Dovregubben mischieveousness

Not content with having a key role in Henrik Ibsen's Peer Gynt, and a minor role in The Troll Hunter, the Dovregubben (or Mountain King from Dovre) made his mark closer to home and it was to this mark we wandered last weekend.

The Gaupestein, although referring to the Lynx, was actually left by Dovregubben in the area of hills, forests, streams, lakes and marsh to the south of Oslo, Sørmarka. After an ongoing run of arguments with his neighbour, the Rondenissen (presumably from Rondane), the Dovregubben lifted up his stone house and outbuildings onto his shoulders and travelled south.

He met up with the Ekebergnisse from whom he received some local knowledge and a request for help. Ekebergnisse asked Dovregubben to mediate between the two warring clans of Viken and Follo, who were arguing over who owned which land. Dovregubben agreed. On the way to meeting them he got thirsty, for it had been a long journey from Dovre, and so at Gjørjevann took a drink. What once was a lake became just a puddle, such was his thirst. Thirst quenched, he carried on until finally reaching Gaupeåsen. The view from the hill was stupendous, and he was able to see as far to the sea, over almost unending forests that teemed with animals.

The sheltered area just under the hill of Gaupeåsen struck Dovregubben as a fine place to stay, and handily enough would clearly define the border between Viken (now called Tomter) and Follo (now the areas of Kråkstad, Ski and Enebakk). Carefully he unloaded his stone houses, trying to do so as carefully as he could. But no! One stone landed with a boom against the other and was heard far and wide. The clans as far away as Viken and Follo heard the boom, and with that, Dag from Viken and Åsmund from Follo, who had just come together to discuss their boundaries, startled at the noise.
They gathered their weapons and rode as far as Svartbekken (the black beck), and to their surprise they saw smoke coming from a huge rock that had never been there before! They couldn't see any other signs of rock fall, and there was no way on Earth that another clan could have moved the stone into place, so they together decided that it was an act of a higher power and that here the land boundary would go. Dag and Åsmund went back to their own chieftains with tales of what they had found. From that day the warring over boundaries ended for now they had a boundary that could never be moved.*

Thomas and I took the train from Oslo and after a 35 minute journey arrived at the rural village of Viken Tomter. It immediately had a very different feel from the city and as we headed up the hill through the village, the friendliness of the locals' greetings as they sunned themselves in their gardens was a markedly pleasant change from the more typical capital city lack of acknowledgement. I have rarely felt such welcome in Norway – clearly the boundary agreement promoted a feeling of continued wellbeing!

The wind was harsh as it swept around the smooth contouring hills, so it was a blessing to pass from the short, road section into the sheltered, managed forested area. We'd had a customary alpine start so it was already time for lunch, which we had at the side of a forestry road. Hardly well earned but still lovely to eat outdoors!

After rejoining the road, we continued in squishy mud tracks from the tractors and after a short while saw a man walking in the snow to clean his boots off. He noted our packs and engaged us in a chat about what we were doing and giving us tips on where to camp. He thought our target campsite was wet, and Thomas was a bit concerned about where we'd be able to get water, other than melting snow, so it was useful to get some local knowledge.

We continued on, joining a ski trail which had compacted snow, effectively ice, that had melted and frozen and repeated countless times this mild winter. Neither of us had brought spikes or border, so we had slower going in the shadowy areas while the sunny parts had a softer layer of icy snow that afforded some grip. We passed from active forestry into "real forest" where moss covered mounds, mire, marsh and birch accompanied the pine, spruce and fir. The smell was glorious, the spring coming. The mild winter means that the bacteria hadn't had so much chance to gather and release the noxious smell given off when snow has laid on the land for months on end. Glorious!

We wended our way through the woods, up and down the small hills, around marsh pockets and over planked mire, eventually coming to the Gaupesteinhytta – a scout cabin on the side of Breidmosan which lays alongside Gjøretjern. The hytte announced itself way before we arrived with the whoops and laughs of young boys. The scouts were in town, building shelters, playing with fire and generally engaging in "friluftsliv". A couple of adult(ish) men sat by a camp fire on the far side of the hytte, replete with three legs of lamb hanging from a cross bar above the fire. I told then we'd come back later when it was cooked :). Thomas was engaged by the hammock display and geeked out telling me which models they were. It was fun to see them in use by people with a clear affinity to the land.

