“If we’re going to Spain for the weddings, then we have to go to Norway for hiking.” That was the condition I set early on with Hubby for our first post-COVID trip overseas. At that stage I wasn’t quite sure where in Norway we were going to hike but that didn’t really matter.
Hiking in Norway was unfinished business from our 2018 year
in Europe. Our Norwegian trip in January of that year was geared towards seeing
the Northern Lights – so it was timed at the height of winter and during the
Polar Nights in Tromso when we would have the best chance of seeing the
Northern Lights. By the time summer rolled around, we were in the middle of a
5-month road trip exploring the French, Swiss and Italian Alps so there was no
room in the itinerary to go back. I’m sure we could have made it work but spending
the entire European summer in the mountains instead of the beaches would’ve
caused the 2nd family revolution on that trip. (The 1st
revolution had to do with the Christmas markets and spending Christmas Eve in
Oberndorf and Salzburg at the start of the trip).
The Norwegian mountains would have to wait...until now.
I would choose hiking boots over heels any day so was really
looking forward to this part of the trip. The weddings and get togethers in
Spain were a lot of fun, but after 3 weeks of eating, drinking, and partying, I
was keen to get out into nature for a bit of adventure.
Our itinerary revolved around completing 3 of the most
popular hikes in Norway:
- Preikestolen (Pulpit Rock);
- Kjeragbolten;
- Trolltunga
The preparation
I made feeble attempts at improving my fitness in the
months leading up to the trip, and while I was going to the gym
sporadically in the months prior, things started to get busy at work and
home closer to the trip – so gym sessions quickly dropped off when it really
mattered. Hubby and Mig even less so. We went for daily walks around the
neighbourhood, mainly to walk the dog rather than any real attempt at preparing
for a hike (or three). ‘We’ll just deal with it’, I thought. After all, how
hard can walking 20 kms really be?
Needless to say, we weren’t in great physical condition but
we didn’t have any serious medical conditions either. Add to that the non-stop
eating, drinking, partying and late nights in Spain and our fitness was pretty
average by the time we were due to start our hikes. My knees are terrible at
the best of times and were likely to give me problems but, like most things, I
decided I would just suck it up and deal with it.
Having said that, I had 2 main concerns: my biggest worry
was if Mig suffered an anaphylactic reaction and we were hours from being able
to get him medical help; and, if I somehow developed a migraine in the middle
of a hike or when we were scheduled to be on one - which can be triggered by
anything from dehydration, lack of sleep, a tight shoulder, the wrong wine, or
the direction of the wind – it would be all over. That would make anything –
including myself - unbearable. So we armed ourselves with 3 Epipens and lots of
Ibuprofen.
With the distance and remoteness of the Trolltunga hike, and
the unpredictability of Norwegian weather and temperatures at different
altitudes, we needed proper hiking gear. Good waterproof hiking
boots was something I didn’t want to compromise on, particularly since a rolled
ankle could easily put any of the hikes in jeopardy. Also, not being fully
familiar with the terrain we were going to encounter we needed to be prepared
for anything. Lightweight waterproof jackets and day packs, thermals and warm
layers were also essentials. If we got lost or stuck overnight somewhere, we
needed to be warm. I also decided on a bright red jacket because if we needed to
be rescued, something red would be quite visible against any landscape. Unfortunately
(or fortunately), that’s just how my mind works. I automatically go to preparing
for worst case scenarios.
All this gear – along with formal wear and shoes for not
one, but two weddings in Spain - made packing light impossible. Thanks to our
2018 trip though we knew how to manage our luggage and pack (and re-pack) for ‘domestic’
trips once we landed in Europe. A key factor in the decision to fly in and out
of the same city back to Sydney was so we didn’t have to carry unnecessary
luggage with wedding paraphernalia to Norway.
The Plan
We were wary of our fitness, or lack off, so arranged the
hikes in order of difficulty. This would give us time to familiarise ourselves
with the Norwegian landscape while our bodies adjusted to the physical demands
of hiking after weeks of hedonistic partying and late nights in Spain and
Amsterdam.
