and I plan to return to Oslo this weekend. Thus far my weekend time has been consumed with adventure. With the Celsius going negative, it’s time for some culture.

03 Oct - Soggy Sheep

From Norway

The cabin was warm, and the morning was gloomy. The wind was blowing (borderline howling) and the rain was intermittent. It was not a day for the Priekenstolen hike… or so I thought.

Revisiting the Frommer’s book, there was a wool factory store not too far away. The factory started in 1937 and makes wool yarn from the local sheep. It then sends the yarn to Poland where they fabricate the hats, socks, and sweaters in Norwegian patterns. Seemed like a splendid way to spend the dreary morning. The factory outlet store was in the middle of nowhere… although there were plenty of grazing sheep. The factory was a large white cement building with old-school pane windows. The outlet store resembled a very long log cabin. In addition to knitted fashions and yarn, they had various trinkets, housewares, and a cafeteria. I spent a considerable amount of time and money in that store, starting and completing the Christmas gifts for the family. The sales person said the factory forever shut its doors the 1st of Oct (2 days ago!). She said they can’t compete with the wools of New Zealand (and one other place). It’s just too expensive. So, the goodies I bought are some of the last Norwegian wool products that there will be for a while (from this supplier). Norway is expensive (you’ll notice my weekend trips have not involved shopping). Being a factory outlet the products are cheaper, however still not reasonable by US standards. They had silly high prices instead of ridiculously high prices (found in any town for the same products). Some of the money will be returned as I requested a VAT form (tax refund at the airport for visitors). After a lunch at their cafeteria, it was back on the road.

The rain was letting up at this point and Priekenstolen was on the road signs. My energy level was in need of some activity so the trailhead was next on the list. Priekenstolen is a large granite face that drops veritically in Lysefjord. I had seen it from the ferry ride the day before and wasn’t very impressed. It has a country-wide reputation (equivalent of the Half-Dome hike for CA) and is most enjoyable on a clear day when you can see the fjord 1,920 ft below the cliff. Today the enjoyment factor was at stake.

The hiking involved birch forest, a rock trail, a wooden boardwalk over a marsh, and for much of it the stream was on the trail. There were a surprising number of hikers going in both directions. Those coming down resembled the soggy sheep I had been passing all morning. My feet felt for those hikers whom were doing it in sneakers. Boots were really needed to avoid getting the feet wet, not to mention spraining an ankle on the wet, slick rocks. The rain stopped completely for most of the hike up and the sun managed to battle its way out for 20 minutes to make for beautiful views. When the sun was being threatened by an approaching front, my pace quickened significantly. I really wanted the view and I knew the top was near. The view and granite was awesome. If you can imagine flooding the Yosemite valley, and being on top of El Captain, that’s the closest experience there would be. Upon summiting the granite platform, the clouds and fog were advancing, so I snapped the pictures quickly. Within 10 minutes there was no visibility beyond a couple hundred feet and shortly thereafter the rain celebrated. It celebrated even with some hail on the entire scramble down. My jacket and pants were thoroughly soaked and now I was that soggy sheep. Fortunately, my under-layers were only damp and reasonable for driving.

The drive North was fjord hopping-ly fabulous. The road meandered by Idsefjorden, Josenfjorden, Ardalsfjorden, Erfjorden and Lovrafjorden, where I spent the night in another lovely cabin. This one is just as good as the first one, if not better and a little warmer than the one last night! The cabins are so lovely and very affordable… it’s definitely the best way to see Norway. They are less than half of the cost of a hotel, have kitchettes, a compact living room and bunks. You do have to bring a sleeping bag and towel, so that’s where it saves the money. It rained all night, which added to the pine cabin ambiance. After a warm shower, cozy clothes and a warm cabin, I was no longer that soggy sheep.

02 Oct – C. N. M. R.

From Norway

It was a holiday week for Norges, so the kids were out of school. The parents seemed to split duty, one take 2-3 days off of work and the other parent takes the rest. It made for a fairly empty office. By the time Friday was here, there was only a handful. The holiday’s origin is from farming. This week was the potato harvesting week, so everyone (needed the kids grubby hands too) would go in the fields and dig potatoes. Although the society has other jobs now, the school holiday has remained the same.