The blue marked path beckoned us on into the woods again, becoming lush green and luxurious as the moss thawed in the weak sun. More stream hopping ensued with twisting paths weaving through the woods. Sometimes we'd find a snow pocket where the sun wasn't able to reach the depths of a dale or the north face of a hill meant that the sun wouldn't reach anyway. Temperature differences were marked with cold pockets and warmer areas, making the walk interesting in lots of different ways.

The edge of Gaupestein

Trying to avoid a red trail (red trails around Oslo mean winter trails) we walked parallel on the blue and rounded a corner to see the path rising up to an alder leaf littered brown knoll with the Gaupestein raising massively, sturdily in its bulk. It was quite awe inspiring to come across this massive stone, 20 x 10 x 8 meters tall. Trees surrounded it, and created a very trolsk (bewitching) atmosphere. This was where we'd camp - an easy decision! A stream ran nearby (of course - you can't get away from them for more than 50 meters it seemed) so it was perfect for a very cold, clear water source. Plenty of dead, dry wood meant that we were happy to use it in the fire ring nestled towards the Eastern side of the rock.

Thomas, with glow :)

We divided up tasks quite easily so while Thomas put up the tent for our first night in it, I collected wood and water. The water was still covered in ice about 75 meters away up a small gorge, so the trickle was very cold and quite delicious. The temperature was sinking though, and had barely been above freezing all day, so it was full puffy, michelin man moment with my Rab Neutrino Plus, as well as my rain pants over my long johns and winter-lined trousers. With a RealTurmat meal next to the crackling fire we were quite warm, the flickering shadows and embers shooting into the sky.


It was the first night for a very long time where I've had a comfortable night sleep in colder than zero temperatures! Last year I splurged on a Western Mountaineering Antelope MF bag, and that with my puffy jacket and a couple of strategically placed Hot Hands hand warmers kept me warm over night. It went to about -5C, and my bag is rated for 10 less than that, so I guess I am just a very cold sleeper. Having a double walled tent is very much worth it for me, and probably for Thomas, too, as I'll certainly be happier the next day after decent sleep...

The next day was fun as soon as we started walking! Up the gorge that had supplied our water we quickly levelled out into a small grotto, for want of a better word. A rock wall up to Gaupeåsen on our left with pools of water underneath, icicles and frozen water forming sheets in front of us, and ice covered moss looking like emerald stalagmites. Forward the gorge took a downward turn, heading North and down. Which meant snow. Quite like my previous walk, this one involved a lot of negotiating, either in the new stream (we'd passed a watershed), in dubious looking marsh, or sphagnum covered something or other which we weren't quite sure if it indeed even had a bottom, or back on the snow which may or may not hold under your weight. It was fun and exhilarating, and tiring and heart racing sometimes. At one point we had to get up the back and onto the hill where the sun had blazed a trail of green. It took over an hour to travel 2km.

Further down the trail faint ski tracks appeared on the snow, with a man and his dog's prints, as well as some very old elg prints. But there seemed to be very little indication of frequent traffic which lent a different feeling to being in the woods.

We stopped for a refuel at the side of Høltjern, discussing what we wanted to do; to continue on our original plan and another 8km or so more, or to short circuit the plan and head to Vik. A warm drink was needed as we sat in a chilly spot only a weak sun, and wondered at the deep booms and sharp cracks as the ice on the lake shrank slowly. A grouse gurgled in the forest. The map showed the trail to be more kilometres of ski trail, which promised tediously slow walking on ice, so we decided to dive out (of the trip) early. We were both glad of the decision, and it was refreshing to do a bit of tarmac bashing, at least being able to walk in a rhythm for a joined up amount of time. Thomas was joined on the road by a local on his bike who regaled with stories about a 20Kg pack weight for a winter hytte-to-hytte tour. And he'd already lightened his pack.

Høltjern

We made the bus with 5 minutes to spare, saving us from another hour wait, and headed North, back to the city.

*Another rumour has it that the stone was moved into place after the last ice age, but I can't really see that being credible - can you?

For any Norwegians out there who would like more info, this is a good link to walks in the Gaupestein area.

