Despite all the bike box drama at the start of the last post, the trip from Zermatt to Geneva went exceptionally smoothly. We got back to service from our run to an email from the Geneva airport confirming that they still sold bike boxes at the airport. This meant we were able to scoop our bikes and all of our bikepacking stuff from the hotel in Sion, ditch our hard-fought bike boxes in the hotel dumpster, and then catch a late afternoon train to Geneva.
We showed up to Geneva without much of any plan where to sleep. All of the nearby campgrounds on Lake Geneva were completely booked and even the cheapest hostel in Geneva was more than we wanted to pay. We were tired of Swiss pricing and with the France/Switzerland border only six miles away we decided to make the somewhat rash decision to hop on our bikes and ride to France. By the time we made this decision it was going to be dark in less than an hour, but we rationalized it to ourselves by fantasizing about the sweet smell of $1 fresh croissants wafting from a quaint boulangerie.
Of course it started raining on us as we neared the French border. And my bike still had the makeshift derailleur hanger so it only had a limited number of gears and I lived in fear every time I had to shift it. It the last light of dusk we debated just tucking into the woods off the road but we had a google pin to something that seemed like it might be a campsite (French Google Maps seems to like to give you pins to locations with no reviews and no linked websites) so we decided to push on.
By the time we rolled in it was fully dark, but luckily Google was right and it was a campground. Even better, they had a sign saying bikepackers staying for a single night could camp for free. We quickly set up our tent, thankful to not be spending a wet night sleeping out in the open.
The next morning we woke up, packed up our tent, and quite literally followed our noses to the nearest bakery where we savored some truly delicious baked goods.
After breakfast we somehow found ourselves in a shopping mall, huddling around a lonely outlet in an attempt to recharge our electronics before our travel day. Spending our last day in mainland Europe chilling in a mall that would have fit right in suburban Ohio was not the best vibes, however, so we waited until we had sufficient charge and then biked back to Geneva.
We spent a wonderful day exploring Geneva’s old town and hanging by the lake.
The one notable adventure for the day was almost letting ourselves get sucked into joining a cult in the hopes of finding some free housing. We spent a good bit of the day at Parc La Grange, a beautiful city park overlooking the lake. While there we saw a crew of people slacklining and went over to see if we could take a turn. The group had this care-free, bohemian energy and seemed to be centered around this one deeply tan, long-haired, shirtless man. He eventually came over to us and introduced himself and proceeded to launch into a long story about how he had merged with the universe and he was built from the love of those around him. He also mentioned that he had no possessions and just crashed with whoever would host him.
After a while the conversation drifted to a close and he went back to his slacklining. As two travelers who also had minimal possessions and no place to sleep we discussed trying to see if someone in the group would take us in for the night, but eventually decided that the risk of joining a cult wasn’t worth saving $60.
We instead decided to stay at a cheap hotel just across the border into France, and as it got dark we said goodbye to our relaxing day in Geneva and biked back to our hotel.
The travel to Copenhagen the next morning went as smoothly as we could have hoped. My derailleur hanger survived the early morning ride to the Geneva airport and we were able to buy bike boxes just as we had been promised. A quick flight and we were in Copenhagen meeting up with my sister and Max. They kindly let us fill up their apartment with our mess of stuff and then took us out for a tour of Copenhagen.
I cannot say enough good things about Copenhagen. The architecture was beautiful, the bike infrastructure mind blowing. The city seemed to pulse with a near-manic energy that I can only assume comes about after waking up from a long dreary winter. Some highlights of our few days there included exploring some of the quiet corners of Christiania, swimming in the harbor baths, and devouring some delicious Danish pastries.
As much as we were loving Copenhagen, Taryn and I were acutely aware our time together in Europe was coming to a close. Taryn was scheduled to fly back to the US on July 5th, in just over a week. We debated staying in Copenhagen for the remaining time, but felt like it would be a shame to spend time in Scandinavia and not make it to Norway, a country we had both always wanted to visit. We had dreams of making it up to Tromsø and the fjords of northern Norway but some googling made it clear that getting that far north would likely be very expensive and leave only a few days for actual exploring. Expanding our research, we came up with the idea of visiting Jotunheimen National Park, a mountainous region just four hours north of Oslo. Home of Norway’s tallest peak, the park seemed to offer more than enough adventure for a few days. Even more importantly, it seemed feasible to access without renting a car or booking any flights. That evening we got on an overnight bus to Oslo.
