10th Day (17.8.22)

I woke up in my room at Storfiskhytta. I had slept well and it was already 8 am. I went into the common area and realized that the others were still sleeping. I lit the fire in the stove, had my breakfast, and made myself a cup of tea. When the others woke up, we chatted for a while as we tidied up the cabin. I packed my things to get ready for the next hike. It was still raining and the clouds were just a few meters above the cabin.

I set off in the opposite direction at the same time as the other cabin residents. I walked tirelessly at a brisk pace across the wet mountain plateau. It only took a few minutes for my boots, which I had dried for hours over the stove, to get wet again. The mountain lakes I passed looked mysterious in the foggy landscape. Soon, I came across a stream that I had to cross, except that the stream had turned into a raging current and it was hard to see where to cross. However, I didn't want to turn back, so I stepped on a rock with my first boot. The water flowed over my boots and I could only maintain my balance because of the sticks I firmly anchored in the stream. I managed to cross the first few meters of the stream, until one of my sticks got stuck between the rocks. With some finesse and the help of the second stick, I was able to free it and walk the last few meters to the shore. My shoes were soaked. Only about half an hour later, I came across another river that looked even more threatening with its submerged red stones than the previous one. Like a circus acrobat on a tightrope, I walked across the rocks and made it to the other side.

I had to keep walking quickly and couldn't afford long breaks because it was only 6°C and if I stood still for too long, my wet boots would get cold. So I kept on walking and walking, further up the mountain, passing a huge lake that wound around the mountains. At the summit, the crevices were filled with water and I walked on slippery rocks and thin roots. After some time, I could once again see the outlines of the fjords behind the wall of fog and saw bridges and towns balancing on them. I nourished myself with blueberries and cloudberries that grew along the paths and examined the mushrooms I passed by. I recognized some birch mushrooms, but didn't want to take the risk.

I had been hiking for 6 hours, almost non-stop, when I spotted the next cabin called Rovangen by a mountain lake. Exhausted, I settled in and started a fire. I hung my boots over the wet stove and began cooking. While I was eating, a German couple from Rostock joined me and we started chatting. The man explained to me how to distinguish chanterelle mushrooms from the toxic false chanterelles, and the woman told me about her hike. I washed a few pieces of clothing, read a bit, and then crawled into my sleeping bag to get some rest. Although I didn't want to, sleep quickly overtook me and I didn't wake up until the next morning. Here I am now, sitting in the common area and writing.