Hiking over Vidden in Bergen
Our once clear path trailed off into the mist and the moors. Up here, in this fog, we were like the blind leading the blind.
The path we are on today led us up to Ulriken, the highest of the Seven Mountains, and into the ‘fjellstrekninger’, the highlands, that surround the red-roofed city of Bergen, Norway.
Moss and lichen grow thick on the rock, obscuring the red letter ‘T’ that marks all of Norway’s hiking trails. Learning about lichen helps me realise the air must be remarkably fresh up here. I inhale deeply.
Oda taking a moment to soak up the view.
It is cold and damp.
Oda and I don’t stop moving. We can’t. The moisture clings to my eyelashes and seeps through my beanie. Even though my legs are pumped, the skin that stretches over is chilly.
Our packs are light, and we are unprepared for this cold front. I follow Oda’s footsteps as we pick a path between the brush and the rocks. We only pause to orient ourselves.
Our progress must be slow, as the landscape around us remains unchanged for the first two hours. The belly of the cloud swaddles us, robbing us of our sight. That’s alright. It gives us a chance to hear voices and footsteps echoing from beyond the wall of white, sometimes ten minutes before we meet their makers.
The mist sweeping over the highland moors.
After some time, the clouds parted ever so slightly on the western horizon. I catch a glimpse of Bergen, tidy along the fjord. I can just make out some of the buildings before whiteness descends again.
We push on, following the faded signs and searching for the telltale cairns. I realise we could see the following two cairns, then the next three. Suddenly, the white is blinding as the sun burns through the fog.
We are thrown into a world of colour, autumn colour. Even the hills to our right open up to us, and I can see cabins spotted between the forest. It all looks rather wild, and I cannot believe we are just above Norway’s second-largest city.
A brief moment where we could see more then five metres ahead on the highlands.
Daydreaming about Norwegian Cabins
Cabin-spotting is the prime activity for the rest of our hike. I am captivated by these rural getaways hidden in the folds of Bergen’s mountains.
“How do people get there? By foot? Who owns them? What is life like inside? How can I get one?
I conjure up a fantastical life for each cabin in my head as we pass. I imagine their interiors, their owners and their rituals. I see a couple cosy by the fireside, kids playing with dragons along the hills, and hands making coffee or baking bread.
A happy yellow cabin on the Norwegian highlands.
Rustic and raw - a cabin for the pine forest.
Lunch is timed to the exact moment the sun shines its full September brilliance in the sky. We have sandwiches, followed by coffee and rusks.
The rest of the afternoon, we follow the sun on its downward trajectory and descend into the final portion of our hike—the scenery changes from badlands and moors to lush, deciduous forest. We are honing in on Oda’s home.
By the time our boots slap on the tar road, dusk dances with the sea and the sky. We had been on the move for more than seven hours. My Fitbit clocked over 40 000 steps, and my bones ached for bed.
Soninke Combrinck
I write about connecting with nature as I chase my own adventures around the world.