We arrived in Oslo at 6am and had a couple of hours to kill before our scheduled train north to Lillehammer. We spent a peaceful morning relaxing on the shore across from the beautiful Oslo Opera House.
Soon it was time to board our train to Lillehammer. From there we got on a bus to the town of Otta. We had a couple hours to kill in Otta before our bus to Lom so we laid in a grassy lawn in the middle of town and marveled at how enjoyable complicated travel days are when you don’t have any real fixed itinerary.
Later in the afternoon we boarded our final bus for the day and made the hour trip to Lom, our gateway to Jotunheimen. Lom is a beautiful town set along a wide section of the Otta river. The town’s skyline is dominated by the Lom Stave Church, a beautiful structure made entirely of wood that has existed since the 11th century.
Beyond Norway’s striking and wild beauty, a real highlight for us was Norway’s right to roam laws that allow for easy wild camping. Any place 150 meters away from a house or farm is considered fair game so we took a quick walk to the outskirts of town and found a nice grassy grove and setup camp.
Another benefit of Norway was the seemingly endless daylight. Even though it was after 5pm by the time we setup camp the sun was still high in the sky so we decided to get out to checkout some local trails.
The run started with a steep, damp climb through the woods but we soon popped above treeline and were rewarded with some stunning views down the Otta valley. Continuing to climb we gained a beautiful ridge that stretched into the distance. The running here felt like the White Mountains or the Chugach; rocky rugged trail splitting wild-feeling alpine tundra.
After two miles of perfect ridge-running we hit a side trail back down towards town and we decided to call it a day. A steep descent brought us back to Lom and we made our way to our campsite for some much needed sleep after a long day of travel.
The next day we decided to head up to Galdhøpiggen, the highest mountain in Norway. Although it is the tallest, it is certainly not the most remote, a road can take you up to 6,000 feet, only 2,000 feet and 5km from the summit. This easy access was great news because we learned that the first bus from Lom to Galdhøpiggen wasn’t available until 1pm. This left us in the weird position of having a good portion of the day to kill before we could start our day’s objective.
Luckily Lom was a great place to hang for a few hours. We got a chance to see the Lom Stave Church up close and walked around and around the church, admiring the insane craftsmanship.
We spent the next few hours soaking up the sun and reading next to the River Bøvra.
Finally it was time to catch the bus and a quick 45 minute trip took us up to Juvasshytta, the end of the road and our starting point for Galdhøpiggen.
Access on Galdhøpiggen is interesting because the most direct route cuts directly across the Styggebreen glacier and, as we learned, requires guides to cross. With no guides available at 3pm in the afternoon we looked at the map an devised a different approach. Based on the terrain it looked like we could contour around to the south and then get on the east ridge of Galdhøpiggen where an established trail could take us to the top. The open tundra looked inviting and we were psyched to add in a bit of adventure to an otherwise very well traveled mountain.
The plan worked perfectly and we found largely runnable terrain as we traversed towards the ridge. The views were absolutely spectacular, massive arctic valleys that stretched into the distance and seemed to invite endless exploration. These mountains seem like they would be an amazing place for some long, remote backcountry routes.
After three miles of running we did a final steep climb and then gained the east ridge of Galdhøpiggen. The loose talus slowed our progress and made running difficult, but the ridge line and surrounding views kept us well motivated. After half a mile or so of rough terrain we were able to cut left into an open bowl and join the main trail up from Spiterstulen. From here the travel became a lot easier as the talus had largely already shifted to be stable and sections of snow already had well-trodden bootpacks.
As we got higher up the ridge I could tell Taryn was flagging. Eventually she admitted to me that she was just feeling really tired and burnt out from all the adventures and wasn’t really sure if she wanted to summit. She decided to take a break and told me to continue on ahead with the agreement we would find each other somewhere along the descent.