We would fly to Stavanger from Amsterdam where we would base
ourselves for the Preikestolen and Kjeragbolten hikes, then drive to Bergen and
stay a few nights to take it easy while we let our bodies rest for Trolltunga. We
would then continue on to Odda as a base for the Trolltunga hike – via Aurland
and the Stegastein lookout.
Based on our research, we planned 2 nights in Odda – the
night before the hike and the night after. From Odda, we would do the 4-hour
drive straight back to Stavanger the morning after the hike, return the car at
the airport, and catch the mid-afternoon flight out of Stavanger back to Madrid
via Amsterdam. This meant we only had one window of opportunity to complete the
Trolltunga hike. It had to be on the only full day we were going to be in Odda.
My sights were set on Trolltunga from the beginning. It was
the non-negotiable in itinerary negotiations. Actually, all of the hikes were
non-negotiable and as hard as Hubby tried to get rid of one hike (or all of
them), I didn’t want to budge. Not this early anyway. In the back of my mind
though, if push came to shove, Kjeragbolten would be the ‘sacrificial lamb’.
Preikestolen was our warm-up and Trolltunga was the main event. It would be
Kjeragbolten, but only if we absolutely had to - but I didn’t tell Hubby that.
It was a 10-day itinerary to complete the 3 hikes giving us
enough recovery time between each and to have a couple of extra days for
anything unforeseen like bad weather - except Trolltunga which was a one-shot
window so the weather and our physical condition needed to be perfect. We also knew
from hiking in the Alps in the summer of 2018 that hiking on 2 consecutive days
was likely going to kill us physically so we made sure Preikestolen and
Kjeragbolten weren’t scheduled back-to-back.
Preikestolen (Pulpit Rock)
Preikestolen, or Pulpit Rock, is aptly named as it stands
over 600 meters above the Lysefjord. It’s not a particularly long hike (8
kilometres; 4-hour return hike), but it’s a fairly strenuous hike due to the
elevation gain. And what goes up, must come down. With my knee issues I knew
the descent was going to be harder than the ascent.
We arrived into Stavanger at 11pm and stayed with a high
school friend on that first night. Our Stavanger accommodation cancelled while
we were partying in Spain and a Guns and Roses concert that weekend made it
impossible to get alternative accommodation at relatively short notice. So
while we didn’t want to impose on a long lost friend whom I hadn’t seen since
high school and her partner whom we had never met, we decided to take the offer
of a nice bed over spending the night before our first hike in the car. Thanks
D & R 😊
We set off for Preikestolen a little later than planned the
next day. It was about an hour to get to the parking lot from where we were
staying so it was just before mid-day by the time we started. The great thing
about hiking in the summer months is that the sun doesn’t set until 11:30pm, so
we knew we had plenty of time to complete the hike in daylight even with a
mid-day start.
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| Starting point for Preikestolen hike |
As it turns out, the late start worked out better as we missed all the large tour groups who started their hikes earlier and were on their way back as we made our way up.
The hike was a rude awakening leg and glute workout requiring
us to scale up and down what felt like thousands of large boulder steps. The
trail was well marked but some sections had very uneven and wet rocky surfaces from
melted snow which made me grateful for our decision to get the boots with ankle
supports. The last thing we wanted on our first hike (or any hike for that
matter) was a leg or ankle injury that would have put the other hikes at risk,
and it would’ve been very easy to twist an ankle on this one.
The view and the feeling from the top was breathtaking. No other words. I had to take a moment to soak it all in.
What first struck me about Preikestolen was that it is
completely unfenced. There are no protective guard rails and you can venture as
close to the edge as your craziness will let you. I found this fascinating. In
comparison, a site like this in Australia would have had guard rails
everywhere. I loved the unaltered state and appreciated the fact that it was
left untouched despite the millions of visitors each year.