So I’ve read and re-read many sections of Frommer’s Norway travel book. After the past few weekends in the mountains, I was itching to get another fjord into the schedule. If I am to go to a fjord, why not aim for the prettiest of them all? Lysefjord was given that title by many, so that’s the goal. When my local coworker “travel agents” heard of my plans, they had maps and a route all printed and ready to be explained. Per the discussion, the drive involved curvy, narrow mountain roads. Okay then! I swallowed hard knowing that I already thought I had been through curvy, narrow, mountain roads. My anxiety meter started brewing over what a Norge’s description of curvy, narrow, mountains roads really meant. It took me just over an hour to find out.

Exit the familiar 134 hwy on 45 south towards Dalen. The roads did not wait long before defining the curvy, narrow, mountain roads (CNMR) description, so I’m not going to hold back either. Curvy = at least a dozen hairpin (of bobby-pin varietal) turns; Narrow = one car has to stop while the other goes 2 mph squeezing by; Mountain = I’m not kidding you… 12% grade (according to the road signs) and snow on the roadside if not on the road. On the first CNMR, I was halfway through the inside of a steep turn and had to just stop at an awkward angle, so an opposing car could squeak by. That’s right, not even the turns had room for two cars side-by-side. The reason the bobby-pins come into play is that the 180deg turns are wider than the roads they connect. When on the turns, you drive out on a cliff, then in towards the mountain again, just like the curve of a bobby-pin. Click here to see a video of the one of the sections of road I'm describing. The CNMRs are not on mountains, they are clasped to the fjord walls… which are nearly vertical!

Upon ascending the second CNMR, the road opened up for a bit and there were snowy peaks in a distance. It took maybe an hour to get to those snowy peaks. With reasonable caution and confidence, I’ve driven in New England black ice nights, Colorado blizzards, and Northern Cali snow storms. This day, a clear afternoon in Norway’s high-country, I was a spineless, wide-eyed, white-knuckled wimp. The road was just as narrow, however now there was snow on the roadside, if not the road to contend with. The driving strategy for the next hour turned into a max speed of 25 mph. When a car was in sight, I’d adjust my speed such that I’d be in a pull-out area when the car was passing. If there was no pull-out between us, I’d come to a complete stop. It was a relief to see that the other vehicles were doing the same. Click here to see the road. Please remember, what you see in the video is a 2-way road... there are no cars coming the opposite way.

The weekend storm clouds started to threaten the sunlight ahead. I had reached the turn to Lysefjord. It is a road that dead-ends at the ferry terminal for the Lysefjord mouth. I had not done any research for this ferry, so I knew driving down this 20 mile dead-end road that I’d be spending the night (possibly 2) or driving right back up in another hour. There was no way I’d re-drive this road with the nasty weekend weather. My coworker said the road is closed in the winter, so it’s just a matter of days before that happens. After a nutty CNMR down into the fjord valley, the road ended at a ferry port. The good news was there were 4 pick-up trucks and a wagon. I lined up and parked behind the wagon. Right next to me in line were furry white snouts peeking out of the trailer… sheep! I checked the ferry schedule on an empty building and the last ferry until Sunday was due in 5 minutes. What luck!

At the front of the parked vehicles, 5-6 men were standing around in outdoorsy gear. After asking if any of them spoke English, one came over and we started chatting. Upon recommending the town to depart the ferry for lodging and a Saturday hike, I inquired to what he was doing w/ the trucks, gear, and sheep… fearing that slaughter was in the near future. His response was nothing of the sort. Apparently, the people are not the only mammals in Norway that take summer holidays. The sheep do too! At the beginning of summer, the shepards drive their sheep to the high country and drop them off…. each outfitted with a bell around the neck and a tag on the ear. The lambs do not get a bell, because they naturally stay with the adults. The sheep travel around in groups of 3-6 in this predator-free environment for a few months. When the weather begins to get cold in Sept/Oct, the shepard and the sheep dog return to the high-country to round ‘em up and pack ‘em in for a return to the lower grounds. These guys had finished from a day (or a couple days) of hiking around with their dogs and finding their sheep. I don’t believe they find all their sheep each year, but that is part of the acceptable risk. They shepard was extremely proud of his sheep getting the high quality, nutritious food in the high country in the summers. He says it makes the meat world-class.

