8th Day (15.8.22)

I woke up to an unusual feeling on my face. Something had touched me. I shook myself briefly, but was once again haunted by the feeling. I opened my eyes and realized that it was starting to rain. I hastily jumped out of my makeshift tent and started packing up my camp. I managed to pack everything just in time before anything could get seriously wet. I was a little annoyed at my carelessness for not putting up the tarp. It was still very early as I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders and set off on my way.

I left the lake behind me and crossed the first pass. The trail was wet, just like the day before, and I had to be careful not to sink my hiking shoes into the marsh. So I walked through the mountain tundra, past dead trees, large puddles that shimmered in the morning sun, and small mountain streams, pouring their water gratefully into my bottle.

I soon reached a ridge, behind which a breathtaking view of the Vinjefjord was hidden. I had been hiking for several hours and left my backpack there to admire the landscape. After a short rest, I returned to the trail. I couldn't keep my shoes dry and my feet didn't thank me for it. I dragged my feet slowly along the pass.

After a few kilometers, the trail started to descend again and the barren landscape turned into a bustling primeval forest of slim birch trees, pointing the way like white fence posts. At the end of the descent, I arrived at a large cabin with the inscription Sollia. I cautiously tested the door handle and it opened. I took off my shoes and backpack and entered.

I passed many rooms with made beds until I reached a large living room where I obtained information about the cabin. It was an accommodation run by the Norwegian hiking association, offering guests facilities for a fee. I checked the price list and found that I could use the facilities during the day for 70 Norwegian kroner (about 7€). Since I wanted to dry my boots and could use the break, I took advantage of the offer. I carried my backpack and shoes into the living room, lit the fireplace, and placed all the wet clothes in front of it to dry. Even my electronic devices could be charged thanks to solar power. I settled in and collapsed into a chair in front of the fireplace.

While waiting for my shoes to dry, I cooked a generous lunch on the cabin's gas stove. It was a quinoa pan that made my taste buds rejoice. I spent the rest of the afternoon dreamily gazing at the landscape, talking to arriving guests, and exploring every corner of the cabin. I chatted with two retirees about the area, and they told me what it was like to grow up on a small farm on the other side of the fjord. An older couple told me that they became grandparents twice this year and talked about the mountains and what it's like to spend a winter there.

When my boots were finally dry, I took them off the fireplace, cleaned up my tracks, and set off again. It was already afternoon and the sun was shining with full strength on the trail. I climbed high above the tree line, where even the characteristic swamps couldn't make it into the rocky landscape. Every time I thought I had reached the summit, the mountain stretched further into the sky. After about two hours of strenuous climbing, I finally made it and treated myself to a break. I sat down on a rock and enjoyed the sun on my skin. I called a friend and told him about my experiences. After an hour of rest, I continued on.

The pass ran along a wide mountain plateau, and after a few steps, I could see another fjord and its small towns. At the end of the plateau, the trail wound its way back into the valley. I took a deep breath and began the descent. Among my boots, the most unusual berries emerged from the ground, and I picked one. It was pale orange and resembled a raspberry with larger aggregate fruits. After a little research, I found out that it was the cloudberry and that it was even edible. I put one in my mouth and took a bite. What followed was an explosion of flavors in my mouth. The fruit tasted both sweet and savory. It had a flavor combination of vanilla, butter, and raspberries. With eager eyes, I searched the ground for more, but after crushing a few on my palate, I couldn't find any more and continued disappointedly, always searching for more.

The trail led me to a mighty stone creek, whose luminous minerals took on many different colors. With a loud roar, the water made its way through the rocks, and every few meters, it cascaded down in a waterfall. Some rocks seemed so geometric that they resembled the ruins of a long-lost civilization. Downstream, the stones became increasingly reddish, and the rocky mountain landscape turned into a low birch forest.

Exhausted from the many meters of ascent, I started looking for a place to camp. In the distance, a mountain lake reflected the clouds, and there seemed to be a small forest in front of it. I wandered for a while until I reached the forest, dominated by medium-sized birch trees. From a distance, I could see two trees that had exactly the right distance from each other and were also right by the creek. I veered off the path and fought my way through the undergrowth until I crossed the creek to the coveted birch trees. Skilfully, I set up my tree tent and clothesline and enjoyed the idyllic sleeping spot. I took out my noodles that I had left over from yesterday, found a nice spot on the creek, and ate while listening to the sound of the water.

I brushed my teeth, made sure everything stayed dry in case of rain, and got into my sleeping bag, where I am now lying and writing. Good night.