I could’ve sat there all-day marveling at the beauty in
front of me but was conscious that we still had to make the descent and meet up
with my friend for an evening of sailing. The weather was perfect so we wanted
to make the most of it with forcasted rain in the coming days.
From Preikestolen we headed straight to the agreed meeting
point to catch up with my friend and her partner, hopped onto their boat, and
set sail for a tour of Stavanger and surrounds from the water. (The sun sets at
11:30pm, remember?)
We had no time to stop at a grocery between our hike and the
meeting point (we hadn’t even checked in to our proper accommodation) and we
were famished so the island picnic they had planned and prepared went down a
treat. ‘This is living’, I thought. When else and where else would we be able
to go straight from mountains onto the water. It really was Norway in a day. I’m
not sure if it was all the partying in Spain and Amsterdam, or the past 2 years
being confined with COVID lockdowns, but it was the dose of nature I had been
craving and exactly what we came to Norway for.
We finally checked in to our accommodation at midnight after what was a very long and strenuous day on the back of a very long and tiring day arriving from Amsterdam at midnight the night before, so once we checked in to our rented accommodation we didn’t move (more like we couldn’t move) for the next 2 days. Remember those extra weather and recovery days in the plan? Gone. And this was only the 1st hike.
Kjeragbolten
This hike was scheduled for Day 4. We allowed ourselves 2
recovery days post-Preikestolen which, as it turns out, was perfect. We’re no
spring chickens and had to be realistic about our fitness levels and what we
could achieve. The only problem with Day 4 was that it was raining.
The show must go on. The itinerary must go on.
We decided to push through with the ferry trip down
Lysefjord to Kjerag, then make our way to the parking lot for the Kjeragbolten
hike and assess once we got there. While Hubby was already keen to call it
quits, I didn’t want to give up so easily. Maybe the clouds would clear by the
time we got to Kjerag. Maybe there would be a break in the rain that would make
the hike achievable. Maybe the rain wouldn’t be that bad. Besides a little rain
never hurt anyone. After all, that’s exactly why we brought waterproof jackets and
backpacks with us.
The hike to Kjeragbolten was 12kms with an elevation gain of
570 metres – slightly less than Preikestolen. The estimated hiking time was 6-8
hours return.
We got to Kjerag and stopped for a coffee at the local café.
It was drizzling and overcast but nothing unmanageable so we decided to seek
the opinion of the local staff at the counter. Her assessment was that the hike
was achievable. The drizzle wasn’t ideal but it would still be ok. Anything
stronger, however, she said we should probably re-think it.
Encouraged by that we drove up to the parking lot to start
our hike. Clearly still uncertain about this decision to proceed, Hubby asked
the parking lot attendant whether it would still be safe to do the hike in this
weather. ‘Sure, no problem’, she said. ‘Worst case, you can always try it and
if it’s not for you we can refund your parking fee if you come back within the
hour’. Hmmm… good idea. ‘Nothing to lose’, I thought. We’re already here. We’d
be crazy not to even try. Besides, other people were still going up.
The thing about the Kjeragbolten hike is that it is very
different from Preikestolen. While the altitude for Preikestolen was
gained by climbing up large boulder steps, the Kjeragbolten altitude is
achieved by climbing up and over what looked like Uluru – a massive rock. From
the research I had done and from what the parking attendant confirmed, the
first climb from the parking lot was the hardest, so if we could make it over that
section, we would be fine to complete the other two climbs on the hike.
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| Climbing chains that were a necessity but slippery in the rain |
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| Views from up above |
We set off and as the path got steeper it started to get more slippery. As with Preikestolen, I was very grateful for the boots on our feet, but this time for their grip. The higher we got the steeper the path ahead of us – so much so that there were now climbing chains to assist with the ascent and descent. These chains were a necessity but the rain was making them slippery and difficult to grip.
As we climbed up, Hubby would ask people who were coming
down what it was like ‘up there’ – clearly still questioning the wisdom of what
we were doing. Many said it was difficult but doable. Difficult wasn’t scary. Difficult
wasn’t unsafe. We were prepared for difficult. We could deal with difficult. We
continued to climb.