The Østmarka Mil

It is said that the "Østmarka mil" is worth two anywhere else.*

It doesn't really look that different on a map, but the reality is something quite different, and sometimes the contour lines you see on a map don't really describe the true story. Østmarka is often accompanied by the word, "kupert", effectively meaning up and down. These ups and downs can be quite small; small enough to not register on most mapping scales, unless it's an orienteering map, which is a whole other story. So just because it doesn't reach the giddy heights of 700+ m in its cousin Nordmarka, doesn't mean that walking in this particular marka is a walk in the park.

Winter this year has been gentle with only a couple of months of snow. The melt in this region has started early this year; it's early March and the snow is melting on the hills in the forests and creating early indication of what will soon be impassible mire (or myr in Norwegian).

With that in mind I wanted to see if I could walk some of the red trails that are usually only the province of skiers, but the trails I had in mind were engrossed, that it, they are far too small for a tractor-like plough to drive through and create the pairs of grooves either side of the track. Looking at my map I wanted the relative comfort of walking on a trail I knew, albeit in its winter plumage so helping me to broaden my fair weather walking skills, but I also had a hankering to walk down the intriguingly named "Trolldalen" – yes, the troll's dale. Who can resist that?

So off I set, crossing the Skiforegningen's groomed plain with carefully constructed moguls, and up and into the woods. The sun is still quite low, but each day measurably spending more time warming us. It glanced through the trees, hitting the snow in shining glimpses. Up onto the rocks which poked through melting snow in the light, and onto the ice and snow in the shadows. Being "late" in the season the opportunity to use red trails becomes far more limited. The later in the winter it is, the more the snow melts, fast revealing dank bog underneath as the land thaws. Rivulets grow in enthusiasm as they eat the snow, sometimes from below leaving small cornices floating over the water before treacherously giving way. This is the red trail, ready to fool unsuspecting walkers until it is too obvious to ignore that you just can't go there. I wanted to make the most of it before it again was closed for the summer.

It was interesting to see how the huge icicles and frozen waterfalls on the rock faces on the east side had changed in the past two weeks. More opaque now, maybe after a couple of thaws and re-freezes, with some spectacular ice sculpture that my camera (or me) just couldn't capture. The sound of running water permeated everywhere, coupled with hollow steps and cracks from below as I advanced up the hill.

It is also said that if you find yourself on a flat piece of ground in Østmarka you will soon be uttering profanities...

Flat ground equals bog, mire, sump, marsh, slough, swamp. If it's on a blue trail then often the trail will be planked across the mire - on the maps of Østmarka you'll see some of the larger areas labelled as "plankeveien". Here though the planks were just small links, to avoid people whether on foot or bike from widening the paths further.

Further on I was disappointed to see how much the area before Rundvann had been changed by "skogsdrift" (forestry). I don't remember being that way at all. It was obvious that large machinery had been up there, their caterpillar tracks still evident and the trees being markedly less dense. The pop over the hill to Rundvann, however, was a breath of fresh air, the snow covering the lake looking quite pristine with cerulean sweeping the sky. I didn't see a soul.

To reach Trolldalen I faced another challenge impassable in warmer months; a challenge that had thwarted me before! Following the path around the lake and taking the red trail along the eastern shore the rocks on the edge of the lake, that you can see on the opposite shore in the photo above, were alongside me. The blue trail that had accompanied the red one so far headed firmly west while the red trail continued its NW bearing before straightening up towards the North. And into Rundvannsmosen.

This trail, which had got the better of me before, was now passable, although reminding me of the season's warmth by occasionally making me follow in one of the few other people's footsteps to avoid postholing at best and a dip at worst. The snow away from the trail was quite fragile underneath and crumbled away under the crust if any weight was put on it. I decided I didn't want a cold bath unless I could help it.

Elg (moose) hoofprints were abound and made the walk even more interesting. A couple of areas heading into the narrows had been much more effected by the warm temperatures, and a couple of hops were needed in places, particularly in the narrow areas between rock faces. I emerged shortly after to a sign in at the crossroads in the middle of the skog.

Trolldalen was calling and I intended to heed its cry!

Apart from the name, and probably one of the reasons for its name, this trail looked from the map to be relatively deep, with Trolldalsåsen rising up steeply to the west of the valley ("ås" is one of the words for hill in Norwegian). It looked so inviting, with the lovely, shining red stripe, so I unwittingly ignored the early indications of broken, rotten snow and headed further down, into the dale.

Perhaps I was bewitched – the word troll can also mean wizard in English – but it wasn't long until I fell out with the troll and was halted.