Feel a bit sad to be continuing on alone, but excited to see the summit, I pushed on. Another 30 minutes of running and I clambered up the final steep pitch and onto the summit. The views were better than I could have imagined. Now able to see to the west, the tundra was replaced with pure white glaciers and rocky peaks. Despite the relatively mellow altitude of 8,000 feet, it really did feel like I was high in the alpine. Due to our late start time, the summit was mostly empty and I was able to bask in the solitude of my first Norwegian summit.
In keeping with European norms, the summit included a beautiful little mountain hut. I stopped in to get a break from the chilly wind before starting the descent.
I had only descended a couple hundred feet when, much to my joy, I saw Taryn making her way up the steep snow towards me. Running down to her she explained that she had just needed some solitude to realize she really did want to see the summit. Thrilled, I joined her in the final climb and got to enjoy the summit views a second time with her by my side.
It was now 5pm and we started the descent, ready for some dinner. Glissading down the upper snow slopes helped speed up the descent and soon we found ourselves making the long traverse back across the tundra to Juvasshytta. We arrived back around 8pm, just a little under five hours after starting the adventure. We took full advantage of Norway’s liberal camping laws and set up camp on a grassy patch near the road.
We enjoyed the little warmth the late evening sun provided and cooked up a quick dinner before retreating into the tent for a cozy night of sleep.
The next morning was a bit of a repeat of the prior morning. Once again we were bound to the bus schedules which meant dramatically back-loading any adventures for the day. The first bus down from Juvasshytta didn’t leave until 9am which meant we had a relaxing morning to take down camp and enjoy our last views of the unique scenery around Galdhøpiggen. The slow morning was especially welcome because I woke up with a sore throat and feeling like I was coming down with a solid cold.
We took a bus down to Lom and then caught an early afternoon bus to our next destination, Gjendesheim, the starting point for the famed Besseggen hike. Gjendesheim sits at the head of Lake Gjende, an extremely long and narrow lake reminiscent of a fjord. Besseggen, our goal for the day, is a narrow mountain ridge on the north side of the lake that offers dramatic exposure and stunning views of the hanging lake, Bessvatnet.
We arrived to moody weather and watched as little squalls blew up and down the lake and ominous clouds threatened to envelope the ridge. Wanting to monitor the weather, we took the time to find a flat patch of ground on the hillside above the lodge and set up camp. The weather was looking no better when we finished setting up camp but we were feeling antsy after a morning of travel and felt some urgency because it was our second to last day in Norway so we decided to attempt the hike. We rationalized the decision to ourselves by telling ourselves that we could always bail if we got onto the ridge and it was too stormy. So at 2:30pm we set off into the rain.
Unsurprisingly, we saw very few people as we made our way up the 2,000 foot climb to gain the ridge proper. The few we did pass all seemed to be going the other direction, looking cold and tired. Adding to some doubt we were feeling, I quickly realized that the cold symptoms I had woken up with were not some figment of my imagination and I was fully-blown sick.
We reached the ridge line and were greeted by howling winds and thick fog. At this point we were pretty set on turning around but decided to push on in the attempt to get to the first real summit on the ridge. As we got close to the summit the clouds began to part a bit and we got our first views looking back down onto Lake Gjende.
The stunning backdrop and improvement in the weather helped me ignore how sick I was feeling, and we ran the last half mile to the summit.
Standing on the high point of the route, having covered 3.5 miles and over 2,500 feet, it suddenly didn’t feel that easy to turn around. The weather also showed signs of further improvement so, after some brief discussion, we decided to keep pushing and complete the hike.
This decision felt more committing than it normally would have, in part because there was no one else out on the trail, but mainly because we hadn’t arranged for a return shuttle. Most people who hike Besseggen just go out to Memurubu and then take a water taxi back across the lake to return to Gjendesheim. Taryn had advocated for this option, but I was unhappy to part with $20 and “it felt lame” so I had talked her out of it. This meant that instead of being done when we reached Memurubu we would still have a long traverse back along the shores of Lake Gjende before we could be warm and dry in our tent. We did our best, however, to push aside uncertainty about the second half of our route and instead focus on the amazing trail before us.