The higher we got the path was getting steeper, more
difficult and more slippery. So much so that I no longer trusted the traction
on my boots and resorted to climbing using my hands to get closer to the
ground. The rain and the wind was starting to hurt and we were so high up that the
people in the parking lot down below looked like ants.
Again, Hubby checked in and asked a couple on their way down
what it was like. The female responded saying it was absolutely crazy and
dangerous. The guy agreed that it was too dangerous stating that they had
aborted the climb and turned back. While I was starting to see the danger in
the situation, it still didn’t feel scary. In fact, I was enjoying the
challenge and Mig seemed to be taking it all in his stride climbing well ahead
of us. People have different tolerance levels for danger and risk I justified
to myself and Hubby. Let’s just keep climbing as far as we can.
We continued climbing and I started to silently freak out. With
the altitude gain, the scare level was now starting to go up, fun level was
going down. We were about 80% of the way up and paused to catch our breath when
the wind and the rain suddenly picked up. We were getting pelted with rain and
could barely open our eyes to see where we were going. The wind was so strong
that it could’ve easily made you lose your balance if you happened to be
standing on a slippery ridge. I looked down below to see how high we now were
and how far we had climbed. The view was amazing but if the rain didn’t ease up
we’d have no way of getting back down. Trying to get down on the steep,
slippery surface we had just struggled to climb was an accident waiting to
happen. I looked up at the path ahead of us with the climbing chains and what
looked like a 70-degree gradient to the top.
Hubby and I looked at each other. ‘F**k that’, I said. ‘I’m not climbing that in this weather!’. We all agreed we had come far enough and it was time to call it quits. We started making our way down… slowly and carefully. Kjeragbolten would have to be for another day – or lifetime.
There were several opportunities for us to decide whether to attempt or quit the hike, and part of hiking is continuously assessing the conditions and knowing when the safety risk is too high - and then be willing to call it quits if it is. Often that can be different for everyone. In hindsight, I probably pushed us further than what Hubby would’ve been comfortable with but there’s something to be said about pushing beyond your comfort zone and not giving up so easily. Having said that, I was also being guided by Mig and his ‘fear factor’. He was climbing with relative ease and was enjoying it. It was challenging, but I didn’t think it was necessarily unsafe - until the wind and rain picked up.
That day many people continued on, turned back, or didn’t
attempt to start in the first place, but we would never have known where we sat
on that spectrum if we hadn’t tried. I have no regrets for turning back because
we still experienced it, we saw what it was like and made up our own minds that
it was too risky.
What I would have regretted, however, is if we never even
tried.
We got to the P3 Magelitopp parking lot at 7:30am. Hubby’s
decision to book a spot in this parking lot at the same time we booked our Odda
accommodation was a lifesaver. There are only 30 spots per day so early booking
is a must. It’s also another reason why the Trolltunga hike was a one-shot
window. Our parking was pre-booked. Parking at P3 takes you further up the
mountain and closer to the starting point of the Trolltunga trail shaving off 7
kms on a 27-km round trip hike. Hubby wasn’t keen on hiking any of the 27 kms
so was more than happy not to have to hike 7 kms and pay the 800 NOK ($114 AUD)
for the privilege. Any doubt I had about paying this fee was well and truly
erased at the end of the hike when I was internally screaming for the car park.
The estimated hike time for Trolltunga from the P3 carpark
is 7-10 hours. From the lower carpark (P2) it would’ve been 8-12 hours.
The first 1-2 hours of the hike as we climbed our way to the
top of the mountain and gained the steep 300m elevation to get to the top was
the most physically demanding. It’s when I wished I was fitter and stronger and
regretted not losing 10kgs so I wouldn’t have to carry it up the mountain. At
this point our 5-kilo backpacks started to feel heavier than they were. We
stopped for our first break mid-way through a series of big boulder steps as
other hikers passed us by. We didn’t mind. We had set our minds that this
wasn’t a race and we would take it at our own pace with as many breaks as we
needed to.