It was quite funny to pull onto this ferry (backwards) and park amongst the trucks & trailers of sheep & sheep dogs. The only other passenger was a lonely guy from England (I think) wearing shorts. I spent the hour ferry ride enjoying the view of the fjord from the car deck and once in a while going in the cabin to warm up. It was lovely to have the setting sun giving the last light of this almost un-inhabited, imposing fjord. Beautiful. The ferry let me off in Forsand, where it took 3 hotel/cabin signs before I found one that was open. It was a cabin similar to the other cabin experience… view of the fjord, kitchenette, and BYO sleeping bag. It made for a chilly Friday evening, but fantastic for sleeping.

30 Sept – Chilling Geography

Mother nature is certainly ushering in the weather. This morning the walk to the car was a brisk -1 deg Celsius. It didn’t wake me up so much as it did take my breath away. There were ice splinters on the windshield. As a result, I have begun to second-guess my clothes packing skills as that wool coat would probably come in handy. It’s been too long since I’ve been somewhere bone-chilling cold. I better get my fingers busy on that knitting needle!

Today let’s explore the size of Norway. Prior to this trip, my knowledge of Norway was the following: it’s far up North, near Sweden, near Switzerland (it’s not), and it has a lot of snow. Although my assumptions were ignorant, they were not as bad as other American assumptions. The girls from Gjendesheim hut informed me that some Americans had thought Norway was a town in Germany. At least I knew it was a country. Anyways, I had no clue to how big it actually is until I started driving on these weekend trips. In all reality, Norway gets duped on its size on maps due to the circular earth's projection on a flat 2D map. Here is the fairest 2D map I could find.



For those too lazy to look at a map after that introduction, Norway is relatively narrow and super duper long. I estimate that no matter where you are in Norway, you are no longer than a 4-5 hour drive from an ocean. The first week here a local proudly remarked that if you put a tack in Norway’s southern town, and rotate the rest of the country 180 deg, the other end would go as far south as Rome.
The footprint of Norway is good to know and all, but what impresses me most is the coastline. Here are the numbers that I’ve been able to find on-line:

840 miles = CA coastline
1,590 miles = Norway mainland coastline.
15,088 miles = Norway coastline including fjord indentations and island coasts = 60% the distance of the earth’s circumference

The only countries that beat the coastline length are Canada, Indonesia, Greenland, Russia, Philippines, Japan, and Australia (in that order). The US is right behind it, so perhaps we need to work harder on making Puerto Rico a state.

Anyways, that’s the geography lesson for the day.

27 Sept – Norway has weather

My internal alarm clock woke me up at 5:30am in the sleeping cubby #6 of the dormitory room. A peek around revealed about 10 other inhabitants. I adjusted my phone “Ta Da” alarm to a silent vibrating mode (so as not to be “that girl”) and returned to slumber. The air was surprisingly fresh and cool for a hord of people sleeping (and in one case snoring) the night away. There was one other girl awake when I re-awoke at 7:15. We were both secretly changing clothes in our sleeping bag, not disturbing the others. I packed all my stuff up and headed off to breakfast.

Whew, was it windy and chilly out! Layered in long underwear top and bottoms, hiking pants, fleece shirt and jacket shell, I went to the dining room. The hut breakfast was right on par with my weekday buffet, except this one had yummy oatmeal , homemade jams (vs store bought), and significantly better cheeses. Once my belly had enough fuel for my hiking frenzy, I checked out and headed to the boat.
The boat has two stops in the summer; One disembarks on the far other side of the long lake at another hut (which is now closed) and the second stop discharges at the ½-way point for the Bessenggen Ridge hike. Once that other hut closes, only the Bessenggen destination is reachable, and even that ends next weekend. Once down at the dock, there was water mixed in with the wind. It was impossible to tell if it was water spraying off the lake or if it was coming from the clouds. It was that windy.

The boat departed at 9am with a whopping 15 passengers. The prior day there was such a crowd, two boats were used to transport the hiker crowd, per the conversation with the girls. They also said that right in the middle of the 6-8 hour hike a woman broke her leg. This tidbit will come into play later in this entry. So, the nearly empty boat braved the open lake’s 2-3 ft swells for fifteen minutes before turning around. The mate came into the cabin to report in Norwegian that it’s too windy. Oh phewy! Too windy for an ocean-faring vessel?! These Norwegian captains are complete wimps.

Up the hill I went to hike Besseggen Ridge hoping to make it to the mid-point in 3 hours, then turn around. The weather was tolerable for the first 20 minutes. Once the trail started to reach the ridge and turned into the wind, my clothes were flapping, my face was getting acupunctured (or is that the rain pellets?), and my legs on the ground just weren’t trustworthy. Then I too, turned around… unable to navigate through the forces of air. Wimp, I know!

