Wild camping in western Norway
The Tungoddens have been living here for many generations. They hold down a few cabins and a piece of an island at the mouth of the Sognefjord: Norway's King of Fjords.
Cradled by the North Sea, on the western coast of Norway, lies an archipelago of 1 200 islands. Solund is the westernmost municipality in Norway and consists only of islands. This island cluster sits at the mouth of the Sognefjord, where Norway’s largest fjord cuts into the country.
This region is home to a rich fishing industry, due to the local geography and maritime conditions. Living from the sea is in their bones.
The landscapes in this region are quite exceptional. The mountains are bare and raw, exposing the rocks to all the elements found this far north in the world: cold winds and raging oceans, with lashing storms.
The denticulate coastline of Solund was carved by the same forces that forged Norway’s largest fjord: the Sognefjord.
The denticulate coastline of western Norway's Solund archipelago.
Hiking from Tungodden to Stokkevåg
Oda and I were embarking on an overnight hike on her very own island, Steinsundøyna. Steinsundøyna is one of the 1 200 islands that make up the archipelago municipality of Solund, so one of the many to explore. It stretches 9 kilometres from tip to tail and spans 5 kilometres wide. The southern peninsula of the island is relatively flat bedrock, dappled with freshwater rock pools. The north is more textured, with steep hummocks breaking out of the ground.
We are headed to the tallest peak on the island, Stokkevåg, perched comfortably at 219 meters above sea level. It rests comfortably at the edge of a cliff that looks north over the cold Atlantic.
Oda and I had been planning this trip for over a year, and what better place to start than the island she grew up calling her second home. The Tungoddens have lived off the land and sea here for the past 400 years.
We were eager to explore all the edges of it.
Map of our hiking route, starting from Tungodden in the southern peninsula to Stokkevåg up north.
Camping on the roof of the world
The wind combed through our mountaintop grass. It felt like we were on the roof of the world. Mounds rose out of the ocean in the distance, but our precipice made us the king. We had a 360° panorama, and I felt like I could see into every corner of the world.
In the distance the gradient shifted from steel blue to grey, to white, as the last dregs of light drained from the sky, dragging the warmth away with it. Suddenly I was very aware of the wind. And with that, we snuck into our final layers and wormed our way into the sleeping bag.
For all the perks our Marmot tent had to offer, noise cancellation wasn’t one of them. The wind continued to rush across our rooftop, whistling through the teeth of the rocks that perched around us.
We fought hard for sleep, but sleep was stubborn.
The midnight sun was fascinating. I could never get quite used to it. It’s a true spectacle to behold.
We hiked up here just after the summer solstice - the longest day of the year. This is the sun setting at 11:45 pm over the North Sea.
I have always had my days dictated by the sun. I followed its routine like clockwork. I am up by 6 am in summer. I eat at 7, am ready for the day by 8. I have lunch between 12 and 1, whether I am hungry or not, and by later afternoon I wind down. Don’t even try talking to me after 10 pm, as I will be sleeping. It led to a very structured, inflexible life.
But here, my structure dissipates. The days are long and sort of thin. I decide when I want to eat, sleep, shower, read… there is no clock hand dictating my decisions. My days roll around more of what I feel than what I think – a welcome change for me.
Perched upon the peak of Stokkevåg, Oda and I watched the midnight sun sink below the horizon. We breathed in the staggering beauty of it all, and we felt infinite.
Waking up for 4 am coffee
It was past 12 am and the light in the tent maintained the perfect reading condition. We were able to succumb to our tired bodies for a few short hours, before the sun crawled over the horizon, stretching its eager fingers to wake us at 4:15 am. We tried to be stubborn, but the sun prevailed. Oda and I gave in and went to enjoy a spectacular sunrise.
Oda boiled the water and I prepare the condensed milk. Within fifteen minutes we were sipping sweet coffee, with a view fit for the gods.
We eased back into the thatch grass, tucked into our sleeping bags and watch the arctic sunrise and roll over the haggard horizon.
This early morning coffee formed a habit we would keep for the rest of our hiking trip in Norway. It was a moment to relish and reflect on our journey and the world around us.
After our coffee ritual, we did some yoga stretches with Oda leading the way, and myself trying desperately to keep up. Oda reached for her toes with ease, but my fingers dangle uncomfortably at my knees. It did do the trick though, and in no time our bodies were warm and the stiffness from the previous day was gone.
We packed up camp and set off in search of water. Our bottles had run dry, and I spotted a dam a few hundred meters further along the ridge of Stokkevåg. Once again, we followed no path, but our feet were growing more confident.
Our morning coffee: Nescafe instant, hot water and condensed milk.
Heading home to Hardebakke
We waded through the grass, leaving shoelace trails on the mountaintop. We were sure no one had been here for ages. It was our spot. No one in Oda’s living memory had gone camping where we camped. This made me feel more intimate with the mountain. There are so few places on earth that humans have not flocked to. But on this hiking trip, we encountered no other human being.
A short time later we were successful in our hunt for water. We settled down near the dam for our second breakfast. Yes, the hobbits would be proud. It was 7 am, just the right time to tuck into a tomato and mackerel sandwich, followed by soup and a second cup of coffee. Even though the wind persisted, we stripped off our layers and took a quick dip in the pool. Refreshing.
Time to go home.