Once we reached the top, the trail levelled out and was
relatively flat the rest of the way. The landscape was pretty sparse at the top
and had it not been for the snow-covered sections of the trail it may have even
been, dare I say, a pretty long, boring walk with spectacular views.
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| Taking a break after a steep climb |
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| Hiking with these view for most of the trail |
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| Perfect rest spot along the trail |
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| Snow covered, slippery icy trails |
The prospect of seeing snow and being able to play in it was something I had promised Mig to ward off any complaints about having to go on a 10-hour hike. I specifically wanted him to go on this hike and wasn't going to let him bail because he had spinal surgery scheduled a few months after our return to Sydney. In my mind, if anything went wrong with that surgery and he never regained the same mobility, at least he was able to do this. Of course he'll only find out about that if he reads this.
So as we approached our first sight of snow on the mountain top, he was like a bull at the gates… and I was the gate!
Yes, the terrain was relatively flat, but we were still on
top of a mountain… and we didn’t know what was under that snow which was fast
melting in the summer warmth. Not to mention, we were only 3 hours into what we
knew to be a 10-hour hike and his feet and clothes needed to stay dry.
“Mig! Get back on the trail!”, I yelled at him as he ran off
trail to run around in the snow. “Get back here now!”
“But you said I could play in the snow” came his reply.
This is how it continued for the next few hours. I was on edge.
We had been walking for hours, we were tired, the Tongue was nowhere to be seen, we were now walking through more snow, ice and slippery slush than on solid ground, and we still had hours ahead of us to get to our destination - not to mention the return trip. The last thing we needed was an injury (or worse) with Mig falling through a ravine or twisting an ankle with a fall. We were already at risk of doing that just by walking so I wasn’t in the mood to add to that risk with him clowning around in the snow.
Sure enough, at one point, as Hubby was navigating his way
through an uneven snowy path, he took a step and his foot fell straight through
the soft snow into a knee-deep hole causing him to lose his balance and fall
over. Mig couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t see the funny side and yelled at him
to stop laughing, repeating for the hundredth time that this was why we needed
to stay on the trail. In hindsight, Hubby WAS on the trail and still fell
through the snow so staying on the trail didn’t really help in that case. I
think I needed Valium at that stage.
Several people who had overtaken us earlier in the hike were now starting to pass us on their way back. ‘It’s not a race’ I kept reminding myself. Yet if there’s anything to add to the mental state that I was already in and the acute awareness of the lack of physical fitness we were now feeling, seeing these people double back on us was sending us the message that our pace was way too slow. But based on my time, we were still on track. ‘So where is that bloody Tongue??’, I wondered.
I couldn’t stand the suspense and asked a couple on their
way back how much further we had to go. “Around 30 minutes. It’s just over that
ridge”, they replied pointing in the distance. ALLELUIA!!! We were close!
The 30 minutes turned out to be another hour, and the ridge
that didn’t look too far in the distance was far enough, but then suddenly out
of nowhere it appeared. We had arrived!!! The Troll's Tongue perched high above the
lake was right there, looking exactly as beautiful as the photo I had taken off
the internet and put on my Facebook profile and screensaver as a daily reminder
of the goal to see it for myself.
.jpg) |
| First glimpse - well worth the 5 hours to get here! The fatigue quickly forgotten. |
I noticed that the wind had suddenly picked up now that we were standing high above the lake stretched out before us. It was freezing! I put the layers I had taken off during the hike back on and found a spot to drop our bags and sit to enjoy the view and eat our snacks. I sat and watched people walk out onto the Tongue for their photos and my stomach turned as a few of them sat and dangled their legs over the edge. I had to look away.
There was a queue of people all waiting for their turn to
get out so we took turns in lining up. There were about 20 people ahead of us
but we overheard someone estimate that it was about a 1.5-hour wait.