We continued to come in and out of the clouds, each time getting a fresh perspective on the otherworldly landscape around us. Soon we reached the crux, and highlight, of the hike: the steep knife edge descent down to the shores of Lake Bessvatnet. This terrain felt more exposed than I expected, especially with the wet rocks, and we took our time to make sure we didn’t take any big tumbles.
Arriving safely at the end of the descent I couldn’t believe what I saw. We stood on a ridge only 50 feet wide. To one side lay the misty waters of Lake Bessvatnet, looking like a beautiful, but fairly average Norwegian lake. To the other side lay a 2,000 foot drop back down to Lake Gjende. It seemed to defy all physics that the waters of Bessvatnet did not just rip apart the thin section of remaining ridge and go spilling down into the larger lake far below.
We stopped for a bit to soak up the landscape, but soon grew cold and continued on with our journey. A steep ascent on the other side of Bessvatnet mirrored our previous descent, and we enjoyed more spectacular ridgeline as we continued another three miles to the end of the ridge. From there the trail dropped dramatically back towards Lake Gjende and the buildings of Memurubu came into view.
It was after 6pm by the time we reached the boat dock of Memurubu. We were soaked to the skin, I felt near-feverish, and to say that Taryn was not pleased about the no-shuttle decision would be an understatement. I tried to put a positive spin on things, “well we know it’s less than 10 miles back and we don’t have to climb anymore”, but I was met with death glare. Gjendesheim was out of view but even the distant shoreline we could see looked very far away.
Moral only decreased when we saw the shape of the trail. The muddy puddles, downed trees, and damp overgrown bushes quickly slowed our progress. It became abundantly clear just how few people actually take the trail back. The trail also failed to hug the shoreline as much as we expected and we were repeatedly forced to make steep, hundred foot climbs, as the trail navigated around impassible sections of shore. We constantly checked our maps only to see that our little dot had made basically no progress back towards home.
Taryn’s angry silence was deafening and it was the closest I’ve ever felt to having a real mutiny on my hands. Eventually it hit a breaking point and she burst out in tears. Things were pretty grim. In a spark of inspiration I convinced Taryn to take her anger out by throwing rocks into the lake. That seemed to work. We spent a surreal five minutes channeling our best toddler impressions, chucking rocks large and small as far out as we could into the lake, and then broke into laughter at the absurdity of it all. Tantrums over, we embraced the suffering and slogged the remainder of the way around the lake and back to where we had started.
It was almost 8pm by the time we got back to our tent and I fully had fever chills by this point (turns out hiking five hours in the cold and rain isn’t good for one’s health). We whipped up some quick dinner and then collapsed into the tent.
The next day was our final full day in Norway and we had originally planned on trying to tack on one more adventure. These hopes were immediately dashed as I spent all night shivering and then sweating in a feverish stupor. Instead we spent a relaxing day in Gjendesheim, relaxing and, in brief moments of sunshine, soaking up the raw beauty of the place.
The next day I woke up feeling much better which was fortunate because it was time to reverse our long route back to Oslo. The bus and trains again went smoothly and we arrived in Oslo in the early afternoon which meant we had a good chunk of time to kill before our overnight bus back to Copenhagen. We met up with a nordic ski friend of Taryn’s who lived in Olso and the two of them decided to go for a run. I was still feeling worn down from my cold so I decided to just explore the city a bit. I ended up spending most of my afternoon wandering around the Vigeland Sculpture Park, a truly bizarre and captivating place, before meeting up with Taryn for dinner.
From there it was a quick walk to the bus station and then a seven hour bus ride and we found ourselves back in Copenhagen, five days after leaving.
Looking back I’m so happy that we rallied to Norway, and proud that we pulled off such an interesting itinerary with limited time and resources. Our decision not to try to force northen Norway and instead do a public-transit powered trip to Jotunheimen proved to be perfect. Adventuring in wild Norway with Taryn is something I’ve always dreamed of and the spectacular few days we had there definitely leaves me wanting to go back for more.
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