I'd already hit rotten snow, and twice had to get back up onto the snow on my knees. I didn't fancy more of the same. With my long jump abilities in doubt, and those blocks of snow being in question, I pondered for a couple of moments before deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. I'd have to leave this challenge until next winter when the land would freeze up again. This is a whole new experience to the walking I had in the UK with most areas being accessible unless the weather was inclement. I guess there'll be exceptions to that, but it's often not the case that it is here, where it's a matter of whole seasons, not just days, that impact where you can walk.

Pretty disappointed that I'd left it too late in the year, I headed back to the crossroads and had something to eat while I decided what to do. Thomas mentioned to me later on that evening (see, I made it back alive!) that having something to eat before making a decision when you're outdoors is a pretty good thing to do. I guess it feeds your brain or something. I didn't want to go back the way I'd come which would feel too much like a retreat, and I didn't fancy the broad expanse of Karismyr, even though it would be planked, and snowed, and would take me back onto trails I knew too well.

Looking at the contour lines on the map I could see that if I took the easterly path I'd cross Smalvannsmosen but not over such a large stretch – in case it was dodgy – and it was at the same, or just slightly higher, altitude as Rundvannsmosen so would probably be ok.

Not so much further on was the mire itself, planked under the snow, and this time the planks not being so visible so it was a case of feeling your way in places. From the footprints it seemed as if the elg had used the planks too.

The two photos above help to show how kupert the landscape here really is. The photo on the left is looking ahead on the path where the photo on the right is from the same point, looking back over the mosen. Fun! This place really packs the interest level in, and is never dull!

Into and out of the forest, into dips and up over hillocks I encountered this interesting little swamp. It was planked and obviously people had been over it before with all the footprints. What made this extra spicy was that the footprints created a narrow ridge of compacted snow to walk on – step too far on the ridge and it is very easy to just slide off, into sogginess... I was glad of my walking poles on more than once occasion.

Not far up the hill I reached Breiåsen and had the rest of my lunch and a hot drink while sitting under the beautiful spruce roof. The paths branched off here with a smaller trail heading along the shoulder and down into Lauvdalen. The food and drink did me good and it was nice to chill out with extra layers on. I hugged my kupilka with mittened hands, drinking hot chocolate and feeling quite contented listening to the Orrfugl or Black Grouse (Tetrao tetrix) calling.

Feeling reinvigorated I packed up and started down Lauvdalen, at which point I wished that I'd brought my snow shoes. I postholed time and again up to my shins; measuring the depth on my poles revealed a good 40cm of snow, so I wasn't hitting the deck each time I sank down. Maybe being North facing the melt hadn't hit so hard on this side, yet.

Elg prints which were everywhere, in fact there were only about 4 sets of human footprints in this photo, almost made the going worse, creating deep holes, some very old. I wish I'd brought along my snowshoes! It was frankly exhausting (which I secretly almost enjoyed). Arriving into the woods towards the bottom of this photo I saw mountain hare tracks quite neatly on the snow. And I rejoiced in having almost 6 steps on bare, springy ground! It was lovely!

Once down to the forest road just next to Øgården the rest of the walk could be viewed as a bit of a trudge, but after having a walk with so little opportunity to form any sort of rhythm it was actually quite nice. I followed the path along the south side of Nøklevann, going down to the edge at Katsia where a man was ice fishing, his massive ice screw laying alongside him. It always seems curious to me to have signposts in the middle of a lake in winter, too. Perhaps it's a cultural thing that I'll just ignore in years to come, but they're for the skiers and skaters who cross the lake. It made me smile.

The only remaining event of the walk apart from the steely blue melting ice on the lake, was saving a Norwegian man with a pushchair from sliding down an ice covered road. He was quite grateful when I hung onto his jacket as he started sliding across the road and towards a ditch. Just think, an English person saving a Norwegian from their natural environment!

In a more personal recollection, this was a good walk for me to learn more about hiking in winter and what to expect on the hills and forests east of Oslo; the Østmarka mil. In these conditions I'd definitely bring my snowshoes, and probably more to eat. It was a great trip for me, maybe a bit tame for some of the seasoned Østmarkas Venner but it's all learning for me, improving my fitness and expanding my skills.

For more photos of my "tur", view the album here.
*1 mil = 10 km