“WHAT??! What the hell. I didn’t just walk 5 hours to get
here then not walk out onto that Tongue. What’s another 1.5 hours?!”. So, we
waited, not-so-patiently.
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| Mix of people in the queue and standing around deciding whether to get in the queue |
It quickly became obvious that the reason it was taking 1.5
hours was because people would make their way from the front of the queue then down
and out onto the Tongue, and have their photo taken by the next person standing
in the queue up above. When the photo was done, they would make their way back
up to the queue, get their camera from the person in front of the queue who
would only then start to make their way down and out onto the Tongue. From the
front of the queue down and onto the Tongue was taking people around 10 minutes
each time. Hubby and I stood there thinking “WTF??!”.
We watched as this continued for 30 minutes and we were
getting frustrated. I left my place in the queue to see what on earth was
taking people so long to get out onto the Tongue and that’s when I saw it! The
5 metal rungs that people had to climb down to get to the lower level of the
Tongue, then the section of boulders they had to climb over with a sheer drop
into the lake below on either side. ‘Bloody hell! No wonder it’s taking so long’,
I thought. And then the realisation hit – oh shit. We’re going to have to climb
down that and through that??!
I approached the people at the front of the queue and
offered to take the photo for them so they could start making their way down to
the Tongue ready to take their place as soon as the previous person was done.
Some people obliged, happy with the initiative to speed things up. Others
refused, insistent that they wanted their friend who was next in line to take
the photo because they knew exactly how to… while happily holding up the queue
for a good 10 minutes each time. Fair enough. We all walked several hours to
get here. Whatever. I guess we’ll just wait… and watch… and wait.
It was amusing watching people strike a pose while we
waited. I shared their joy in making it this far and onto the Tongue which was
obvious in all their weird and wacky poses. There was one lady who was clearly
terrified of being out on the Tongue and she crawled her way out on all fours
all the way to the centre. I had to chuckle because it was a funny sight but silently
admired her guts.
As we got closer to the front of the queue, we befriended a
group of young Singaporeans who were behind us and asked if they could take our
photos and we would do the same for them. They happily obliged and the next few
minutes were spent showing them how and where we wanted our photos taken from.
Since there were 5 of them, they were more than happy to take photos from a
couple of different angles using their phones and airdropping the photos to us
later. We did the same for them with Hubby taking photos from one spot, and I
another.
As it was our turn to head down to the Tongue, my heart
started pounding and I felt myself getting nervous as I climbed down the metal
rungs, but there was no turning back now. If there were any last-minute panic
attacks from Hubby or Mig, it was too late. We were committed. My nervousness
escalated as I climbed over the slippery boulders leading onto the flat runway-like surface of the Tongue. I was painfully aware that on either side of the
boulders was a sheer drop down to the lake 700m below, most likely hitting
rocks on the way down. It was sure death so I quickly pushed that thought out
of my mind. Adding to that nervousness was the knowledge that this was the
point where the only death on the Tongue had occurred several years prior –
when an Australian traveller accidentally slipped and fell to her death.
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| Boulders to climb over to get onto the Tongue's surface |
Once over the boulders, being out on the Tongue felt surreal. Very calming and peaceful. It’s a lot wider than it looks and wasn’t scary at all. In fact, it felt like I was being cradled on it – forgetting that this piece of rock was hanging over nothingness. The Tongue’s surface is inclined (something not so obvious looking at it) so when you’re on it you can’t actually see the lake directly below you unless you leaned over the edge - and who would be crazy enough to do that?? That gave me comfort knowing that I wasn’t going to roll off the edge into the lake below as I made the ‘uphill’ walk towards the end. I felt so safe on it that if I hadn’t pre-agreed with Hubby that I wouldn’t sit and dangle my legs over the edge, I wouldn’t have been totally opposed to it at that point in time – even if to just sit and take in the view.
We were conscious of the queue waiting and our new friends
tasked to take our photos (not to mention the many pairs of eyes all watching
us as we had watched those before us) so we quickly took our positions for the
mandatory glory pics. It would’ve been nice to be able to stay out on the
Tongue a few minutes longer just to soak it all in but I felt a bit frazzled by
the queue of people waiting for their turn.