There was a Y in the trail that I originally passed up, and now took it, figuring I might as well hike here versus finding another spot roadside. Along the trail I passed the rest of the canceled boat passengers, exchanging “Hej” along the way. The mountain blocked the trail from the ridiculous wind, making it a pleasant walk. Once it climbed up to the ridge and past the mountain, it turned ridiculous again. I turned around, again. After two nights in huts and two days of real weather, relaxing in a warm hotel room with some food and my knitting project was starting to sound luxurious and delightful.

The hotel room was warm, the shower was fabulous, the food was good and the movie was OK. My knitting project is a cable knit hat. My hats were all in Tahoe, so I brought some yarn and needles to make one. I’ll need it in another two weeks with the temperature dropping, so it’s now on my priority list.

Monday morning I hustled to work after a great night’s sleep and went through the normal routine of settling into the desk, logging onto the computer and reading the email traffic of events from CA. The office window overlooks the main building entrance, so each morning I observe the team’s arrival patterns; So-and-so waves, this person is slow, that person is frazzled, etc. This particular morning one coworker darted to my office after entering the main door. He is not the “darter” type by any stretch. He immediately looked at my legs… confirming they were still in one piece. Other coworkers made similar observations throughout the day. That woman whom broke her leg on Saturday on Besseggen Ridge made the television news and my coworkers were hoping it wasn’t me. When someone is injured on a popular hiking trail four hours away, it makes the news! Prior to coming to Norway, I thought Norway could be that small. After all the driving, experiences and people I’ve met, it’s really not. Perhaps the Norwegians are just that caring and considerate for their fellow Norges.

26 Sept – Weekend plans under siege … again

From Norway

The weekend was another one filled with failed attempts of achieving the original goals. All catastrophes were avoided, surprise adventures were had, and met some Norwegians in Norwegian fashion along the way.

This adventure began on Friday afternoon driving North to Jotunheimen National Park; It’s the location of the highest peak in Norway (for a Saturday summit) and a classic “Norge” hike, Besseggen Ridge (Sunday activity). One of the rules of these weekend getaways is to find a bed by sunset (around 7:30pm) these days. This night was different though. At 7:30 I was driving through a town that has a 3-star Norwegian restaurant (according to Frommer’s travel guide). In addition to having deliciuos variations of Norwegian fare (reindeer, salmon, trout, etc.), the book mentions its bearded owner, Svein, whom enjoys hosting guests and can always be found with a bottle of wine in hand. Since lunch, I had not had a lick of food, saving up for the Fossheim restaurant.

It was a lovely dining experience. They offered a choice of the buffet, and one of two multi-course meals (one an entrée of reindeer and another of veal). In asking if there is a fish dish available, the waitress checked with the chef whom was fine with the modification. Upon getting up to visit the toilet (no “restrooms” here), the bearded wine pourer crossed my path in the dining room. I asked if he is “Svein” to which he confirmed my suspicion. I explained that the Frommer’s write-up and he was pleased, but not surprised. Back at the table, locally baked olive bread (yum!) held me over until the creamy mushroom soup arrived by Svein personally. It was creamy and delicate, yet had personality with its almost crispy-finished mushrooms. Lentils joined in the swim too. Lentils in a cream-based soup. Who’d guess?! The salmon plate was fantastic too. I think the salmon was brushed with butter, lightly baked, then broiled to get every edge blackened & crisped. There were some celery root whipped potatoes and lightly cooked veggies found underneath the salmon & it’s cooking juices. Excellent. That filled me up and energized me to finish the 45 minute drive (time estimate confirmed by the waitress). Unfortunately, past my tongue the food did not agree with me (too creamy and rich for my little system?) and an incorrect turn morphed my arrival time by 90 minutes. Doh!

