The sun woke us early on our second morning. I wiggled my toes in my sleeping bag and felt around for any pain in my feet. Nothing yet. Oda and I got out of the tent and did our morning salute to the sun. After a few minutes of yoga, our bodies felt ready for day two – the toughest day.

Today we had to complete a three-hour hike (11km) from where we were on Bolhovd Skarvet hill, to another cabin called Steinbergdalshytta. From there it is four more hours (9km) to Østerbø, where we would begin our 20 km hike to Vassbydgi, which would take around 7 to 8 hours. Altogether, that is at least 15 hours of hiking.

And all this while I was sporting three big blisters.

Sadly, there was no coffee for us this morning, as we had mismatched the parts for our gas cooker. This meant we could get to an early start. We quickly packed up our sleeping bags and our tent. I gingerly inserted my feet into my shoes. That didn’t hurt too much. Good.

The Scenic Route of Aurlandsdalen

The landscape in Aurlandsdalen looked entirely different. For starters, we were in a valley. There were a winding river and clumps of trees in every direction. It felt much more crowded than the open plateau we had been hiking through earlier this morning and the day before.

Much of the landscape you see along the Aurlandsdalen trail is fairly recent. It formed around 9 000 years ago, during the last ice age. Aurlandsdalen is a glacial valley, similar to the Sognefjord. The Aurlands valley extends about 40km in length from Geiterygghytta to Vassbygdi. It forms part of the larger Sogn og Fjordane region.

The hiking trail along Aurdlandsdalen is diverse, offering a range of landscapes and terrain. The recent glacial period left its mark. Much of the rock faces were exposed to weathering and erosion during and post-glaciation. As a geography enthusiast, the weathered bedrock rock charmed me.

Kicking off from Østerbø

When leaving Østerbø to begin the trail, the landscape is remarkably forested and green – very different from the grassy plateau and rock lands we crossed the day before. We wove through the trees and a tight path clinging to the side of the cliff face.

The first section looked flat, but I knew we would start our descent soon. Our narrow path braided along the cliffside, where we had sheetrock faces to the right and fresh water on the left. We also passed by several cabins along the way. I loved how all the cabins were a bright red, really breaking the evergreen horizon. There were some older structures too, built with rocks from the immediate surrounds.

The sun was warm, much warmer than we anticipated. Bergen, well Norway, is not known for its sunny weather. But on day two the good weather held. Oda and I stripped into our sports bras to take advantage of our luck.

All was going well until Oda suggested an unexpected turn.

“It will be fun, and the view will be amazing. Totally worth it!”

Reluctantly, we left our friendly walkway that felt like something out of a fairy tale to take a step to the right. Straight up from here. Oda had elected that we take Bjørnestigen or the ‘Bear Stairs’. I had no idea what that entailed, but it sounded like it would keep its promise.

Tackling the Bjørnestigen, the 'Bear Stairs'

For the next hour, we rapidly ascended 200 meters to the ridge of the mountains hugging the fjord. Oda was right. The view was worth it.

We set our picnic on the mountaintop and enjoyed the view as we devoured the sausage and the last of the lefse bread. But I know what goes up must come down, and I had the gnawing feeling at the pit of my stomach that we had not come to the worst yet. I was surprised that my feet were holding up after yesterday’s painful barefoot mission. To be safe, I layered on more plasters.

Sure enough. Oda led us to the edge of a precipice. I would like to point out that within 500 metres of walking we descended 244 meters, giving us a wonderful slope of 45 degrees.

I don’t know how I got down the mountain. By the time we reached the namesake of the detour, the ‘Bear Stairs’, I was already cursing vehemently under my breath, and not all too softly at times.

What felt like an eternity later, we were greeted by mossy grass and deciduous trees. I fought the temptation to kiss the ground only because I knew I would not be able to get up again.

An icy dip in Vetlahelvete, the 'Small Hell'

There was a little surprise in store for us. Not a few hundred meters later, we had a little detour to Vetlahelvete, or ‘Small Hell’. It was a geological phenomenon. Tall, metamorphic rocks folded around a rock pool on the centre of an island. An opening indicated where we could enter.

We crossed a bridge to get to the chasm and felt the temperature drop rapidly around us. The water looked cool and refreshing, and my body aches from the scramble down. We stripped off our layers and positioned ourselves for our first skinny dip of the day. As we stood by the edge of the pool, I felt the water lap onto my feet and my heart dropped.

It was icy.

“Come on! Three, two, one!” Oda yelled, plunging into the pool.

Sinjarheim Farm in Aurlandsfjord

Hiking in the fjord was beautiful, but it also left us with very little daylight. It was around 4 pm but the whole valley was already in shadow. Luckily, we were on the northeastern slope, so the sun stayed with us a little longer.

We did come across a farm perched on a mountain bulge. It looked odd, even more so because it was caught in the evening light. It was so isolated from society, and so far out of reach. We wondered out loud how it was built, who lived there, how they got there, why they decided to seclude themselves from the world. Surely it could only on foot or by helicopter?

This encampment has one thing we did not have - a flat piece of ground. For the past hour, we had been looking for possible camping spots, but there was not even a single spot that would support our tent - the slope was too steep.

Camping at Almen Farm

Suddenly, we passed a sign. 7km left. 7 km? It couldn’t be. We estimated that we had another 6 hours left of hiking (according to our map). But sure enough, we had covered a lot of ground.

“We really need to find a spot to camp,” I said, scared that we would hike all the way to the end.

Even the slopes of the fjord were dark by the time we found our camp for the night. It was an abandoned settlement right next to the river. It was called Almen Farm. The grass was tall and thick and would offer great bedding, but more importantly, the ground was flat.

We set the tent up in no time, then paused to survey our surroundings. A broken stone wall lay near us. An old cabin built out of the same stone was cocooned by a large boulder, we suspected to stay the landslides. There was also a barn or a sheep’s keep a little further along.

A river rushed right alongside the farm. It was full of all the water collected from the Aurlandsdalen drainage basin. There would be no swimming with this current.

But to us, it was heaven.

Two-minute noodles never tasted so good before. I am sure I had two packs of soup! After a quick wash and dry, we retired to our tent with chocolate and our books. The river was still gushing by, but this soon turned into white noise.

That night was our longest sleep.

The Final Stretch to Vassbygdi

The next morning, we were woken by friendly neighbours. The resident sheep had come to claim their grazing spot. Apparently, we camped right on it. The sheep wore bells that clanged loudly, jolting Oda and me out of our deep slumber.

Some clouds finally rolled in over the mountains. Usually, this region receives more rain in summer. But we were lucky – the weather played ball – and we enjoyed three sunny days for our hike. Oda and I were spoiled by sunrises and sunsets alike. But it was really the lack of darkness that was most incredible.

We packed up our tent for the final time, reorganised our bags and easily swung them onto our backs – we had grown strong. With a song in our hearts, we set off on the final 5 km of our hike to the final destination: Vassbygdi.

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