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| We made it! |
Back at the top it was our turn to return the favour and take photos of the group of friends. After a few standing shots, each of them decided to sit and dangle their legs over the edge. It still made my stomach turn seeing someone do it even after experiencing the relative safety of standing on that same rock – and this time I couldn’t look away. I had to take their photo!
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| Some photos I took for the young Singaporean guys then airdropped to their phones afterwards |
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| Some photos I took for the young Singaporean guys then airdropped to their phones afterwards |
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| Some photos I took for the young Singaporean guys then airdropped to their phones afterwards |
With renewed energy from having achieved our goal, and after what turned out to be a 2-hour break, we started our long walk back to the car. I was more mentally relaxed at this stage. We made it! This was the last hike, we achieved what we wanted to and were now homeward bound. My legs were already aching on the way up and I had a niggle in my left hamstring. That niggle turned into full-blown pain about 2 hours into our way down and I could barely bend my left leg. We still had an estimated 3 hours ahead of us and I was already limping but doing that for the next 3 hours would only make that leg stiffen. I continued walking and bending my knee as normally as I could – and that’s the way it was for the next 3 hours until we got to the carpark at 7:45pm – just over 12 hours since we started.
On the way down from the P3 carpark, we passed people who
were looking just as fatigued – and worse – making their way down to the lower
carpark. We had already offered a couple a lift down to their car in P2 so the car
was full when we passed a lady supported by her partner walking gingerly with
bare, blistered feet on the asphalt. I wanted to give her a lift. She looked
like she was going to collapse and probably had another hour of walking in
front of her. I felt her pain.
I have never felt so physically broken and in so much pain
(except maybe childbirth) as I felt at the end of that hike. Everything ached.
Muscles, tendons and bones I didn’t even know I had ached. So much so that I could barely hold myself up to sit at the table and lift the
spoon to feed myself some post-hike dinner. Mig couldn’t even get out of the
car for dinner and stayed asleep in the backseat while we ate.
I ended the hike declaring never again… only to find myself a few days later, physically and semi-mentally recovered, telling Hubby that IF I ever did it again, I would be staying overnight to watch the sunrise and I would make sure I was more physically fit. He replied by stating that he and Mig were officially resigning as my hiking buddies and I would have to do that hike with someone else.
POST SCRIPT
There were all sorts of people that we came across on the trail. Young and old, those who were fit, average, and those who looked like they hadn't exercised in years. Some were dressed in Converse sneakers and street wear, some in shorts and t-shirt and clearly unprepared, others in proper hiking gear. There were also those who were carrying bigger packs and sleeping mats and tents on their backs. A couple of military-built looking guys were carrying large rucksacks with camping chairs attached to them. Those were the overnighters.
My advice to anyone contemplating the hike...do it! It's well worth it. BUT...
1) Get fit(ter) - not so you can do the hike - you can do it even if you aren't fit as we and many others did - but it will be a more enjoyable experience if you aren't in pain and struggling. Young 20-something-year-olds and older fit people seemed to manage quite well. I have since met one other person that did the hike a few months after we did and she loved it. She's about my age (maybe a few years younger) and reasonably fit.
2) For goodness sake - dress appropriately and be prepared! There's enough information online. This isn't a hike that you can just decide to do on a whim. The young guys we met told us they had underestimated what the hike involved (no kidding). They were dressed in street wear. We encountered a young lady carrying a baby (<6 months old) in a baby carrier wearing soaked Converse sneakers and jeans walking through snow. She hadn't made it to the Tongue yet and still had a few kilometers of snow ahead of her - not to mention the walk back. Slipping on the icy trails would've not only meant injury to herself but to her baby - and that's without considering hypothermia. Another group of young guys we encountered on our way out were still in the earlier parts of the trail dressed in shorts and sneakers - with no backpacks in sight. I just silently wished them luck knowing what was to come.