Alas, I arrived at Spiterstulen at 23:15. The receptionist gave me a key to a private dormitory room (think hostel) and showed me how to get to the upstairs room. I went outside, found the door and entered into a foyer of resting, dirty shoes. I went up the stairs to find a cluttered hallway and no numbers on the closed doors. One door was open with a TV blaring. The couch potato started talking while I was ignoring her and looking around. Her voice began to crescendo and when I finally realized she was yelling at me, I asked “Snacka du inglsk?” She said, “Wait” and proceeded to angrily mutter in Norwegian while calling someone on the phone. Figuring that I was in the wrong building and not wanting to hear this crotchety lady yell at me any longer, I started to walk away. She retorted to my action with “STAY RIGHT THERE”. I heard a marching up the steps behind me and another haggered old lady (but younger than the first), appeared and said, “Follow me”. I was apologizing (to the wall) and she yelled “CHRISTIAN” from the bottom of the steps. A door was heard opening, and footsteps came running. It was the same receptionist. He swung his hips wide to avoid the huge metal counters of the hotel-sized kitchen then arrived at a doorway. Some Norwegian words were exchanged and he took me out the door and to the next building to find my room. I now understand what it’s like to be yelled at in Norwegian. Not fun, but now funny.

The highest peak in Norway was an 8-hr hike away from my dormitory room. The forecast was clouds, possible rain/snow, and high winds. Upon check-in Christian was concerned for my safety at a lonely summit attempt in bad weather, and informed me of a glacier hike he was guiding on Saturday. Apparently for $10 you get a guided 6-hour glacier hike, rental gear (crampons, harness & rope) all included. It is possibly the cheapest glacier tour ever. Sign me up! So, I was able to sleep in Saturday morning, ditching the peak-bagging plans.

The glacier tour was me and 23 Norwegians. Because of the one English speaker, the tour was in English. There’s always gotta be one! It took roughly 2 hours to get up to the glacier, ½ hour lunch break while the guide prepared the rope, 2 hours on the glacier, then a quick hike down. It was certainly good fun and experience. It was not as technically challenging nor edgy as I would’ve expected. We were a group of 24, all tied to the same rope (3 meters apart each), and the only one w/ an ice axe (to brake a fall) was Christian. It seemed dangerous to me, however in hindsight the worst that could’ve happened was someone fall 20 feet down, and pull 20 feet (with crampons) on top of him/her. Not a bad way to go I suppose.

It was good to meet the other glacier hikers. There were a few kids, moms, and a group of marine agriculture scientists that were my age. Not one older guy/father. It’s a good time to note that from all the times I’ve been hiking, the male:female hiker ratio is probably 3:4 or 3:5. When bringing this up w/ one of the Moms, she agreed. She offered that the guys only do the record hikes (highest mtn, toughest climb, etc.) or they go hunting. The ladies tend to do ladies trips and enjoy hiking a variety of trails.

After the glacier tour I boogied to the bottom and started the drive to the next hut, near the Bessenggen ridge. The first hut was full due to a festive wedding that was occurring. The guests were wearing funny costumes … which I learned is customary. Each valley or sometimes village of Norway has a certain costume/pattern. Upon confirmation (one of the rare times Norwegians go to church), the young person receives the costume as a gift. The costume is to be worn at weddings (if the bride/groom request), on their national day, and sometimes on Christmas Eve. They only have one costume for their life (it’s easily adjustable as one gets larger or smaller). Oh, and did I mention that the costume is handmade and costs $7,000?
Fortunately the next hut, Gjendesheim had room for me. I was in room #1 and was assigned bed #6 (of 18 total in the room). Only half the beds looked occupied. I took a shower in a couple buildings over ($1 for 4 minutes) and headed to dinner. All the guests of the hut go to dinner at the same time and sit at long tables. There is no “being seated” and they only have enough seats for guests. So, you sit next to fellow outdoors enthusiasts and devour one jolly meal together. I found a seat next to 3 girls my age. We chatted about all sorts of topics: culture differences, Norwegian history and our experiences. One had been in Orlando for 6 months. I shook my head and said, “do you mean Epcot?” She nodded. Oh boy, did some of our fellow Americans make fools of us. They asked her some awful questions…. “so does everyone there get pregnant when they’re 14 ‘cause there’s nothing to do?... you’re not really from Norway, are you?... are there polar bears in the streets?... after being here in FL, you’ll never want to go back to Norway” She said she only bought bread from the Norwegian bakery in Epcot. We all laughed in agreement over American “bread”.

After dessert, refilling of wine glasses, and sharing chocolate cake (2nd dessert), the clean-up staff had to ask us to leave the dining room. It was great to have such lively, interesting company. By the time we parted ways, I was plenty tired to hit my sleep-bag in my bed cubby. It was a great evening and from what I understand, the typical Norwegian hut experience.